Switched Up by L.C. Turner

Author:L.C. Turner
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: Laina Turner Media
Published: 2020-11-02T00:00:00+00:00

10

A fter a nap and a long shower, I was wide awake and starving. I got to the restaurant a few minutes early, and as I walked up, so did Tom. I felt a little bit bad about not telling Steve that I was having dinner with Tom. Which was silly. It wasn’t like we were in a relationship. Plus, I hadn’t talked to him at all today, besides a brief text from him this afternoon that he had an issue with his business and needed to put out some fires. I couldn’t remember the last time I had dinner with two men who weren’t related to me in two days. The thought made me smile. I was quite the player these days. Just wait until I told Nadine. She’d die.

“Good timing,” he said to me with a big smile, then turned to the hostess. “Reservation for Butler, please.”

The hostess looked at her book for the reservation and then grabbed two menus while asking us to follow her.

Tom motioned for me to go first, being quite the gentleman. He looked very handsome in dark blue jeans with a white t-shirt and black vest. It wasn’t until I looked down at his feet that I burst out laughing.

“Hey! It’s vacation. No making fun of my footwear.”

He had on flipflops with his outfit, which of course didn’t exactly go, but he was right, it was vacation, and anything goes on vacation. Plus, it was ten times better than my outfit the first night. It was exactly why I was sitting here with him in the first place. Back home, having dinner with a man ten years my junior whom I’d just met probably wouldn’t be something I would do, but here it seemed perfectly normal.

We sat down and, after a few minutes, ordered. With that task out of the way, we were faced with the challenge of needing to engage in small talk. But I shouldn’t have worried for a moment. Tom was quite chatty and interesting. He had a funny way of telling stories and I couldn’t stop laughing.

I’d just started telling him my luggage story when our food came.

“Not having your own clothes? That’s rough. Especially for a woman,” he teased.

“And what’s that supposed to mean?”

“Just that men don’t need fancy shoes and we don’t mind wearing the same pair of jeans every day, or flipflops. You women are a lot pickier.”

I nodded. “True, I do like my own things.”

“See, I just need one pair of flipflops, not a whole suitcase of them.”

“Maybe because you don’t have any fashion sense.”

“Ouch! That hurt!” he said, pretending to look offended but not succeeding because he started laughing.

“Hey, you asked,” I said, taking another bite of delicious food.

After a great meal, we were relaxing with our after-dinner cup of coffee, and I found I really was enjoying myself. It did feel weird being out with a man and going through those moments of what to say, what not to say, and not wanting to appear silly or stupid.

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