Chapter 8 A Blind Date

• Nancy’s friend looked like he wasn’t into this whole blind date plan either. The guy’s face paled under his tan skin as if he had seen a ghost.
• “You. I, it’s just that, well, I...” The stranger took a shaky breath and then gave a little laugh. “I don’t know what to say. It's you.”
• Now Brice wished he’d kept the light off. Brice probably looked better in the dark. Self-conscious, Brice rubbed the scar on his cheek.
• “It’s me.” Brice agreed. If only he could remember what Nancy said her friend’s name was. It started with a ‘W.’ Widman or Wyatt. Why the hell couldn’t he remember?
• “This is crazy, right?” The man’s voice was deep and husky, and it washed over Brice like a hot shower. “I didn’t think it would be like this… here with you.”
• Brice guessed that his date was around his age, but this man was incredibly handsome. Inwardly, Brice winced. This guy was so out of Brice’s league. Already Brice could tell he liked the stranger. His date was Brice’s height with muscles to spare. Too bad the attraction didn’t appear to be mutual.
• “Crazy.” Brice agreed again. He sounded like a dope.
• “I don’t know your name.” The guy stepped closer, and his voice was breathless. “Tell me your name.”
• "I'm..." Brice felt the way the other man sounded. Obviously, neither one of them did many of these set-ups.
• Exhaling his tension, Brice grinned. Nancy’s friend forgot his name too. Somehow knowing that made this awkward encounter easier. He Inhaled and decided he just needed to get his act together. He could do this.
• “I’m Brice O’Fallon.” Brice picked up the wine bottle. “And you are?” he added playfully as his shoulders relaxed.
• “Claymore Wicks. You can call me Clay.”
• Wicks. That was the name Nancy said. Brice started to yank on the cork while he kept repeating to himself that he could do a blind date with this hot stud. God, he hoped he wasn't lying to himself about that. He tried to calm his shaking hands.
• “Claymore?” Brice tried to sound as if he did this dating stuff every day. “Like the Claymore mine?”
• “Kinda.” Clay grinned back. “But I’m not that explosive.”
• With his looks, this guy could be explosive. Chuckling, Brice let his guard down a little. This was casual. Neither of them wanted anything here. Even if Brice thought Wicks was too handsome and too sexy, and too perfect, it didn’t matter. Their meeting was just for tonight—a hook-up.
• When he got the bottle open, he waved to the sleeping bags he had unrolled for a place to sit.
• “Do you want to join me, Wicks? We can talk.” Brice thought he sounded like a virginal teen trying too hard to impress. “We can see the stars better without the light.” After Brice clicked off the lamp, he turned back to the windows. He prayed Clay would say yes. “Wine?”
• Earlier, Brice had tried to pick the best view for this tryst. First, Brice decided the dumpster fire had its charm. About an hour ago, he figured he got stood up, and no one was coming. Now with Clay here, he was so nervous his palms were clammy.
• “I’ll have wine.” Clay took off his shoes and socks and then walked across the sleeping bags. “I want to talk.” He sat next to Brice but didn’t look out the window. Instead, Wicks studied him as he stretched out his legs. “This is unbelievable.”
• “I’m nervous.” Brice fumbled with the glasses. “I feel like a dope.”
• After a few minutes, Clay took both wine goblets and poured the liquid. He handed the second glass to Brice.
• “I’m nervous too,” Claymore spoke to his glass and then downed the contents. “I don’t know why. Just overwhelmed, I guess. I never thought I’d be doing this.”
• “You’re better looking than….” Brice swallowed the rest of the sentence with a gulp of wine. He probably shouldn’t tell Claymore that he was expecting a gorilla since Nancy wasn’t the best judge of men.
• “Better looking than you expected?” Clay asked. “I didn’t think about that.” He ran a hand over his smooth skin and then offered an unsure smile. “My face is—”
• “Handsome?” Brice interrupted.
• “That’s not what I was going to say.”
• “I only mean that I think you look g-good.” Brice tried to cover his blunder. “You’re hot.”
• He gulped more of his wine and swore in his head. Maybe the floor would open and swallow him whole.
• “You think I’m hot?” Clay set his glass to the side and smiled. The bright shine of his eyes had Brice thinking he hadn’t screwed this up yet.
• “Affirmative.” Brice refilled his glass and decided the next words out of his mouth wouldn’t make him sound like a dope. He was out of practice in the dating scene, but he knew how to talk to humans.
• Once more, Clay’s eyes were drilling into Brice's. The intensity of the stare stole Brice’s thoughts. Maybe he didn’t know how to talk to humans. This man was sexy as hell, and he wasn’t even trying. Claymore’s eyes were a blue-green color, dark and mysterious turquoise. If Brice had to guess, he figured that Wicks was close to his age and damn striking with flawless skin and a killer body. That thick shoulder-length brown hair had streaks of red in the locks. When the moon hit Clay the right way, the red had a shine.
• What was a man this good-looking doing on a blind date with Brice? Irritated, Brice touched the long scar down the side of his face. Now he was pissed at The Originals for making him look like he’d gotten into a fight with a sword and lost. The Originals took his foot and now ruined his sex life. Brice had to laugh at that, or he would cry.
• “Is everything okay?” Clay asked. “You’re glaring at me as if I pissed you off or something.”
• “I’m fine,” Brice muttered in hopes that Clay liked him. More than hoped, Brice prayed. For some unknown reason, Brice wanted Wicks more than he anticipated. Even if they only had an hour or two, that was enough. Brice wanted Claymore Wicks. He just needed not to mess this up.