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Of all the people to meet on my way inside to get ready for Laurie’s wedding, Ryan Turner isn’t even in the top ten.

Or top one hundred.

But here he is, standing in front of me with puppy-dog eyes and an offer I can’t refuse. Although I should refuse him... but unlike the egoistical jocks I’m used to, he offers to make a donation in my brother’s name—not his own. So, no extra publicity for Mr. Sexiest Man Alive for this year.

I blow out a breath, and his crooked smile grows bigger, like he just knows I’m going to say yes, and because I have a hundred thousand reasons to do so.

Plus, Laurie never let up on me and I finally agreed to say yes to the man. Sure, I thought there wasn’t a chance, yet here we are and he’s not only not taking no for an answer, he’s offering up cash to the very organization that is dear to my heart.

So much for my plan to pretend like our parking lot run-in never happened.

“Fine. One date. I’ll meet you at the restaurant of your choice.”

“Two dates, and I’ll pick you up,” he says.

I watch as his friend pumps his fist in the air before heading inside the hotel. Figures he’s in on it. I narrow my gaze. “Did you really compete in a charity run?”

He holds up two fingers, seemingly amused by my question. “Scout’s honor. Plus, you can look it up on the website. And as Abraham Lincoln said, the Internet never lies.”

I laugh, unable help it, because it reminds me so much of how he was at puppy-parenting classes. “Fine. Two dates it is,” I agree. “You can quote me on it.” It won’t be that bad. It can’t be that bad. Who doesn’t want a little attention from a guy like Ryan? He’s sexy, confident, and supports a charity close to my heart.

He rubs his hands together. “Give me your number and address.”

“Why?” I ask, immediately wary again.

His dark brow cocks. “Generally, that’s how this works. I get your number, we flirt over texting, and then when it’s date night, I pick you up.”

“There won’t be any flirting,” I say tightly, but I do dig into my purse to pull out my business card. “You can contact me at this number. I’ll text you my address whenever we decide on a date for our... er, date.”

“Tomorrow night.”

My mouth drops open. That soon? Panicking, I try to think of an excuse and only come up with the lamest of reasons. “I can’t.”

“You can. Wouldn’t you rather go ahead and get this over with?”

Well, when he puts it like that... “You read my mind. Tomorrow night, then at Beauregard’s. Bring Gunner.” I shake my card a little, and he takes it.

Flipping it over, he scans the back. “Hmm.”

Hmm? What does that mean? “What time?”

“You pick, firecracker.”

The nerve. He doesn’t know me well enough to give me a nickname. “Seven.”

His gaze meets mine, all deep brown like my favorite chocolate. “I’ll pick you up at six fifteen.”

Butterflies take flight in my stomach, and I almost press my hand against it. Or maybe they aren’t butterflies. Maybe they are crows, warning me this is a really bad idea.

“Bluebelle will be happy to see you,” I say.

He laughs. “I think Gunner’s moping over her.”

“Poor doggie,” I say sympathetically. “They should really have a play date.” Oh, that’s it. A play date at Beauregard’s will totally satisfy the date requirement. Then I’ll only have to come up with a second very public, nonromantic place to go. It’s a win-win for my poor, romantic heart.

“Nope. Doesn’t count,” he says, forestalling any more planning of dates that won’t actually require us to be alone together. “If you want to get together at Beauregard’s at a later date, then Gunner and I will meet y’all. But that’s for them, not us.”

There is no us, I want to snap. “Are you tell me that you’ve been waiting around, hoping against hope that we would somehow run into each other like in a romance novel or something?” He gives me a pointed look, and I throw my hands into the air. “I’ll concede the romance novel-like meeting, but there’s no way you’ve been waiting around for me.”

That cocky grin I’ve grown to love-hate reappears on his face as he leans in. “Babe, you have no idea just how worth waiting around for you are.”

I blink up at him. My knees wobble, and I have to lock them into place to keep from swooning. “Yes, well,” I say, all flustered. “See you tomorrow night for dinner.”

“No goodbye kiss?” he teases.

“Don’t push it, buddy,” I say, because kissing him seems like a really good idea. Especially with him so close.  Only my voice is more teasing than anything.

It’s not fair. He shouldn’t smell this good after a fifteen-mile workout. He should smell like wet dog or stinky butts. He should smell like something other than his masculine lick-me-up-and-down scent.

Yeah, I really need to leave while the getting is good.

“I’m looking forward to our date, Ashley,” Ryan calls out, and I want to sink into the floor when everyone stops to stare.

Face flushing, I reply with a saucy, “Wild horses couldn’t keep me away,” and quickly duck inside the hotel.

What’s gotten into me?

Not a what, but a who.

I cast a quick glance over my shoulder to find Ryan still standing there, big grin on his face. He looks pleased as punch, and honestly, I find that flattering and confusing.

I’m confused. I’ve never dreaded while looking forward to something like this before in my life.