No Ordinary Bloke Read Online Free PDF Page A

all?”
    “Well, I wouldn’t go that far.” I chuckled. “You asked if I had a girlfriend. I consider a girlfriend someone you date exclusively—someone you’re quite serious about. According to that definition, I don’t have a girlfriend.”
    “Okay. That makes more sense.”
    “What do you mean?”
    She took a moment to answer, scrunching her brow like she was scrutinizing me. “Um. Yeah. I think it’s obvious.”
    I smiled in appreciation that she saw me for what I was. I did wonder, though, how she could peg me for being a guy on the prowl and yet she believed what had to be bullshit from old Trey. With her usual perfect timing, Natalie appeared, asking for our dinner choices. When Natalie said she’d return with the appetizers, I absentmindedly replied, “Thank you, love” as she walked away.
    About to take a sip of her drink, Allison stopped her glass in mid-air. “Did you just call her ‘love’?”
    “Yes. I suppose I did.”
    “So you must be good friends.”
    “Well, we do happen to be good friends.” I didn’t think it was wise to elaborate just how good. “But calling her ‘love’ doesn’t mean anything. I call women that all the time.”
    “Like who?”
    “Everyone.” I shrugged and rattled a few off. “My maid, my cousin’s wife, my assistant, waitr—”
    Her lip curled into a slight sneer. “Don’t any of them find that offensive?”
    “Why ever on earth would it be offensive?” I toyed with her.
    “Well, in America … especially in a professional setting … that would be seen as sexist.”
    “True in the U.K. as well—in the office and the like—but not if you know the person. It’s a term of endearment, especially where I come from.”
    “But it’s ‘love’. That’s a strong word.”
    “Obviously, I’m not in love with my maid.”
    “You have a maid? Like not just someone who cleans the house.”
    “She does everything for me. Cleans, cooks, does my laundry, picks up my dry cleaning. She’s a love, but I’m not in love with her.” Allison pursed her lips in what appeared to be disapproval. It made me want to tug on her chain more. “Sometimes she wears one of those little French maid’s outfits.”
    “What?!”
    I snickered. “I’m just joking. My housekeeper is a sixty year old Indian woman who wears a sari. I’ve seen her midriff plenty, and I can tell you I don’t want to see her in a French maid’s outfit. She also keeps me in line. She refuses to clean if I’ve been a slob, and she only cooks what she wants, never what I request.”
    “Why do you keep her if she doesn’t do what you want?”
    “Because she’s far more entertaining this way.”
    “So does she think it’s funny when you call her ‘love’?”
    “Dunno. I call her other things as well.”
    “Like what?”
    “Well, there’s her name, Riya.”
    “What else?”
    “I call her everything I call all women. Love, dear, treacle, princess, darl—”
    “Wait. Wait. Wait,” she said, holding up her hands to stop me. “What in the world is treacle?”
    “It’s a sweet syrup, so if I call a woman treacle, it’s like an American calling someone honey.”
    “I would be annoyed if a man other than my boyfriend called me honey.”
    I waved the thought aside with my hand. “Now treacle, why waste your anger on me? Keep it for someone who really does you wrong.”
    She smiled. “Well, when you say it, it is kind of sweet.”
    “See, princess. I don’t mean any harm.”
    “Princess?” Still smiling, she shook her head. “I’m not sure I could get used to princess.”
    “Why not?” I raised my glass, but before I took a sip, I made sure I had eye contact with her and said, “You’re as pretty as a princess.”
    A shyness came over her, so I added, “Like the ones who marry into the royal family—Princess Diana or Catherine. Not the inbred ones.”
    Gone was the shyness, as her giggle bubbled up once again. “Thanks, but I’m no princess.”
    “You’re from Iowa.