Only I couldn’t. Even thinking about why I had to say no made me feel like I was at the beginning of an attack. My heart was thrashing around, and there was that nauseous feeling at the back of my throat. I had no intention of telling him the reason why I couldn’t go out with him, but my body apparently thought I was going to and prepared to implode.

“Okay. Message received.” He turned to look at me and that intensity was there, the one that would make me run across a bed of hot coals if that was what he asked me to do. But he broke it off, walking over to the front door. He pulled it open.

“Thanks again for coming over last-minute.”

I hesitated. I was shocked to discover that I wanted to explain. But a rush of panic engulfed me and I knew there was no way.

The only thing left for me to do was to go home. I joined him at the door and said, “You’re welcome. And thank you for the ridiculous tip.”

That earned me a tiny smile.

“I’ll share your business card with my friends, if that’s okay.”

Why did I like the idea of him telling other people about me? “That would be great.”

I stepped outside, and I heard him say, “I’m glad I got to meet you, Juliet Nolan.”

The door shut and that was that.

I crossed my arms, the January air suddenly feeling extremely cold against my still-wet shirt and jeans. I hurried into the van and turned the music on loudly so that I wouldn’t think about what had just happened.

But it wasn’t enough. I thought of all the men who had asked me on a date or suggested hanging out and how every time I had said no. I hadn’t even been tempted to accept. The potential for humiliation had been too great.

This was the first time I regretted it.

And I had my regret to keep me company on the drive home, knowing my best friend would be waiting to hear every single detail.