Free Knowing the Score by Kat Latham Page A

could’ve made a crude joke out of that, but instead he gestured for her to continue.
    She found herself blurting out far more than she’d ever intended. “I didn’t date in high school. Not at all. And I don’t regret that. I just wanted to escape Oregon, go to college, travel the world. Most of the girls I knew who had boyfriends in high school ended up marrying them. Or losing their virginity to them and then having their hearts crushed when the boys dumped them.”
    Or losing her virginity, getting pregnant and thinking that meant she had to marry him, even though it could only end in tragedy. That was the regret she’d seen her mother grapple with every day of her life. “And all the guys I knew seemed like losers. They were just interested in two things.”
    “Two?” he asked, clearly only able to think of one.
    “Well, three if you count each breast separately.”
    “Ah.”
    “So I went to college, never having been on a date or even held a guy’s hand, and lo and behold! The boys there were just the same, only a year older.”
    “Funny how that works.”
    “Isn’t it? I was asked out by boys who couldn’t tear their eyes away from my chest, so obviously I turned them down. And the guys I actually enjoyed spending time with just saw me as a friend.” Not to mention that her name had become synonymous with responsibilities no college student should have to shoulder, which scared most guys away. And the one boy she’d been ready to give her heart to had proven more than eager to take advantage of her vulnerability.
    “The older you get, the harder it becomes—for me and for the men I’ve been interested in.” Not that there had been a boatload of those. “Then one day you wake up and you’re twenty-seven and haven’t even really reached first base.”
    He shook his head as he cut a bite of lamb. “I’m a fan of sex, not baseball. I’ve never understood this base thing in American sex. Home run I understand but what’s first base here?”
    “It depends on who you’re talking to.”
    “I’m talking to you.”
    “To me, first base is kissing.”
    His fork clattered onto his plate and he stared at her. “You’re shitting me.”
    “Nope.” She paused, letting that sink in. Crap, this conversation sucked. That was why she’d always avoided it before.
    “Caitlyn, I don’t mean to be rude but there are several years in between you and uni.”
    “I know. But I’ve moved every year since then. Not just moved to a different town, but moved to a new country. Sri Lanka after college, Thailand, Haiti, Malawi, Lesotho and now London since December. It’s given me lots of good experience with different types of disasters, but it’s not so good for developing a relationship. Plus, what I didn’t realize when I was younger is that the older you get, the older the men you’re attracted to. The more experience they have, and the more experience they expect you to have.”
    “I’m sorry, I’m still stuck on this never-been-kissed thing.”
    “Oh, I’ve been kissed. Sort of. But I fell apart—like with you. I don’t like not being good at something, and because I don’t know how to kiss back, I just get too nervous.”
    His face cleared in an ah-ha! expression. “That’s why you bit me? You weren’t scared of me?”
    “No, of course not! It’s just insecurity. I didn’t practice when I was younger, and now I know men expect me to be better than I am, so I get nervous. It’s like trying to learn a new language when you’re forty and stepping into a classroom full of people who’ve been speaking it since they were twelve. If I’d realized that when I was in college, I would’ve jumped the first guy who showed an interest, just to get it over with. Like ripping off a Band-Aid. A—what do you call them here? A plaster.”
    “I know what Band-Aids are.” He eyed her thoughtfully. “These guys you sort-of kissed before, did you have this conversation with them?”
    “No.