Everly gasped, and the moment broke. She jumped up from his couch, knocking her container to the couch. “I’m sorry. Oh, shit, did I get anything on your couch?” She swiped at it, somewhat madly, with a napkin.
“It’s fine. There’s nothing there,” Chris said, his voice like gravel sliding over concrete. What the hell had he just done? Sucked the finger of the woman you can’t stop thinking about. Thanks, Captain Obvious. It was a rhetorical question. Maybe there really was something wrong with his brain. He was talking to himself. Since you’re at it, how about you calm down your employee who’s going to wear a hole in the fabric of your cushion?
Chris covered her hand to stop her movements. “Ev.”
She jolted at the nickname. It’d come out of nowhere and, sadly, felt right. “I’m so sorry,” she said, looking down.
“Please don’t be. If anyone should be sorry, it’s me.”
Straightening, she looked past him and asked, “Can I use your washroom?”
She needed a minute. Good. He could use one, too. “Down the hall, second door on the right.”
When she walked away and he was sure she was out of sight, he let out a heavy sigh and flopped back against the couch. “What the hell?”
He only gave himself a second to shake it off. He could fix this. It was a moment. They were friends, sort of. It was nothing. Scooping up both of their containers, he took them to the kitchen and recycled them. He grabbed them a couple of waters, debating whether or not to offer her wine or beer. That’s a great idea. You two could knock back a few and forget all about setting her up on dates.
Chris groaned again and dropped his head to the front of the fridge, the cold surface soothing his heated skin.
She’d go now. She’d come out and tell him she couldn’t do this, that finger sucking had not been on the menu. Everly would storm out, tell Stacey, who would, rightfully, kick his ass. He’d spend the next six months hiding in his office while Everly went on dates and laughed about her creepy boss who had a thing for sucking fingers.
“It’s not a thing,” he said, feeling the need to defend himself. It was a damn moment, not a fetish.
The bathroom door opened, and Chris pushed off the fridge and turned, water in hand, his stomach sinking at the thought of her leaving. For all his education and experience in communications, when she appeared in the doorway to his kitchen, he couldn’t think of one sensible thing to say.
[11]
Everly’s heart was trying its very best to burst right out of her chest. She wouldn’t run. Ten Rules for Faking It were already in play, and she was done chickening out over everything. It was nothing. Nothing doesn’t involve sticking your finger in a man’s mouth. Your boss’s mouth. Oh God. Was it possible to actually panic herself to invisibleness? She pressed her nails into the fleshy part of her palms. She would not run. It was a momentary lapse of sanity, and now she’d play it off. They’d get it on … Holy hell, Everly! You most definitely will not get it or anything else on with him. She meant get on with their night. Their work. But apparently, her brain was broken.
Chris lifted his head from the fridge. She wasn’t sure what he’d been doing, but maybe he felt as stupid as she did. People never feel the way you do. You can’t know that. He stepped forward, and her breath got caught, tangled in her throat. A weird, garbled sound left her mouth. Of course. Because things aren’t awkward enough, you need to add strange noises.
“Are you okay? I truly apologize,” Chris said, his eyes searching hers as if they held some secret.
He was sorry? He hadn’t stuck his finger … Don’t. Just don’t. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. She wasn’t leaving. Rule six: Be bold, even if it gives you hives. She scratched at her stomach. Staying was brave.
“I respect you and didn’t mean to cross a line. You’re an employee, and I hope I haven’t made things unbearable. I understand if you want to leave.”
Does he want me to leave? Wait, what was unbearable? My finger? It tasted like cannoli. That’s hardly unbearable. I can’t leave! I’m being brave.
“But I hope you don’t,” he said, passing her the water.
Pasting on a smile that probably made her look like someone was pinching her, she took the water. “Not leaving. Sorry about the awkward moment. If we could avoid talking about it for the rest of ever, I’d truly appreciate it.”
He gave a curt nod. “Done. Absolutely.”
Okay. She could do this. They could do this. When his lips curved into a more relaxed smile, Everly’s brain brought up the memory of how sexy his mouth felt wrapped around her index finger. My brain hates me.
Chris’s eyes narrowed. “You good?”
“Awesome,” she said with way too much enthusiasm.
They made their way back to the living room. When they sat in the same spots on the couch, nerves washed over her again, threatening to buckle her knees.
“Again, I’m so sorry, Everly.”
The tone of his voice caught her off guard. He was really sorry. Was it because of her? Would he have been sorry if he’d accidentally sucked Stacey’s finger? Ew.
“The app?” Easiest way to get over something was to avoid thinking or talking about it. Said no therapist ever. Whatever. She was a producer, not a shrink.
Chris cleared his throat and pulled his phone over. His coffee table also held some remotes, his laptop, and a lot of paperwork. What did he do besides work? Outside of work? The next man she chose was going to be able to balance personal and professional. Like you? That was a bit of a pot-kettle situation, but she was working on it. She was here, ready to map out her dating life.
* * *
“I have some rules.”
Chris scrolled through his phone, pulling up an app. She couldn’t see it but didn’t want to lean in closer. He glanced at her from the side of his eye. “For dating?”
She gave a low laugh. “Dating. Life. Getting through birthdays.” Everly took a deep breath. “I actually meant for possible guys. No face tattoos, unkempt or abnormally long beards, weird fetishes, or nose rings.”
Chris set his phone down on the couch between them and gave her his full attention. “Define abnormally long.”
She thought about it, then gestured to her shoulders. “No farther than the shoulders, I think.”
He nodded, and she felt like he was holding back a grin. “Weird fetishes could mean any manner of things.”
Like finger sucking. Oh. God. Get out of your own head. “Just … nothing too out there.”
“Those all seem reasonable enough.”
She wasn’t sure if he was on the brink of teasing her, but the way his lips almost curved made her head feel light. “I’m not done,” she said. “He should be outgoing. Bold. Like to try new things.” Basically my opposite.
Chris nodded. “You’ve given this some thought. Those are very specific.”
Her shoulders stiffened. If she was doing this, she wanted what she wanted. Why not? It was her dating show. Or whatever. “They are. I’ve had some lousy luck so far with men, so I might as well be up front about what I want.”
Was it her imagination, or did his eyes flash fire? He looked down at his phone.
“Everyone has their hard lines in the sand.”
He didn’t make her feel judged. He just smiled and nodded again, his fingers tapping the phone. “Anything else you do want?”
Hmm. She bit her lip and gave it a moment of thought, appreciating that he didn’t rush her in any way. “Outgoing. Maybe someone artistic? Someone with a sense of adventure. Someone funny, but how do you know? I mean, anyone can write anything down on these things, and then you find out nothing is true.”
Chris started to stand but paused and looked her way. “We’re going to do everything we can to make sure that everything is verified. We’ll have security nearby on all dates, so if it turns out the man who said he was a funny, outgoing artist is actually a long-bearded, face-tattooed guy, we’ll end it.”
She smirked, biting h
er lip so she didn’t laugh. “Thanks.”
“My pleasure. I’m going to plug this into my television,” he said, walking toward the huge screen. He did whatever he needed to do to get it set up and then grabbed one of his many remotes and turned the TV on. The screen was a deep purple with a black logo of an E curling into a heart. To the right, it said Ever Love.
Everly’s mouth dropped open, and she stared at Chris.
He shrugged. “My brother tailor-made it for you.” Her eyes were drawn to his throat as he swallowed and then turned back to the screen. Everly forced herself to turn her head in that direction, too.
“Okay, so we’ll go through the candidates. They’ve been uploaded, sorted, and categorized according to things you’ve told me. We narrowed the age bracket and basic physical requirements based on the questionnaire we had you fill out. Each guy will pop up, and you can see him and read his bio. Several of them uploaded a video message.”
“Really?” Everly leaned forward.
“It’s a great feature. You can get a sense of them that way, I think.”
He handed her the remote, and nerves hopped around like bouncy balls in her stomach. She was doing this.
After showing her how to move through the candidates and “like” one, he leaned back and let her look through without commenting. The screen had their images on the left, a list of who they were, age, occupation, interests, and an optional one-line comment about why they were doing this. If there was a video clip, there was a small, sideways triangle on the bottom of their picture.
She wished Stacey were here with her, but she decided her friend would have too much to say.
Matthew Fortin
33
Carpenter
Building furniture, long walks, sunsets, coffee
To meet my soul mate
“Pass,” she said, pressing the arrow.
Chris laughed. “The passes might be easy. Too mushy with the soul mate thing?”
Everly turned her head and smirked. “Sunsets aren’t an interest.”
Chris picked up his water and took a drink. “Good point. Onward.”
Brad Corden
30
Airplane mechanic
Flying, driving, traveling, swimming, motocross
Seems like a fun opportunity
Everly pressed the Play button.
“Hey, Everly. This feels a little weird, but okay. My name is Brad. I figured I’d throw my hat in the proverbial ring because you deserve to go on a date with a man who isn’t a loser like your ex. I like to have fun and try new things, and I’d love the chance to take you out, make you laugh, and get to know you.”
Everly pressed the little heart icon.
Chris shifted in his seat. “Look at that. First one already.”
When she looked over, she noticed his jaw seemed tight, and his arms were crossed over his chest.
She clicked the remote. Pass. Pass. Like. Pass. Definite pass.
Thirty-nine-year-old John Ringer, the self-taught artist, who liked camping and swimming nude, got a pass.
Jeff Tosi, the twenty-seven-year-old guitar player who liked rock and roll and hot chicks, also got a pass.
Chris wandered off, and Everly continued to press the buttons. It was a little weird scrolling through her own personal catalog of possibilities. She wanted someone whose image and words made her stop and think, Wait, tell me more.
When Chris sank down on the couch beside her a few minutes later, he had a large bowl of popcorn. He grinned at her.
“I like popcorn,” he said sheepishly. He tipped the bowl her way, and she laughed, pulling her feet up under her before she grabbed a handful.
“Juggler?” Everly’s popcorn nearly lodged in her throat. “Is that a real profession?”
Chris kicked his feet up to his coffee table. “Maybe if you’re good enough. Press Play.”
When she did, Aran Kirk’s voice came through the speakers loud and clear. “Everly. I can’t wait to meet you. I have many things to teach you and learn from you. Our journey will be a unique one, but fear not,” he said, pausing to lean off-screen. When he came back, he held three orange balls in his hands. He started to juggle before speaking again. “I am used to the unexpected. Are you?”
Everly groaned. “Why would he end it with a question?”
Chris turned his head and stared at her.
“What?” Did she have popcorn in her hair?
“The question at the end was what you found odd?”
Everly laughed, then gave him a mock frown. “Juggling is a lost art.”
His brows shot up, and he sat forward, setting the popcorn bowl between them. Selecting three pieces, he tossed them up in the air and tried to catch them, missing all three.
Everly bit back her laugh and pointed at the screen. “He’s not right for me, but maybe he gives lessons.”
Chris scowled at her and picked up the stray popcorn, tossing it onto his coffee table. “Pass,” he muttered.
Laughter burst from her, and she snuggled farther into the couch, not even realizing she’d put her nerves away. “Damn right it’s a pass. All the way around.”
“Amen,” Chris said, scooping up some more kernels.
Pass. Pass. Pass. What the actual what? Pass. Pass. Everly’s eyes were gritty. She set the remote down to take a long drink.
“You okay?” Chris asked.
His soft voice broke the reverie she’d been stuck in, thinking about how she wasn’t going to find anyone.
“I guess. I’ve only liked three out of thirty-seven.” Those were some pretty bad odds.
“There’s plenty more,” he said, smiling at her. He reached out like he might squeeze her shoulder or touch her reassuringly but pulled back. He’s probably worried you’ll try to stuff another finger or your arm in his mouth.
Everly turned back to the screen, pressed the button to move the choices forward.
“Owen Baston, thirty-one, craft brewer. That’s interesting,” she said.
“You like beer?” Chris picked up his water, not looking at her.
“Not particularly, no. But it’s different, and I want something different.”
He had reddish-brown hair and a happy smile in the picture. He was handsome but in a rugged sort of way. She’d never really dated anyone rugged.
She pressed Play.
“Hi, Everly. This feels a bit strange. I’ve never even taken a selfie,” Owen said to the screen. Everly laughed out loud. “This isn’t the usual way I go about getting dates, but it felt like it was time for something different. When I heard you on the radio, aside from feeling mad on your behalf, I thought, ‘Man, I wouldn’t want to piss her off.’ I was immediately intrigued. Regardless of who you choose, good luck. You’re better than Simon.”
She was smiling when the clip ended.
Chris huffed out a breath. “I should get you a shirt that says that, in case you forget.”
Turning, she stifled a yawn and asked, “What?”
His eyes went darker. He had such long, enviable lashes. “You’re better than Simon.”
She smiled and, without thinking, reached for his hand. “Thank you. I’m okay. I realized I felt nothing when we broke up, so that was a pretty good indication it wasn’t important to me.”
Chris removed his hand from hers, and she had to fight against cringing. Right. Don’t touch his hand. Don’t touch him. He doesn’t like it, and the guy has been pretty accommodating about your handsy behavior.
“Still sucks for someone to treat you like he did,” Chris said.
Everly looked back at the screen. “Yes. It does. I like Owen for date one.”
Chris sucked in a breath and started to cough. Everly didn’t know what to do, so she handed him his water and just waited nervously to make sure he was okay.
“Sorry,” he said, his voice scratchy. He took the water. “You sound so sure.”
Giving him a wry smile, pushing down the tornado of thoughts in her head, she said, “
It gets tiring to be so unsure all the time.”
His face was red and his eyes were a bit watery. “Okay, then. Owen, you have yourself a date.”
For the moment, she could smile. She was a great plan maker and often dreamed of traveling, heading out to a club to go dancing for a night, joining bingo—it wasn’t just for old ladies—but she always stopped short and canceled her plans. No canceling. She was doing this. Maybe doing things completely backward of what made her comfortable would help her figure out exactly where she was meant to be.
Or she’d have a panic attack, get hives, and stand Owen up. Time would tell.
[12]
Everly lifted the water bottle to her lips, grateful she was alone in her apartment so no one could hear the glugging sound of her swallowing. It was like she’d run a marathon in the heat, weighted down by blankets. She was sweating in too many places. Maybe there was something wrong with her. Sweating could be brought on by medical conditions. She just couldn’t think of which ones. Stop. Everly set the empty water bottle down. She pulled in a half breath because that’s all her lungs would allow. One. Two. Three. Four. She imagined her hand slipping out of Owen’s because of sweat. Stop. One. Two. Three. Four. Five, six, seven. She leaned against the counter, her lungs expanding. She’d been on dates before, so the level of anxiety pumping through her was unexpected. This one comes with a hell of a lot of pressure.
She went back to the bathroom, closed the door, and stood in front of the full-length mirror. Once she made it clear that she wasn’t wearing anything low-cut, see-through, sequined, or with any type of feathers, Stacey had taken the shopping seriously.
Which was why she at least felt good about her appearance. She’d gone with a pair of dark gray pants and a thin, pale, pink sweater with a wide neckline. She’d have preferred black or gray, but Stacey wouldn’t negotiate on that one. The top hung from her slight frame nicely, enhancing what little shape she had. Stacey—who favored the curvy side—always lamented Everly’s slender shape, but there were plenty of times in her life that she’d have liked to fill out a top the way her friend did. Grass is always greener.
Ten Rules for Faking It Page 10
