by Cindi Madsen
I sat there for a moment, not believing what I’d just heard. “Seriously?”
Eyes still locked on the screen, Charlie kissed my cheek. “Don’t worry, baby. You’re not even close to that weight.”
I injected my words with sarcasm. “Yes, that’s what I’m worried about. Not that my boyfriend is a chauvinistic pig.”
“When did you get so serious about everything?” he asked.
I shoved the magazine I’d been looking at into my purse and sighed. “Good-bye, Charlie. You and I aren’t going to work out.”
Charlie’s gaze actually left the screen this time. “Come on, baby. It will work if you just loosen up.”
“Well, this is who I am.”
“No, you used to be cool.”
“No, you don’t really know me.” I’d never been very good at the break-up part, but I didn’t wan to end on a completely horrible note. “So, good luck with everything and all that. It was fun while it lasted.”
“I don’t need this!” he shouted. “Just go!” He then proceeded to act like he was dumping me, even though I’d already ended the relationship.
So I packed up my practically glass slippers and hit the road.
Cinderella was the first fairy tale I remember—the one I was most obsessed with because of the gowns and magic and pretty shoes. Yes, her home life was less than ideal—and considering the talking mice and birds, she probably needed serious therapy. But she gave me the most unrealistic expectations of all. Falling in love at first sight, becoming a princess with everything she’d ever need at her disposal, and a relationship that ended happily ever after, with never an argument or bad day in sight.
And worst of all, she made me think all I needed in life was a man to come and whisk me away.
Time Wasted: Four months, but honestly, two of those were pretty fun.
Lessons Learned:
You have to actually talk to the person to get to know him.
You need to know how to work as well as play. It’s about balance, not having some guy come in and show you how to have fun. Or tell you what an uptight workaholic you are.
Make sure he at least has aspirations or ambitions of some kind.
Never date a guy who thinks you’re more an object than a human being capable of using a brain.
No sports fanatics.
NEVER give your number out at a dance club.
Chapter Seven
I punched the elevator button repeatedly, like that would make it come to pick me up faster. If I wasn’t wearing five-inch heels, I might’ve even considered running down the stairs. I hated being late, the stress when you had to rush to get somewhere. Which was why I was never late. Really, I wasn’t even that late. I’d probably get to the restaurant about ten minutes after my date did, but still, it drove me crazy. I didn’t even have Karl’s number to let him know.
The elevator finally arrived.
On the way down, I sent a text to Stephanie, stating I was running a few minutes behind for my date, hoping she’d pass on the information to Karl.
I stepped out of the elevator and hurried across the parking garage toward my car. When I went to put my phone in my purse, I dropped my keys. I bent to pick them up and the contents of my unzipped purse poured onto the ground.
“Argh!” Squatting down to get the items was no small feat, considering the binding black ruched skirt I was wearing. The things I do for fashion.
I was gathering the last of it when a tube of lip gloss was thrust in front of my face. I looked up and saw Jake. I took the lip gloss from him, tossed it in my purse, and stood.
“You look nice,” he said. “Hot date?”
My skirt had inched up, exposing much more of my legs than I meant to. I tugged it back down. “I don’t know about hot, but I’ve got a date. It’s something my friend set up.”
“Let me guess.” Jake counted the list off on his fingers. “He doesn’t live in the building, doesn’t work at your favorite restaurant… What are your other requirements?”
I was sure he was mocking me, but I went ahead and rattled off more of the list, just so he’d see it wasn’t something I took lightly. “No oral surgeons—I’ll just generalize and say dentists of any kind. No lawyers. No liars. No dance-club guys, workaholics, or slackers.”
He arched an eyebrow. “That’s it?”
It almost sounded like a challenge. I met his gaze and raised an eyebrow of my own. “Pretty much. Until I find something else to add, which I’m sure I will.” I double-checked I’d zipped my purse, then slid it over my shoulder. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m running late. I’m sure I’ll see you around. You do seem to be everywhere.”
He flashed his signature drool-worthy grin. “Well, you didn’t say ‘no stalkers’ in your list, so I’m thinking of going with that.”
I shook my head, though I couldn’t help but smile. My heart was also doing a fluttering thing it shouldn’t be doing. “Good night, Jake.”
“Good night, Darby.”
…
Conversations on blind dates are a crapshoot. You start off with general, boring getting-to-know-you questions. Then you make a few stabs in the dark, testing the waters, trying to figure out the other person’s likes and dislikes before finding anything you can really talk about. Since Anthony and Stephanie had set us up, they were the common thread for Karl and me, making our mutual friends the safe topic.
“How long have you known Anthony?” I asked after our food arrived. I’ll give it to Steph—Karl was good-looking. Blond, with lean muscles, and the guy knew how to dress, too. Perhaps a night out with this guy would end up being just what I needed. Maybe Karl would even be my first venture into low-risk semi-dating. With mutual friends, it might even be convenient.
Of course my mind chose that moment to go to when Jake had said something similar about living in the same building, and I made a joke about being called convenient.
Karl took a sip of water. “We met in college. Lived right next to each other, then we moved in together.”
“Sounds like a great love story.”
Karl stared across the table at me. His blond eyebrows puckered when he drew them together, and he gazed at me blankly with his pale blue eyes.
“You know, because a lot of relationships start like…” His expression didn’t soften, so I abandoned my pathetic attempt at a joke. Maybe no one got my humor, and I should just stop trying to use it. “And you two were roommates for a while?”
“Right. For three years.”
“Steph and I have been best friends for a long time. Before she moved to Longmont, I didn’t really have girl friends. She and I instantly hit it off and started spending all our free time together. Until Anthony. If he wasn’t such a good guy, I’d never let him marry her.”
Karl swallowed his bite of chicken. “From what I’ve observed, she and Anthony have excellent communication. That’s one of the best signs of a good relationship.”
“I don’t believe that,” I said, shaking my head. “You see, the key to a relationship isn’t communication…”
I got the confused, eyebrow-puckered look again. “It isn’t?”
“Nope. It’s knowing that men and women will never be able to communicate effectively with each other. I’ve decided that communication is just what therapists preach, because they know that no one can do it. That way, they can keep getting paid.”
Karl set down his fork. “So if I told you I was a marriage counselor…?”
I laughed. “Funny.”
Karl remained stone-faced, not a hint of humor showing on his features.
A lump settled in my stomach. “You’re not kidding, are you?”
“No. But apparently I only preach communication so I can keep getting paid.”
Check please.
…
I’d insisted on paying for our dinner. After all, I had slammed the guy’s profession. He’d resisted at first, but I finally won out. Then I told him I’d see him at the wedding, while wi
shing I’d never have to see him again. I should’ve known going out with a groomsman before the wedding was a bad idea.
Since I hadn’t gotten my mail in a few days, I popped into the lobby. I tucked the few envelopes under my arm and attempted to call Steph. When I got her voice mail, I said, “I pretty much wrecked that date, so I hope you don’t start second-guessing your decision to make me your maid of honor. I think I better give up on blind dates before someone else gets hurt. Call me later if you get a chance.”
I made my way across the lobby and pushed the elevator button.
The doors slid open and Jake stepped out. He wore a crisp, white button-down shirt, the top buttons undone, the sleeves pushed up. “Hey. I thought you had a date.” He narrowed his eyes. “Or was that just to get rid of me?”
I ran a hand through my hair and sighed. “I did have one. It didn’t go so well.”
He jerked a thumb toward the door. “I’m headed out to a gallery a few streets over. I’d love some company.”
“Thanks, but I think I’ll just go upstairs.”
“And watch a movie with your cat?” He grinned, obviously thinking he was hilarious.
I smacked him with my mail. Dang guy and his sexy sense of humor. “I don’t have a cat, thank you very much.” Yet.
Jake laughed, then reached out and put his hand on my hip. My heart jumped into my throat—it made it so hard to think clearly when he did that. “Come out with me, then. You’re all dressed up, and it’s Friday. Don’t you want to try to redeem the night?”
My resolve wavered. I’d spent longer getting all dolled up than I’d spent on my date.
Jake dropped his hand. “It’ll just be two neighbors getting to know each other.”
I had a hot, funny guy asking me to go on a casual night out with him, even though I’d shot him down again and again. Finally, I decided to just try it out—I was only human, after all. “Okay. Guess I’ll stick this”—I waved my mail through the air—“back in the box.” Jake waited for me, then we headed outside.
I loved this time of year, when summer was finally here to stay, the city lights glowed against the dark skyline, and people were out and about, enjoying the perfect nighttime weather. Winter was a different story.
“It’s over on Bannock,” Jake said, tilting his head to indicate direction. Side by side, we headed down the sidewalk.
“What are you doing going to an art gallery by yourself anyway?” I asked. “Big art enthusiast?”
“I’m not going by myself. I’m going with you.”
I raised an eyebrow at him.
He looked at me for a couple beats, lopsided smile on his lips, then said, “My friend Tina’s got an exhibit, and I told her I’d come see it.”
“Did it ever occur to you that this friend of yours invited you, most likely, because she’s interested in you? You showing up with me is probably going to ruin her whole night.”
“She’s dating one of my friends, so trust me, bringing you isn’t going to ruin her night. If anything, she’ll probably be thrilled that I brought someone. She’s always trying to set me up.” Jake stepped around a lamppost, bringing him closer to me. “Speaking of setups, what happened on yours tonight? I could use an entertaining story.”
“How do you know it’s going to be entertaining? What if he took one look at me and ran away? You think I want to rehash that”—I clutched my chest and got all dramatic—“pain and suffering?”
His eyes lit up as a grin spread across his face. “You found out he was a dentist or a lawyer, didn’t you?”
“Worse. A marriage counselor.”
“What’s so bad about that?”
“Everything.” I shook my head, thinking of how quickly the date had gone downhill once his job came under discussion—Stephanie had purposely withheld that information, I was sure of it. “I offended him, and it was awkward. And it’s even worse because of all this other stuff. In order to explain it, I’d have to start from the beginning.”
“Start from the beginning, then,” Jake said.
I took a deep breath while figuring out how much to say. I started with the fact that Stephanie was getting married in a couple months, then who Karl was, and how I’d managed to offend him. “Needless to say, things were awkward after that.”
Jake nodded, amusement flickering across his features. “Yep, that’d definitely do it.”
“See, this is why I avoid dates with guys I’ll have to see again. He’ll probably be shooting me death glares all through the wedding.”
“It’s right here,” Jake said, putting his hand on the small of my back and guiding me toward the entrance to one of the many downtown art galleries. He pulled the door open, and I stepped inside. The floor was pale wood; the walls, ceiling, and pedestals were all lacquered white. The neutral colors made the colorful art in the room stand out.
“This reminds me of college,” I said. “I went to the Rocky Mountain College of Art and Design. There were always cool displays everywhere.”
As Jake and I rounded the corner into a large open room, my heels echoed, each step sounding loud in the quiet space. We stopped in front of a large painting done in red, thick paint in some places and barely a hint in others. There were two tiny blue squares, one just left of center and one in the right corner.
Jake crossed his arms and studied it. “Ah, yes, a lovely impressionist piece, reminiscent of…that one painter.” He tapped a finger to his chin. “Let’s see, what was his name?”
I looked at him, waiting for him to come up with it. Then his lips curved up and he asked, “How’d I do? Get any of it right?”
I shrugged. “No idea. I had one Art History class late at night, and the guy dimmed the lights and showed slides as he lectured in a monotone voice. It was almost impossible not to fall asleep. Plus, I always sucked at dates, so I studied enough to pass the class and immediately forgot everything.”
“I was waiting for you to tell me one of your rules about dating included finding a guy who knew art,” he said, his smile widening.
I nudged him with my elbow. “Very funny.”
He put his hand on my back again, leading me toward the next painting. I was so caught up in the warmth of his touch and my quickening pulse that the next painting took me off guard. “Whoa,” I said as I looked at the gruesome image. There was a face with sagging gray skin, one missing eyeball, and blood covering its teeth and chin. “It’s a zombie.”
He gave me this smile that made me feel like I’d been caught, even though I wasn’t sure what I’d done. “I notice you stated a fact instead of your opinion.”
Okay, so I had been caught. “Well, the detail is impressive, but if I had that in my house, it’d give me nightmares.” It hit me then that we were here to see his friend’s work. “Please don’t tell me this is your friend’s piece, because I’ll feel horrible.”
He leaned closer to read the card by it. “Nope, not hers. And it says ‘self-portrait.’” He glanced back at me. “I always knew zombies existed.”
I laughed. “Irrefutable proof, right there.”
Jake laughed, too, and of course I had to notice that on top of everything else, he had a sexy laugh. He tipped his head toward the other room and I followed him. Inside was a giant, metal sculpture of a skeleton riding a bicycle.
“That’s actually really cool,” I said. “Interesting and unique.”
“Should we have them wrap it up and take it to your place?”
“Um. Yeah, it’s more of a look-at-once kind of cool. See, when you decorate a place the size of mine, you have to exercise proportion control.”
The murmur of voices floated from a room in the back. I peeked past the divider and saw a couple people milling around the area. “I’m guessing your friend is in there.”
“I bet you’re right.”
The back room had a sea of colorful, twisted glass sculptures. Sculptures I could easily place in my clients’ homes. I turned to study one that looked like blue-and-silver f
lames.
“Jake, you came!”
I turned to see a petite girl with choppy black-and-red hair—like the brightest, most unnatural shade of red—hug Jake.
“What do you think?” she asked.
Not wanting to intrude, I moved to study the rest of the sculptures. There was a yellow-and-purple one with thin, squiggly pieces exploding from it. Then I saw the little pink sculpture up on a pedestal. It had a green stem and a giant pink bud flopped over the front. Mrs. Crabtree would love it.
Jake and Tina walked up to me. Anyway, I assumed it was Tina. For some reason, the girl was looking at me like I was some kind of adorable woodland creature.
“This is Darby,” Jake said. “Darby, this is my friend Tina.”
“Your stuff is amazing,” I said.
“Darby’s thing is honesty, so you can be sure she wouldn’t say that unless she meant it.”
I pointed at the flower. “And I need this. Mrs. Crabtree’s got a pink bathroom and it has this shelf that needs decorations. That piece will fit perfectly there and luckily the shelf’s high enough her granddaughter won’t be able to reach it, so it won’t get broken.” I smiled at Tina. “Sorry, you don’t know her, so you probably don’t care.”
Tina returned my smile. “I just like hearing that my stuff will be in a bathroom.”
I laughed. “This bathroom is the size of most people’s bedrooms, so I swear, it’s going to be very well done.” I glanced around the room. “Actually, I’d love to get your card. I’m an interior designer and I’m always on the lookout for good accent pieces. And these are all extraordinary.”
Tina nudged Jake. “I like her.”
Jake’s eyes locked onto mine and I forgot how to breathe for a second. “Me, too.”
…
“I better take that,” Jake said as we walked out of the gallery.
I had Mrs. Crabtree’s sculpture in a bag hanging from my arm. Tina had wrapped it in padding and stuffed it into a box. “It’s not like it’s heavy.”
“No offense, but I haven’t known you very long, and I’ve already seen you lose your shoe and dump everything out of your purse.”
