by Meghan Quinn
“I’d like that. It’s really only about five blocks down the street.”
“Five blocks? And here I thought I was showing you around the area.” We start walking in the direction of my house.
“I thought it was cute. I liked it.”
“I like you,” he counters, his eyes trained on me as we continue forward.
Feeling suddenly shy, I keep my gaze forward, as Jack’s jacket is still draped over my shoulders. “I like you, Jack,” I answer on almost a whisper.
God, I want to bury my head in my hands. No matter how old I get, I think this will always be hard, to express yourself in such a vulnerable way. I always think making friends as an adult is hard, but finding someone to spend the rest of your life with, now that’s the ultimate challenge. There’s so much vulnerability. You have to be strong and confident, but when that’s not your personality, when you embarrass easily, it almost feels like torture, trying to communicate with another adult about your feelings.
I just wish it wasn’t such an awkward situation. Hell, even if I watch a fake sitcom couple try to express themselves romantically, I feel uncomfortable.
“You like me, huh? That’s good to know. Does that mean when the app asks you later if you want to go on a second date, you’re going to say yes?” Jack doesn’t skip a beat, and I like that about him.
“Depends.”
“Depends on what?” Jack squeezes my hand, sending a bolt of pleasure up my arm.
“Depends on if you’re going to say yes.”
For a moment, Jack is silent, as if he’s really trying to decide if he’s going to say yes. “There’s no way in hell I would be able to say goodbye to you forever tonight. I not only want to see you again, but I need to see you again.”
A long exhale escapes me. I swear I feel like I’m living in a movie right now. I never really thought men like Jack existed. I always thought they were a fictional character made up in someone’s head. But here he is, in real life, asking to see me again. I can’t say yes fast enough.
“I would love to see you again,” I tell him sincerely.
We exchange a quick glance, both our smiles stretching across our faces. The rest of the walk, we’re silent, and it surprises me how much I like the simplicity of enjoying each other’s company and the feel of our tandem steps and clasped hands.
When we reach the gate to my house, I turn toward Jack and say, “This is it.” I release his hand and hand him his jacket back. The loss of his smell surrounding me, hugging me, sends a bone-jarring disappointment through my body. How creepy would be to ask to keep the jacket?
Creepy.
You’ve known him for a few hours; don’t try to claim his clothing just yet.
Taking in my quaint cottage house, Jack cutely smiles. “It’s beautiful just like you.” When he turns back toward me, he steps forward and cups my cheek, his eyes searching mine.
My breath hitches in my chest from his proximity, from the anticipation of his lips pressing against mine, sealing our night with a kiss.
What I wouldn’t give for that picture-perfect ending. I feel like I’ve experienced his mind, his humor, his spontaneity, now I want to experience him physically, and not just little touches, but something more.
I want to know what he tastes like. What the scruff on his jaw feels like under my fingers, caressing the soft skin on my cheek. I want to tangle my fingers into his short hair, to grip tightly onto his neck, and not release him until I’m fully sated by his mouth.
“I had an amazing time tonight, Noely. One of the best nights I’ve had in a long time.”
I press my palm over the hand that’s cupping my cheek and rub the back of it with my thumb. “This has been one of my best nights in a long time as well,” I tell him honestly. “I actually can’t remember having this much fun before.”
“I’m glad.” Moving in even closer, Jack leans forward and gently presses a kiss against my cheek and then pulls away, deflating my hopes in the matter of seconds. “Thank you for tonight, Noely. Sleep well.”
Stepping away, Jack puts his hands in his pockets and keeps his eyes fixed on mine as I try to comprehend what just happened. No kiss? Did he just kiss me on the cheek, something a friend or mere acquaintance would do?
Stunned, I press my hand against my cheek where he kissed me, and no doubt, look as confused as I am. Hands still in his pockets, he shrugs his shoulders. “All in good time, beautiful. Now get in your house before I do something I regret.”
“What if I want you to do something you’ll regret?” I ask, feeling a little foolish for being so brazen, but also wishing he wasn’t so far away, that he would give me a tiny taste of what I know would most likely be one of the most soul-searing kisses I’ll ever experience.
He takes another step back, as if he doesn’t trust himself. The man must have some strong willpower because right about now, I’m two seconds away from flinging my body at him.
“If I start, I won’t stop. I know myself too well. You’ve consumed me tonight, Noely, and I know if I kiss you, if I feel your lips against mine, there is no way I’d be able to say good night like a gentleman. So, from a distance I will say, thank you for an amazing night. I look forward to our second date.” With a wink, he pulls his phone from his pocket, dials a number, and says, “I’m ready.”
Like magic, a car appears and Jack hops in, his lip print on my cheek the only thing he’s left behind.
Good God, that man is dangerous. Dangerous for all the right reasons.
Our second date can’t come soon enough.
Chapter Seven
NOELY
“There you are!” Dylan says, flopping down in the makeup chair next to me. She hands me a paper cup full of coffee and takes a sip from her own cup, which I know is half coffee, half chocolate milk. She can’t stand the bitter taste of coffee but is a beast without the caffeine. So I introduced her to chocolate milk in her coffee, and it seems what works for me works for her. I also like to put hot cocoa in my coffee too; that’s a special nugget of info just for you.
“What happened to our morning breakfast together?” Dylan asks, pulling a muffin from her pocket and handing it to me. She likes to mother me—a lot—and I enjoy it on occasion, but I don’t enjoy it when she starts lecturing me about safe sex and STDs, or when she takes out a napkin, dabs it on her tongue, and tries to wipe something off my face. I can go without those motherly moments.
Natasha, the queen behind my hair and makeup, is trying to tame the wet mess of hair on my head. I turn toward Dylan and point to my eyes. “See these bags? They need some attention, and it’s going to take a lot of makeup to cover them up.”
A horrified expression passes over Dylan when she takes in my face. “Ew, your eyes look like they oozed under your skin and gathered into little pockets below your lashes.” She goes to poke them but I swat her hand away. “Why are they—?” She pauses and then a giant smile crosses her face. “Oh my God, you had your date last night. Please tell me it went well. It did, right? Did you invite him back to your place? You did, didn’t you? You invited him back to your place. Oh my God, you slept with him on your first date. You little hussy, you.”
Thank God Natasha signed an NDA before she started working with us, or she’d have some pretty juicy material to sell to the tabloids on a daily basis.
“I didn’t sleep with him; you know me better than that.”
“You’re right, you wouldn’t sleep with someone on the first date, but it went well, right?” Dylan pokes my shoulder with a knowing smile.
I can’t help but grin over my coffee. I’ve had a permanent grin on my face all morning. Yes, I was a little disappointed I didn’t get my good-night kiss—well, good-night kiss on the lips—but his reasoning for not kissing me satisfied me. Hell, it more than satisfied me. It made me feel special, sexy, absolutely irresistible, and that’s one of the best qualities a man can give a woman. Jack did it with a simple look and his devastatingly charming words.
Taking a sip of coffee, I rejoice as the hot liquid cascades down my throat. “It went really well.”
“Ah, I knew it.” Dylan bounces in her chair, excitement billowing over. “I’m ten years deep in my marriage, and don’t get me wrong, I wouldn’t trade it for anything, but I need to know everything. I want to know what dating is like today. Did he woo you? Was he funny? Oh God, is he hot? Please tell me he’s hot.”
“He’s hot.” I nod, trying not to giggle. God, I feel like a teenager. “He was impeccably dressed, first of all. He was dressed in a suit that expertly wrapped around his body in all the right ways. He’s tall with brown hair and deep, deep brown eyes, making him seem all kinds of mysterious. But he’s funny, outgoing, and his laugh—God, Dylan, his laugh. It’s deep and rumbly and so freaking sexy.”
“I love a good laugh.” Dylan sighs. “Chad has a good laugh. I can appreciate a man who doesn’t mind bellowing out a loud chortle. What did you guys—?”
“Excuse me, Miss, Clark, these were sent to you this morning.” From the reflection in the mirror, I see a beautiful bouquet covering the person holding them.
Turning in my seat, I take them as Dylan squeals next to me, saying, “He must have pulled some serious strings to get those delivered this early.”
She’s right, he had to have paid a lot of money to have someone deliver flowers this morning, which makes them that much more special. I thank the PA and inwardly squeal. Pulling the card from the flowers, I read the handwritten note from Jack.
Good morning, Noely.
Last night, I got absolutely zero sleep because I couldn’t stop thinking about you. I should have kissed you, and I’m regretting my decision now. Please forgive me and if you accept our second date, you are being warned now, I’m claiming that kiss I so stupidly forgot to capture last night.
Jack
I press the card to my chest and sigh. Yes, I freaking sigh. I sigh so hard because there’s no denying it ladies, Jack is sigh-worthy.
Dylan nudges my shoulder. “What does it say? You’re killing me here.”
Smelling the flowers, I hand Dylan the note, not wanting to read it out loud. While she reads, I take in the bouquet Jack sent. It’s unlike any bouquet I’ve ever seen. There is a beautiful balance of greenery with pops of purple and pink flowers. Absolutely stunning.
“He didn’t kiss you last night?” Dylan hands me the card back, which I put in my pocket.
“He kissed me on the cheek.” My answer causes Dylan to roll her eyes. “He had his reasons.” I don’t share why, seems weird to say if he kissed me he would have boned me, so I keep that to myself.
“So does this mean you’re going to go on a second date?”
Bringing the flowers to my nose, I take a deep breath and let their calming scent ease my racing heart. “Without a doubt.”
***
“Great show, ladies.” Kevin calls out while pulling off his headset and hanging it on a monitor.
Feeling a little cramped from sitting for so long, I stand and straighten out my dress while stretching my arms out. “I’m going to head to the gym. Care to join me?”
Dylan shakes her head. “I have a million cupcakes to make for the kidlet’s bake sale this weekend.”
I would suggest Dylan just buys them, but I know better. She likes to be involved in everything when it comes to her kids, even if it means she’s shackled to the kitchen, mixing multiple cupcake batters from scratch. She’s supermom, and I admire her for it.
“What flavors are you making?” Dylan makes the best cupcakes. If she wasn’t so good at her job, I would suggest she open her own bakery.
Looking to the ceiling, she recalls her chosen flavors by ticking off on her fingers. “Let’s see. Orange creamsicle, lemon blueberry, and strawberry shortcake.”
“Going fruity this go around.”
Dylan shrugs. “I went chocolate last time, so thought I’d switch it up. Lift some extra weights for me. I’ll be thinking of you when I’m taste testing.”
I point at Dylan while walking away. “Bring me a lemon blueberry tomorrow and I won’t tell our trainer you’re eating cupcakes instead of working out at the gym.”
“Deal.”
I head to my dressing room, ready to get out of the tight confines of my dress. I have a shred of self-respect when it comes to disrobing after our show, and unlike Dylan, I wait to take my bra off until I’m in a private setting. Like at home.
Before I went on air, I received a notification via the Going in Blind app asking if I wanted to go on a second date with Jack, and I couldn’t say yes fast enough. And to my utter delight, the big heart appeared on the screen. Jack said yes to a second date as well and suggested option B for our date. I fumbled quickly to read all about option B. Westward Beach Sunset Picnic this Saturday.
I don’t think I could have picked something more perfect for our second date. We both love the beach, and if I had it my way last night, I would have spent a lot more time with my toes in the sand and Jack’s body flush against mine, so to have another opportunity to replicate last night has me counting down the minutes until Saturday.
In my dressing room, I shut the door and pull out my phone. Before I went on air, I sent a message to Jack—or WindsorKnot—to thank him for the flowers. I’ve been dying to see if he messaged me back.
When I open the app, I’m rewarded with a little inbox notification.
My mind drifts to You’ve Got Mail and one of Meg Ryan’s early emails in the movie where she talks about the excitement of hearing those three little words, “You’ve got Mail.” I feel it. I understand it. The anticipation of waiting for that special person to connect with you again. In an age where instant gratification is the norm, it’s a beautiful thing to have to wait for a little mailbox to light up.
Having zero patience, I open his message.
ShopGirl,
You’re more than welcome for the flowers.
I have a confession: I’ve done absolutely nothing at work this morning and you’re to blame. Not only did I get zero sleep, but I wound up watching your show, unable to take my eyes off you, off those lips I didn’t get to taste. It wasn’t until my assistant snapped at me that I turned the TV off and tried to get some work done. You’ve ruined me, ShopGirl.
Jack
Normally, I would find his response a little cheesy, but after spending a decent amount of time with Jack last night, I know cheesiness is the furthest thing from the truth when it comes to him. So far, he seems genuine and calculated. He wouldn’t say something to garner a reaction. He truly means it and that’s what’s making my heart flutter a mile a minute.
I sit on the couch in my dressing room and type out a response.
WindsorKnot,
I would like to take the blame for your lack of productivity this morning but I’m afraid I’m going to have to place the blame on you. Maybe if you actually kissed me last night, you wouldn’t have to daydream about what my lips taste like.
My suggestion: next time you see me, kiss me.
Noely
***
I flick a piece of lettuce to the side and scrunch my nose at the salad bowl on my lap. Last night’s steak put a little dent in the calories for the week, so the bland salad I ate for dinner has me wishing I listened to my stomach while picking up my takeout and grabbed the giant Rice Krispies Treat that was calling my name.
It doesn’t help that Dylan has been sending me pictures of her cupcakes all evening either.
Setting my salad bowl to the side, I pull my blanketed legs to my chest and rest my arms on top of my knees while I look at the ocean. I don’t have a beachfront property, but my home is on a cliff overlooking the ocean, so it’s close enough for me.
I have yet to hear from Jack since my last message, and I worry if maybe I was a little too upfront . . . No, it was perfect. I refuse to second-guess myself during this process. I’ve been second-guessing my entire dating life. It’s time I say what I want to say and do what I want to do. If
I want to find a true partner in life, then I need to act myself. And Noely Clark would have easily given Jack a hard time for not kissing her.
Smiling to myself, I take in the waves crashing into the rocks just as my phone rings.
Kevin.
Ugh, what does he want?
“Kevin, what do I owe the pleasure?” Do you hear the sarcasm in my voice?
“Hope I didn’t interrupt your beauty sleep. Lord knows you need it.”
I breathe out heavily with my nostrils flaring. I know he’s joking, but the man’s taunts are touching my last nerve lately.
“Just enjoying a crappy salad for dinner. What’s up?”
Kevin clears his throat and says, “Got a call from The Earthquakes.”
My ears perk up. The Earthquakes, or Quakes for short, is LA’s professional hockey team and whenever we get a call from them it means they want an interview. These are my favorite kinds of calls because outside my job, I’m a huge hockey and baseball fan, so when I can combine my career with what I love, it’s always a plus.
“Oh? Do they have a player they want us to interview?”
“Not just a player, but Hayden Holmes.”
Be cool. Be cool. Oh my God . . . be cool!
But gahhhhhhhh!
Hayden Holmes. I get to interview Hayden Holmes. He’s the up-and-coming rookie traded to the Quakes over the off season from Philadelphia. It was a huge gain for the Quakes because he has so much promise. He already rocked his rookie season, so with a year under his belt, I know he’s going to kill it next season and thankfully, he will be with the Quakes killing it.
“Hayden, wow. That’s really exciting.” I play it cool even though my nerves are dancing around in my belly. I don’t usually fangirl much, but this is a big deal. He is a big deal.
“Yes, since they called last minute, we’re going to put him on as a surprise guest tomorrow. Their publicists have already sent over a basic outline of what to talk about with him, so I’ll email that over. Give it a glance but it’s like every other athlete interview we’ve done.”
