Three Blind Dates

by Meghan Quinn

  “You’re thinking second date?” Holy crap, that’s a little shocking given my drunken state and obvious attempt to stir Jack from across the dining room.

  Full of confidence, clearly forgetting every drunken thing I did and said tonight, he nods. “Would love a second date.”

  Well, well, well, looks like the turtleneck was a winning choice after all.

  “I guess it’s a date then.”

  ***

  “I’m going to run to the bathroom real quick. Meet you outside?”

  “Sounds good.” Hayden helps me out of my chair, holding his hand out, acting like an absolute gentleman.

  This date has been so different than the first two. Maybe it’s because we already knew each other, so there wasn’t the awkward moment of trying to get to know a complete stranger. I felt relaxed, more at ease, and before you start saying, “Noely, it’s called booze,” this wasn’t from the booze.

  It’s as though I’ve known Hayden my whole life, like we were long-lost friends getting reacquainted. It was nice. Comfortable.

  Looking over my shoulder, I catch Hayden checking out the light sway of my hips as I retreat, and a surge of feminine power electrifies my ego. After three dates, I’ve still got it. Smiling, I go to the bathroom and pee for what seems like five minutes causing me to chuckle to myself. Call me immature, but when I pee forever, it makes me giggle. It’s like, are you going to stop anytime soon, down there?

  Hmm . . . maybe I’m still a tad drunk.

  Once I wash and dry my hands, I take a few moments to tend to my hair in front of the mirror, make sure my lipstick isn’t on my teeth, and pop a mint in my mouth. I suck on it hard, trying to soak in all the minty flavor, infusing it on my tongue, because you know, just in case.

  Do I want Hayden to kiss me?

  Uh, yeah.

  He’s Hayden Freaking Holmes. I would kiss his toe if he asked me to.

  Hell, I would still mint up for his toe.

  Pleased with my appearance and happy with my mint mouth, I head out of the bathroom, purse tucked under my arm and one thing on my mind: Hayden Holmes.

  I strut down the narrow hallway—you know, just in case Hayden is still watching—and inconveniently catch my heel on a crack, catapulting me forward into a dense and corded chest.

  “Oh Lord, you saved me from a faceplant,” I announce, grateful for not eating hardwood floor.

  “Those heels are dangerous.”

  Oh hell.

  Glancing up, I stare into those eyes, the ones that have followed me all night.

  “Jack.” Pushing off his chest, I try to put some distance between us but his hands catch my elbows, attempting to steady me.

  “You seem to be stumbling a lot tonight.”

  “Keeping tabs on me?” I step away this time, shaking his grasp. I brush off my arms, trying to rid the burning feelings his hands imprinted on my skin.

  “I’m an observant man, Noely. You should know this.”

  “Actually, I shouldn’t, you know, since we only went on one date.”

  Jack’s jaw very carefully shifts back and forth, the movements so small that it almost seems like he’s not moving at all. “Are you going home with him tonight?”

  Did he just ask that?

  Where the hell does he get off?

  “I don’t believe that’s any of your business. So if you’ll excuse me, I have a date to get to. And just so you know, if he asked me to kiss his toe, I would.”

  Errr . . .

  Not what I wanted to say, but this man makes me so goddamn flustered. Instead of cringing, I own my statement and push past him, our shoulders brushing. “Use protection when you kiss his toe. Athlete’s foot is a real thing.”

  “You’re infuriating,” I call out, my voice echoing off the hallway. “Have fun with titty mountain.”

  “I will.”

  His answer stops my urgency to walk away. I turn on my heel to find him leaning against the wall, arms crossed, an impassive look on his face. The corner of his lip turns up, his eyes knowing he got me, and I hate it. I’m tempted to walk back and smack that smirk right off his face but then again, that’s probably what he wants.

  But why? Why is he doing this? He. Doesn’t. Want. Me. He wants Miss Uncomplicated Sure Thing Titty Mountain.

  Such a twisted man. Instead, I turn toward the dining room and head straight to Hayden, who’s standing at the entryway of the restaurant, hands in pockets, rocking back on his heels.

  When he spots me, his face lights up, and a boyish grin peeks past his lips. He’s happy to see me. Thank God.

  Sigh, just what I needed.

  “All set?”

  “Yeah, sorry, I peed a lot.”

  Probably information he didn’t need but at this point, I don’t think there is one thing I could say to Hayden that will deter him from going on a second date with me. Hell, I shouted the word baguette tonight. If we could get through that moment, I think we can get past anything.

  “There is a little park two blocks down; want to go on a little walk?”

  “I would love that.”

  ***

  From behind, Hayden grips the chains on either side of my head, pulls back and then pushes his hand against my lower back, sending me forward. My heels and purse are in the sand next to me as I swing, bare feet in the cool night air, feeling young and free.

  “I can’t remember the last time I was on a swing.”

  “Me either,” Hayden says, planting himself on the swing next to mine.

  “Sex swing excluded.”

  “Obviously.” He starts pumping his legs, not trying to get too high, just giving himself a bit of a lift.

  When I’m casually swaying back and forth I ask, “What was it like, hearing the news you were traded?”

  Hayden lets out a long breath. “Kind of sucked to be honest. I thought Philly was going to be my home. I grew to the player I am today because of the Brawlers, so when my agent called me to tell me the news, I almost felt let down, like my family was giving up on me.”

  “Ouch. I never thought about it that way. I mean, you get more money.” I try to put a spin on his sour change in life plans.

  “Money is money. But I grew up in the area and wasn’t far from family and friends. Now I’m more than three thousand miles away. It’s a change, an adjustment. I’m sure I’ll get used to at some point.”

  “Did you have good friends on the team?”

  “A few, but I was only there a year. It was more my friends and family . . . leaving people behind didn’t feel too good.”

  People. Why do I feel like there’s more to the “people” he speaks of? Possibly his long-term girl? I’m about to ask him who in particular, when he says, “The Quakes have been very welcoming though. The guys are awesome, training so far has been intense but rewarding, and I can feel myself getting stronger every day.” Okay, what happened there? He was open and truthful initially, but that answer seemed like the media-approved answer. However, I’ll let it slide. Keep things light. For now.

  “Stronger than you are already?” My swing slows drastically. “Are you going to be one of those athletes with no neck because you’re lifting an elephant every day over your head?”

  “Is that what athletes with no necks do? Lift elephants?”

  “Every morning.” I chuckle, knowing how ridiculous I sound.

  “No, that won’t be me. But if I can build up my quads more, I wouldn’t be mad about it. It’s my legs that get me through a game and the stronger the better.”

  “Makes sense.” My swing almost stops. Gripping the chains, I lightly push myself back and forth with my toe. “Did you always want to be a professional hockey player?”

  “Since I was four.” Hayden’s eyes look so dreamy when he talks about his sport. You can tell he’s one of those athletes who truly loves playing. He doesn’t seem to do it for the paycheck or the fame, more for the thrill of the game. I like that about him. “But I never expected myself to be where I am
today. I knew I had talent and with a lot of hard work, I could achieve my goal—”

  “But not win rookie of the year.”

  “Not so much.” He sheepishly chuckles. “It’s humbling and rewarding to see all my late nights and early mornings in the gym pay off. I just hope there isn’t a sophomore slump.”

  “Hayden Holmes, no way. He’s going to take the LA Earthquakes to the championship.”

  “Ha, we will see. We have a long road ahead of us, especially after last season.”

  “Not our finest season.” Not even by a long shot. The LA Earthquakes were trash last year, embarrassing actually, so how they acquired Hayden, I have no idea.

  “So you’re truly a hockey fan, not just for the camera?” His question isn’t mean at all. I like the sincerity in his voice, as if he’s truly hoping I’m a hockey fan.

  I tuck a stray hair behind my ear that the wind picked up. “Born and raised Quakes fan. My dad and brother were adamant about watching every game and, wanting to be part of their chanting, I started watching at a young age and got hooked. If there aren’t at least two fights on the ice I’m disappointed.”

  Hayden laughs. “You know it isn’t just about the fights, don’t you? It’s about how each team can handle the puck. The passing, the stamina, the goaltending, the cohesiveness of the team.”

  “And the fights.” I smirk, causing Hayden to roll his eyes. “Have you ever gotten in one?”

  “Plenty.”

  “But your face is so pretty.”

  He wiggles his eyebrows at me. “It’s because I’m a good fighter.”

  “So if we went to a dark alley, you would be able to defend me from an assault?”

  Hayden casually swings next to me, his feet guiding along the ground beneath him. “First, we wouldn’t go into a dark alley; that seems like a bad idea. Second, yes, I would pummel ass for you.”

  I clasp my hand to my chest. “I think that’s the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me on a date.”

  “Ah, so does this mean I’m beating your other two blind dates?”

  “Easily.”

  Maybe . . .

  Possibly . . .

  It’s a fun date, an easygoing date, carefree and fun. There is no pressure to look sexy, no pressure to be on my best behavior. Which is fortunate, given how appalling my behavior has been. I feel comfortable around Hayden, and to me, I think that puts him above The Suit and The Rebel.

  Can I be cheesy for a second? I’m going to throw a cornball moment at you.

  Are you ready?

  Prepare yourself.

  But since I’m feeling all revved up on sports talk . . .

  Coming down the final straightaway, The Jock leads the way, trailing behind is The Rebel, and way behind is The Suit. Despite The Suit’s attempt to throw a curveball in the pursuit for my heart, it looks like The Jock might be the one who scores the goal.

  See what I did there? So many sports analogies.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  NOELY

  “You really didn’t have to give me a ride home.” I turn in the buttery-soft leather seat of Hayden’s Porsche Cayenne so I’m facing him.

  “It was no trouble at all. Plus, it would have been weird waiting for your Uber driver when I could easily give you a lift.”

  “So gentlemanly.”

  With the car in park, Hayden peers out his window and takes in my little cottage overlooking the ocean. “Nice place. If I didn’t have to live close to LA for training, I would want a place like this. Something not too big but overlooking the ocean. Do you spend most of your time listening to the waves crash?”

  “When I’m home, yes. It’s comforting to me. Work can be demanding, so when I get a chance to hang at home, I’m out on my deck enjoying the fresh, sea-salted air.”

  “So when I’m breathing in the beautiful dirt-filled smog air of LA, I’ll know you’re out here, taking in the ocean.”

  “Pretty much.” Quietly, we smile at each other; our banter is so light and free. “Do you want to come in? You can check out my deck.”

  The lift of Hayden’s questioning eye makes me laugh. “You can check out my deck. Is that code for something else?”

  I snort and cover my nose, hating how unattractive that was. “Oh my God, no.” I laugh with Hayden. “I really meant my deck.”

  He undoes his seatbelt and nods. Suggestively, he says, “I would love to check out your deck, Noely.”

  I follow suit. “I really mean deck. This isn’t one of those moments where you’re looking at a picture on my wall, turn around and there I am, standing tits a-blazing, nipples winking at you.”

  “Well, that’s just disappointing.” His smirk is completely adorable. In fact, everything about this man is adorable. When I met him before our interview on Good Morning, Malibu, it didn’t take more than a minute to be charmed by him. In fact, had I not been a little wobbly and excited about my first date with Jack, I probably would have wondered if Dylan had been right about Hayden. Had he been interested in me then? What did he think tonight when he found out I was ShopGirl? Because, here I am, two weeks later, opening my door to this six-foot-four gentle giant with spades of sexy mixed in with charisma, charm, and intelligence. I’ll admit it. He has my stomach in knots, and now that all the imbibed confidence has worn off, when he sends his smile my way, I’m feeling something. Is it because I’ve seen action in the last month? A little from Jack, a lot from Beck . . .

  I take no time in unlocking my front door, switching on a few lights and leading him to the deck. The crest of the moon shines on the waves, glistening and sparkling, creating a romantic atmosphere. I toss my purse on one of the lounges and briefly think about the last guy I brought out here.

  Beck.

  How we made out on the lounge, his large, defined body pressing against mine. His arousal hard and thick between my legs, only thin pieces of clothing between us. My face heats up, my cheeks scorching with what we did next, where we ended up.

  I peer at Hayden, who’s gripping the rail, absorbing the light whisper of the wind and the rolling waves. He’s been sweet, conversational, and interested in my drunken stories, but he’s also been a little standoffish. He pressed his hand on my lower back when walking, but that’s the extent of our contact.

  Makes me wonder, is he shy? Is this larger-than-life jock shy? It’s hard to believe a man of his size, of his brawny and muscular structure, could be timid. It’s almost an oxymoron.

  But then again, maybe this is what I need. Maybe I need to take this dating thing at a snail’s pace. Because let’s be honest. The Suit was assertive, told me what he wanted and took it when he wanted it, hence the most limb-melting kiss I’ve ever had. With The Rebel, hell, I think we all know what happened there. Little Noely boo-foo couldn’t keep her pants buttoned and wound up doing wicked things with her mouth.

  With Hayden, this feels like it could really go somewhere, like we’re clicking on a different level. If I want to make this work, maybe I need to take a different approach, really establish a base before I start throwing my body at him.

  “This is beautiful, Noely. God, how can you even leave your house? I would have one hell of a time trying to get my ass out to work if I lived here.”

  I giggle. “Work. It’s funny hearing your profession referred to that. I mean, I know it’s work for you, but to me, you’re a freaking hockey player, not pushing pencils over at Al Schmenky’s Accountant firm.”

  “Al Schmenky?” Hayden’s confused face is adorable.

  I shrug. “He makes sure I don’t go to tax jail. Great man, a little too much by the book, doesn’t let me write my hair stylist off as a work expense, and he really loves a good baklava.”

  “Who doesn’t?”

  “Weird people. There is something about the honey and nuts and the dough.” I kiss my fingers and toss them in the air. “Perfection.”

  “Still drunk?” He looks amused.

  “I wish I could say I was.”

  Look
ing back at the ocean, Hayden asks, “Can I ask you a personal question?”

  “Why not? I practically outlined my nipple with my finger for you over dinner.”

  “That was a very candid moment for you.”

  “Candid or drunk?”

  “Maybe both.” He shakes his head. “Why did you join the Going in Blind program? You’re beautiful, know a lot of people, and have a good head on your shoulders, you know, besides the nipple drawing and whatnot.” Shouldn’t I be asking him that question? Why is he using Going in Blind?

  Instead of focusing my attention on Hayden when I answer, I lean on the ocean for solace. “Besides the fact that I’ve had horrible luck attempting to pick out men for myself, I wanted to try something new. I was in a rut. I wanted to meet someone who was equally interested in starting a relationship, with the aim of marriage. I don’t want to just hookup, I want something real, something palpable with meaning.”

  “You want your forever.”

  “Yeah, I want my forever.” Awkwardly, I stand a few feet from Hayden, wondering what he thinks of that answer. Is he looking for the same thing? Is my answer going to scare him off? Before I can torture myself with diving too deep into what his thoughts could possibly be, I ask, “Why did you join?”

  “Camaraderie, the hope for something more, someone other than teammates to lean on. I’m kind of over the whole hookup scene.” He bites on his bottom lip. “I kind of got a taste of what a relationship could be like and I want that.” Ah, he did have to leave someone special behind.

  “You know, Hayden. You surprise me. I keep saying that, but you do. You’re grounded and real, and I like that about you.”

  “Humble upbringings. Growing up, I learned that when everything else seemed to disappear at the drop of a hat, family stuck around. I try to keep that in mind when the fame starts to become overwhelming. Play for the game, not for the fame. It was my dad’s motto for me growing up. I write the saying in every helmet I wear so I carry it around with me.”

  “That’s really sweet. And your family, are they all in Philadelphia?”

  “Scranton, Pennsylvania, actually. I grew up a little north from there in a town called Binghamton in upstate New York, but my parents moved to be closer to family when I graduated from high school and went off to college.”