"Fair enough."
"And learn to make it a little less obvious that you prefer blondes."
"Damn. She noticed?"
"Those were nearly her exact words."
"I do like blondes," I said. "I don't deny that. If she was my wife, I'd hint, broadly, that I thought she was hot just the way she was when I met her."
"Uh-huh," Ashley said. "But she's not, and the damage, so to speak, is done. Make her feel like the most beautiful, attractive, enticing woman in the world and maybe someday she'll be your wife and you can tell her that without risking bodily harm. For now, learn to like the new look."
"All right," I said. "I blew it. I'm stinging. Build my ego back up. What did I do right?"
"You were just you—sweet and genuine."
"Sweet." I spit the word out. "And the other guy, her second date, I suppose he's a badass. Is she going out with him again, too?"
"You know I can't discuss that," Ashley said. "But I might just hint that if the world was fair and based on merits, he outshone you date-wise. Up your game, Jeremy. Don't blow the next date."
No pressure.
"I won't," I said. "I'm taking her out for a beer." I had an excellent date all planned.
"A beer?"
I could hear Ashley coming out of her chair.
"How is that upping your game over the last debacle of a cup of coffee?"
"Trust me," I said. "You said to be me. I am. This will mean something to Crystal and be romantic and sweet, like the guy I am." You can't shake some reputations.
Ashley sighed. "At least buy her an appetizer with it, will you?"
"Nachos or baked potato fries," I said, laughing. "Sure. I can spring for one of those. Wait. I have it—pizza. I'll buy her pizza and beer." I hung up before I could hear Ashley scream, doing the digital equivalent of ducking.
* * *
Crystal
On Wednesday, I got an intriguing text from Jeremy. Night owl or not?
My fingers flew typing the response. I can be when the occasion demands it.
He wrote right back. Demands it, lol. I'll take that as a yes. Adventurous or not? Like to be surprised? Up for new experiences or like to play it safe?
I looked at my phone suspiciously. Adventurous. Love surprises. Always up for new experiences, provided they aren't illegal or exceptionally dangerous. What kind of date are you planning? I thought this was just beer. And do you play twenty questions with all of your dates?
Only with the important ones, the ones I want to impress. Trying to up my game this time, he replied. And cater to your every wish. I have to know what kind of woman I'm dealing with first. Not all surprises are good. I want this one to be the good kind. And this is more than just beer. This is dinner, if you're up for it. You said you're adventurous.
Yes, I did. What was he up to? I have to eat anyway. I wouldn't call that being particularly adventurous. So, yes to dinner.
I watched the little thought bubble showing that he was typing. His response came back. Vegan? Vegetarian? Carnivorous? Food allergies? Dislikes?
You really are full of questions. No allergies. I eat almost everything with that's relatively normal. No fried grasshoppers. I refuse to eat those at the ballpark even when taunted. Give me garlic fries any day.
No bugs. Got it. You're a French fry girl.
I realized after the conversation ended that I hadn't been playing the game and neither had he. Our texts had been a regular conversation, no long gaps in between. That had to be a good sign.
I didn't hear from him again until Thursday night.
Five o'clock tomorrow good for you? I'll send a car to pick you up. Give me an address. If it's still too early to give me your home address, anywhere the car can pick you up is fantastic.
Five's fine, I responded, and told him where to send the car. Are we drinking so heavily that I can't drive myself?
How much you drink is up to you. But to answer your question—no, you can't drive to our date. I refuse to let you.
Very mysterious. What's the dress for this date I can't drive to?
Hot as hell.
Seriously.
Seriously. Hot casual. Tight jeans and shoes you can walk in. Bring a jacket. We'll be out late.
Wishful thinking on his part?
I texted back, Shoes I can walk in and hot are mutually exclusive.
I'm not a cruel man—shoes you can walk in, as long as they aren't butt ugly. Save the killer stilettos for our third date.
Optimist? I replied.
Realist and positive thinker. See you tomorrow evening.
* * *
Friday
Crystal
The car picked me up at exactly five, somehow managing to be on time despite the fickle nature of Seattle traffic, especially on Fridays. I texted my best friend Anna as the car pulled away, letting her know I was on my way. We were always each other's safety net. Yes, I now had a matchmaker to screen for me and keep tabs, but Anna would be offended if we didn't continue the tradition.
Jeremy had told me to wear jeans for our night out. I went with his suggestion. If you ask a man how you should dress, you should listen to his opinion. Wear what he likes if you want to impress him. Otherwise, don't ask him. That was my rationale. I paired the jeans with a lovely, feminine pink blouse—pale, nearly nude pink was the in color this fall—and sensible but cute ankle booties. I carried an oversized purse over my shoulder and had a quilted lightweight jacket, as instructed. The evenings were getting cool. It had only been forty-two degrees when I got up this morning. I wondered if Jeremy had a walk along the waterfront in mind.
I'd also changed up my look for this second date, going back to a softer makeup look, more natural. If he liked the me he'd first met, the blonde with straight hair, I'd give him a version of that original me. I didn't go as far as trying to be a blonde again; too much treatment would damage my hair beyond repair. And I wasn't sure where this was going, whether he was worth it yet. But I ditched the curls in favor of sleek, straight hair. And the feminine blouse was a nod to the flirty look of the sundress I'd been wearing the day we met.
We headed over the West Seattle Bridge to Seattle, which wasn't surprising. I hadn't expected him to take me on a date on my home turf. Seattle was the obvious choice. The city had many nice breweries and pubs with good food as well as great custom beers. I wouldn't have been particularly surprised, though, to be taken across the lake to Kirkland or Redmond, either. Jeremy was a techie, and both cities had plenty of breweries and were in the high-tech corridor. I was surprised, however, as we headed toward the stadiums instead of the heart of downtown Seattle. And even more surprised when we pulled up to King Street Station. Trains? Or breweries in Pioneer Square?
King Street Station was a registered historic building built around the turn of the twentieth century. Its distinctive clock tower, which stood three or four times higher than the main building, was an icon, a landmark for this part of the city. Any Seattleite would recognize it.
Jeremy was waiting for me on the sidewalk in front, watching for me. He looked adorable, so expectant, and endearingly nervous as he tried to look cool. My heart did a little flip when I spotted him and the car came to a stop in front of him.
His face lit up as I opened my door and waved to him. He was immediately by my side, offering me a hand out of the car. I slid my bag over my shoulder and accepted his hand, feeling the zing of attraction as his large, warm hand took mine. "How very gentlemanly."
He grinned. "I graduated with honors from Ashley's charm school."
"Honors? Impressive." I laughed, keeping my poise, but almost wishing I could topple into his arms. He had to be joking about charm school. But then again, maybe not.
He closed the door behind me, staring at me as if he couldn't believe his good luck. "You look beautiful."
The awe in his voice curled my toes and stroked my vanity, which may have been more wounded than I thought at our coffee date. He sounded so sincere. "Thanks."
He took my arm and walked me closer to the bustling station.
It was loud outside, with the sounds of the city and the trains. The station had a certain romance about it. Many companies held corporate events there. My thoughts turned to dinner trains and mystery dinners on the rails.
He stopped just outside the entrance. "You have a decision to make now. This date can go one of two ways, depending on how adventurous you really are."
I tilted my head and studied him. "Is that a dare?"
"Only if you take it that way." He held my gaze. "The pressure's on me to impress you this time. What better way than letting you choose what you want to do?"
"So it's my fault if I don't enjoy myself?" I teased.
He shrugged. "There are no bad choices here. What will it be? A little adventurous or a lot?"
"This is a choose-my-own-adventure date, then?" I was beginning to like the sound of it. From the location, my money was still on dinner train behind door number one.
"You could call it that."
"So. What are my options?" I stepped closer to him, stopping just short of batting my eyes.
"We go through that door." He pointed to the entrance to the station. "Or venture out into the city. Your choice."
"I don't get any more specifics?"
He shook his head. "Afraid not. More will be revealed only as the date progresses."
"Which is the more adventurous option?"
He pointed toward the door of the station.
I glanced back at it. "I haven't been inside since my senior prom."
"You haven't been on a train since high school?
"Not from here," I said.
"Your prom was here, though?" He seemed surprised.
I nodded.
"Good memories or bad?"
"Does it matter?" I was already having fun sparring with him. I wanted so much to take his hand and just fly off somewhere fun.
"It's desperately important," he said. "I have to know what I'm up against—blot out a bad memory or top a good one?"
I hesitated and had a flashback of Anna and me and our dates at prom, of all the youthful romance, hope, and promise of the night. The partying. Staying out all night.
"Damn," Jeremy said. "You just smiled. You had a hot date. A real studly guy who gave you a corsage you still have pressed in your scrapbook, along with a dance picture of you in his eighteen-year-old arms. How the hell am I going to top that?"
I laughed. "I had a beautiful dress and a double date with my best friend and her boyfriend. My date was almost twenty, a college guy a year out of high school. So yes, I thought he was hot. And sophisticated. A real man of the world. He had friends who were old enough to legally buy beer. And he had a voice that belonged to a radio announcer, deep and sexy."
Jeremy's face was a mask.
I laughed. "And last I heard, he was married with a couple of kids. You? How was your prom? I bet it wasn't someplace nearly as exciting as a train station."
He shrugged. "I have no idea how it was. I didn't go. I gave up trying to get a date after the fifth girl turned me down. My ego had taken a bad enough beating. There's only so much a sixteen-year-old dweeb can take."
"Sorry to bring it up." I couldn't imagine the hot guy next to me having any trouble ever getting a date. I was still surprised and grateful he'd decided to use a matchmaker.
"Sixteen at prom time. What are you, a genius?"
He looked suddenly uncomfortable, as if I'd touched a sore spot with him. Or maybe he was just modest. "Late summer birthday. August thirty-first. Last day to make the school enrollment deadline, making me the youngest I could be in my class under normal circumstances. Compounded by skipping a grade and growing late. I graduated at sixteen, still baby-faced." He stroked his beard, as if to emphasize his masculinity.
"Let's just say during my school years I was always picked last for every team but the chess team. Girls usually like to date up, date the older guys. By the time most guys are seniors, they have their pick of the freshman ladies. Not so in my case. I still looked twelve." He grinned. "Enough about my early dating life. I don't think it's helping my cause. Decision time. What will it be?"
I took a step toward the door. "I like trains."
"Excellent choice." He held the door open. "I feel obligated to warn you that this option involves a certain time commitment and a late night. If this date goes south, neither of us will be able to escape until the adventure is over. The city option is much more flexible. You could bail out anytime." His tone was light and teasing, but his posture was tense.
"And so could you." I held out my hand. "I cleared my schedule for the entire evening."
He relaxed. "We'll have to hurry if we're going to make our train." He took my hand. "This way."
He pulled me through the crowds toward an elegant, sleek train pointed south. This very obviously wasn't a dinner train.
The train was already boarding, and it was clear we were on the late end. I was impressed that Jeremy had kept his cool while I made up my mind. He whipped his phone out of his pocket and brought up our boarding passes.
The conductor scanned them in. "Welcome aboard. Enjoy your trip."
Jeremy kept a grip on my hand as he led me through the car to the steps to the upper deck of the train.
"This isn't a dinner train," I said as he led the way up the steps. "Where are we going?"
He pushed the door open at the top of the stairs. "Third compartment on your right."
I arched an eyebrow. "Very specific and yet completely vague. Let me be more specific—where is this train going?"
"Ultimately, LA." He put his hand in the small of my back as we walked along the corridor. "There." He found the compartment and pushed the door open, standing aside to let me by.
"My geography isn't great, but unless I'm mistaken, LA is a longer journey than one evening." I looked over my shoulder at him, aware of how close he was, how good he smelled, and how much I liked him. I could lose my heart to him so easily. And I wasn't one to jump too quickly.
His eyes were filled with mirth. "I told you there was a time commitment involved."
"You failed to mention you were kidnapping me."
"Kidnapping?" He laughed. "I'm taking you to Portland for the beer I promised. We'll be there and back in a single night, I promise."
"In that case…" I turned to step into the compartment. There were two plush seats by the window, a table pulled down between them and set for dinner. A single red rose in an art glass vase sat in the middle next to a chilled, covered dish and an ice bucket filled with beverages.
"But first, we eat," he said in my ear. "I won't have you starving to death and drinking on an empty stomach."
10
Crystal
"A private compartment," I said. "This is…extravagant." I smiled at him as I sat and focused my attention on him.
"All the more to impress you." He sat opposite me and took the lid off the dish, revealing a fruit and cheese plate. He offered it to me.
"What would you have done with all this if I had chosen the city option?" I filled my appetizer plate.
"Donated it to a worthy person."
"And how would you have done that?" I shook my head. "You mean some steward would have had a nice meal and a place to nap." I pulled a bottle of sparkling water from the ice bucket and gestured around the compartment. "I can't believe you would have just eaten the tickets and all this." A thought occurred to me. "Wait a minute. What did you waste with the city option?"
He struggled to keep a straight face.
My mouth fell open. "Nothing? You were going to wing the city option. You knew I'd pick the train."
"'Wing' is such an ugly term," he said. "It implies no foresight. I had an agenda all planned out. You don't need reservations for pub crawling." He pointed to my water. "We can order something stronger."
"No thanks. This is perfect. I'm saving myself…for beer later." Flirting with him was too fun. "A pub crawl, h
uh? I might be sorry I'm missing it. I like a good pub crawl. Haven't really been on a great one since college."
"There's always tomorrow." He grabbed a bottle of dry soda and unscrewed the cap. "My friends and I make a habit of trying out the new pubs all the time. And the distilleries. You never know what great beers you'll discover or who you'll meet. Sometime I'll have to tell you about the time we met Connor Reid and had kilt lifters with him before Comicon."
Now my eyes were wide. "Kilt lifter beer or kilt lifter cocktails?"
"Cocktails makes them sound girly. I assure you, a kilt lifter isn't girly. And Connor can hold his share of them and straight whisky."
I laughed. "You really went drinking with Connor Reid? The star of the Jamie show? I might have a calendar of him at home." I winked. But I did have a Jamie calendar. Trend research. Ahem.
Jeremy kept his cool. "Yes. Connor's been a friend since we met him the night before Comicon this spring. He was out drinking all by himself when we offered to keep him company. I'll introduce you to him if I get the chance." He laughed. "In the meantime, I'll have to introduce you to my friend Austin, who's practically Connor's twin. He did some promo for the current season of the show. And by the way, I have a kilt, too. And a fine sword—"
"A fine sword, have you?" I laughed at his innuendo. "Now you're just trying to tempt me."
His answering grin was beautiful and toe-curling.
I realized who Jeremy's friend was now. All the Jamie fan groups had been full of the romance between Jamie and Elinor lookalikes Austin and Blair since spring.
"You have some interesting friends. And a high-profile life, from the sounds of it."
He shrugged. "Not usually."
"You mean when you're not pulling truck drivers from lapping tongues of fire and thick smoke or hanging out with billionaires, famous actors, and social media celebrities?"
"You were right beside me saving that truck driver. And I can't help that my college buddy Lazer did so well for himself. He was just a regular nerd when I met him and my other college buddies. We worked hard and got lucky. Meeting Connor was an example of a gregarious nature and alcohol-fueled confidence combining with luck." He leaned toward me. "We only knew who Connor was. Ashley thought Austin looked like him and could get a lot of babes if he played that up. For us, he was just a guy with an accent in a kilt. No one special. His effect on the ladies, though, that was pretty obvious. Sitting in that booth with Connor, we were the envy of every woman in that bar. If only we could have used that coin to snag a woman for ourselves."
Mr. Accidental Hero: Jet City Matchmaker Series: Jeremy Page 9
