Waltz This Way

by Dakota Cassidy

  Katherine’s gasp of air satisfied Callie enough to click the off button on her phone.

  Callie didn’t need a big sister and she didn’t need anyone to warn her of the pitfalls of dating.

  She wasn’t doing this to gain a social life. Callie was doing this to keep her position at the magazine and she was going to do it with sensitivity. She was doing this to prove that she could be just as much of a wonder woman as the wonder kids who were nipping at her heels, wanting her damn column and who would end up turning it into some vapid rambling instead of trying to reach the hearts of their readers.

  It was called fighting to keep your head above water with the hip and trendy.

  She’d be fucked and feathered if she’d let them win.

  Chapter 3

  Mace?

  Check.

  Louisville slugger?

  Check.

  Cell phone with nine-one-one on speed dial?

  Check.

  Well lit, positioned close to an exit parking space?

  Check.

  Callie was now officially ready for her first date since the dawn of man. She’d chosen to dress casually in a sweater and jeans. A long sweater and jeans. Callie still wasn’t ready to reveal her thighs, research or not.

  As she pulled into the parking space at the coffee house, she scanned the cars to look for Mitch’s. He’d e-mailed her to tell her that he drove a Mercedes, powder blue. He said he’d wait outside for her.

  Callie didn’t see a powder blue Mercedes anywhere and if Mitch had stood her up he was going to get a nasty e-mail. SPAM maybe…

  It would kinda figure if her first research non-date ditched her. Callie was still grappling with why Mitch wanted to go out with her. It had to be her “I don’t need a man” attitude, which Callie felt she’d accurately portrayed in her written profile. Men liked self-sufficient women. She was just that, even if she had girlie tendencies. Or it was desperation—a far more likely answer.

  Callie got out of her car and headed toward the entrance of the coffee shop, looking over the parking lot in the fading light.

  “Callie?”

  Her head shot up and she got her first gander at Mitch, waiting on the sidewalk. Tall and lanky, sandy blonde hair, with a soft, doughy look to his face, smiling at her like he’d just seen Jesus. “Mitch, it’s great to meet you!” Callie said with warmth and stuck out her hand, but Mitch pulled her into an embrace that rivaled a head lock. His cologne attacked her sinuses, clinging to them with the overpowering, powdery scent.

  “It’s nice to meet you too. Thank God you look just like the picture on the site.” Mitch held her at arm’s length and his eyes did a once over, stopping at her thighs.

  They were bulging, weren’t they?

  “Wow!” he exclaimed. “I took a real chance that the rest of you was going to be as hot as your face. Guess I lucked out,” he chuckled, obviously pleased that he’d wandered out on a limb to meet her sans seeing her body parts.

  And what did she say to that? Wow, thanks for taking the risk of a lifetime on me? I’m so glad I meet with your approval? It was coffee, not their betrothal. “Er, well, I’m glad I turned out okay for you, Mitch,” Callie said softly and smiled.

  Mitch shook his head, a flap of his hair dancing in the cool breeze. “You’re more than okay. Shit, you’re beautiful. I was a little skeptical when I saw your picture. I mean, you look sooo hot in it. I figured it was probably too good to be true. Like maybe it was taken a long time ago. I can’t believe you’re thirty-eight. Good genes… Guess I got lucky tonight, huh?”

  Mitch, Mitch, Mitch. If you don’t shut your mouth luck is going to take on a very decidedly unlucky turn for you. So let’s go drink a cup of shut the fuck up and get it on. Instead, Callie just smiled in the dimming afternoon light, because really, what could you say to something like that? Way to go, champ? Ya done good?

  Mitch let go of her hands, and Callie fought the impulse to wipe them free of his clammy sweat. He turned around in a slow circle as people passed them, staring. “So what do you think?”

  What was this? Did she have to rate him? On a scale of one to ten wet panties, you, Mitch get a…Hells bells. “I think you’re just fine, Mitch. Now c’mon and let’s get that coffee.” Callie slipped past him and entered the coffee shop, heading for the counter and avoiding answering his question in detail.

  Mitch was right behind her, pressed closely to her back like a boil. His looming presence made Callie take a step forward, and Mitch followed her lead, right up her ass and placed a light hand on her shoulder.

  Hookay, touching was out. No touching. Not even a little. It felt odd, intrusive. No man had touched her like this in more than two years. Callie rolled her neck, hoping Mitch would get the idea that her body was off limits. Mitch took it as a sign she needed a chiropractor. He began to massage her neck, griping her flesh in tight, kneading fists. “Neck hurt?” Mitch asked against her ear.

  Only when you have it in a death grip. Thankfully, the cashier asked her what she wanted and Callie was able to step away from the octopus that was Mitch. “Coffee, please.”

  The young girl gave her a questioning look. “Well, what kind of coffee, ma’am? I mean, latte, frappuccino, cappuccino, flavored, unflavored, hot, cold, low fat, caffeinated, decaf with all the trimmings?” She smiled at Callie as she took a deep breath and titled her head, waiting for an answer.

  Callie pursed her lips. “Um, just plain old Juan Valdez, please. You know, you put the grounds in the coffee maker and bam, coffee?”

  The young girl smiled again and nodded her head. “No walks on the wild side for you. Got it. One regular coffee coming up and you, sir?” she inquired of roamin’ hands and rushin’ fingers Mitch.

  Mitch cleared his throat and coffee aficionado that he was, ordered a grande latte, Irish Cream, low fat.

  Callie hiked her purse up over her shoulder and backed away from the counter, fully expecting Mitch to pay for her coffee after all that coppin’ a feel stuff.

  “I’ll get it,” Mitch offered magnanimously.

  What a man…

  Mitch paid for the coffee and they found a semi-isolated table near the window. It was slow for the evening, everyone safe at home with their families, eating dinner. Callie took a good long look at Mitch under the brighter lights. He was pleasant enough to eyeball, but he wasn’t making her heart pound, or her hormones. “So, Mitch, tell me about yourself.” Please. So I don’t reconsider slitting my wrists.

  Mitch winked at her and sipped at his coffee. His gold pinky ring flickered under the bright lights of the coffee shop. “I’m a CPA. Didn’t you read my profile?”

  Studiously… ”I did,” Callie assured him. “I just want to hear it from you. I suck at numbers. I’m creative, not technical.”

  Mitch leaned over the small table as though he were revealing a secret and smiled knowingly. “I can help you with all sorts of stuff. Money markets, CD’s, investments.”

  Nah, it’s okay, Mitch. I got the booty from the ex. “Well, thanks. I’m all set, I think. So what do you like to do for fun? How does Mitch relax?”

  “I love to watch the weather channel. That relaxes me.”

  Callie coughed on her gulp of coffee. It was always good to know what Siberia was like this time of year. “Really? I don’t think I’ve caught the weather channel as of late.”

  “I like the Game Show Network too.”

  Mitch was just full of interesting little factoids then, wasn’t he? Oy. “How about movies? What kind do you like?”

  Mitch smiled again, this time fully. He was missing a tooth way back yonder, and really that was okay. You didn’t have to have all of your teeth, just most of them. “I like documentaries and the more obscure things, like Cannes Film Festival stuff.”

  Callie fought off a yawn. She was missing Ricardo Montalban for this? She could have coffee at home any damn time she pleased.

  Research, Callie, research.

  Mitch tugged the collar of his
shirt and it rippled over his slim chest. “Why did you agree to go out with me, Callie? I can’t believe you did. You could have anyone you wanted.”

  Yes, she would just pick from the long line of studs waiting outside her apartment door. “Because you asked me?” Callie said tentatively, nervously.

  “I still can’t believe you said yes. You’re gorgeous.”

  “No, I’m average.”

  He shook his head. “No, no you’re gorgeous.”

  Hookay, Mitch, you win I lose. I’m tres fantastique.

  Enough.

  Ick. This had to stop. Callie wasn’t gorgeous and she didn’t want to be told every two seconds that she was. Callie decided to turn the tables. “So what made you choose to contact me, Mitch?”

  “You want me to be honest here?”

  No, tell me sweet lies. “Yes, of course.”

  “Your lips.”

  Her lips… ”My lips?” He’d mentioned they were sexy, but there had to be more than just two pieces of flesh that were shiny to attract him.

  “Yep, I didn’t even read your profile before I was typing up an e-mail to you.”

  Honesty was good—healthy in fact. “My lips,” Callie repeated woodenly.

  “You asked,” Mitch said plainly. “I couldn’t stop thinking about them in fact.”

  Nuff said. Callie didn’t want to know what he’d been thinking about her lips. Next subject. “So you didn’t even know if we’d have anything in common? You just contacted me because of a physical attribute?” Talk about premature cyber communication. Callie took another sip of her coffee and eyed Mitch.

  “Oh, yeah, I looked at your profile afterward and we have some things in common, like this.” He held up his Styrofoam container of coffee.

  Coffee and lips. Perfect together. “So have you been dating long, Mitch?”

  He shrugged his shoulders. “Here and there since my divorce, but nothing special.”

  “Have the other dates you’ve been on been disappointing, Mitch?” Callie asked as she wiped her newly discovered sexy lips free of coffee with a napkin from the dispenser.

  Mitch snorted and inched his hands across the table. “To say the least. Most show up and they look nothing like their pictures. It was taken like back in their prime, ya know? When they were still cheerleaders or prom queens.”

  Mitch, here’s your sign. If the picture features your potential date mid-air in a split—with hair bigger than the actual pom-poms she’s holding, the picture is old, baby. Callie wanted to enlighten Mitch, but clamped her mouth firmly shut.

  “The other half is totally boring. I haven’t experienced a complete connection with anyone, but I think that’s all about to change,” he smiled again, his watery blue eyes staring intently into hers.

  Not on my watch, Mitch. “I’m sorry to hear that they’ve been disappointing, Mitch. What do you hope to find in a woman?”

  Mitch looked tired as he answered, the lines around his eyes crinkled. “I want someone I can come home to. Somebody to watch a movie with. Someone who will ask me how my day was and really care to know.”

  Shoot. Callie inwardly cringed. The loneliness she’d sensed prior to meeting Mitch was accurate and he looked like he’d told this story more times than not. Her heart hurt for him and she didn’t want it to because this was research, but Callie had always had trouble separating her sensitivity from the cutthroat attitude she’d need to have for this dating thing. She was one twisted bitch to go on this date, knowing full well she had no intention of doing anything more than gathering information. Stories she could relay to her readers that would make fun of these dates. “Have you been dating long?”

  Mitch shrugged and took another sip of his latte. “About three years. I’m not getting any younger and I’m really tired of being alone.”

  “Maybe that’s the trouble?” Callie asked. “Maybe you’re trying too hard?”

  “Trying too hard?” Mitch appeared perplexed.

  “Yeah, like going into these dates as if you might trip over your soul mate, instead of just looking to make friends? A connection on any level is better than none, right?” Callie couldn’t stand the look of desperation in Mitch’s eyes. If your soul mate found you at the local Starbucks, grande latte in hand, great, but the chances of that happening were slim to none. So why not fill your life up with friends? People you shared interests with?

  “I don’t need any more friends, Callie. I want someone to curl up with at night.”

  “I could loan you my dog, Aston. He’s a great snuggler,” Callie offered jokingly, hoping to diffuse this sudden intense turn in their conversation.

  Mitch reached across the table and toyed with her finger. “I think I’d rather snuggle with you.”

  For the love of God. How did they go from talking about the weather channel to this? “That’s sweet, Mitch, but we’ve just met.”

  Mitch tugged on her finger again, wrapping his around it and said. “But I feel you, Callie and I think you feel me too…”

  The only thing Callie was feeling right now was un-frickin’-comfortable. She didn’t feel Mitch. She didn’t feel this connection he so desperately wanted to experience with another person and she didn’t know how to tell him she didn’t. She definitely was depressed, though, if this was what the dating scene was sometimes about. Mitch was creating things that just weren’t happening on her planet because he so wanted to experience them.

  With anyone.

  Shit. Callie smiled for the umpteenth time and said brightly, “Hang onto that thought, Mitch. I need to go the ladies room.” Grabbing her purse and scooting out of her seat, she searched frantically for a restroom sign.

  She rooted around in her purse for her cell phone as she shouldered her way into the bathroom and headed for an empty stall. Callie found Katherine’s phone number with the speed of light on her cell phone and pressed call.

  “Callie?”

  “Help me,” she whispered into the phone.

  “Did he touch you? I’ll freakin’ kill him—”

  “No!” Callie interrupted, “he’s talking about how he feels me.”

  “He, what?” Katherine thundered. “He’d better get used to feeling himself minus his balls!”

  “No! No, he didn’t feel me. He said he feels me.”

  “Well, ask him how he feels about my fist up his ass?”

  “Stop, Kath! He said he feels a connection or something.”

  “Tell him to connect this and back the fuck off!”

  “Katherine, help me. I don’t want to hurt his feelings.”

  Katherine blew out a breath. “Oh, okay, so do you want him to feel you instead?”

  “Arghh. No, I want to know how to leave without hurting his feelings.”

  “Simple, you say, buh-bye.”

  “C’mon, Kath. Help me be nice.”

  “Okay, you go back out there and say, ‘wow, look at the time I have to go’. Fantasy Island is on.”

  Callie started to laugh, despite her panic. “Kath, pleeeease.”

  “Callie. You just tell him you have to go. That’s it. His feelings are going to be hurt no matter what you say if he’s feeling you and you’re not feeling him.”

  Great. She was already a diva bitch—date one. Callie sighed. “Okay, Kath. Thanks.”

  “Oh, and don’t forget to duck.”

  Callie’s eyebrows rose. “Huh?”

  “I said, duck, sweetie.”

  “I don’t get what you mean?”

  “He’s going to want to kiss you. Duck.”

  Oh, hell…Callie’s shoulders sagged. “How do I avoid that?”

  “Duck,” Katherine said again.

  Callie tried to imagine Mitch’s lips on hers. Oh, no. Not. Nu-uh. She was ducking. “I’ll duck.”

  “Good girl. Bye.”

  Callie clicked her phone off and shoved it back in her purse. She stopped at the mirror and fluffed her hair. She didn’t know why it mattered if she was having a good hair day. She wanted
to look good when she ducked. Her cheeks were flushed and her lipstick was fading. Time to call it a night. Just like the big girls do.

  Callie straightened her shoulders and went back out to Mitch to tell him she didn’t “feel him” like he felt her. There was no connection—no chemistry—not even a little biology. Nada.

  Mitch rose as she came to stand by the edge of the table. “Everything okay?”

  “Oh, everything’s fine. I’m just tired, So I’m afraid I’ll have to go now.” Good, that was good. She was leaving and ducking.

  “So soon?” Mitch’s frown was quickly hidden with a tight smile.

  “Yeah, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize the time. I have to walk my dog.” Thank God for Aston.

  Mitch’s eyes held hers far longer than Callie was comfortable with. She averted her own to dig in her purse for her keys, but Mitch jumped up and said, “I’ll walk you to your car.”

  Just grand. “No, Mitch, you stay and enjoy the coffee. I’ll be fine.”

  Mitch shrugged into his jacket. “No way. No date of mine is going to her car alone.”

  Fab-u-lous. Callie nodded and sprinted to the door with a time an Olympic runner would cry in shame over. She scanned the parking lot with her eyes and located her car, stepping off the curb and walking briskly toward it.

  Shoot, Mitch had long legs, he was right behind her, cupping her elbow and following her as closely as possible. When they reached her car, Callie turned to him and offered her hand and again, Mitch took it and pulled her close, hugging her hard.

  “I had a great time, Callie,” he mumbled into her hair.

  Callie thumped him on the back. “It was nice, Mitch, thanks for the coffee.”

  “So?”

  Um… ”So, what?”

  “So, do you think we connected?”

  Jesus… ”I—I—like you, Mitch and I’d love to have a friendly cup of coffee again sometime.”

  Mitch’s arms fell away from her as he backed up. His face was slack and his eyes were dull under the parking lot lamp. “Okay, Callie. It’s what I figured, anyway. Thanks again.”

  Someone’s self-esteem jar was half empty. Dammit all. “I’m sorry, Mitch.” Callie felt like shit, plain and simple. She couldn’t make herself feel something she didn’t.