by Vivian Lux
“He walked me home,” I said, unable to keep the dreaminess out of my voice. “He bought me dinner.”
“Yeah?”
“Well, a hot dog.”
Olivia snorted.
“A good hot dog! Best one I’ve ever had, actually.”
“Mm-hmm,” Olivia raised a sculpted eyebrow. “You’re leaving out like every detail I’m interested in hearing about.” She reached out and snagged another cookie.
“What do you want to hear about?”
Olivia smacked her forehead and raised her eyes to the heavens, mouthing something silent and most likely profane, before taking a deep, patient breath. “Let’s start with the very basics, okay, Candy darling? Romantic hot dog dinners are all well and good, but you need to paint a better picture here.”
“You want to know what he looked like?”
“Bingo.”
Once more, I felt my lips curling into a smile. “He was—really hot, Liv.”
“Yeah?” She clapped her hands and rubbed them together excitedly. “Keep talking.”
“He was tall. Really tall, like - I only came up to his shoulder - tall. I felt like an elf walking next to him.”
“Tall guys,” she gestured meaningfully to her crotch and wiggled her eyebrows. “You know what they say.”
“No, I don’t believe I do.”
“Oh, for God’s sake, keep talking.”
“He had a beard, too. I don’t usually like beards either, but his really suited him. It was dark and straight and really like, nicely shaped or something.” I shrugged. “Beard maintenance is difficult for some guys.”
“Ooh.” Olivia nodded appreciatively. “Shows he cares about shit.”
“Yeah, that’s what I thought. And get this, he knows how to ice skate.”
She wrinkled her nose. “Uh, like a figure skater?”
I laughed at the image of giant Ian in one of those skintight leotards. “I can’t imagine him as a figure skater, no. But he said he’d take me skating, show me how.”
“You made plans with him?”
“I gave him my number, yeah.”
“A bearded skater. Sounds like a hockey player to me.”
“Could be? I have no idea. You know how I am.”
“Yes I do," she nodded emphatically. "Hopeless. You’re hopeless. What color were his eyes?”
I was smiling like an idiot again. “It was dark in the bar and dark on the walk home, but his eyes were even darker, if that makes sense.”
“Oh, Christ, now she’s talking like a romance novel.”
“He was nice!” I protested.
Something flickered across Olivia’s face. Without an explanation, she turned in her chair. Her fingers tapped across her phone’s keypad, and I heard her draw in her breath. “Okay, wait. Hold the phone.” She held up her hands, and I dutifully snapped my mouth shut.
She looked down at her phone and nodded, then ticked off one of her fingers. “You’re telling me that he has a beard.”
I was confused. “Yup.”
She looked at her phone again and ticked off another finger. “And he has dark eyes, almost black?”
“Yup.”
Third finger. “And he’s a big guy, right?”
“Yup.”
She sighed heavily. “And you’re telling me he knows how to skate?”
“That’s what he said. Yup.”
Olivia smacked her forehead with her now open palm. “I swear to God, Candy, if I didn’t watch you graduate summa cum laude from Northwestern, I would swear you were completely clueless.”
“Clueless about what?”
“That was Ian Carter!” she exploded. She held out her phone. There, on the screen, was a headshot, and it could be no one else. I stared, astonished, and secretly happy to be able to see his face in broad daylight.
“Who is Ian Carter?”
“Hockey? Blackhawks? The enforcer? Big tough fighter guy? Been in the news constantly?” Olivia shook her head. “Seriously? Nothing, Candace? How do we live on the same planet?”
“I don’t follow sports, you know that!”
“Ian Carter’s been in more than just the sports pages, Candy-girl.” Then Olivia burst out into astonished laughter. “Oh my God, I cannot believe that Ian Carter picked you up at a bar, walked you home, asked you for another date, and all the while you had no idea who he was.” She stood up and walked over to my desk, then reached out and patted my head. “You are absolutely adorable.” Then she paused for a second, cocking her head, then shook it vigorously. “Nope. No way.”
“What? Why ‘nope?’ What are you talking about?”
“You know, you almost had me,” Olivia said, leaning back in her chair and crossing her arms over her chest.
“Had you about what?” I demanded. “He was a nice guy!”
“Right up until you said that, I almost believe that you actually had met Ian Carter last night.”
“And what makes you think I didn’t?” I asked, feeling irritated, though I couldn’t quite say why.
Olivia leaned forward in her chair. “Well, I mean, you’ve got the dark hair, the beard, the freaking ginormous height—yes, all those signs point to him being Ian.”
“And the skating,” I added.
Olivia nodded slowly. “Okay, yes, the skating thing is a definite factor.” She held up her finger and pointed at me triumphantly. “But then you go and say he was a nice guy? Nope. Not Ian Carter. Couldn’t possibly be him.”
“He was very nice,” I protested.
Olivia shook her head. “My poor, sweet, Candace. Ian Carter is a lot of things, but nice is not one of them.” She started laughing.
I was definitely feeling protective about my knight in shining armor. “Well, you’re the one who told me he was Ian Carter in the first place,” I said irritably
Olivia only laughed harder. “Nice guy,” she repeated, looking back at her screen. Then she swirled around in her chair. “Do you have any idea how many girls say they’ve slept with Ian Carter in the past year alone?”
“No,” I pointed out. “Because I have no idea who Ian Carter is.”
“A lot.” Olivia said firmly “I’m sure I could get some numbers, all official-like, and get back to you. Ian Carter is a playboy douche bag—hot as hell, I will admit, but definitely not a ‘nice guy.’”
“Well, I thought he was nice,” I said firmly. “Whoever he was.”
Olivia was just looking at me, her expression unreadable.
“You know,” I blustered. “Just because I’m not cynical like you, doesn’t make me an idiot.”
“I never said you were an idiot, Candy,” she said, her tone softer now .
“No,” I hedged. “You didn’t. But you definitely implied it.”
Olivia shook her head. “Not an idiot for not being cynical, no. Maybe lucky?”
Emboldened, I continued. “And just because I haven’t completely lost faith in men as a whole—”
Olivia stabbed a dark violet fingernail directly at me. “Okay—that’s where you’re an idiot.”
I was just about to protest even further when my phone rang. “Saved by the bell,” Olivia muttered in relief, mock-wiping her brow.
I fish my phone out from beneath the detritus at the bottom of my purse and look at the screen. The number was not one I recognized. My heart began to thud loudly. “Holy shit,” I muttered.
Olivia dropped her pencil and scurried over. “Is that him?” she asked excitedly. She may be a cynical pain in the ass, but she was my best friend, after all. She clapped delightedly, then stared daggers at me as I gaped at the screen, completely frozen. “Answer it!” Olivia demanded. When I still didn’t move, she snatched the phone from my hand, stabbed the green button with her index finger and shoved it against my ear.
“Ah—hello?” I gasped. I reluctantly took the phone and scowled at Olivia.
She stuck out her tongue and made no move to get out of earshot. “Tell him you may not be a farmer, but you kn
ow how to raise a cock!” she hissed, laughing.
“Oh Jesus Christ, shut up!”
“Hello?”
Fuck. “Sorry! That wasn’t directed at you!” I waved Olivia away and turned my back to her, cheeks flaming. “Ah, shit, let me try that again. Hello, this is Candace Hunter speaking.” There were several moments of silence on the other end. “Hello?”
“Ah, hi there, Candace.” There was no way I could mistake that smooth baritone…or the stifled laughter behind it. “This is Ian. From last night?”
“Hi! Hi, hi, hi…” I was babbling like an idiot, and seemed unable to compose myself. I took a deep breath. “It’s nice to hear from you—my rude greeting notwithstanding.”
“I hope whoever needed to shut up listened to you.”
“She will if she knows what’s good for her,” I said, glaring at Olivia. She hid her smirk behind her hand and inched even closer to my desk, not even bothering to hide the fact that she was blatantly eavesdropping.
“Listen,” his voice was apologetic, “I know you told me you wanted me to wait a couple of days, but, well,” he chuckled ruefully, “I’m not known for my impulse control. And I have been thinking about last night,” he paused, considered. “Probably more than I should.” He chuckled again. “Honestly, thinking about seeing you again got so distracting that I have been shitty at work all day long.”
“At work—with the Blackhawks?” I blurted.
There was a pause. “Yeah,” he said, sounding somewhat reluctant.
I couldn’t help myself. I shot a look over my shoulder to see that Olivia had not moved from that spot. Her eyes were the size of saucers.
“You’re Ian Carter, from the Blackhawks, right?”
“I am.” He paused. “Does that change anything about getting to see you?”
I shook my head and laughed. “Honestly? No. Because I have to tell you, I still have no idea who Ian Carter from the Blackhawks actually is.” I swallowed and licked my lips. “But I like you. I like the nice Ian guy I met last night.”
“The nice Ian guy you met last night wants to see you again, Candace,” he said, his voice somehow lower and softer.
I was nodding even before I realized it. “Okay, nice Ian guy I met last night. You remember where I live, right?”
“I’ll be there at eight.”
I hung up the phone with a delirious smile on my face. And it got even wider when I looked over and saw Olivia’s mouth hanging open.
“You—”
“What?”
“You bitch!” she squealed, cackling like a madwoman. “My sweet little romantic princess is going out with Ian fucking Carter!” She narrowed her eyes. “Are you sure you’re Candace? Did you get abducted by aliens last night? What happened on October 31st, 2007?”
I sighed and rolled my eyes. “You dressed up like Alice in Wonderland and convinced me that screwdrivers were tasty and not the bile of Satan.” I glared at her. “My mother is still pissed about her macramé hanging.”
Olivia huffed. “Hey! I tried to get you to the bathroom. You learned a valuable lesson about how to aim your puke that night.” She shook her head. “Okay, so you really are Candace. Now I need to figure out if we’re trapped in some kind of unreal-life simulation.”
“Ladies! Meeting! Conference room! Now!” Our boss, Kyle, the twenty-eight year old wunderkind, stood at the top of our aisle with his hands shoved into the pockets of his pleated khakis. “Sorry to break up the gossip session, but we have work to do!”
“Okay, yes, this is my real life,” Olivia sighed. “If this was a dream world, Kyle fucking Jarrett wouldn’t exist.”
“I heard that!” Kyle called from down the hall.
“Shit,” Olivia muttered as I tried to stifle my laughter. “What do you think this is about?”
“I hope the launch is coming soon!” I said, barely able to contain my excitement.
For the past six months, Cupid’s Arrow had been hard at work shedding its musty old dating service reputation and rebooting itself with a hot new app that would match clients based on a complex series of algorithms that even I, with my three years of web development experience, couldn’t even begin to understand. Olivia and I were in charge of the new website design, while the hotshots like Kyle and the rest of his pleated-pants-posse worked out the thousands of lines of code required to get the app off the ground.
This was the culmination of months of work, but as I sat in the conference room, my thoughts kept drifting away from the powerpoint presentation and back to last night. I didn’t snap back into focus until Kyle barked the dreaded words, “—new assignment!”
“What did I miss?” I hissed to Olivia.
Olivia raised an eyebrow. “Daydreaming about your bearded dude? You know, ever since I shaved, I’ve missed feeling hair down there. Maybe I need to look into acquiring a bearded dude, too.”
“Gross.” I wrinkled my nose. “I’m not talking about Ian.”
“For once.”
“Shut it. What did Kyle say about an assignment?”
Olivia huffed, bored with work talk. “He wants us to do some troubleshooting. Test the app, sweetheart.” She sighed dramatically. “Honestly, what would you do without me?”
I rolled my eyes. “Well, for one, I wouldn’t be a part of your rumor mill. I wouldn’t know that Ian is supposedly a manwhore.”
“Oh, he is!” Olivia clapped excitedly. “But go out with him anyway! This is actually perfect for you, Candy. You can go on a date with a guy you know is terrible from the get-go. This will be good practice for you.”
“Practice?”
She touched my arm, a flicker of concern dancing across her face. “Go out and have fun, and stop looking for the ‘one.’ Because I can guarantee you, Ian is not looking for the 'one,' either.”
Chapter Four
Ian
For a second, I didn’t recognize her.
She looked even better in the light.
“Candace,” I said, standing up from the table so quickly I nearly toppled my chair over. “Thanks for coming.”
“Were you waiting long?” she asked breathlessly, tucking a strand of dark hair behind her ear. “Thanks for changing plans and meeting me here instead of picking me up." She plopped into her chair and rolled her eyes adorably. "I’m so sorry my boss kept us late. He has no concept of employees actually having personal lives because he doesn't have a life at all.”
I chuckled at the barrage of explanations. “I wasn't waiting. I just sat down,” I lied. In truth, I had arrived over twenty minutes ago and drained a Goose Island porter way too fast in an effort to calm my nerves.
“This place is nice,” she breathed. Vermillion was a Latin American-Indian fusion place I had heard of but never had the courage to try, but it seemed like the kind of place a classy girl like Candace would frequent.
“Better than a sports bar?”
“By a lot,” she smiled. “For one thing, I can actually hear you.”
“You might regret that,” I smiled as the waiter came and took our drink orders. “Jocks aren’t known for their conversational skills.”
“And I tend to blather on forever about nothing,” she hand-waved. “You’re the one who’s going to regret actually hearing me.”
“I highly doubt that,” I replied.
She smiled at me and the moment stretched out long, something hesitant hanging in the air. If she were anyone else, I would have cut it short with a kiss, reached under the table to grip her thigh, slid my hand into the warmth between her legs…
“I want to hear more about your job,” I blurted. “Why did your boss keep you late?”
She leaned forward eagerly. “I work for Cupid’s Arrow,” she said, with the confident air of a person who had every expectation that the other person knew what they were talking about.
“Oh?” I said blankly.
She looked up at me, frustrated. “The dating agency?”
“Oh!” I said, a little more brightly.<
br />
She sighed in exasperation and leaned back in her chair. “Oh my god, who am I kidding, of course the star enforcer for the Blackhawks has no reason to be using a matchmaking app.”
“I met you fine without one,” I pointed out.
She smiled up at me, displaying one lone dimple on her left cheek. I had the oddest desire to lick it.
“Well, if rescuing women from bad dates ever stops working for you, you should try it out.” Her eyes brightened. “Hey, you want to try something with me?”
Anything. “Sure!” I said instead.
She reached into her purse and pulled out a battered-looking iPhone in a cracked case. I made a mental note of this, wondering if she’d like a new one as a gift. “Right after you called today, they pulled us into a meeting—that’s why I was late getting here. My boss asked everybody to please test the app in various locations, make sure there were no bugs, make a list of any of the dead spots—that sort of thing.”
“Sure, okay.” I had absolutely no technological prowess whatsoever.
“So—I’m just going to create a fake profile, right now,” she looked up at me with a mischievous smile. “What should your fake name be?”
I thought for a second. “Bradley Scott,” I said decisively. Hey, maybe he might actually want to use it? I thought to myself.
“I remember you telling me about him. Isn’t he your cautionary-tale friend?” she asked, rapidly typing into her phone.
“Yes. My best friend,” I said firmly.
“Okay, well, you need to answer as if you are you, not him, okay?” She leaned back and let the waiter set our drinks down.
I took a cautious sip of mine. I had the feeling I needed to keep my wits about me. That Candace would know if I was drunkenly bullshitting her. “Got it.”
“So, I’ve already got all my info loaded in,” she looked up to see my raised eyebrows. “What? I work there, I have to.” The blush dancing across her cheeks was too cute for words. “I mean, I’m not like, desperately looking or something…”
“I can’t wait to see how it works,” I said, trying to smooth over her embarrassment.
She visibly relaxed. “Okay, so this first bunch of questions are just really basic stuff: age, physical stats, stuff like that. We can skip all that.” She made a little face, the corner of her mouth turned down, and her tongue poking out adorably through her lips. She furrowed her brow, then sat back, nodding. “Okay, here it is. The matching section. First question is an easy one—do you prefer dogs or cats?”
