by Diane Kelly
Or maybe I was just freaked out by my near-death experience.
The guy attempted to engage me in conversation, but after shouting, “What? I can’t hear you!” over the music five times I gave up trying to actually hear him and just responded to everything he said with a smile and a nod.
Smile and nod.
Smile and nod.
I checked my watch. Dang. How could it only be eleven thirty? It felt like we’d been here for days.
After several songs, he took my hand and led me off the dance floor. Alicia and her dance partner followed. The men offered to buy us drinks, but both of us girls knew what that meant.
Expectations.
“You’re nice guys!” Alicia shouted over the noise. “But we’re both coming out of relationships right now and only looking to have some fun!”
The guys gave us the thumbs-up sign and wandered off in search of easier prey.
The minutes passed like millennia as we stood near the dance floor, unable to talk over the music, not really caring whether any other guys asked us to dance. None did. I couldn’t much blame them. I’m sure Alicia and I looked like a couple of sourpusses. The loud music jarred my nerves tonight, and the flashing lights were giving me a headache.
It was funny, too. There I was surrounded by hundreds of people, each of whom seemed bound and determined to jostle me as they passed by, yet I’d never felt more desolate and lonely in my entire life.
Eventually, Alicia turned to me. I couldn’t hear her, but her expression spoke for her. She was ready to call it a night. Thank God. I’d been ready to leave for the past hour.
We ventured back out into the night, which had grown even colder while we’d been in the club. Our teeth chattering, we climbed into my car and headed home. The heater finally warmed up just as we pulled back into my driveway. Par for the course that night, I suppose.
We went inside, changed into our pajamas, and ended up on the couch with glasses in our hands and a pitcher of peach sangria on the coffee table in front of us.
“I thought going out would cheer me up,” Alicia said, “but I think I actually feel worse.”
“Me, too.” I used to enjoy being single, being free to do my own thing, answering to no one. But after dating Brett and enjoying the comfort, security, and companionship a relationship provided, I’d begun to see the upside of being part of a couple.
I wanted to be in a relationship. And I was pretty sure I wanted to be in one with Nick.
Alicia grabbed my laptop off the coffee table and turned it on. “What was that dating site again?”
“It’s called Big D Dating Service.” I sat up in my seat. “You’re going to sign up?”
She sighed. “It’s time for me to move on. But I can’t stomach the thought of hanging out at another meat market trying to meet a decent guy. This online thing seems way more efficient.”
If Alicia was anything, it was efficient. She’d already rearranged my kitchen appliances to put my coffeemaker closer to the sink where it could be easily filled with water and my toaster closer to the pantry where I kept the bread. She’d put a plastic bin under my sink for junk mail so I could carry it out to the larger recycling bin in my garage en masse rather than leaving it stacked around my kitchen until making my usual frantic dash to the curb on garbage day, trying to beat the truck. She’d even figured out how to work my programmable thermostat for maximum energy efficiency. Heck, I’d lived here for years and hadn’t gotten around to learning the system yet.
The only thing she hadn’t done was my laundry. Maybe if I waited long enough it would drive her crazy and she’d wash it for me. It was a childish tactic, but, hey, it had worked on my mother for years. I had a much higher tolerance for clutter than most people.
Alicia used her credit card to pay her fee and input her basic information. Sex. Height. Weight. Age.
“What are my interests?” she asked.
“Why are you asking me?” I said, realizing I had no idea what her interests were. “They’re your interests.” How could I not know what my best friend’s interests were?
She looked up in thought. “I don’t think I have any interests. I mean, I like to shop and go out for drinks and out to eat, but who doesn’t?”
I was relieved to know she couldn’t identify any interests, either.
Her face clouded over. “I’m boring, aren’t I?”
“No!” I said, and I meant it. Alicia might not be into a lot of hobbies or activities, but she was by no means boring. She was witty and smart and fun to be around, not to mention loyal and caring and supportive. She’d always been there when I needed her. What she lacked in interests she made up for in personality.
“I am,” she said. “I’m boring. No wonder Daniel doesn’t want to marry me.”
So we were back to that again, were we?
“Give me that computer this instant.” I grabbed the laptop from her. Heck, if I’d come up with descriptions for Josh and Nick, the least I could do was come up with one for my longtime BFF.
I thought for a moment and finally created a bio I hoped she’d like.
Witty and chic CPA seeks a smart professional man who enjoys food, fashion, and good conversation.
“There,” I said, turning the screen so she could read her bio.
Alicia pondered my statement for a moment. “In other words, I’m looking for another Daniel.”
“Well, yeah, I suppose,” I said. “Except with bigger balls.”
She snorted. “Yeah. What a wimp, huh? I mean, we’ve been together forever. He had to know the m word would come up at some point.”
She answered a series of questions designed to help define her personality type, things like “Would you rather sit by a river or swim in it?”
When she was done, she submitted her information for processing. Three minutes later, the computer had composed a list of eighteen potential candidates for her to screen.
We sorted through them together, eliminating three whose bios seemed excessively arrogant, two with bios that were unnecessarily suggestive, and one who was a former coworker of ours from Martin and McGee who’d left a couple of years ago to take a controller position with one of the firm’s corporate clients. He’d been a nice enough guy but never sparked Alicia’s interest.
“That leaves a dozen possible replacements for Daniel,” I said.
She checked the boxes to indicate potential interest and hit the “submit” key, which would send a notice to the men. If one of the men was interested in Alicia, he’d check his box, too, and the system would then supply the two of them with contact information for each other.
“Why don’t you try it, too?” she said.
“No, thanks. I have too much man trouble already.”
“Oh, come on,” she said. “They let you try it for free. You’re only charged if you check the box to show you’re interested. It’ll be fun.”
Since we were only goofing around, she uploaded a photo she’d taken of me on April 15 of last year. I was sitting in my cubicle, my head in my hands, my desktop threatening to collapse under a mountain of tax files. On the computer screen behind me, in easy-to-read 96-point font, were the words “KILL ME NOW.”
For my bio she wrote.
Feisty federal law enforcement agent seeks well-hung man with significant earning potential. In lieu of said giant penis and earnings will accept a man willing to wash laundry.
“See?” I said. “You are witty.”
“And you really need to do that laundry.”
Good. The pile of dirty clothing was already bugging her. If I could muster up enough panties to get me through a few more days she’d cave and wash it for me. It was sneaky and underhanded, but, hey, it’s not like she wasn’t getting anything in return. I’d given her a free place to live, unwavering support, and, by my best estimate, 243 gallons of peach sangria.
We ran through the personality test next. I answered each question truthfully, curious to see what type of man it would sugge
st for me. When I finished my responses, Alicia pushed the “enter” button.
The computer churned and churned and churned, the timer in the middle of the screen continuing to circle incessantly as the system tried to find men who would be a good match for me. It seemed to be having a hard time.
“Has it frozen up?” I asked after a couple of minutes.
Alicia eyed the screen. “I’m not sure. Let’s give it another minute.”
A moment later the screen popped up with just one match. I was as pitiful as Josh, huh?
I clicked on the link to view the file. A photo popped up on the screen, a photo of a gorgeous dark-haired man bearing a mildly annoyed expression.
Nick.
“Wow,” Alicia said. “There are thousands of men on this site. What are the odds of him being your only match?”
I had no idea. But I did know one thing. I was definitely interested.
I checked the box and hit the “submit” button.
Alicia held out her hand. “You owe me fifty-nine bucks.”
chapter twenty-four
Knock Knock. Who’s There?
A knock on the door woke me at nine the next morning. Both of my parents were coming to visit this weekend, having agreed to serve as decoy clients to help Eddie and me nab Beauregard. But their appointment with Beau wasn’t until one o’clock and they wouldn’t arrive until late morning.
I put a pillow over my head, figuring the person at my door was a salesman who’d eventually give up and go away. No such luck. The knocks were still coming five minutes later, louder and more insistent than ever.
I tossed my pillow aside and went downstairs, bouncing off the stairwell wall in my half-awake state. Annie trotted along after me.
Muttering curses under my breath, I yanked the door open. Not what home security experts would recommend, but with my bed head, no makeup, and wrinkled pajamas I figured I was horrifying enough to scare away any potential solicitor or home invader.
But it wasn’t a salesman or burglar on my porch.
It was Nick.
He wore faded jeans, cowboy boots, and a brown cable-knit sweater that brought out his whiskey-colored eyes. He also wore that chipped-tooth smile that had captured my heart.
“Hungry?” He stepped into my foyer without waiting for an invitation.
Not sure what he had in mind, I shrugged and nodded simultaneously, hedging my bets.
“Great. Let’s go out for breakfast.” He eyed my wild hair and gestured in the general direction of my face. “After you do something about that.”
I narrowed my eyes at him and he chucked me on the chin.
“Get moving,” he said. “I’m starved.”
I went upstairs and rushed through my morning rituals. A quick shower, tooth brushing, minimal makeup. I pulled my hair back in a twist, securing it with a claw clip. A pair of jeans, tennis shoes, a sweatshirt, and I was done.
I went back downstairs to find Annie cuddled in Nick’s arms. He was scratching her under the chin and whispering sweet nothings in her ear. Oh, to be that cat.
He set her down in the foyer while I grabbed my purse. Out the door we went.
When I climbed into his truck, I noticed an unmistakable hint of perfume. Once Nick had settled in and backed out of the driveway, I said, “Your date wore Red Door, huh?”
“Yeah. Way too much of it, too.” He cracked the windows for ventilation and turned the heater on to fight the morning chill that seeped in. “I dropped her off at ten last night. You’d have thought the smell would be gone by now.”
Ten, huh? Sounded like I’d worried unnecessarily about Nick putting moves on the woman. Any date that ended so early hadn’t gone well.
Thinking about Nick’s date got me wondering about Josh. My coworker and I didn’t talk much, but I knew the men in the office routinely shared their conquests over coffee and donuts in the kitchen. Of course 99 percent of it was probably pure bullshit.
“What’s the word on Kira?” I asked. “Has she booted up Josh’s laptop? Tested his hard drive? Discovered how much RAM he’s got?” Maybe bitten his neck with those pointy teeth and sucked his blood?
“Josh hasn’t logged onto Kira’s system yet,” Nick said. “But he did get to play with her function keys.”
I only hoped he knew how to operate a woman’s programs. If not, her entire system could shut down.
Shortly thereafter Nick and I were seated across from each other in a corner booth at a neighborhood café, sipping coffee while we waited for our pancakes to arrive. I’d ordered the short stack with fruit. Nick had gone for a full platter with sausage links on the side.
Nick set his mug on the table. “So, giant penis, huh?”
Oh, God. I’d forgotten Alicia had written that in my bio for the Big D site.
“Alicia signed herself up.” I shrugged. “Then we were just goofing around.”
“Uh-huh.” Nick eyed me. “How many men did the computer match you with?”
I held up my index finger.
“Just one?” The grin quirking about his mouth said Nick found my response amusing. He narrowed his eyes and looked at me, pondering. “I suppose there aren’t many men who could keep up with a woman like you.”
I noticed he’d said “keep up with” rather than “put up with.” That was promising, huh?
“When’s Brett coming back?” he asked. “Maybe he could do your laundry.” He slid a grin my way.
“I don’t know,” I said. “I’ve only talked to him twice since he’s been in Atlanta.” He’d sent me a few short texts, but those hardly counted as communication, especially when they were primarily rants about the beetles.
Damn bugs are everywhere!
Beetles ate the 9th hole green.
Die, beetles! Die!
He’d also sent me a number of texts about the food.
The club serves a kick-ass mushroom omelet.
I’ve eaten so much tiramisu I’m growing love handles.
Fiona’s homemade peach ice cream is the best!
Fiona? Brett and the chef were on a first-name basis now? He’d mentioned meeting the chef a while back, noted that she’d treated him and his crew to ice-cold lemonade and specially prepared meals, but he’d failed to mention her name. In fact, he’d failed to mention that the chef was a woman. I’d assumed it was a man. Probably sexist of me, but there you go.
Nick cocked his head. “Just two phone calls?”
“Yep,” I said, “and short ones at that.”
Nick grunted in reply.
The waitress swung by with a coffeepot and topped off our mugs.
I added another packet of sugar, stirred, and took a sip of the hot brew. “How does it feel to be back in the saddle? Having all those women chase after you?” It had to be an ego trip. Then again, while Nick was cocky and confident, he was far from an egomaniac.
“Honestly? I’ve been underwhelmed. Most of them seem to be gold diggers looking for a sugar daddy.” He took another sip of his coffee. “One of them even insulted my truck.”
Putting down a man’s pickup? That was pure sacrilege. “I hope you put her in her place.”
“You know it.” Nick raised his mug as if in salute. “That truck brought me back to freedom. I’m going to drive it until the wheels fall off.”
I shot him a pointed look. “That truck didn’t drive itself down to Mexico, you know.”
He shot me a pointed look right back. “I’m well aware of that fact. But all I’ve got right now is the truck.” His pointed look morphed into a sexy grin. “If you were mine, I’d drive you until your wheels fell off, too.”
It was a lousy metaphor, but it still gave my nether regions a flutter.
“What about Natalie?” I asked.
The sexy grin turned wicked. “Are you suggesting a threesome?”
I rolled my eyes. Admittedly, though, I felt sexually frustrated. With Brett gone and Nick being the stud muffin he was, who could blame me? “Come on, Nick. I’m serious. I
don’t want to call things off with Brett only to find out you and Natalie got back together.”
Nick let out a long breath. He gave his head a shake. “Natalie and me? That’s nothing you need to be concerned about.”
“You’re sure?”
He gave me a soft, reassuring smile. “I’m sure.”
That was a relief.
The waitress plunked my short stack in front of me and Nick’s platter in front of him. We took turns with the syrup, grabbed our forks, and dug in.
chapter twenty-five
Taking Another Go at Beau
My dad’s pickup was parked in my driveway when Nick and I returned from breakfast. Alicia’s Audi was gone. She’d planned to swing by her and Daniel’s apartment today while he was working to pick up some more clothes and things. Looked like she’d be my roommate indefinitely. I hated for her to be suffering, but I had to admit that it was nice to have her around. It would be even nicer if she’d wash a load of whites.
I climbed out of Nick’s truck and caught a whiff of roses. I glanced over at my town house, at the row of pink rosebushes Brett had lovingly planted for me. The bushes sported their last blooms of the season, still flowering but fading fast. Soon it would be time to snip them back to bare nubs. Whether they would survive the unpredictable North Texas winter and flower again in the spring remained to be seen.
The bushes were the perfect metaphor for my relationship with Brett.
Nick followed me inside to say hello to my parents. We found them in the kitchen.
Mom stood from the table and gave Nick a hug, shooting me a questioning yet hopeful look over his shoulder. “Nice to see you again, Nick.”
