by Emma Hart
Anyone who ever said you don’t kill the things you love never met Dominic Austin.
I took a deep breath and looked in the mirror. My hair was dry, but my body was still wrapped in a towel. I had no idea what his plans for tonight were, just that we were going on a date and I had to be ready by six-thirty.
It was six-fifteen.
It wasn’t looking promising.
How did we get here? How did this all get so complicated? It should be straightforward. That’s how it is in the movies. Everyone confesses they love each other, then they go for a nice, candlelit dinner, and then they have all the sex.
Was that what the plan for tonight was?
I wasn’t prepared for a candlelit dinner. I didn’t have the patience for it. Plus, I’d eaten an entire jumbo bag of Cheetos for a late afternoon snack, and that was clearly a mistake.
I groaned and dropped back onto the bed. I bounced a few times on the mattress and blew out a long breath. What was wrong with me?
Could I get out of this? How? When? I was running out of time.
I didn’t—
Knock, knock, knock.
I sat bolt upright.
No.
No, no, no. Was he early? Didn’t he know women were always late? We had at least a ten-minute leeway before it was considered rude. He wasn’t allowed to be ten minutes early.
Shit the bed and call me Sally, I was in trouble.
But, wait. What if it wasn’t Dom? What if it was someone else, and I was wrapped in a towel that was very close to showing off my vagina?
I clutched at the towel and tentatively made my way downstairs. Another round of knocking sounded, and I hovered in the doorway to the kitchen. The unclear reflection through the wavy glass looked like Dom, so I took a punt and opened the front door.
Thank God.
It was Dom.
His dark eyes roved over me from head to toe. “Do you always answer the door in a barely-there towel?”
“Only to people I’ve slept with,” I quipped.
“Are there many of those?”
“I could tell you, but then I’d have to kill you.” I grinned.
He did not. “You’re not dressed.”
“You’re early,” I fired back. “I’m almost ready.”
He dropped his eyes to my legs. “Chloe, you’re not even wet. How long have you been wrapped in that towel?”
“Long enough to dry off naturally, evidently.” I adjusted the towel at my chest again. “You’re still early. You’re not supposed to be here until twenty-to.”
“I said six-thirty.” He raised an eyebrow.
“You didn’t include my obligatory extra ten minutes. I’m a woman. It’s almost guaranteed I’ll need to pee right before we leave.”
“Oh, good. You’re an adult-sized toddler.”
I pursed my lips. “If you were hoping to get laid tonight, calling me a toddler isn’t a step in the right direction.”
Dom put his hands in his jeans pockets, lips tugging into a smile. “Is getting laid on the cards?”
“Not anymore.”
“That’s all right. I’ll always have my memories.”
I rolled my eyes as he laughed. “How dressed up do I need to be?”
He waved one hand down himself before stuffing it back into his pocket. “Just be comfortable. And by comfortable, I don’t mean yoga pants.”
“Do I have to wear a bra?”
“Yes. I don’t want you scaring away any children.”
I glared at him. He was such a dick.
“Also, you said sex was off the table, so you going braless doesn’t help me at all.”
I sighed and turned for the stairs. “I’m regretting this already.”
“I can see up your towel.”
I reached behind me and held the towel against my butt. I didn’t think it made the blindest bit of difference—at least that’s what I got from his endless laughter—but it made me feel better.
“I can still see!”
Goddamn it.
Chapter Eighteen – Chloe
Not all dates are created equal.
Just ask Miss Rhode Island from Miss Congeniality.
April 25th is the perfect date.
That one where someone tells you his ex-wife’s life story? Not so much.
“What are you doing?”
“Shh. I can’t hear.” I leaned a little to the left to hear the conversation of the couple on the bench closest to me.
Dom sat down with two plastic bags full of food. “Seriously. What are you doing?”
“The couple behind us are on a date,” I whispered. “And he keeps talking about his ex-wife. Seriously. It doesn’t stop.”
“You’re also on a date, and you’re more interested in theirs.”
I sighed and looked at him. “Where did you get the food?”
He nodded toward a small Cajun restaurant on the other side of the park. “I made a deal with Josie. I’ll help her find a date for free if she gave me a take-out before they technically start doing them.”
I raised an eyebrow. “I think I’m a little impressed.”
“You should be. I owe her three months of free help. And I had to pay for the food.”
“You must be horrified. How will you cope?”
“You could take off your bra.”
“No can do. There are still kids around.”
He laughed and pulled containers out of the bags onto the blanket we were sitting on. “I didn’t know what you wanted, so I got a whole bunch of stuff.”
“Okay.”
“You’re still trying to listen to their conversation, aren’t you?”
“I see a business opportunity,” I lied. “We could help that girl.”
“Chloe, you’re not going a great job on your own date.”
“I know, but I’m really good at it for other people.” I gave him a cheesy smile.
“You can’t just pluck random people off the street. Especially not if you don’t have business cards with you.”
I paused. “Would it be acceptable if I did have business cards?”
Dom paused, halfway through opening some rice. “You have business cards with you?”
I patted my purse. “I always keep business cards with me. You never know when you might need them. Like now.” Another sweet grin stretched across my lips.
He put down the tub of rice and stared at me. With a completely straight face, he said, “You know what? If I wasn’t already in love with you, this would go down as the worst date ever.”
I pointed at him. “You started that when you showed up early.”
He waved his hands. “Still not acceptable to hijack someone’s date to tout our business.”
I pouted.
“If she leaves first, chase her. If he leaves, grab one of the donuts from the other bag and drop it so you can slip a card in her purse.” He grinned, reaching for the other bag. He pulled out a small, brown paper bag. “Just in case.”
I opened the bag and saw a bunch of mini donuts inside. My lips curved to the side as I peered up at him through my lashes.
Huh.
Maybe this wasn’t so insane after all. I mean, he got me, didn’t he? He understood how my mind worked. And maybe it was totally crazy to tout our services to a random woman on a bad date—all right, there was no maybe about it—but it was fun.
“He’s leaving,” Dom muttered. “Quick, get me a card.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I’m going to flirt the card into her purse.”
I bristled. “You are not.”
He grinned. “Does that annoy you?”
I glared at him. “I have a better idea.” I dug through my purse to find the stack of cards I kept in a holder. I slipped one out and, holding it between my fingers, wiggled it at him. “I’ll be right back.”
“Weirdest fucking date ever,” he said under his breath as I jumped up.
“Heard that.”
“Good.
”
I shook my head and tentatively approached the young woman on the bench. “Hi,” I said.
She turned toward me, her frustrated look turning to one of confusion. “Hi. Do I know you?”
“No…Do you mind if I join you for a moment? Or is your date coming back?”
“Lord, I hope not.” She motioned to the bench and smoothed her dark, frizzy hair back from her face. “Take a seat.”
“Thanks. Bad date?” I sat down.
“The worst. All he talked about was his ex-wife. How she’d claimed custody of the dog he owned before her, how she was claiming support she wasn’t entitled to, how he knew she cheated on him but couldn’t prove it and yadda yadda yadda.” She rolled dark eyes. “Whatever. I’m so over this, you know? How hard is it to find someone who can have a nice dinner with you?”
“Well, that’s actually why I approached you,” I said hesitantly. “I overheard your conversation with him, and I felt so bad for you.”
She eyed me skeptically.
“My name is Chloe, and I own the dating company, Stupid Cupid.”
Her mouth opened. “Oh! I’ve heard of you! My friend used you, but I was wary.”
I couldn’t help but smile. “Here. Take my card. Just say I spoke to you in the park, and I can book you in for a free consultation.”
“Really?” Her face lit up.
“Really.”
She took the card. “Thanks. That’s so kind. I’m Hannah.”
“Nice to meet you.” We shared a smile. “I have to get back to my date, but we’ll speak soon?”
“You skipped your date to give me this?”
I shrugged a shoulder. “He’s my business partner. He had a vested interest in this.”
She laughed and nodded. “We’ll speak soon, then.”
I got up, waved, and went back over to Dom. He had a mouthful of shrimp when I joined him.
“’Ell?” he asked me.
I wrinkled my face. “Do you always speak to your dates with your mouth full of food?”
“Only the ones I’ve slept with,” he said, smirking at me. “Well? Did she take it?”
“You didn’t watch?”
He scoffed. “No. I was hungry, and you were taking too long.”
“Your manners suck.” I picked up another tray of shrimp and a plastic fork. “Yes, she took it. I offered her a free consultation if she said we spoke in the park. Her name is Hannah.”
“Hey, that’s not a bad idea,” Dom said, pointing his fork at me. “Free consultations.”
I inclined my head toward him. I had a mouthful of food, and I wasn’t nearly as rude as he was. I swallowed, then said, “You know what would be fun?”
“I don’t think I want to,” he replied slowly.
I put down my food and leaned forward. “We should look for people on bad dates and give them our cards!”
“That sounds like a terrible idea.”
“Why? We give them free consultations, but they have to pay to be matched if we can find them a date. It’s genius, Dom!”
“I wish I’d never said the consultations were a good idea,” he groaned. “Chloe…”
“Oh, come on. It’d be fun!”
“We have different ideas of fun.”
“Of course, we do.” I flipped my hair over my shoulder. “You spent your teen years with Playboy in your bedroom while I was out having a life.”
Dom put the lid back on his carton of food and looked at me out of the corner of his eye. “You also spent your teen years in love with me.”
“As you apparently did me.”
He paused. “Touché. Fine. We’ll play your little game, but if we don’t find two people in the next thirty minutes, we’re doing something else.”
“Like what?”
“I don’t know, but I’ll think of something. We’ll go bug hunting or some shit. Anything but this.”
“Bug hunting?” I stilled. “I don’t like bugs.”
“I don’t like forcing my business onto unsuspecting people.”
“Are you kidding? They’ll love it. They can go dating with a custom-found date? Not one matched by computers? It’s genius.”
“You told me that when we set the business up, but all that got me is a few years of blue balls over you.”
“Carry on annoying me, and I’ll turn them purple.”
“How?”
“I’ll put them in a blender with a bowl full of plums, that’s how.” I covered the last carton and put it in the bag. “Let’s put these in your car and go and have some fun!”
He groaned, collecting the blanket from the grass. “You’re lucky you’re hot.”
“That’s pretty much the only reason I’m still alive,” I said. “It gets me out of trouble.”
He side-eyed me. “Someone’s ego is getting out of control.”
“From the guy who claims he always gives a woman three orgasms during sex.”
Dom froze. “Are you saying you didn’t have three?”
I held up two fingers, walking backward, and grinned. “Sucker.”
He looked at me darkly—full of desire. He drew level with me and hooked one finger through one of my belt loops. “Probably just as well. You screamed so loud at the end of the second, I was expecting the dead to walk through your front door.”
I pursed my lips. “Yeah, well, I’m probably better equipped to deal with it than you are.”
“Chloe, you couldn’t walk.”
“I can throw a mean punch.”
Dom shook his head. “Nothing about you is mean when you have Bambi legs.”
I stopped dead on the path and shot him a massive glare that would have killed a lesser person.
He stilled. “All right, that would probably work. Let’s move on, shall we?”
“You’re smarter than you look, Dominic.”
“I don’t know if that’s a compliment or not.”
I shrugged. “You’ll have to figure that one out.”
***
“Don’t take this the wrong way,” I said to Dom when he returned to our table. “But you are a terrible flirter.”
His eyebrows raised as he slid onto the stool opposite me. “What? No, I’m not. I’m a great flirter.”
“You’re really not. Remember how I was all against you flirting with the girl in the park?”
He nodded.
“Flirt with whoever you want. I’ve never seen anyone as bad at it as you.”
He picked up his beer and sipped. “How am I a bad flirter?”
“Well, for a start, you’re awkward. You make too much eye contact without actually looking at her, and you just seem, I don’t know.” I twirled one of my curls around my finger. “Awkward.”
“You already said that,” he said tightly.
“If I’m saying it twice, it’s true.” I shrugged a shoulder. “At the very least you should have touched her arm once.”
“That’s creepy.”
“No. It’s nice. It shows you’re interested.”
He put his beer down. “But I’m not interested.”
I rolled my eyes. “But you want her to think you are.”
He folded his arms across his chest. “All right. There’s a guy at the bar whose date just stepped outside to take a phone call. He looks miserable.”
I scanned the bar. “The guy taking the shot?”
He looked over his shoulder. “Yeah. If you’re such a flirting expert, go flirt our card into his pocket.”
“You’re not gonna like this,” I warned him. “I’m an excellent flirter.”
“I’m sure you are,” he drawled. “Go on, then. Show me how it’s done. I’ll try to contain my jealousy.”
Oh, ye of little faith.
This was about to get really awkward.
“All right, then.” I slipped a card into my back pocket and got up. He was still alone at the bar, so I moseyed on over and paused behind the stool. “Is this seat taken?”
The guy turned to me, giv
ing me the once-over. “Supposed to be, but she’s having a long-ass phone conversation.”
“I just want to get a drink. Do you mind?”
He shook his head. “Knock yourself out, darlin’.”
“Thank you so much!” I shot him my brightest smile and slid onto the stool, making sure my knee brushed his leg as I did so. “Oh, sorry. I didn’t mean to hit you.”
“No,” he said slowly, eyes firmly on me. “You’re all good.”
Again, another smile, then I turned and made a focus on getting the bartender’s attention. “Bad date, huh?”
“That obvious?”
“Well, I just watched you down three shots, and judging by how long she’s been outside, I don’t think she’s coming back.”
“I think you could be right, blondie.” He held up two fingers, finally grabbing the bartender’s attention. “What’re you drinking?”
“I’ll have a white wine, but I can get that.” I put two fingers into my back pocket and pulled out both a ten-dollar bill and the business card. I tossed both onto the bar, then paused. “Woops.”
“Wait, what was that?” He touched my hand, tilting it toward him so he could see the card.
“What can I get you?” The bartender leaned over to us.
“I’ll have a Coors Light, and she’ll have a white wine,” the guy said.
“A dry white. Thanks.” I smiled and turned back to the guy whose name I didn’t know. “The card?”
“Yeah. What is it?”
I wriggled my hand from his grip and slid it in front of him, leaning in slightly. “It’s a card for a dating service. Why?”
“A dating service? You used it?” He looked interested as he plucked it from my fingers.
“Actually,” I blushed as I tucked hair behind my ear, “I co-own it.”
“You do?”
“Yeah. I carry the cards because, well, I’m a businesswoman, and you wouldn’t believe how many bars and restaurants will take these things.” I smiled and went to take it back.
He moved it out of my reach. “You any good?”
“I like to think so, but I’m also pretty bias. Thank you,” I added to the bartender, sliding my note across the bar. “Why? You interested?”
The guy nodded toward the door. “I’m not doing a fucking good job by myself, am I?”
“How was it going before she went out?”
