“I didn’t mean it like that. I’ve already told you, you don’t need it.” He leans forward over the table and stops inches from my face with a cocky grin. “You can come home with me right now, and I’ll show you exactly how you can get a date without the Internet.”
I swallow hard, trying to remove the lump that has formed in my throat. He has a beautiful woman visiting him at work and no more than ten minutes later, he’s offered for me to go home with him. Typical.
“You are one of the main reasons I’m doing online dating.”
“Excuse me?” He leans back in his chair and looks at me with narrowed eyes.
“I mean, guys like you. You only want one thing.”
“That’s a little judgemental.”
“You just asked me to go home with you.” I shake my head. “And it wasn’t the first time you’ve offered.” I want to add that he also did it right after Blondie came in, but as long as I don’t go there with him, it’s none of my business.
“I was only joking.” I raise my eyebrows, not impressed. “Okay.” He laughs. “Only half-joking.”
“Exactly.” I nod. “Now give me more advice, old, wise one.”
“I’m not that wise.” He smirks. “Men just see things very black and white.”
“Well, come on then, lay it out for me.”
“Well . . .” He leans his elbows on the table as if he’s getting ready to get down to business. “Firstly, you probably shouldn’t order food until you know the person’s not crazy. Twice now you’ve been stuck on these horrific dates.”
“I know,” I sigh. “I think I need to go back to my original plan of coffee only. That’s the whole reason I chose to have my dates here in the first place.”
“Really? I thought it was so you could ignore your dates and watch me all night.”
Being caught checking him out should embarrass me, but I don’t even care. I shrug in my lame attempt to be nonchalant and Tate laughs.
“I tell you what. I’ll help you out with this dating experiment you seem so hell bent on testing the theories of.”
“How?” I frown, dubious of his offer.
“I don’t know. I’ll give you my thoughts, help you out if I see you stuck again. Stuff like that.”
“Okay. Apparently, I can use all the help I can get.”
He laughs. “Yes, you can.”
“Staying late again tonight, hmm?” Maurice asks, amusement lacing his strong accent.
“I thought I’d stay around and help out. We’ve been busy lately.”
Maurice’s eyes gaze around the café, and a wide smile slowly creeps over his face. I shake my head, knowing there are only two or three tables filled.
“You need to think of a better excuse than that.”
“Shut up, old man.” I shove him.
“What are your plans there?” Maurice asks, any trace of amusement now gone.
“I have no plans there,” I tell him, unable to meet his eyes, knowing exactly what . . . or whom he is talking about.
“I don’t think your cocky pick-up lines and arrogant attitude are going to work with that one.”
“I’m not trying to work anything. She’s a sweet girl. That’s it.”
“Right,” he mutters, wiggling his eyebrows.
“Maurice,” I groan, “it’s not like that. She has issues, baggage. I can see it a mile away. I can’t be taking that on. I’ll end up with another Stacey.”
Maurice snorts in disgust. “There is no way that lovely young girl could ever turn out like that. You need to stop seeing Stacey in every woman you meet. Daisy is special.”
“How would you know?”
“When you’re this old, you’ve seen enough to read people easily.”
“Besides—” I try to change the subject, “—I need to focus on the café and all the changes we have coming.”
“Mmm.” He nods. “Well, I’m going to head off, seeing you clearly have the crowds under control.” His laughter rings out all the way to the front of the café until he pulls the door shut behind him.
I shake my head at myself. What am I doing? I used to hate working the closing shift and even flat out refused to do it. I actually hadn’t done it in years. The first night Harper came in for her blind date, it had been a pure coincidence that one of my staff members had called in sick, and I couldn’t get anyone else to cover.
It had been my lucky day, though, because I may never have seen her again, since Argo had new ownership. Now I’m working the late shift every night in hopes of seeing her and have started some kind of friendship with her, offering to help with her dating mission.
I need to be careful how I play it from here because I do not want to end up in the friend zone. Fuck no, not with Harper. She is special. The type of girl you want to treat differently. Take on dates, kiss just to kiss, and tell all your secrets, hopes, and dreams to.
So, here I am, wiping and stacking chairs before I can lock up. Except Harper didn’t come in tonight. I waited and waited like some kind of desperate pussy-whipped loser, but she never showed. I know she’s coming here to date others, so why does it feel like I’ve been stood up?
I stack the chairs with more force than is needed. I don’t even know what I’m so worked up about. So, she didn’t come; big deal. She probably didn’t have a date tonight, or she took my advice and has been screening a little better.
I fucking hate the closing shift, and I hate that I know why I’m suddenly working them. There are barely any customers after business hours so the time drags, you have to do all of the shit end-of-day jobs, and there is minimal staff to even chat with. But, for some reason, closing up when Harper’s here isn’t so bad.
There’s something about her. I imagine all mundane jobs would be easier to handle with her around.
My phone rings from the front counter and I jump to get it. I roll my eyes at myself as I realise she doesn’t have my number and couldn’t possibly be calling me to tell me why she flaked tonight.
Once I reach it, Stacey flashes on the screen. Hell, what does she want now? I am in way too much of a bad mood to deal with her tonight.
Deciding I need some good company to cheer me up, I scroll through my contacts list and call Lana. She always makes me feel better and knows exactly what I need. She’ll take my mind off Harper.
Well . . . hopefully.
I decided not to go on my date last night. The first two had absolutely wrecked me, and honestly, I was feeling a little down. I couldn’t bring myself to go through another one; I needed a break.
Instead, I sat in my cramped apartment eating noodles and trying to keep my mind off feeling sorry for myself. Apparently, Tom had rubbed off on me, and I was throwing my own pity party.
Today is another day, though. I’m okay with wallowing for a little while, but then you’ve got to pull up your big-girl panties and get on with it. Maybe I should’ve told Tom that the other night. Maybe I would’ve, had I not been so distracted by Tate all night, and had I actually paid Tom one ounce of attention.
Oh well, it’s done with now, and I’m excited for my third date.
“Another date tonight?” Brooke asks as she steps into my office, almost hearing my thoughts.
I haven’t told Brooke all the details of my dates because . . . well, let’s face it, it’s absolutely humiliating.
“Yeah, lucky number three.” I force a smile.
“Will Tate be there?”
“Not sure,” I answer, knowing full well he probably will.
“He’s seems like a really nice guy.”
Where is she going with this? “Mm-hmm,” I murmur, not meeting her eyes. I don’t want Brooke to know how much Tate is in my thoughts. He’s the star of the show. Most valuable player. Of course, he is; I am biologically geared to be attracted to those types of men. Men whose biggest goals are whose panties they can get into, and how they can escape without having to call the next day.
I glance at Brooke. “Fair enough,” she says wi
th a small smile. “Saxon and I are heading to a meeting. Did you want to go early today? Not much to do here.”
“Yeah, sounds good.” I also don’t want to show my excitement to go home and get ready for another date. Another failure of a date? Am I crazy to even think of trying this again?
Running through my apartment and straight to my bedroom, I trip over a pair of Chucks I’ve left lying on the floor. Honestly, how do I make this much mess in such a short time? So much for changing my ways. Continuing on with my momentum towards the closet, I get there and riffle through it.
After throwing nearly every piece of clothing I own on the floor, I give up and decide to go shower then come back and try again after.
I spend ages washing and scrubbing, and when I finally get out of the shower, I moisturise every bit of skin I can reach. Once I’ve finished my thorough ritual of my hair and make-up, I head back to the closet to give it another go.
Trying to ignore the fact I’m going to so much effort for this date, I try to tell myself I’m excited to meet Cole and I want him to like him me, but it would be a lie. Deep down, I know I’m dressing up for a certain hot, tattooed barista. I want to impress Tate. I want him to like me, and for more than one night of fun between the sheets.
Why am I always attracted to the unavailable types? The sweet talkers and smooth movers? I have no doubt Tate is attracted to me; that he wants to sleep with me. But what happens after?
He might date me, sure, he might even become quite serious with me, but then after a while he will get bored with me or monogamy—I don’t know which, but he won’t bother telling me about it. Won’t let me know how he’s feeling, and won’t give me the decency of calling things off.
No, he will move on without letting me know, or even giving me a heads up, and I’ll be left to find out the hard way.
God, I sound cynical. I know I do, but it’s just the way it is. The way it has always been since I found my high school boyfriend, Greg, kissing Mandy behind my garden shed at my sixteenth birthday party. Every relationship I have entered into since has ended the same way. Some form of lying, cheating, or deceit.
How depressing. I sit down on the edge of my bed and my shoulders drop. Why do I even date anymore? Why am I doing this? I should just throw on my yoga pants, head to the animal shelter, and pick up a couple of cats now. Start my collection early.
I wonder how many cats I can legally have in my small apartment?
Shaking my head, I stand from my bed and head back to the closet. You are no quitter, Harper. You just need to be smarter, play the game better, and keep your eyes and ears open at all times. Stop trusting a pretty face and hot body.
And if worst comes to worst, I can sleep with Tate and at least get a bit of an ego boost that someone that good looking would be willing to show me the time of day.
I choose my ridiculously skinny jeans. They’re so tight they look painted on and do a spectacular job of showing off the curves of my butt. I add to it a dark purple blouse and a black waist belt. After slipping on my black ballet shoes, I grab the closest necklace I can find sitting on my dresser and make my way out of the apartment.
Deciding the quick walk is the perfect opportunity to give my mum a call, I take a deep breath. The phone rings in my ear, and I prepare myself for the taxing conversation.
“Hello?” my dad’s weary voice answers.
“Hi, Daddy.”
“Hello, Harper. How are you?”
“I’m good, Dad. What’s up with you?”
“Not much. What can I do for you?”
I roll my eyes. The minister has never been one for small talk over the phone. Come to think of it, he has never been a fan of chitchat at all.
“Can I talk to Mum please?”
“Hang on.”
“Yeah, goodbye to you, too,” I mumble as I hear him place the phone down.
Thirty seconds later, my mother’s soft voice greets me over the line. “Harper Louise, is everything okay? We don’t normally talk during the week.”
“Yes, Mum, everything is fine.” I sigh. “I just thought it would be nice for me to ring you for once.” We usually keep our phone calls to Sundays so Mum can reiterate Dad’s sermons to me over the phone, since they know I’m not visiting a church here in the city.
“Oh. Oh, well that’s nice.” Her tone is unsure.
“So, what have you been up to?” I try to push the conversation, making it easier on her, since apparently talking to your only daughter over the phone is quite a hardship.
“Not much since we last spoke. I had lunch with Mrs. Maxwell today.”
“That’s nice.” I force a smile, hoping she can hear it in my voice. “What did she have to say?”
“Said Lyndi is doing well. Just gave birth to her fifth child.”
My body flinches, and I try to disguise the repulsion I feel. “That’s nice.” Lyndi is Mrs. Maxwell’s granddaughter, and only a year older than me. She married the town baker straight out of high school and hasn’t stopped popping out kids since.
“It’s wonderful. Another beautiful miracle. A real celebration for the family.” I can sense the happiness and sadness intertwined in her voice. It’s a happy occasion—who doesn’t love a baby?—but deep down she wishes it were me. Her only daughter, who instead of getting married and being tied down in a small country town, decided to leave and explore life in the big city.
“You should try to come down for the baptism. She’d love for you to come, I’m sure.”
“Yeah, sounds good.” I close my eyes, feeling defeated. “Well, Mum, I better get going. I’ve got a dinner date.” I clap my hand over my mouth and cringe at my thoughtlessness of not keeping that to myself.
“A date? With whom? Harper Louise, I hope you are being careful. It makes me sick with worry when I think—”
“Okay, Mum, well seriously, I have to go now,” I cut in, putting a hold on her rant.
“Harper Louise.”
“I’ll chat to you on Sunday, Mum. Love you.”
I quickly end the call, not giving her a chance to respond.
Arriving at the café, I hang around outside for a minute, feeling sick in the pit of my stomach. I don’t know if the phone call with my mum has put me on edge or if I’m nervous about the date. I step towards the door, but before I can even reach for the handle, it is swung open and Tate stands in the entrance.
“I thought you might’ve needed a pep talk before you came in.”
“What?” I fake confusion. “I’m early. I just got here.”
“You know these windows are see-through, don’t you?” He gestures to the windows covering the whole frontage of the café. Fuck. “Must be a bad one tonight if you’re this nervous.”
Sure, let’s go with that. “Well, after the last two, I’m feeling a little antsy.” I walk past him to enter.
“Jesus, Daisy. I think it’s him who should be shitting himself.”
Looking back at Tate over my shoulder, his eyes are wide as he admires my ass. His throat moves as he swallows before running his tongue along that full, lower lip.
Turning back around, a huge grin fills my face, and I sashay over to my now usual table, swaying my hips in a way that would give my father, the minister, a heart attack.
Turning to sit down, I see Tate is still standing dumbfounded by the door. I giggle quietly as he shakes his head and finally makes his way back behind the counter. Exactly the reaction I was hoping for. Score one, Harper.
I watch as Tate fumbles with the coffee machine and cups, milk spilling all over the counter. He shakes his head again, except this time he’s mumbling to himself. Have I rattled him that much? God, I hope so.
I continue watching as he tries to regain his equilibrium and seems to come back to himself, now working fluidly as he froths and makes the coffees. I watch the way his body moves, the fluid and smooth motions.
I imagine how that body would feel around me, how it would look moving above me.
God,
Harper, snap out of it. You are here for a date, for crying out loud. Cole. Focus on Cole. Smart, sweet, and serious Cole.
“Harper?”
“Cole.” I jump. He smiles warmly at me as he sits in the seat opposite mine. “Sorry, I was in my own world.”
“It’s great to meet you.”
“Yeah, you, too.” I smile, taking in his perfect blond hair and exceptional face. I take a moment to have a good look at him. Khaki slacks, a light blue checked shirt under a cream woollen vest. It’s an interesting look for someone so young. I mean, he’s only twenty-eight.
“I feel as if we have known each other forever,” he says. I laugh awkwardly. Reality is, we have probably only spoken a few times over the past week or so, far from forever.
Tate soon stands by our table and places my regular chai tea latte in front of me.
“Can I get you anything?” he asks Cole.
“I’d love a black coffee,” he answers as he reaches for the menu. “How about we order some food?”
“No,” both Tate and I rush to answer at the same time.
Cole jumps in his seat before slowly lowering the menu back to the table. “Fair enough.”
Tate turns to walk away. “We should remove the menus next time,” he whispers so only I can hear him. I try to stifle my laugh as I nod.
Cole is giving me an inquisitive look so I try to distract him. “So, you said you work in insurance?” Men . . . asking them about themselves is always an easy distraction. So egotistical.
You’d think my knowing men so well I’d be able to find one a little easier.
“Yes, I work for my mother’s insurance firm.”
“Oh,” I snort. “Working with your mum; that must be fun.” I think of my parents back home, the minister and his wife living in the small country town.
“I love working with my mum,” he states firmly. “I’m an only child, and my dad worked away a lot so we are really close.”
“Oh.” I pause. “That’s nice.”
Cole’s phone rings, thankfully, breaking the uncomfortable moment.
“Sorry, I need to grab this.” Cole turns away from me as he answers.
Whatever You Do Page 5
