“How so?” I asked, hoping he would clue me in.
“Well, son, when is your next day off? The 17th, right?” Which he of course knew since he played a role in the entire scheduling process. He started tapping his phone like it was his job.
“Yeah. I think so. Why?” I asked hesitantly.
“That’s when you can have your date.”
Fuck me.
What had I just done?
“Date with…”
His phone buzzed.
“Henry, of course. He says yes, by the way.” He pointed to his phone. I wasn’t sure I believed him, not that I would tell him that. There was just something about the glint in his eye that said he was up to mischief when it came to whatever was on the other end of the phone.
“Yes?” I teased him as he angled the phone out of my sight. Yep, he was up to something, not talking with Henry. I chose to ignore all of that.
“Fine.” Enrique conceded. “Henry said, ‘Will it get you off my back?’, and I said, ‘yes’.” I could only see the poor guy giving up under the pressure of his uncle. If he’d been that persistent with me, I couldn’t imagine how bad he was with him.
My initial reaction was to tell him I misspoke and wasn’t going to go, but now that he had his nephew given in, it felt somehow ruder. And really, a night out could be fun. It couldn’t go anywhere. Not really. What is it they say? Don’t shit where you eat? And while Henry didn’t work with me, his uncle did, and any heartbreak or even pissed-offness could very easily backfire on me.
No, I could go on the date, possibly make a friend, and if I played my cards right get a good meal out of it. It wouldn’t be that bad. Probably.
“You pick the place,” he announced as if it were a victory of mine.
I already had. Jack’s. He said his nephew liked it and some sick part of me wanted to see if just maybe Harry was a regular. Not that I would go on a date and then be all sorry, I see someone better. That would be a dick move. But seeing if he was there might not be the worst thing.
Unless he was there with another guy.
“Are you ready to get out of your head yet?”
“What? Oh yeah. Sorry.” I wiped my mouth with my napkin to give me a second to compose myself. “Think dinner out would be fine.”
“Yeah.” He began typing again. Of course he was. “Eight work for you?”
“Eight is great.” I pointed at him like the cartoon tiger did in the commercial from back when I was a kid, and Enrique just shook his head and went back to his typing.
“Do you need to go?” I asked as he stared at the screen on his phone.
“No. Sorry. Tony was just sending me a picture of the dinner in his hotel.”
Ha! I knew it wasn’t Henry. No one caves to a blind date that easily. Or maybe he already had given in and I was the second person being hoodwinked into this thing. Either way, I’d said yes and I hated the idea less than I had the first time he hinted at it so who knew, maybe It wouldn’t be that bad.
“See.” Enrique had the grace to look a little sheepish. He knows I’m on to him. He turned the phone around and my stomach rumbled at the sight of the fancy fare. Having a husband who traveled the way his did had to be lonely. Lonely was something I knew a little something about.
“How about some pie?” It wasn’t the same as eating with your husband in a fancy restaurant but the pie here was good.
“Apple?” he asked, slipping his phone in his coat pocket. At least the make-a-date part of the evening was good and over.
“Apple.”
“I hate apples. How about we get hot cocoa instead.” It looked like I wasn’t the only bad comedian at the table.
I went and grabbed us two mugs of cocoa complete with whipped cream and brought them back to the table, catching a glimpse of the snow on my way back. It was barely flurries, and if we dawdled with our cocoa, there was a good chance even that would be done before we left.
And sure enough, as I walked out the door and parted ways with the old man, the sky was clear and the ground, being March, was warm enough that the pavement was wet but not snow packed, but the grass was completely covered with fluffy white stuff.
Sophia is not going to like this snow.
“Night, Enrique.”
“Night, son. You're going to have a good time. Trust me. He’s just your type.”
On that he was wrong. My type had a name and it was Harry.
40
Harry
I pushed my chair back from the table and wiped my mouth with a napkin. “That was the best meal I’ve eaten in…”
“Forever?” Uncle completed my sentence.
“Probably. Just as well we don’t live together or I’d be waddling instead of walking.”
“You need meat on your bones.”
After helping rinse dishes and stack the dishwasher, we sat on the couch and Uncle poured us both a scotch. “Single malt?” I said as I peered at the bottle. ”I’m impressed.”
“Did you expect anything less?”
“No, I guess not.” My uncle preferred the finer things in life and was prepared to pay for them. I swirled the tawny-colored liquid in the squat glass and inhaled the familiar smoky aroma. “Cheers.” I welcomed the burning sensation as I tossed the scotch down my throat.
Uncle Enrique’s husband, Tony, worked away during the week and was only home on weekends which gave Uncle plenty of time to meddle. We sat staring at the flames flickering in the fireplace until my companion broke the silence. “So, still pining after that guy?”
There was no need to ask which one. I was, but I’d adopted a resolution to move on. I’d made a half-hearted attempt to date a colleague’s brother, but it hadn’t worked out. Or perhaps I hadn’t wanted it to.
He’d seemed eager, though, and I’d let him down gently saying I was in love with someone else. That wasn’t strictly true. How could I be in love with someone I’d spoken to twice? “Not really.”
Uncle sat forward. “In that case, may I suggest the doctor I mentioned a few weeks ago.”
I groaned and held my head in my hands. “Do you ever give up?”
“Rarely.”
That’s what I thought. “I don’t know, Uncle. I’m working on a big case, and it’s taking up most of my time and attention.”
“Excuses. Excuses. And you have to eat, right?”
My fingers wrapped around my glass. “You always say that when you’re interfering in someone’s love life.”
“I prefer the word tinkering,” he replied.
“Makes me sound like a car.”
“Well, Henry, you could do with a service.”
I spat out my scotch. “Uncle!”
He rolled his eyes. “What? We’re both adults. Would you prefer I say sex? Intercourse? Or maybe copulation?”
Putting both hands over my ears, I yelled, “I can’t hear you. Na, na, na, na, na!”
“You’re being ridiculous, dear boy.”
I stuck my nose in my glass, wishing we weren’t having this conversation.
“But if you’re not interested, Darren’s wedding’s coming up.” Uncle inspected his scotch. “There’ll be plenty of single omegas in attendance. Aren’t hookups common at weddings?”
“Ewww!” I was slated to be the best man at my cousin’s wedding and was already dreading various relatives asking if I was seeing anyone and wondering what was wrong with me because I was still single. “A one-night stand with a sweaty, drunken guest in the men’s bathroom? I don’t think so.”
“You’re exaggerating, as usual.” He shrugged. “But there’s a charming, hard-working, sexy, single doctor who’s desperate to meet you.”
“Really?”
“No, I made him up. Yes, really.”
“When you say willing, what did you do?” I pictured the omega with his hands tied, blindfolded and gagged, being led toward me as though heading to his execution. “Bribe him? Blackmail the poor guy?”
“Pfft. I did nothing of the sor
t. He’s looking forward to it.”
“I bet he is.”
“Sarcasm doesn’t suit you, Henry.”
“So, without consulting me, you’ve gone ahead and arranged a meeting.”
“Dinner. That’s it. You’re not getting betrothed. It’s a meal, you share a bottle of wine and tell one another about your jobs, hobbies, and pets. It’s not rocket science.”
I stuck out my bottom lip, and my pout was probably more impressive than any toddler’s. “A job and a pet, I have, but no hobbies.”
“He has a dog.”
My thoughts went to Sophia and her owner. I squeezed my eyes shut as the image of Richard cuddling his pet hovered in front of me. But it wasn’t healthy obsessing over him or his adorable dog. My eyes snapped open, and I glanced up. “I give him one point for being an animal lover.”
“You’re so generous.” Uncle refilled our glasses. “He’s agreed to dinner. What’s the harm?”
“He talks about himself all night, he’s a picky eater and sends the food back three times, or he’s a gaming addict,” I rattled off. “But knowing how they work the doctors at the clinic, I’m surprised he has time to breathe, let alone meet me for a meal.” I put up my hand and shushed him. “I get it. He has to eat, right?”
“Exactly!”
We both laughed. I was being handled by a master manipulator, and I wasn’t sure I had the energy to put up a fight.
“One dinner. That’s it,” he told me. “If you hate one another, I’ll never mention him again.”
We both knew that wasn’t true. I threw up my hands. “God, you’re good. I surrender to your superior matchmaking powers.”
Uncle patted my arm in that very uncle-like way he had about him. “As you should.” He made no attempt to hide his satisfied smirk as he sipped his drink.
I typed a reminder into my phone. “What day?”
“The seventeenth.”
Oh shit no! I rubbed a hand over my eyes. “Did he pick that date? It’s St. Patrick’s Day.”
“I’m aware.”
“Will he take me to a bar frequented by frat boys and decorated with four-leaf clovers? There’ll be people dressed as leprechauns, and I’ll be force-fed green beer.” I made a face.
“Would that be so bad?” He took one look at my face and continued, “I mean, four-leaf clovers are harmless.”
“They’ve never brought me luck.”
“You never know. If it works out well, there could be a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow.”
I had to hand it to my uncle. He never lost his zest for believing in true love. “I’m too old for this.”
“Not one more word. And I expect a blow-by-blow description after your date.” He closed one eye. “Let me rephrase that.”
I winced and folded my arms. “Please do.”
“Phone me and tell me how it went with Rich.”
“Fine.” It wasn’t. Even the guy’s name reminded me of my Richard. What a joke! He wasn’t mine. Not even close. I sat calculating how fast I could order, chat, and eat before making an excuse and leaving my forthcoming blind date.
41
Richard
Jack’s on St. Patrick's day was absolutely nothing like it was at Christmas. Instead of a few random elves or reindeer antlers, I was bombarded with shirtless men with their bodies painted green, big green sequined hats, and green beer. Lots and lots of green beer.
And I would venture to say that most of the people in the place had started drinking said beer many hours earlier.
At least my date wasn’t going to get the wrong impression and think I was being all romantic and such. There was not a single thing about this place that shouted anything other than frat party.
“Heads up, Blue Shirt,” someone yelled and as I did, green Mardis Gras beads almost collided with my face, my hand able to catch them just in time.
“Umm, thanks?” Was that the correct response to someone throwing dollar store jewelry at you because of your shirt color?
“You need them. You shouldn’t be wearing blue today, Blue Shirt. It’s green day.” An omega who’d had at least three too many beers stumbled the rest of the way towards me, his mostly finished green beer in his hand.
He was probably right. It was St. Patrick’s Day, but it was also a date, and this was my best shirt without getting fancied up. Whatever. Why was I even taking into consideration something a drunk guy wearing body paint as clothing was saying?
“Whoa, dude.” His hand came out, and I took a step back not wanting his hand on me. “You did wear green. Are those contacts?”
It took me half a second to figure out what he was talking about. Most people called my eyes brown, but once in a while if the light hit them just right, they were a gorgeous green. Sadly, those times were rare and one of them wasted on a very drunk kid.
“No. Just eyes.” I took another step back, “Listen, I have to go and find someone.”
“Are you sure it’s not me you are looking for?” he sang the words. Gods, help me.
“Pretty sure. Yeah. Nice to meet you,” I lied and turned to leave, somehow missing that he was reaching out for me, and thanks to his inebriation, he stumbled, falling into me and spilling a good chunk of the remainder of his beverage on me. Brilliant. Just brilliant.
I reached around and grabbed him by the arms to help him right himself. “Let me get you a ride.” Staying here like this was only going to get him into trouble, and while I was pissed about my now stinky and green splotched shirt, I didn’t want harm to come to the guy.
“I’m good, my cousin is here with me.” He pointed to a group of men, one of whom was giving him the thumbs up.
“Is he your designated driver?” I asked, knowing it not to be the case since his other hand was holding a pint of green liquid.
“Naw, we are gonna use a ride share...unless we get lucky.” Oh for Pete’s sake, he was going to get himself into trouble.
“How old are you?” I asked, finally getting a good look at his face.
“My ID says twenty-one.” He held his finger up to his lips and made a loud shhhh sound. “That’s my story and I’m going to stick to it.”
Decision made, I helped him over to his cousin, and ten minutes later they were both getting in a car on their way to one of their parents’ houses, I hadn’t quite followed that part, and I was looking beyond a disheveled mess. So very much not the way I’d planned to spend the evening, but what else could I have done? Left him for one of the alphas that was going to look for an easy lay when he didn’t have the wherewithal to consent and was underage?
I started back into Jack’s and who was just inside the doorway? Harry.
“Hey, what brings you here?” Duh, he’s here to grab a drink. It’s a bar.
“I was going to ask you that. Your friends already left?” He looked in the direction of where I just came from.
“Hardly. They were a couple of very drunk, very underage omegas, and they needed to go home.” And be grounded for a decade. Although that part wasn’t up to me.
“So you’re what? A cop? A good Samaritan? A superhero?” He stepped out of the way as some more people came in.
“Hardly. I’m just a guy who got beer spilled onto him as a drunken underage omega fell into him as he was attempting to see my eyes.” Why did I have to be waiting for a date?
Just like the last two times, things just felt easy, and I didn’t even know what, but damn it, I wanted the rest of my evening to be with Harry and not some stranger. And that was where the shitting where you eat rule proved its worth. It wasn’t just a blind date. It was a blind date with Enrique’s nephew and standing him up would not only be rude, it would have consequences at work or at least awkwardnesses at work, and I sure as the day is long didn’t need that in my life.
“I’m going with superhero.” He gave me a nod. “He sure did a number on your shirt. Too bad, it suited you.”
And of course he had to go and be all sweet.
“I’
m thinking it is ruined. The green beer is food coloring, I’m guessing. That isn’t coming out.”
“Probably not. But it didn’t really go with your jewels anyway.” He pointed to my plastic beads.
“A gift from the drunk. I guess I broke a rule not wearing green.” Whereas Harry was head-to-toe green and not in a leprechaun kind of way. No, he looked damn good in his tight green shirt and army green jeans. Lickable, even. Not that I was going to do that. Nope. I promised Enrique, and I was going to keep my promise.
Why did I have to say yes? Because if you didn’t you wouldn’t be seeing Harry right now.
“You always wear green.” He gave me a wink, and I was so close to reaching in my pocket and telling Enrique I was going to cancel when he interrupted my train of thought. “So why did you say you were here again?”
“Blind date,” I grumbled. “One that etiquette says I should go find.”
Fucking etiquette.
42
Harry
Fuck this! I’d come to a place I loved. On a freaking blind date that I didn’t want to be on. Only to be confronted with the omega I really cared about, and he was there on a blind date too. The universe had it in for me. It’s giving me the finger. More like all ten fingers. This sucks!
I plastered a smile on my face as Richard stood on tiptoes and peered around the bar. Perhaps I can kneecap that alpha so their date never happens. But it'd be my rotten luck, they’d bond in the emergency room and fall in love. No!
While I grimaced at the stink of beer, Richard’s intoxicating scent washed over me, making me giddy.
“I’ll never find the guy here. I’ll have to phone my friend and let him know.” He didn’t seem too disappointed. Or maybe I was projecting my feelings, hoping he’d prefer to spend the evening with me.
“Hi. Yeah, it’s me, Richard. I’m at Jack’s, but the place is heaving and it’s impossible to find anyone.” There was a pause and then Richard said, “Sure, I’ll wait.”
My phone buzzed, and I glanced at the screen and read, “Rich can’t find you.” My eyes went to the omega in front of me whose furrowed brow was adorable. “That’s weird.”
Love at Blind Date Complete Series: Books 1-4 Page 15
