by Godiva Glenn
The cacophony of city people and cars slammed through Chell’s mind as she hurried to the quaint bakery at the end of the street. She didn’t like downtown. There was no place to park and she’d decided to simply hop out of the truck and sprint. The people on the sidewalk didn’t seem to notice her hurry at all, and in many cases, she nearly slammed into unsuspecting pedestrians.
She fanned her face as she rounded the corner and saw the shop sign she was looking for. Her hair was no doubt wild at this point, but hopefully, Gerri wouldn’t mind.
Chell yanked the glass door open and stepped into what may as well have been a new world. Soft music played from hidden speakers, and the chaos of the outside world fell away. She glanced around, looking for the signature silver bob of the matchmaker. She spotted it across the room and straightened her shoulders as she approached.
“Mrs. Wilder?”
The woman looked up from her phone and smiled. She placed the phone face-down on the table and stood, taking Chell’s hand and squeezing it warmly. “There you are. I was wondering if you’d stood me up.”
“Traffic,” Chell said. “We don’t have it on Nova Solara. Mara learned to drive using simulation courses, but it seems she does not handle her vehicle aggressively enough.”
Mrs. Wilder smirked. “I see. Well, lucky for you, my day is clear, and I don’t mind sitting around here. They have amazing pastries. Sit. I ordered you something.”
Chell sat down and inspected the strange treat plated before her. “Mrs. Wilder—”
“Gerri, please. Mrs. Wilder makes me feel old.” She gestured to the plate. “It’s called a bear claw.”
“Really?” Chell watched Gerri nod then poked at the pastry, finding it soft and sticky. She tore off a corner and lifted the piece up for closer inspection. “Why?”
“I’m not entirely certain, but they try to shape it in a particular fashion to give the look of a paw. If actual paws had almonds for nails, that is.”
The treat had a distinct aroma that tickled her taste buds. Without even testing it, she knew it would be sweet to a fault, but she still wanted to try. She popped it into her mouth and was immediately delighted by the luxurious honey taste and a filling that had a smooth nuttiness.
She pulled off another section and nodded as she enjoyed it. “I like these. We don’t have many breads with this level of decadence.”
“I’m glad you like it. I wanted to make sure that you had as much pleasure on this visit as possible… of course, I’m sure that goes without saying. Perhaps we should get down to business.”
“Indeed. What do you need of me?”
Gerri crossed her hands and leaned forward on the table. “Your profile submission was thorough but lacking… character.”
“I’m not sure I understand.”
“Tell me about you. Tell me why you’ve come to me, for example. When I was on Nova Solara last year, the shifters were of two distinct minds. Either that I was a miracle worker, and they wished my help, or that I was disrupting the natural order somehow. No one from your clan approached me, and I picked up that there was some trouble.”
Chell carefully wiped her fingers on a napkin. “I suppose transparency is key.”
“Yes, it is.”
“I was seeking a mate. One of my clan suggested a relative from Earth, and as he was handsome and charming via our communications, I invited him to Nova Solara.” Chell gave Gerri a look. “It didn’t work out. But instead of accepting this, as a male should, he drugged me and held me prisoner outside of my territory. And he was not alone. He worked beside another male, another scorned former-lover.”
Gerri’s eyes widened and she took a moment before sympathy replaced the shock on her face. “I had no idea.”
“I petitioned the dragons and had my land sealed off while I handled the treachery. Many even on Nova Solara are not aware of everything that transpired.”
“Remarkable,” Gerri said. “I mean that you still seek a mate now. I suspect many would avoid it at all costs.”
Chell scoffed. “I don’t allow minor setbacks to navigate my life. I have my clan to think about. They would like to see me mated, and I would like to see that as well.”
“Direct. I knew that wild events had transpired, but I thought it all political…” Gerri pursed her lips. “This may not be an easy task. But I suppose, tell me what you wish.”
Chell took a moment to compose her thoughts. “I would like someone tall, strong, handsome, clever, and sexually experienced. I have needs and expect them to be met. I don’t have the patience to train a mate—”
“My, my,” Gerri murmured. “I usually have to drag this type of information out.”
“Why would I not give you all of my preferences? It is a mate.”
“Right. Go on.”
Chell sighed. “I am willing to wait as long as required for you to find someone suitable. I am aware that you have contacts on Nova Aurora and have made many matches there. Prism as well.”
“You’ve certainly given this thought.”
“Yes. I am hoping that you may find a suitable shifter. Or fae, as I hear they are formidable. I need a mate that will not be challenged. Someone who will aid me in inspiring confidence toward the future of the Blue Mountain clan.”
“And love?”
Chell glanced at her plate. She’d been in love before. Not with Solomon or Elric, obviously, but before. “Yes, love is requested.”
“What do you require emotionally out of your mate?” Gerri’s eyes, though gentle in expression, cut through Chell.
That was an easy question. The traits she valued in any friend, really. “Loyalty and honesty, those would suffice.”
“This all sounds logical,” Gerri said. “I’m asking about your heart.”
Chell scoffed. “All love is the same. How can I tell you a type of love I want? It’s just love.”
Gerri nodded slightly. “I see.”
Memories flooded her, ones that she held dear but kept locked away with good reason. She saw no purpose for Gerri to require her entire history. Some moments were best left behind. The dark eyes of Valdus, her first serious suitor and the one she thought she would have forever, stared at her from the past.
She cleared her throat and sought to change the subject. “I am no fan of deception, but I would request, given my past luck with deceptive suitors, that you not disclose my leadership status unless you feel it is absolutely necessary.”
“I’m not fond of withholding such things, but that request is made more often than not,” Gerri grumbled. “At least in your case, I can somewhat understand it. Well, I don’t see anything impossible. But what if I find the perfect match and he’s not every single one of those things?”
“How could he not? I know what my perfect mate will be like.”
“Sometimes what we want is not what we need.” Gerri tapped a finger to her chin. “But don’t worry. I’m quite the expert at what I do.”
Chell wished to argue but chose not to. Gerri was, in fact, an expert. It wouldn’t be wise to try and tell her how to do her job, any more than Gerri could tell her how to rule. Wisdom was to be respected. “I’ll await your further instructions.”
Gerri chuckled. “Relax. We’re plotting for your happy ending, not a battle, I promise.”
Chapter Five
Troy
Somewhere in the apartment, Troy’s phone was ringing. The wild buzzing indicated that it was trapped on something hard. Maybe on the coffee table underneath a magazine or remote. Maybe on the floor under a shoe. Hopefully not in the kitchen about to commit suicide into a sink of dirty dishes—which unfortunately had happened once before.
Wherever it was, it didn’t matter. He was in the middle of a life or death situation.
“Your six,” he shouted.
“That means nothing to me,” Gabe replied, annoyed. “The building behind me? The doorway or the roof? Fuck! Fuck!” He groaned. “I hate this game.”
“Probably because you
suck at it,” Troy responded. He hopped from his sniping position and was blown to bits by a hidden enemy grenade. The screen turned red and the stats from their online match scrolled by. “Fine. Lunch break.”
He closed out the game and stood from his desk, stretching his arms high. Gabe shut his laptop and set it aside him on the couch.
“I think I’d need an actual computer to not suck at it,” he reasoned.
“Then buy one.”
Gabe leaned over and lifted an empty pizza box. “Sandra called,” he said, lifting Troy’s phone. “You better return that before she shows up all worried.”
Troy held out his hands and Gabe tossed him the phone. Heading into the kitchen for a new beer, he swiped to the voice-mail and listened.
“Troy, sweetie. I know you’re all grown up but is dodging calls from your mother the mature thing to do? And I don’t want to hear any excuses. By now, you and Gabe have probably become one with that ratty sofa. You need to get out. Call me.”
He rolled his eyes and lowered his phone, staring at the screen while he debated calling her back now or waiting a bit. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to talk to his mom. It was because she had developed a one-track goal ever since she’d heard about his suspension. That goal was to somehow find him a serious girlfriend.
His mother was the top woman in his life. Letting her down didn’t come easy. On top of that, he couldn’t possibly explain to her that even if he had time for a relationship—which he didn’t—he doubted there existed a woman that could accept his particular interests.
Last time he checked, the house, wife, dog and white picket fence didn’t pair well with… well, whatever he and Gabe had. What exactly was the formal term for two guys who like to touch each other, don’t fuck, yet get off on sharing a single woman? Last time he checked, there was none. Probably because society would rather not give it a word and allow the practice to escape the underbelly of kinks.
Still, his mom’s voice echoed in his head. Waiting to call back would accomplish nothing, except perhaps making her worry. He dialed her number and retreated to his room for privacy.
“Look who crawled from under that rock,” his mom said by way of hello.
He leaned against his dresser and looked out the window. “I’m not depressed, Mom.”
“Then there’s no reason why you can’t get out of the house and do something.”
“Who says I haven’t been?”
“A mother knows these things.”
He almost replied that he had in fact been getting out, but then she’d want details. Bars didn’t count, he was sure. “Don’t worry about me. How’ve you been?”
She sighed dramatically into the phone. “I’ve been wondering why you seem set on not giving me any grandbabies.”
“I’m serious.”
“So am I. Well, not really. You know I want you to find the perfect woman before the babies come. I don’t want you sleeping around with just any girl.”
He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Of course.”
“Denise from work has a niece that would love to meet you,” she said in a sing-song voice.
“I’m not looking for anyone right now. I told you before, work—”
“You’re not currently working. Maybe Gabe’s temper tantrum did you a favor. You should use this time to take care of yourself…”
“Temper tantrum,” he murmured. If only Gabe were listening in.
“…Treat yourself, isn’t that the saying this generation has? Treat yourself, hun.”
He pursed his lips to keep from laughing. “Yeah, Mom. Except that most women don’t want to date someone who is barely around.”
“You’re around now.”
“And in a few weeks? I can’t just put a girlfriend on the shelf and take her down when I’m free,” he reasoned.
“Oh goodness,” she breathed. “Why do you assume she wouldn’t have a life of her own? A career of her own? I swear I raised you better.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“I just want you to be happy. And I know the modern casual lifestyle says you don’t need to find love to be happy, but how will you know that it’s not for you unless you try?”
If only he could tell the truth and avoid the guilt trip. “I’ve dated before. I know what it’s like.”
“Yeah. Brenda, Violet, and Libby? Your high school girlfriends? They don’t count, hun. Even I know that. You and Gabe are too smart and cute to be bachelors forever.”
“Maybe you should give him the lecture.”
“I did. I messaged him on the Facebook and told him exactly what I thought,” she said proudly.
Troy’s head fell back, and he stared at the ceiling in disbelief. “Fine. I’ll maybe think about putting myself out there. But I’m not going on a blind date with your co-worker’s niece. That’s just weird.”
“You sure? I showed her your picture.”
“I’m sure.”
She grumbled under her breath. “Let me know if you change your mind. Or maybe Gabe would be interested? He’s almost as cute as you, even with those tattoos.”
Troy grinned. “I’ll ask, but no promises.”
“Okay. I’m going to let you go, then. My scrapbooking club is tonight and I’m making the appetizers. Those crackers aren’t going to dress themselves.”
“Have fun.”
“Kisses!”
He set the phone down and scrubbed his hands over his face. To an extent, his mom had a point. He wanted a relationship. He wanted it all. Things weren’t that simple. Checking his watch, he realized that the day wasn’t even half-way through, yet he was bored out of his mind.
The list of things that kept him occupied in work limbo was devastatingly small: beer, pizza, chicken wings, video games, and sex. Aside from the sex, he’d knocked out the rest of the list already today.
Returning to the living room, he rubbed his stomach and considered hitting the gym. When he glanced at Gabe vegging out on the couch in front of a medical drama re-run, it hit him how empty life could be. He could evade his mom, but he couldn’t evade himself. Instead of commiserating about the life he wanted, shouldn’t he at least try?
He sat down at his computer, but he wasn’t sure what to search for. His fingertips gently danced on the keyboard, awaiting an idea. Were dating websites a thing anymore? He wasn’t about to rely on an app. He loaded the community section of the city’s upcoming events and scrolled.
A local music fest, hot dog eating contest, art fundraiser… he continued scrolling until something interesting popped up. Speed dating with locals. Perfect.
The speed-dating was taking place in a club Troy rarely frequented, in a back room closed off by double doors and a smiling guide. A red bulb flickered above it, and he had to assume that they were associating the red glow with love, and not the more salacious meaning.
He’d pre-registered so all he had to do now was grab his card, re-read the instructions, and wait. At the chime of a bell, the room moved, and Troy sat down at the first table assigned to him. He smiled expectantly at the woman across from him, only to be smacked directly between the eyes with a vague recognition of her glittery lip-gloss smile and a whiff of déjà vu.
“Troy!” she cooed.
“Ah…” Fuck, fuck, fuck… Heather? Veronica? Stephanie? He grinned and glanced down at his card as if somehow the name would pop up and save him. “Jennifer!”
Her grin drooped somewhat. “Jessica.”
“Right. So, how have you been?” he asked lamely.
She fiddled with the glass of wine in front of her. “I mean, better? How well can a girl be doing to end up here? But then again… you’re here.” She lifted her head and scanned the tables around them. “No Gabe?”
“Nah. Not his thing.”
“That makes sense. He seems too… alpha for this.”
Troy arched a brow. “So, I’m not?”
“Oh!” She reached across the table and took his hand. “Of course. You’re just
different. That’s not an insult. I mean that it’s good that you’re… well, you complement each other so well. I mean… that night.” She fanned herself with her card.
“Of course.”
“How’s work at the station?” she asked.
He half-smiled. “We aren’t supposed to discuss work.” One of the rules of the speed-dating venue, which he thought was ridiculous until now. “I think we’re supposed to stick to—”
“But I know what you do already,” she reassured him. “I looked up the station, by the way. It’s a shame there’s no pole.”
His lips pursed but he tried to keep his expression pleasant. He didn’t need a stalker. The clock on the wall seemed to have stopped still, dooming him to sit across from Jessica forever. As his gaze left the clock, he met the seductive grin of the woman two tables down.
And he recognized it. Could put a wonderful set of bouncing breasts to it.
Fuck. Me.
Six dates to go and he was already tired of speed dating.
It wasn’t worse than Troy had expected, but that seemed a pitiful takeaway thought for the attempt. He didn’t look forward to detailing the night to Gabe the next morning. Jennifer—no, Jessica—and Marie were wonderful for a night, but not ideal girlfriend material. And his last speed date? Her glassy expression and empty wine glass left much to be desired.
Wherever the right woman was, it wasn’t here.
His card had indicated a hard pass on every woman present, so he passed it to the guide at the door quickly and slipped through the double-doors. The perfect ending to his night. Leaving the dating scene felt like a stealthy getaway after a heist—hoping for no one to notice where you’ve been and where you’ve gone, much less what you did while you were around.
It was a good thing that the speed dating event was going on in the back room of an otherwise busy club because he wanted to get lost, and quick. The bar called to him and he accepted the lure of sparkling glass liquor bottles and the scent of rum and coke. He leaned onto the glossy faux-wood counter and signaled the bartender.
“Maybe you’ll have better luck,” the woman next to him murmured.
