“Mar—”
My knees become unhinged as he comes around a bookshelf and I see who he is. Not Mark.
Noah Daniels. My best friend’s brother. Arielle’s brother, and River’s best friend.
Panicking, I duck my head down reflexively.
What is he doing here?
Oh, no! I can only imagine if Mark shows up right now and Noah sees us. He’ll for sure embarrass me and ruin the whole thing. And if he finds out that I used his and River’s app, the teasing will be even worse. I’ll never live it down! Even though there’s nothing wrong with it, it’s the sort of button a brother pushes on repeat just to get a rise out of you. And with Noah being his best friend? Button pushing times two.
I keep my head buried, snagging a newspaper from the next table over, and pretend to read. But Noah walks right by me. He does a double-take, and I see the smile fall from his face as he says, “Riley?”
I look up, and I can’t help but lift my lip in a sneered response. “Well, hello, Noah. Fancy seeing you here.”
What am I saying? Have I turned into some nineteen-forties Hollywood starlet? At least I can tell Mom that she doesn’t have to worry about my being too influenced by my ‘porn’ book choices. I’m suddenly so strait-laced, I feel like there’s a corset squeezing my insides into goo.
Noah doesn’t look fazed at all. If anything, he looks amused. “I suppose so. I’m meeting someone.”
“Me too,” I snip back, ruffling my stolen newspaper.
“Does River know?” he asks, one dark brow lifting harshly.
“What I do or don’t do, and who I do it with, is none of my brother’s business,” I tell him primly.
Why does Noah Daniels rub me the wrong way? I don’t even know him except from hearing stories from Arielle and River. We’ve barely met in passing! He came to Mom’s with River once and pissed me off and hurt my feelings with some stupid comments about my ‘sunny personality’.
I can’t put my finger on it, but he makes my skin feel like it’s on inside out and full of cactus barbs. I want to scratch and spit and bite back against everything he says. No one else makes me feel like that. I’m Riley Sunshine, after all, but he makes me feel like Riley Doom-and-Gloom.
His chuckle prickles over me, and I can feel my face flushing. “Who you do? I definitely think River would have an opinion on that.”
“You think Arielle cares who you . . . do?” I hadn’t meant it like that, but now that he said it, I won’t back away from the challenge of his words.
“Arielle would have an opinion on what I eat for breakfast, how often I shit, and whether I sleep on my right or left side. She would definitely care who I . . . fuck.”
Ooh, he’s upping the ante.
“Fine. They’d care, but not if they don’t know.” The threat is implied, or at least, I hope it is. "Now, if you’ll please excuse me.” I dismiss him, hoping that Mark hasn’t seen me talking to someone else. That’d be a definite faux pas on a first date.
“Sure, sure. Have a good . . . date,” Noah says, stumbling over the word. He looks around and sees a woman sitting at a table alone. He smiles broadly, something I’ve never seen him do. It changes his entire face from harsh and brooding to something brighter, and dare I say . . . happier?
Good for him, I think, though I feel sorry for her.
That’s tacky, Riley, I scold myself, not liking the ugly thought.
I can’t help but watch as Noah makes his way through the maze of tables. He takes a deep breath, his broad shoulders lifting and lowering as he straightens his back. Almost like he’s nervous.
But the great Noah Daniels does not get nervous. I know that much from River. He goes on and on about how stone-cold brilliant Noah is, getting entire boardrooms of people eating out of the palm of his hand with his brains by never leaving a single detail to chance. He’s a perfectionist to a dangerously unhealthy level, only leaving the office when River drags him out.
Arielle says Noah was a great big brother growing up, but as she’s gotten older, he forgets she’s a grown woman who does whatever the hell she wants, whenever she wants to. He’s always trying to talk her into getting a better-paying job, investing in mutual funds, and saving for a rainy day. As if he knows what she needs better than she does.
I might be being a bit dramatic, but I don’t hold Noah Daniels in high regard. He’s not a bad guy, he’s just an uptight, grumpy, money-driven one.
Noah comes around to face one of the other women sitting alone. I see his mouth move but can’t read what he says. The woman nods, gesturing to the chair, and Noah sits down with a smile.
Of course, his date’s already going great. He probably planned it that way.
Meanwhile, Mark said three minutes and it’s definitely been at least seven. I hope he’s not lost. I really hope he didn’t see me talking to Noah and leave. And more than anything, I hope he didn’t catch sight of me and bail.
I lick my lips. Nope, not thinking like that. No negativity. You don’t need that vibe for even a moment, Riley. Happy thoughts, positive thoughts.
Mark will come up the stairs any moment, see you, and it’ll be all sunshine and rainbows. A happy, ninety-six percent match. One River and Noah never need to know was assisted by their app.
Time drags, and I start to feel stupid. I mean, I ditched my socks, I ditched my Docs, and I got dressed up, only to apparently get stood up. In front of an audience, no less. Namely, Noah.
I’m about to get up and leave when I see Noah rise from the table with his date. She reaches out to him, and he shakes his head, thunder written on his face. Guess it’s not going so well, after all. His smile has disappeared as if it never was, to be replaced by his usual Grumpasaurus grimace.
Noah sits down at an empty table, fidgeting with his phone. He glances up, and his gaze spears through me, pinning me in place. Those dark eyes dare me to say one word about whatever messy mistake his date was.
I don’t feel any joy in that, though, so I offer a small smile of pity and go back to looking around. Should I wait any longer? Should I message Mark?
I know if I don’t message him, I’ll always wonder what happened, so I pull up my big girl panties—which, again, are clean, Mom!—and message him.
R: Get lost? I’m waiting in the café upstairs.
I watch my phone closely, needing an answer.
M: Me too.
Huh? I scan the room, looking for someone looking for me. Looking for a guy in a blue tie. Looking for someone who looks like their name is Mark, though I don’t know what that ‘looks’ like.
R: Where are you sitting? I got us a table, but I can come to you.
I watch the three dots appear and then . . .
M: Raise your hand, Rachel.
I blink. That would make it easier for Mark to find me, but it seems embarrassing somehow. I glance back at Noah, but he’s staring at his phone intently, probably deleting his date’s name and number.
Slowly, I raise my hand and scan the room, looking for my dark-haired stranger to make his way to me.
But no one is coming. I look around once more to find Noah’s eyes locked on me. For as dark as they are, they seem to shine bright in this light, lit from within by some type of fire. His jaw is tight as he grits his teeth. I watch, rapt, as he stands from the table and covers the space between us in marked strides.
Standing at my table, he growls, “Rachel?”
I see it then. Dark hair, perfectly knotted royal blue tie and suit, works too much, dedicated, and loyal. But Mark is also sweet and kind and funny. All things Noah is not.
Or at least not that I’ve ever seen.
“Noah? Or should I call you Mark? Is this some kind of prank? Did River put you up to this? Or Arielle?” I hiss. “No. This is over the line, way over the line. Even for them.”
My voice is getting louder, and I can feel eyes on me. Eyes I don’t need. Not as Riley Watson, and definitely not as Riley Sunshine.
Without waiting for a r
esponse, I head for the stairs, trying not to run because I know I’ll trip and fall in these stupid heels. And wouldn’t that be the punchline in whatever joke Noah is trying to pull?
Poor, lonely Riley Sunshine, falling down the stairs after the worst first date in the history of ever.
I make it to my bug, but even the sight of the yellow car that always makes me smile does nothing for me.
Not him. Not Noah Daniels.
Chapter 8
Noah
“Rachel . . .?” I whisper, watching Riley flee the cafe and head down the stairs.
It hits me harder than a speeding train full of bricks slamming into my gut, stealing my breath. This past week, the girl I’ve been talking to is . . . my best friend’s sister?
Riley Watson.
An instant later, another train hits me with the realization that I am so fucked. Royally, epically, massively fucked.
River’s going to kill me. Especially after what we did last night.
But where I should find horror and regret about that, about all of it . . . I don’t feel that at all. I feel . . . the loss of Rachel, this connection with someone who got me, and who I felt like I understood too.
I’m a ninety-six percent match with Riley Watson. I don’t know what to do with that.
I haven’t seen her in years, not since a rather unfortunate event when I was fresh at Life Corp and she was just starting college. Back then, River talked about his sister like she was this flighty, naïve, idealistic innocent. In hindsight, I think he might’ve been worried about her being hurt by the cruel realities of the world, but at the time, I hadn’t realized that.
She was all eternal optimism and the sun’ll come out tomorrow, and based on River’s frequent eye rolls, I suspected that she might actually break out into song like some Disney princess if given half a chance.
It got under my skin at a really difficult time because I was focusing on work, Mom, and Arielle. The differences in what I saw in Arielle and what River said about his sister were marked. Arielle fought and scrapped for everything she’s gotten, right along with Mom and me. She’s hard hearted with a tough exterior because she had to be. And it irritated the fuck out of me that Riley, someone Arielle hung out with, had the opportunity to be . . . soft, sweet, and to see the world as a beautiful place when Arielle had never had a chance to do that.
And I took that out on Riley.
Sighing, I get up and try to leave the café with some shred of pride left, but judging by the eyebrow lift the waiter gives me, I don’t succeed. I drive back to my apartment, but I don’t know what to do with myself.
I settle for a run on my treadmill, hoping it’ll help me think. Stripping off my suit, I frown at the blue tie and throw it on the floor. It’s my favorite, but I can’t imagine wearing it again now. I’ll think of her every time I see it. Next, I pull on compression boxers to tone down the ‘ball bounce’. I’ve never understood how some men can work out commando. Especially running.
I bet you and Rachel would have a laugh talking about that. Not Rachel. Riley.
I shake my head, knowing it’ll never happen. When I hurt Riley, I hurt her deeply, taking out my anger and frustrations on her though she’d done nothing to deserve either.
So I climb onto the machine, tapping at the touchscreen until I’ve got a running program ready and my television playing highlights from last weekend’s UFC event. I start running, alternating between jogs that let me lope along and hard sprints that leave my eyeballs feeling like they’re ready to pop out of my skull. Even with my heart hammering hard, my breathing near sucking wind, and the sight of guys beating the shit out of each other, my own self-induced agony won’t shut up my brain. Instead, all I can think about is the incident that triggered Riley’s anger at me.
“Thanks for having us over, Mrs. Watson,” I greet River’s mom as I come in. I haven’t been here before because River and I always work at his dorm, the library, or random coffee shops with free Wi-Fi and cheap refills. But Arielle has been here several times and seems comfortable, throwing Mrs. Watson a wave and then flopping onto a lounger by the pool.
Arielle is talking to a very cute blonde with her hair in matching messy buns on either side of her head. That must be Riley, I realize, the friend Arielle talks about nonstop.
“Hi, boys, Arielle!” Mrs. Watson says warmly. I appreciate the welcome. “Dad’s inside, River.”
River holds up a finger to me and heads toward the back door, but it swings open and an older version of River steps out. Mr. Watson is a little shorter and narrower than River, but the blond, blue-eyed good looks are unmistakable.
“River! Good to see you, Son!” he calls out, and the two men meet in the middle for a hug. Not some awkward, side crunch of a hug either, but a back-clapping, tight, affectionate hug. “Missed you.”
“Missed you too, Dad,” River says easily.
His dad travels for work, though I don’t remember what he does. But the love between the two is obvious. Mr. Watson misses his family while he’s gone.
“All right, I need the steaks on the grill in ten minutes. I’m going in to make salad and mash the potatoes,” Mrs. Watson says, and Mr. Watson hops his feet together, saluting her.
“Yes ma’am. On it.” He’s smiling at her, eyes bright as he catches her with a soft tap to her butt as she scoots by.
“Dad, we have company,” River complains.
“I know, that’s why I just swatted her. If it were just you kids, I’d have kissed her.” Mr. Watson laughs good-naturedly. Before River can complain more, he offers me his hand. “You must be Noah? I’ve heard a lot about you.”
“Yes, sir. Nice to meet you.”
“I’d better get this fire going if I want any mashed potatoes. You boys want to help me?” Mr. Watson asks.
In actuality, he taught River and me how to stack the mesquite briquettes, pour some sort of fancy fire starter stuff over them, and light them. He was friendly and engaging, joking as he blew on the small flames to encourage them to grow as he told us all the hows and whys of fire making and grilling. It was a lesson I’d never had before because we didn’t have a grill. But also, because I didn’t have a dad to teach me those sorts of things.
When the steaks are done, Mr. Watson takes them inside, telling us that he and Mrs. Watson will get everything finished up. River rolls his eyes and tells his dad, “We know you’re only going in there to kiss on Mom.”
Mr. Watson winks and carries the plate of steaks into the house like a caveman taking a saber-toothed tiger back to his cave, strutting with swagger. I see where River gets his own confidence.
River and I sit down at an umbrella-shaded table by our sisters, who are engaged in whatever deep, important discussions eighteen-year-old girls have. If Arielle’s bitching about work again, I might scream. She’s got an asshole regular at the mall restaurant where she works who keeps taking up one of her tables and not leaving her a tip, all the while trying to ask her out.
“You ready for the next chapter?” River asks me, grabbing two cans of beer from the cooler beside us. “At Life Corp?”
I nod, cracking open the beer and taking a sip. “I wish it had been different.”
“How so?” River asks in surprise. “We paid our investors off, made money on the deal, and got sweet jobs. It could’ve been a lot worse. You know how many apps and tech startups fail. You did the research.”
I nod, still not mollified. “I get it. But we failed, River. Sort of, anyway.” I can’t explain it. I’m proud of what we did, but I feel like it wasn’t enough, and I worry we took the easy way out because Life Corp started flashing cash around. Figuratively, of course, because it’s all zeroes on contracts, loans, and bank statements.
“If we failed, we failed upward,” River says, holding up his beer in a toast before taking a sip. “That’s not failure in my book. It’s how success and legends are made.”
I mull that over, trying to see what River’s saying because he’s not wrong.
Not exactly. But as I’m quiet, Arielle and Riley’s conversation comes into focus, grabbing my attention.
“So, I was thinking, why not see what I can do?” Riley’s telling Arielle. “I mean, we’re going to college, so I can use my free time to make a business of it. And who knows, if it takes off, I might not even finish college.”
“Yeah, but . . . social media influencer?” Arielle asks. “Do you really want to become one of those thirst girls who spend all day posing around like a Barbie doll and doctoring up photos?”
“No, I don’t mean that,” Riley says excitedly, shaking her head. “I want to spread a message of hope and inspiration. I want to . . . you know, make people happy. Put some sunshine in their lives. Everyone should have that.”
“Good luck with that,” I growl. I don’t mean to interrupt them, didn’t even mean to say it out loud, but it’s loud enough that Riley and Arielle hear me, and they turn to me. Arielle looks pissed. Riley looks confused.
“What do you mean, Noah?” Riley asks. “The world needs more positivity.”
“Yeah. The world needs a lot of things,” I shoot back. “Do you know how many inspirational assholes there are out there online? A simple Google search will show you a million websites and probably fifty million social media accounts, each of them telling people that the sun’ll come out tomorrow and all that shit.” I hold my hands up, fingers spread wide as I swipe them through the air sarcastically.
“So?” Riley asks, crossing her arms. “They took their shot. Why can’t I?”
I don’t mean to, but all the frustration, the jealousy, the exhaustion . . . all of the feelings inside me seem to bubble up to the surface, spilling all over the Watsons’ backyard.
“Because the world isn’t sunshine and rainbows, Riley. It’s hard work! It’s putting responsibility on your shoulders and dragging the world, kicking and screaming, uphill by sheer willpower. It’s about struggle and sweat and busting your ass!”
The Blind Date Page 9
