Page 4 of Perfect Date
“Yep. It used to be you could only take it seven times over a lifetime but they changed the rules so its limitless. Now, there are limits to number of times in a given year or over a certain number of years, but really, one can just keep trying.”
“Wow,” is all I manage at a loss for words thinking that it’s very telling that he knows this fact.
“Ted Moore, he’s a defense attorney I know, he said I’m sure to get it the next time. He himself had to take it six times. And he finally got accepted into a law school. It was online, but definitely accredited.”
“Well, that’s… uh great.”
Note to self, never hire Ted Moore if I need an attorney for any reason.
“Yep, so I gotta ask, what made you want to meet here? There are great restaurants in Mason Creek - we didn’t have to come all the way to Rebel River.”
“Well, it’s not like it’sfar,” I defend.
“True…. I guess, but have you checked out Pony Up Pub yet?”
“No. I haven’t been there yet. What do you like about it? What are a few of your other favorites?”
While he’s telling me about the pub’s great décor and food and other places in town I should visit and why, Brenda brings our food. He barely takes a breath between each bite as he lists in rank order his recommended food and drink establishments, and details about each person that owns them, along with any required apparently typical or atypical legal requirements encountered around licensing or ownership. Honestly, more than I ever wanted to know – oranyonewould ever want to know. This town clearly has no secrets.
Another note to self.
Once we’ve finished our food and there’s a lull in the conversation I cautiously ask, “So, vintage cars, huh? You said your Shelby Mustang is your favorite?”
“Yes!” His immediate excitement surprises me. “Would you like to see it?”
“Sure. I’m just going to run to the restroom really quick first.”
“Okay, sure,” he smiles and takes a drink of his beer as I stand up.
Making my way to where I know the restrooms are located, I’m glad once again that I found this place a few weeks ago. Strings of lights hang throughout draping from corner to corner. Heavily polished dark wood and silver decor make an impact. As does the shine reflecting off the glasses and silverware, and the exposed wood planks in the ceiling. Combined it all creates a surprisingly homey and masculine atmosphere that I instantly fell in love with the first time I came in. After trying the food, I knew this could be my place, and definitely should be the place to meet my dates because even if the dates suck, at least I’d have great food and atmosphere.
Win, win.
As my thoughts pause, I’m acutely aware of eyes on me, and I turn my head slightly, my gaze catching Justin who is speaking a to a customer sitting in front of him at the bar, but whose eyes are on me. Looking away quickly, I duck into the bathroom and take care of business. As I wash my hands, I take a look at myself in the mirror above the sink. I still think the pretty blue blouse was the right choice. Combined with the gray shadow and dark mascara on my lashes, the combo makes my eyes look a pretty sapphire blue. A light pink dusts my high cheekbones, and once I dry my hands I reapply nude gloss to my full lips. I wore my long brown hair down and curled aside from the small braids along the side of my head that meet in the back. I’m thankful that the little hairs that tend to stand up around my face are behaving.
Chad is nice enough, I guess. But oh my gosh can he drone on – is it nerves or is this his norm? Regardless, I don’t feel a connection - there aren’t any fireworks or crazy I-need-him-to-kiss-me chemistry or anything. I mean, he’s cute, but so are puppies. Maybe I should just get a puppy and call it good on this meeting people and dating thing.
I suppose I should just wait and see what fate brings my way.
With a sigh, I leave the bathroom, my mind still exploring the pros and cons of this dating thing, and bump straight into someone. Hands on my upper arms, push me back gently and my head raises to find Justin in front of me. Regaining my balance, tingles run up and down my arms and heat runs down the back of my neck. It takes me a moment to realize my hands having tried to catch my fall are clutched to the front of his shirt, behind them firm abs clench.
Veryfirm abs.
“Watch where you’re going there, sweetheart.”
Pulling back, I pull my hands away quickly running them through my hair as though to fix it, embarrassed I was practically mauling him. “Sorry.”
“How’s the… date going?” He inquires, taking me by surprise.
“Uh, okay I guess,” I answer.
“He a blind date? An online date? Son of your mom’s best friend?” he asks with clear amusement in his dark eyes and a small arrogant smile on his lips.
“Excuse me?”
“Just doesn’t seem like your type.”
“My type?” I repeat in disbelief.
