Page 7 of Falling into Place
“If, Sasha,” Macy put in helpfully. “If it happens.”
Sasha fussed with the necklace around her neck. “This isn’t coming out right. All I want is to feature you—an attractive, young doctor on the dating scene—on a search for love. It will get you back out there to meet people again. Have some fun. Plus, tons of local business owners want to be involved for the promotion, too. I pitched it to a few places just to feel things out and got a free four-month subscription to LoveInTheCity.com, gift cards to coffee shops, restaurants, and other places like that cool rock climbing gym in the grain silo for dates. You don’t even have to spend money!”
Brooks stiffened despite this being the least-concerning part of her pitch. “I’d never use a gift card to pay on a first date.”
Sasha kept going as if she’d lose him if she paused. “You only have to do it for the length of the dating app offer. Four months. And we’re not going to, like, video your dates or anything. I just want to write a few articles and post updates every now and then, like when you go someplace really fun you want to tell people about. And only about things you approve. You could keep the names of the women private or use pseudonyms. You could write it yourself, almost like a dating journal, or I could do it for you.”
She clenched her necklace in her fist. “Everyone I pitched it to got so excited, Brooks. It’s like a dating tour of Oklahoma City. People would want to check it out for ideas even if they didn’t care if you ever found love, but I guarantee people will follow along for that. This would give the magazine the push it needs. Bring back subscribers who got bored and bring in new ones. This will work. I know it.”
He propped his elbow on the table and dropped his forehead in his hand. “This is ... a lot, Sasha.”
The room was silent for a beat, then came Macy’s calm voice. “I thought so, too, at first. But I sat on it for a few days, and the more I thought about it, and the more I pictured you at the center of it all, the better I liked it.”
“At first?” He glanced up. “How long have you two been cooking this up?”
“I’ve been thinking about it for weeks,” Sasha admitted. “Trying to muster up the nerve to ask if you’d do it.”
“What finally pushed you over the edge?”
She hesitated. “The tomato plant.”
What did she have against lycopene? The nurses on the unit had been excited about free produce. “No salsa for you.”
“Let us help you,” Sasha pleaded. “And helpLiveOKCat the same time. Please. For Mom.”
Aw, hell. “Seriously?” he said. “That’s a low blow, even for you.”
“Forget about Mom,” Macy said, even though she had to know that was impossible. “Worst-case scenario, you go on a few dates, approve a few articles Sasha writes, and get a new wardrobe out of the deal. Wish I could sign up, honestly.”
Brooks paused. “Wait, a new wardrobe?”
“Oh, Mode is contributing a stylist and image consultant for the cause.”
So many things about that sentence bothered him. Referring to his love life as a “cause,” her apparent assumption he would eventually say yes, and the fact she thought he needed a stylist. Or image consultant, whatever the hell that was.
“What the hell is Mode?”
“It’s a service sort of like Stitch Fix or Wantable, where you get a personal stylist to choose clothes tailored to your tastes and body type. But this one’s local and you can meet with your stylist in person for shopping. Smaller scale. They try to find things from small stores anddesigners rather than chains or warehouses. You buy the clothes you want, give back the ones you don’t.”
“I thought you said I didn’t have to spend money.”
“The consultant fee will be waived, so you’re basically getting a stylist for free. Mode’s known for being the best. They’ve worked with some of the Thunder players! It’s a steal, trust me.”
“You need new clothes anyway,” Macy said bluntly.
He regarded his faded jeans and T-shirt. “What’s wrong with my clothes?”
“How much time do you have? I could spend fifteen minutes on those jeans alone.”
Brooks glared at her. “Do you want me to do this or not?”
“Yes,” Sasha cut in, directing her own scowl at Macy before focusing on him again. “Does it help that you know the stylist? My friend Carly works there, remember her? Working with her’s better than a stranger.”
Carly had been one of Sasha’s closest friends in high school, and one of the few he hadn’t messed around with. Only a year younger than him, Sasha’s group of friends mixed with his often, and as the “hot older brother” and star of the basketball team, he’d received a lot of attention from the more outgoing ones.
At the time, he hadn’t minded one bit.
He’d never hooked up with Carly, though. He hadn’t known her all that well, but the words that came to mind when he thought about her were nice, smart, and shy. She’d gone to college out of state and stayed there several years but had moved home about two years ago. Sasha hadn’t shut up about it when she found out Carly was coming back, and from what he could tell, the friends had picked up right where they’d left off.
