Page 3 of Blind Date With a Cop
Nan has officially lost her mind.
I can forgive the cookies shaped like anatomy charts from a frat party. I can even overlook the fact that Clara, with her angelic curls and sweet grandmotherly smile, called themeducational. But orchestrating a blind date with a cop who didn’t even know he was my date? They’ve gone too far.
And not just any cop. No. Officer Blake Donovan—towering, broad-shouldered, square-jawed, with a stubble-shadowed face that belongs in a sexy uniform calendar, not patrolling the streets of Love Canyon. He’s handsome in the way that makes women sigh and swoon.
Which means he’s trouble.
Handsome men like that spend more time in front of the mirror than they ever do with their partners, and the man is practically a senior citizen compared to me. A distinguished, ridiculously good-looking senior citizen, but still.
No, thank you. I’ll pass.
I take a steadying breath, then turn to Gran, who looks far too pleased with herself. “I’m leaving. Nan’s stunt was out ofline, and I’m not going to be paraded around like some charity case in need of a man.”
Gran presses her lips together. “Sugar, you’re overreacting?—”
“Overreacting?” My voice pitches higher, fueled by humiliation. “Gran, he obviously wasn’t in on it. Did you see his face? He looked like he wanted to arrest someone. Probably Nan. Which, frankly, I’d support.”
Nan, lounging in her chair, the unofficial Queen of Matchmaking, lifts her chin. “You’re welcome.”
“You’re welcome?” I sputter. “You tricked me! You trickedhim. This isn’t just meddling—it’s…it’s practically entrapment!”
“Don’t be so dramatic, dear,” Nan waves her hand. “It’s a perfect match.”
“It’s not a match!” I press my fingers to my temples. “Here’s what’s going to happen: You’re taking Gran home, and then you will personally explain to Officer Donovan that he should never have been dragged into this circus. Then, you can go back to yourpornographic cookie book cluband stop ambushing people.”
Around us, the women titter into their wineglasses. Clara beams proudly, no doubt thrilled to hear her baked goods described as pornographic.
I grab my purse. “I’m leaving.”
Gran shakes her head, “Sugar, you’re scared. That’s all this is. You need to let go of whatever you’re holding onto before it’s too late.”
My throat tightens. “I know you love me, Gran, and I know you thought this was a good thing. But it’s not. He was just as shocked as I was. You shouldn’t meddle like this. I’ll call you tomorrow.”
Her eyes soften, but she doesn’t argue.
I sling my bag over my shoulder, determined to get out before I burst into flames from pure embarrassment. On my way past Clara, she slips a pink bakery box into my tote. “Here, love,” she says, patting my arm. “You’re going to need these.”
“Perfect,” I mutter. “Emergency penis cookies. Just what I always wanted.”
I push through the door into the cool night, tip my head back, and let out a scream that fogs into the air. The frustration echoes off the quiet street, but it doesn’t make me feel any better.
And then blue and red lights flash across my vision.
I blink, shielding my eyes, as a cruiser pulls up and parks directly in front of me. The driver’s door swings open, and there he is—Officer Blake Donovan swaggering, not walking, like the sidewalk belongs to him.
He stops in front of me, his hands resting easily on his belt, his gaze steady. “Pizza or steak?”
“What?”
“You have to eat dinner,” he says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Would you prefer pizza or steak?”
“I’ll eat when I get home,” I snap.
He takes a slow, deliberate step closer. His shadow swallows mine. “I see. Then let’s get one thing straight, Cassie, shall we? I heard you loud and clear when you said you don’t do blind dates.”
“Good,” I say. “I’m glad we’re on the same page.”
“You can rest assured,” his mouth curves, “you’ll never go on a blind date again.”
