Page 15 of One Pucking Surprise
“That’s what worries me.” He shakes his head and heads for the exit, leaving me to my own devices.
Once Mark is gone, I can’t resist the urge to get a closer look at Lainey’s latest attempt at finding the perfect wedding date. I make my way to the table next to hers, sliding into the seat so I’m in her line of sight, but without her date noticing. I pick up the menu, hiding my face.
Her date is exactly what I expected—another cookie-cutter businessman in an expensive suit, probably chosen from whatever dating app she’s using based on his profile pictures and carefully curated bio. But it’s Lainey’s rapid-fire questioning that really catches my attention.
“How do you feel about public displays of affection?” she asks, pen poised over what appears to be an actual notebook. Who takes notes on a date? Only Lainey.
I have to suppress a laugh. She’s treating this like she’s screening candidates for a role, and the poor guy looks increasingly uncomfortable with each question. It’s adorable in a slightly terrifying way, watching her methodically work through what I can only assume is her comprehensive checklist of Mr. Perfect material.
I drop the menu and make a ridiculous face her way. She finally sees me, her face knit in confusion. She does her best to ignore me, though, going back to her questions.
“What’s your stance on dancing at social events?”
I cross my eyes at her from over the menu, holding up the drink list as if it’s a spy shield. Her eyes flash to me, and this time, she has to bite her lip to keep from laughing.
She gives me a warning look that saysstop it, but I can see her struggling to stay composed.
“How comfortable are you meeting new people?”
She tries to focus on her date, but I lift my glass in a mock toast and raise my eyebrows, doing my best to make her laugh. Her cheeks go pink as she quickly looks back at her date, but not before I catch the ghost of a real smile.
“Would you be willing to coordinate outfits for special occasions?”
Her date looks like he’s struggling to keep up, but Lainey’s pen is poised, ready for his response. He excuses himself to use the restroom—probably to call for an emergency rescue from a friend—I see my opportunity.
Sliding smoothly over to her table, I sit down across from her. Lainey looks up, eyes wide in shock.
Lainey looks in the direction her date disappeared. “Zach! What are you doing? Are you stalking me? You better leave before my date comes back.”
Her accusation makes me laugh. “Hardly. I was here for business.” I slide smoothly into the chair across from her, enjoying the way her cheeks flush with irritation. “Though I have to say, your dating strategy is far more entertaining than any business dinner.”
“Don’t you have somewhere else to be?” She tries to look stern, but there’s a spark in her eyes that tells me she’s not as annoyed as she’s pretending to be.
“Nowhere nearly as interesting as right here.” I reach over and pick up her notebook, scanning the list of questions she’s writtendown. “Let’s see… ‘Willingness to participate in couple photos?’ Really, Lainey?”
She snatches the notebook back, clutching it to her chest. “It’s a perfectly valid question.”
“You’re taking this whole wedding date search way too seriously.” I lean back in my chair, studying her. “All these questions, all these carefully screened candidates, and you’re still no closer to finding the right guy, are you?”
“I’m being practical,” she insists, but I can see the uncertainty in her eyes.
“How many dates have you been on now?”
“This is date three.”
“You’re being a hopeless romantic, trying to disguise it as practicality.” The words hit home—I can tell by the way she bites her lower lip. “You’ve got this idea in your head of the perfect guy who’ll check all your boxes, but life doesn’t work that way.”
“Oh, and you’re such an expert on relationships?” She arches an eyebrow, a challenge written across her face.
“I’m an expert on chemistry,” I counter, leaning forward. “And you know what? None of these guys you’re interviewing have it with you. That’s why you’re sitting here with your little questionnaire instead of actually enjoying yourself.”
“Chemistry isn’t everything.”
“No, but it’s a hell of a lot more important than whether someone will pose for photos with you.” I reach across the table and tap the notebook in her hands. “My offer still stands, you know. And I guarantee I’d make a better date than any of these guys you’re interrogating.”
The shock on her face is priceless. “You’re impossible.”
“Probably.” I stand up, enjoying the way she’s looking at me like I’ve just turned her whole world sideways. “Think about it—you already know I clean up nice. I’m not afraid of cameras, and I definitely know how to dance.”
