Hello!
We're Speedy Singles™, New York's #1 Speed Dating Agency. Our goal is to help everyone find love.
I took a shot of Kahlua straight from the bottle.
You've signed up to our Speedy Service™. Congratulations for taking this brave step in your love journey!
Oh god, they used the word journey. This wasn't going to end well...
Bringing our unique blend of quality applicants, experienced matchmakers and high-quality venues, our Speedy Service™ option gives you the best start at finding love.
I looked down at the ice cream stained hoodie I'd thrown on. "Yeah, I'm totes a quality applicant." I chuckled to myself, scrolling back through the email.
On Saturday 15th, you and fifteen other Speedy Singles™ will be matched up in real time to the most compatible partners in a series of matched dates. Not sure if this is for you? Don't worry, we have a 98% success rate!
"Ninety-eight percent? Jesus. Who are these people? The desperate dateless? Do they feed them Viagra and love potions to achieve that?"
This night includes unlimited drinks, a round of tasty canapes and all your dates! We guarantee a great night.
"Thank god. Wine is the only way I'm getting through this."
After the dating is done, it's time for everyone in the room to chat over a drink – and maybe set up your next date ��.
All the details are below. Please ensure you fill out the attached questionnaire before Wednesday.
We look forward to seeing you there!
And remember, love can sometimes happen at first sight.
I looked at the bottle of Kahlua and the now empty tub. "There's no other option. I'm going to have to kill Bess."
I raised the bottle to my lips, taking another shot as I opened the quiz.
"Oh fuck."
It was one of those quizzes. You know, the type they only ask singles. The one where they ask you to describe your perfect date, how you'd raise your theoretical kids, and what you're really looking for in a man - like the answer isn't employed, single and has a functioning brain.
My phone buzzed with another text from Bess.
Bess: Send me your answers. I want to approve them before you submit. God knows you have zero game.
"Well fuck you too," I downed a large gulp of the Kahlua, grimacing at the taste. "Okay, let's do this."
Describe your perfect date.
"Not speed dating." I sniggered, lifting the bottle again as an idea took root. "Well, you asked for this Bessie-girl." I put the bottle to the side, typing quickly. "A date that ends in mutual orgasms. Preferably multiples." I giggled, drinking again.
Describe the attributes you find most attractive in a partner.
"Big dick, tongue that he knows what to do with, thick fingers, big hands. Great laugh."
If you were stuck on a desert island what three items would you take?
"A private plane, pilot and enough fuel to escape - duh."
Describe yourself in three words
"Brilliant, hilarious, horny." I sniggered, drinking again.
The answers got more outrageous as the questions progressed.
How would you describe your sex life?
"Dinosaur erotica."
What do you prefer – dogs or cats?
"Llama."
I hit save at the end of the sheet, uncontrolled belly-laughs sending tears streaming down my face.
Oh yeah, I was off my face drunk. I'd be feeling it tomorrow for sure.
A notification popped up, letting me know I had an email. I clicked, lifting the bottle to my mouth.
Thanks for submitting your questionnaire! Our team at Speedy Singles™ will review your answers and get in contact with you shortly if they have any questions. In the meantime-
"Fuck!" I spat the Kahlua at the screen, frantically scrolling back to the original email. The questionnaire was an auto submit form. I'd missed the line that explained that saving meant submitting.
"Oh shit. Ohshitohshitohshitohshit." I whispered, eyes bugging out as I reread my answers.
I pushed away from the computer, heading to my bedroom. I fell face first into my pillow, letting it smother my scream.
"Fuck." I jerked upright. "Bess can never know. No one can ever know."
God help whoever I was paired with next weekend.
Chapter Three
Molly
"Mr. Ainsle." I dialed up my smile to flirtatiously professional, while ignoring the pounding in my head. "So wonderful to see you." I held out a hand, letting him draw me in for a kiss on the cheek.
"Molly Archer." His big voice boomed out of his rotund body. "When will you run away with me?"
I withdrew, smile locked firmly in place. "You know my heart is with the children."
Duncan Ainsle chuckled, turning to take his seat at the boardroom table. "The children? I could give you a parcel."
I ignored that he was older than my father, had eight children to six wives, and didn’t know the names of the three illegitimate sons he paid support for. This is what I did – I networked.
"Vivian has prepared your coffee." I gestured at the cup and plate of cookies beside it. "I also baked; I hope you don’t mind."
"Ah, buttering me up, are you?" He chuckled at his own joke, reaching out for one of the chocolate chip cookies. He bit into it, moaning.
I waited, sipping my peppermint tea and regretting last night's drunken shenanigans. Dealing with men like Duncan Ainsle took all my concentration on a good day. Today didn't feel like a good day. I had to focus; big donors didn’t just fall from trees. They required perseverance, praise, attention, and lots and lots of pandering.
He ate three cookies, flicking through the proposal in front of him. He ran a finger around the plate, chasing the final crumbs before looking to me. "A new center?"
I replaced my teacup in its saucer, pressing a polished finger to the intercom. "Vivian, can you send some more cookies in please?" I turned back to Duncan, knitting my fingers on the table. "We’ve outgrown the existing premises."
He huffed. "A million?"
I knit my fingers together, smile in place. "As a start. The million will allow us time to scope other buildings, and start fundraising initiatives."
He tapped his hand against the table. "I’m very generous."
I inclined my head, still smiling. "Very."
"The charity dinner would be mine?" He clarified.
"Of course, Mr. Ainsle. It’s essential we have your name to draw others to the cause. We need large donors. Think of all the children you’ll help."
The door opened, permitting one of my admin staff. He hurried in, placing a plate of cookies in front of Duncan. He left, closing the door softly behind him, sealing us in once more.
I waited him out.
"Dinner in my name and I expect a plaque on the new building."
"Of course." I agreed. "Your generosity should be recognized."
He nodded once, almost dismissively, then reached for another cookie. "Now, tell me about that brother of yours. I hear Samuel’s latest project is in Alaska?"
We made chit-chat about Sam and his career, segwaying to my older brothers’ and their various endeavors and investments, before discussing my parents.
As I escorted him out, Duncan raised the one topic I’d managed to avoid. "And I hear that Peter Greenfeld is getting married."
I sucked in a breath. "Yes, to Bess Kirkson."
He paused at the elevator, waiting for the car to arrive. "Shame. Always thought you'd be marrying into the family."
I blinked. "Excuse me?"
The doors slid open, and he stepped through, hitting the ground floor button. "Your parents, you know? They wanted a marriage alliance. Always thought it would be between you and the Greenfeld. It made sense." He shook his head. "Shame."
The doors slid closed leaving me standing in my office reception, staring at my reflection in the stainless-steel doors.
"Molly?"
I tu
rned to Vivian, my personal assistant and secretary. She gave me a small, grandmotherly smile. "Did you get it?"
I shook off the malaise that had befallen me. "He signed on the dotted line." I held up my clipboard with his cheque clipped safely to the front. "Now we just have to deliver."
Vivian, her curly grey hair wound tightly in it’s perm, clapped her hands, bouncing on her heels sending her corkscrew curls flying. "I knew it! Just think of those beautiful children we’ll help."
I did. It's what I thought of every day. That and the money we needed.
"What’s next on the agenda?" I asked, handing the clipboard over. She tucked it under her arm and checked her tablet.
"You’re tutoring at the community center at two. But have a wedding dress lunch date with Miss Kirkson first."
I nodded, suppressing a sigh. "I’d better get a move on then."
"Shall I call the car?"
I glanced at my watch. "No, I’ll walk. It’s a beautiful day."
New York City in spring. Beautiful one day, a muddy slush the next. The stroll through Central Park where the leaves were budding and the birds were singing and the sun was shining and couples were frolicking would do me good.
Apologies, my cynicism was showing.
I swapped heels for boots, tucking them into my new tote as I left the building. Biting wind aside, the day was entirely pleasant. The sun shone valiantly through the clouds lending a few degrees of warmth. I should have taken the car but I needed the walk to get my head on straight. Duncan's comment had thrown me. I'd never thought others had tied Pete and I together.
Years ago, once I'd left my infatuation behind, I'd realized how ill-suited Pete and I would be together. He wanted a trophy wife. I wanted a purpose. While he liked signing checks and shaking hands, Pete had never grasped my need to interact with the people my charities helped. He worried I’d get hurt, it hadn’t happened, but there'd been some close calls.
I felt at once frustrated and embarrassed, flustered and agitated. These emotions were outrageously inconvenient. I was like the little old lady who lived in a shoe, I didn’t know what to do – or, in this case, what to feel.
The walk from my Upper East Side office down to Ada Blue, an exclusive high-end wedding boutique, didn't take nearly enough time to sort my feelings. I stepped in the door and was immediately embraced by a sense of muted anticipation.
A woman dressed in dove gray glided across the plush carpet towards me.
"Welcome to Ada Blue, I’m Julianne, you must be Ms. Kirkson. You’re right on time." The smiling sales assistant greeted me in hushed, reverent tones.
"Ah no. Maid of honor. Molly Archer," I held up my ring-less left hand. "Just a sexy single in your area."
Her smile froze, eyes widening. A look of pity crossed her face before she cleared her throat.
"If you’ll follow me?" The stylish assistant turned, leading me down a hall and into a private dressing room complete with large sitting area. The plush suite was decorated in soft greys and contrasting blacks paired with bronze accents.
"Something to drink?" She asked, waiting as I dropped my tote by the love seat and started to remove my coat.
"No, thank you. Not at the moment." My gaze caught on the dresses hanging from a rack on the side of the room. The sales assistant took my coat, heading back to the front of the store as I drifted over to the clouds of silk and lace. In the dark room, they stood out like moonlight on a midnight lake – gorgeous but a little off putting. My fingers grazed the skirt of an ivory princess cut. It shimmered, the silk dancing under my fingertips.
"I like that one too." Bess’ voice shattered my trance-like state. I jerked my hand back, twirling on my heel to face the door. She stood in it flanked by her mother, her eight bridesmaids, Peter’s mother and, for some bizarre reason, Josh.
I opened my mouth to explain or justify or deny, I wasn’t sure, but the moment was already gone. They all bustled into the room, the girls chattering, the mother’s gossiping and Josh looking entirely out of place in this feminine wonderland.
Hands gently shuffled me out of the way as the women fell on the dresses like hens in the farmyard, pecking over this princess cut and that ballgown, cooing sweetly to each other.
I shifted to the sofa, dropping beside Josh.
"Surprised to see you here."
He winced. "They needed a stand-in."
I raised an eyebrow.
His mouth twisted. "Apparently you can’t choose the dress without knowing how it will look next to the groom. I’m the stand-in."
I smothered a laugh under a cough. "They don’t have a date, venue or theme but she’ll have a dress?"
He sighed, dropping his head back and reaching up with two fingers to pinch the bridge of his nose. "They discussed it ad-nauseum last night, and the night before, and the night before that. They’ve settled on September 16th, at your Hudson Valley winery."
I blinked. My winery?
"But-" The words sounded strangled as they emerged from my mouth. "But that’s my wedding venue."
"I know."
It was an unwritten law that I’d be married at the winery. It had been in my mothers’ family since the mid-1800s. It was one of the oldest wineries in North America. My parents had been married there. My maternal grandparents had been married there. My great-grandparents, who had purchased the land, had been married there. Every maternal ancestor I had had been married there. It was an institution.
It was mine.
"They can’t." I wheezed, feeling my chest constrict. I pressed a hand to my sternum, forcing myself to breath.
"I’ve already told G and T to decline." Josh reached out, squeezing my hand. "They’ll have the wedding elsewhere."
George and Thomas, my twin older brothers, were fondly known in our family as G and T. Like I said, my dad enjoyed liquor. Joe and Tom, as they went by, managed our alcohol businesses. They split their time between the six wineries’, three breweries’ and eight distilleries owned across eight states. We had a mix of boutique and mass-market choices, all of which my brothers oversaw. Hendrix, or Archer as we called him, oversaw the rest of the family investments with Dad. Mum had brought the alcohol to the family, Dad the transportation and real estate ventures. Together, they were a powerhouse couple and had passed that legacy onto us.
Still in shock, I’d gotten lost in thought loops that had no pattern or reason. I was little Bo-Peep who’d lost her damn mind.
"Deep breath," Josh’s words brushed at the edge of my panic. "I’ve got your back."
I sucked in air as the sales assistant popped champagne, handing out tall flutes to the gathering.
I took one, but didn’t sip. Instead, I concentrated on internalizing my feelings, ensuring I didn’t ruin this for Bess.
Josh rubbed small circles on the back of my hand, his body heat reassuringly warm and solid beside me.
"What do you think, Molly?" Bess interrupted my freak-out. She held up an ivory gown against her body. Her red hair, worn down and softly curled, fell against the sleeve. "Will Pete like it?"
I studied the dress, then nodded. "I think he’ll love anything you wear. But the ivory looks wonderful against your skin tone."
She made a noise in the back of her throat, her lips pinching together. "Not the color. The cut!"
"Oh," I hesitated frowning. "I thought you wanted a big dress."
She sighed, rolling her eyes and turning back to the mirror. "It’s a country wedding. I want lace and silk, something sleek."
I hesitated for a moment before I threw caution to the wind. "I didn’t realize you’d decided on a venue."
In the mirror, her lips thinned, a slight flush marring her cheeks as she studied the dress. "The venue isn’t finalized yet, but I expect to hear from them this afternoon."
Josh squeezed my hand.
"Yes, I’ll try this one and the other two in this style." Bess handed it off to the sales assistant who nodded and moved to hang the gown in the dressing room. S
he turned back to me.
"I look forward to hearing all about it." I rose from the couch, Josh’s hand slipping free of mine. "I still think you should try the ballgown. At least be sure you don’t want it." I pulled the one I’d admired earlier from the rack and moved to her side, holding it in front of her. "I like this one."
Her lips eased from their pucker and her eyes traced the sweetheart neckline down the intricately embroidered bodice to the yards of tiered ruffles. She jerked her head towards the dressing room. "Oh, go on then."
I hid a smile, moving to hang it in the room. Bess and the assistant disappeared, the door shutting behind them.
I made my way around the room, engaging in meaningless small talk with the chatty bridesmaids. I knew most from school or college or various events. The majority were married socialites living off their trust funds. Only myself and Candy Jenkins worked.
Dr. Candy Jenkins was a bombshell of a woman. Smart, gorgeous, she was related to Bess through a second cousin or so I'd been told. Either way, we knew each other in passing and I found her a fascinating contradiction. She owned her own Veterinary practice in Hudson Valley, treating everything from cows to goldfish. She had a frivolous name but a no-nonsense attitude. I was simultaneously crushing on her, and overtly intimidated.
"Dr. Jenkins," I greeted, tipping my glass towards her in greeting. "Nice to see you again."
She shuffled, looking uncomfortable in the swarm of women "I have an afternoon appointment." She reached for my champagne, diverging me of the glass and immediately chugging it down.
I grinned, "but not one you have to be sober for?"
She shuddered, her nose wrinkling at the taste. "I despise bubbles. And no. Not this appointment. Drunk or at least tipsy would be preferable actually."
It was on the tip of my tongue to ask further questions, but she ploughed forward, changing the subject and asking me about my latest charity.
Just Joshing: A BBW Romantic Comedy (Short and Sweet Series Book 1) Page 3