27 Ways to Mend His Broken Heart

by Tapscott, Shari L.

  Stupid name tag.

  “Right.” I laugh a little, pretending this isn’t the most uncomfortable situation I’ve ever found myself in. “How did you get out of wearing the name tag?”

  Chuckling, he leans back in his seat and crosses his arms. “I’m not here for the event. I teach a cooking class on Friday evenings, and we just finished up.”

  “You’re a cooking instructor?”

  “I’m a personal chef, but I instruct on the side.”

  He can be my personal chef. I’m just saying.

  “What made you decide to crash speed dating? Hard up for entertainment?”

  Grinning, he looks down at the table, runs a hand through his crazy-thick hair, and then meets my eyes. “I saw you in the lobby. I wanted to know what a girl like you was doing in an event like this.”

  “Trying to find true love, obviously.” My tone is snarky enough he’ll know I’m joking.

  “Is that right?” He leans forward, resting his clasped hands on the table. “And how is that going for you?”

  I give him a one-shouldered shrug. “It’s off to a better start than I expected.”

  To set the mood, Val turns on music. Something that must be straight off of Smooth and Groovy Romance Ballads of the 70s pours through the conference room speakers, and I resist the urge to groan.

  “What do you think, Kaylee?” Gio asks, flashing me a sparkly white smile. “You want to get out of here? Go on a real date?”

  My brain shrieks that that’s the best idea I’ve heard all night. But my heart…well, it’s not having it.

  I glance across the room at Kyle. I expect to find him in the middle of polite conversation, you know, being Kyle. To my surprise, he’s looking at me. Or rather, scowling at me. I widen my eyes, silently asking what his problem is. Ignoring me, he glances at Gio before turning back to his date.

  “See the guy over there in the red shirt?” I say to Gio with a sigh. “We’re kind of here together, so I probably shouldn’t ditch him.”

  Gio looks at Kyle. “You’re here together? How does that work?”

  I shake my head. “No, it’s not like that. He’s my best friend, and he recently got dumped by the woman he dated since high school. I’m just here for moral support.”

  Or something like that.

  Gio studies me. “I’ve heard that before.”

  I point at him, trying not to laugh. “No.”

  “I’m serious. This place is cursed.” He leans forward conspiratorially. “If a beautiful, single woman under the age of thirty steps foot through the community center doors, I guarantee she’s already in love with someone else.”

  Beautiful? Well, that feels pretty darn good, thank you very much.

  But moving on.

  I lean forward too. “You sound a little bitter.”

  His dark brown eyes crinkle as his smile deepens. “Maybe a little.”

  The timer then decides to go off, scaring me halfway out of my seat. I press a hand over my heart, laughing.

  Gio smiles, sitting back. He then looks up at the man who just walked up and is now standing next to his chair.

  “You’re supposed to move down,” the guy says to Gio. He’s probably in his forties, or close to it, with a receding hairline and a bright yellow tie.

  Gio waves him away. “I’m not here for the event—”

  “But she is.” Yellow Tie gestures to me. “She has a name tag. Move along.”

  I gape at the man, surprised he would be so rude.

  “No, you’re right,” Gio relents, flashing me a wicked grin. “She’s all yours.”

  “Thanks a lot,” I mouth as Gio retreats.

  Laughing, he calls, “If you change your mind, Val knows where to find me.”

  Yellow Tie glares at him.

  The timer sounds, announcing we’re starting again.

  “My name is Vince Cooper,” Yellow Tie says, leaping right in. “I’m thirty-nine, never been married, and I’m a salesman for Bluebird automotive. I enjoy golfing, stamp collecting, and wine tasting events. Eventually, I’d like to buy a vineyard in Napa.”

  “Cool,” I say, not sure what to do with half that information.

  He waits, looking at me like I’m daft. Then he says, “Your turn.”

  “Right.” I blink, realizing I came unprepared. “My name is Kaylee. I work in the floral shop on Main Street. I like…” What do I like? “Um, hiking. And flowers, obviously…”

  Yellow Tie frowns. “Do you have any goals?”

  Right now, I just want to make it through the evening.

  I glance at Kyle. This time, he’s seated across from a younger woman with a sweet smile, and he doesn’t look quite as miserable as before. Great.

  “Not really,” I tell the man across from me, not about to divulge my hopes and dreams to a stranger.

  He nods, looking disappointed and oddly arrogant. “You’re moderately pretty, so I figured something must be wrong with you, or you wouldn’t be here.”

  Excuse me?

  “Tell me something that’s going to make me want to mark you as a match,” he continues, acting as if he’s a great catch and I’m about to lose my chance with him.

  “I like cats,” I tell Yellow Tie, smiling sweetly as I rest my elbow on the table and set my chin on my palm. “All kinds of cats—long-haired cats, short-haired cats. I really like hairless cats, but you just don’t find them all that often. I might like to start a breeding program in the future.”

  “Cats?”

  “And needlepoint. That and crochet, but not knitting—I never figured out the needles. Did you know a lot of people can’t tell the difference? Well, let me tell you, it’s not the same thing at all. Do you like sweaters? Not those flimsy store-bought sweaters, but the handmade kind? I crochet great sweaters. And if you have a dog, I can spin his fur and make you a blanket—from the fur he sheds, of course. I’m not suggesting you kill your dog.”

  He gapes at me.

  “It depends on the breed too. I can’t make a greyhound blanket.” I force a high-pitched giggle. “And certainly not a Chinese crested blanket. Pomeranian I can do, but it would take forever to collect enough fur. Maybe I could make you a potholder?”

  Before Yellow Tie can answer, the blessed timer sounds. The man is out of his seat so quickly, he might as well be a cartoon roadrunner.

  The man who takes his place is close to my age, and he wears a smirk that makes me want to smile back. “You know, if you raise hairless cats, you won’t have a free source of yarn.”

  My grin breaks free, and I tap the table. “Heard that, did you?”

  His name tag reads Isaac. His blond hair is short, a low-maintenance, wash-and-go style. He’s a medium height—not tall, not short—and though he’s not classically good-looking, there’s something genuinely appealing about him. I like him almost immediately.

  “Are you serious?” He shakes his head, laughing, and then leans down so only I will hear him. “How am I supposed to listen to my own date when you’re so much more interesting?”

  “Oh…nice line.”

  He presses a hand to his chest, mock offended.

  “Are you going to give me a canned list of your wants and dreams,” I say, “or are we going to do the unthinkable and have a real conversation?”

  “Oh, canned list all the way. Allow me to begin. I’m Isaac, and I’m twenty-six years old. I haven’t the slightest idea what my astrological sign is, though that seems to be a popular question tonight considering I’ve only spoken with three women, and I’ve been asked twice. Also, I enjoy candlelit dinners that are followed by long walks on the beach.”

  “Hard to indulge in the second when we live in Arizona.”

  “That’s what my therapist said,” he answers without missing a beat, his eyes bright with humor. “I also feel I should point out I like women who crochet blankets out of dog hair and are oddly obsessed with cats.”

  “Who doesn’t?”

  He grins. “Your turn.”
/>
  “I work in the floral shop on Main Street. I don’t actually make blankets out of dog hair—I don’t even know how to crochet. I’m a new fan of Jane Austen, and—because I like you and want to be honest—I feel I should tell you I’m in love with my best friend, who happens to be sitting right over there in the red shirt. He doesn’t know, however, so kindly don’t tell him.”

  Isaac groans and tilts his head back. “No,” he says, drawing out the word. “And I thought we were doing so well.”

  “Oh, we were.”

  Slowly, he looks back at me, smiling in a way that makes me wonder what he’s thinking. “I’m still marking you as a match. It’s up to you to decide what to do about it.”

  “You’re willing to go up against unrequited love? That’s bold.”

  “The friend? Nah, he’s not the problem. I’m still reeling over the fact that you’re a Jane Austen fan. No man can live up to Darcy.”

  “I’m actually partial to Mr. Knightley.”

  He leans across the table, meeting my eyes and dropping his voice to a sultry whisper. “Can I tell you a secret?”

  “What?” I whisper.

  “I have no idea who that is.”

  I laugh out loud, startling the people around us—including Kyle. He frowns our way. The poor guy looks like he’s having less fun than we are.

  “How do you know about Mr. Darcy then?” I ask.

  His grin grows. “There was this zombie movie…”

  The timer sounds once more, and the room is filled with the sounds of chairs squeaking across the tile.

  “It was nice to meet you, Kaylee,” Isaac says, extending his hand. He subtly nods toward Kyle. “Good luck.”

  I look at Kyle, who’s smiling across from his new partner, Sally.

  “Thanks,” I say absently. “I’m probably going to need it.”

  10

  This was a mistake. I haven’t connected with anyone, and not because I haven’t tried. I’ve talked to several perfectly nice women, and just as many not-so-nice women, but nothing. It might have something to do with the fact that there are two subjects I repeatedly bring up, no matter how I try to avoid them: the breakup and my friendship with Kaylee. My dates don’t seem to appreciate it.

  Kaylee, on the other hand, appears to be doing very well. First, there was the dark-haired man who claimed the seat across from her in the very beginning—I don’t even think he’s part of the event because he didn’t stay. Then there was the blond man who made her laugh.

  I have no doubt she’s going to have several matches before the end of the night.

  Good for her. No, really. She hasn’t dated in…I don’t even know.

  “It was incredible—the best week of my life,” my date says, smiling in a way that I should find appealing. Instead, I keep catching snippets of Kaylee’s conversation.

  “Snow leopards,” my best friend says to the man across from her. “Definitely. Have you seen them? They have these big fluffy tails. I’m sorry, but they’re so much cuter than monkeys.”

  “Lemurs aren’t monkeys,” her date points out, looking like he wants to laugh.

  She rolls her eyes. “Close enough.”

  My date continues talking about her last trip to the Caribbean islands, and I nod in all the appropriate places. At least I think I do until she says, “Kyle?”

  I whip my attention back, realizing I have no idea what she just said.

  The woman—Desiree according to her name tag—frowns. She knows I wasn’t paying attention—knows I was watching Kaylee instead of her. Since there’s not much I can do to fix it, I ask her if she tried snorkeling and actually listen to her until the timer goes off.

  I wait as the man across from Kaylee lingers. He’s trying to milk the conversation for all its worth. Kaylee glances at me, her brown eyes sparkling as though she can read my mind.

  Finally, he moves along, off to ask the next eligible woman about her favorite zoo animal, and I take my seat across from my best friend, feeling oddly nervous.

  That, of course, is ridiculous considering it’s Kaylee.

  She’s pretty in that red dress, though, and her curled hair looks soft and touchable. It’s been so long since I’ve even been allowed to think these kinds of thoughts about her, and now they hit me all at once, plowing me over like a semi-truck.

  Kaylee dons a solemn expression and leans forward, steepling her hands as if she’s interviewing me for a job. “Kyle, is it?” She nods to my name tag. “Tell me a little about yourself.”

  “My favorite zoo animal is a camel, because that one spit at you on the field trip in sixth grade—”

  “That was disgusting.”

  “That was hilarious.” I grin at the memory and then continue, “I’m a glorified tour guide for an off-road company, and I found out tonight I’m socially awkward.”

  “You’re not socially awkward,” she says with a laugh.

  “I am,” I argue. “It seems that all I can talk about is Ava or you, and believe it or not, women don’t really want to hear about a man’s ex or his female best friend—especially when that best friend is here, monopolizing all the male attention.”

  She blinks at me, and her face goes completely blank. “I am not.”

  “Well, you’re taking more than your fair share of it.”

  She shrugs, and her cheeks darken. “I’m just a new toy. I get the feeling a lot of the attendees are regulars.”

  Leaning back in my chair, I survey the room. “Are you going to mark anyone as a match?”

  “No.”

  I don’t realize my shoulders are so tense until she answers. I relax, slouching slightly in my seat.

  “What about you?” Kaylee looks at the table, running her finger along the edge.

  “I don’t think so.”

  “You don’t think so? Or you aren’t?”

  Smirking, I lean forward. “Maybe I’ll mark you as a match.”

  She laughs under breath, thinking I’m joking. “Good idea. I’ll mark you too. That way we won’t leave looking like complete losers.”

  “Deal.”

  Something about Kaylee saying that she wants me pleases me greatly, even if it’s just a joke.

  But is it too soon after the breakup to be having these kinds of thoughts? And what right do I have to think about Kaylee like this?

  The timer sounds too soon, mocking me. I have no choice but to move on. Thankfully, we only have two more mini-dates before we can leave.

  * * *

  “Would you look at that,” Kaylee says, reading her printout. “It appears I’ve matched with someone by the name of Kyle Fisher.”

  I stare at my paper, a funny feeling in my stomach.

  Congratulations! Someone likes you as much as you like them.

  Kaylee Cameron

  Please find your match and exchange info so you can get to know each other better. Thank you for speed dating with us tonight!

  “So where are you taking me for our date?” she teases. “I feel I should warn you. I’m high maintenance. I don’t like seafood, I’m allergic to tree nuts, and I get a little crabby if I don’t eat by seven-thirty.”

  “You don’t say.” I try to act casual, but there’s something about seeing her name on that form, along with the words “Someone likes you as much as you like them” that’s genuinely shaken me. “Then I guess we better go to Phoenix tomorrow—unless you have to work.”

  When I look up, I find her staring at me. Her eyebrows are lifted, and her brown eyes are wide.

  “You don’t want to get a hamburger?” I ask, feeling awkward. “I thought it would be a good day—"

  “Of course, yes,” she says, blinking several times as if to clear her head. “I don’t have to work this weekend.”

  “So…should I pick you up at nine?”

  “Sure.” She folds her printout and places it carefully in her purse. “I’ll make breakfast. Have you finally gotten enough bacon? Maybe we could be wild and throw some sausage in your
saturated fat diet.”

  “New studies have proven that saturated fats aren’t as bad as they once thought.”

  She smiles and tucks her long, curled hair behind her ear. “So I’ve heard. Is that a yes then?”

  “That’s definitely a yes.”

  The blond man who made Kaylee laugh earlier walks past us and winks at her. “Next time, I want to see your name on my printout.”

  I expect her to look offended, or at least uncomfortable, but she only grins. “I’ll start knitting your dog-hair blanket now.”

  “Crocheting,” he corrects. “You don’t knit, remember?”

  She laughs and waves as he walks through the door.

  “I would ask what that was about, but I don’t think I want to know,” I say.

  Kaylee links her arm through mine and drags me toward the exit. “Probably not.”

  Frowning, I look down at her. “You like him.”

  “He’s nice.”

  “Why didn’t you mark him as a match?” I ask as I open the main doors that lead outside, morbidly curious.

  She stumbles on the step, and I grasp hold of her arm.

  “Well?” I ask, letting her go once she’s steady.

  “I already like someone else,” she mumbles. “I just came to support you.”

  She goes on ahead, but I pause in the middle of the walkway, staring at her. What does she mean she likes someone else? Who?

  And why is this the first time I’ve heard about it?

  11

  Savannah sits at the kitchen counter in a pair of penguin pajamas, shoveling spoonful after spoonful of Cheerios into her mouth, likely not even tasting it. I told her she was welcome to the sausage and pancakes I made and have waiting for Kyle, but she hasn’t had much of an appetite the last few days.

  She scans my outfit, nodding as I turn.

  “Well?” I ask. “Is it good for a friend date? While at the same time, does it say I wish it were more than a friend date? Without being too obvious about it, of course.”

  “Of course,” Savannah answers between bites. Her zombie-like state is due to the fact that she’s waiting to hear back about a part she auditioned for. It’s making her crazy. “You look great, Kaylee.”