by Sara Rider
“I’m not sleeping with her. I didn’t like how mean those women were. I was just trying to be nice.” It made no sense. He’d been giving Nora a hard time since she moved in, but the way her friends were talking about her unleashed a weird protective streak in him.
Jake shook his head, holding back a laugh. “A pity date. Christ, you’re in over your head. You know that, right?”
Eli nodded, smiling in spite of himself. “Aren’t I always?”
Nora pulled up to her driveway later than she intended, but at least she’d gotten all her exam grades entered into the computer program. She’d waited until her anger at her conniving ex had gotten out of her system. Her fingers were still sore from jamming into the keyboard as she punched in the scores, but instead of feeling better, she just had a stabbing pain in her middle finger and a bad case of mental, emotional, and physical exhaustion.
Humperdinck’s car was in his driveway as well, dashing her hope he’d forgotten about their date. The last thing she wanted to do was go out tonight, but walking over to her neighbor’s house to explain she was breaking the date was a pretty close second. She wanted to curl up on her couch with a good book—one of her own choosing—and ignore the world for a little while. Pretend like the fact every bad thing that happened today wasn’t the culmination of her own stupid choices.
She was so caught up in her thoughts, she didn’t see the note at the foot of her door until she had her key in the lock.
Seven o’clock. No chickening out.
A tiny yellow buttercup was taped to the bottom.
That shouldn’t have thawed the edges of her frozen heart, but it did—just enough to crack the surface and get under her skin.
She closed the door behind her, set her shoes on the rack in the closet, and took a quick shower, hoping the hot water would ease the tension in her shoulders and clear her mind. It didn’t, so she did the only thing she could.
She pulled up her text messages and typed four simple words. I have a date.
The answer came immediately. With who?
Humperdinck.
When a long pause followed with no response, she knew exactly what was coming. She answered the call before the first ring even finished.
“A date? Like a date-date? With hot-neighbor Humperdinck?”
Nora fell back on her mattress with her phone tucked at her ear and closed her eyes. “Yes. No. Maybe? I don’t know. I’m pretty sure he just asked me out as a joke.”
“Then why are you going out with him?” Alice, one of her best friends since childhood, asked.
“Because she thinks he has abs more ripped than the pair of jeans I wore for my eighth grade school photo,” Jessie, her other best friend, shouted into the speakerphone.
It was hard to hear them over the sound of their kids playing together in the background. No surprise they were hanging out together on a Saturday night. Growing up, the three of them had been inseparable. It had been ages since Nora lived in Toronto and got to spend time with Alice and Jessie, and their lives had all taken very different turns since they were children, but their friendship hadn’t diminished at all.
“I’m not! I need to find a way to cancel without actually…speaking to him.”
“Why would you cancel? You haven’t dated anyone since your divorce,” Jessie said.
Nora groaned before diving into the entire story about Gavin stealing her idea and the embarrassing way she ended up with this damn date in the first place.
“Well, if you don’t go out with him, wouldn’t you just be giving those women in your book club a reason to keep believing that you’re not very adventurous?” Alice asked in her diplomatic way.
“It’s completely anticlimactic if you don’t go out with him,” Jessie added with the second half of their coordinated one-two punch. “Won’t it bug you forever to think about what could have happened?”
“I don’t want you to be right,” Nora mumbled. It would bug her. Almost as much as it would bug her to have to tell Gemma, Rose, and Annie that she’d been too much of a wimp to go through with the date. “But what if I am really just an uptight shrew?”
“So what if you’re uptight? It means you’re always the one who remembers birthdays,” Alice said.
“And you make the best cakes,” Jessie added.
“And you never, ever get lost when you’re navigating somewhere.”
Nora sighed. “I miss you guys.”
Not for the first time, she wished for a chance to undo her past decisions. She’d given up a tenure-track offer in Toronto to follow Gavin to Boston, and so much else along with it. Her friends. Her family—complicated as they might be. There was no going back either. Not without giving up her academic career.
Lately, though, she couldn’t help but wonder if that would be such a bad thing.
“We miss you, too. Movie and Margarita Night isn’t the same without you,” Alice said.
“Can we just skip to the part where you tell me what I’m supposed to wear for a date I don’t really want to go on? And maybe send me some talking points while you’re at it.” She was thirty-one years old. How hard could it be to dress herself for a social engagement?
Waaaaayyy too hard.
She couldn’t remember the last time she’d gone on a date. Come to think of it, she hadn’t ever really been on a proper date at all. She’d been with Gavin since undergrad, and back then, it was less dinners and movies and more casually hanging out until they woke up one day as boyfriend and girlfriend. When Gavin got the offer to move to Boston, they’d quickly eloped so he could secure her a job in the same department. Nothing about her love life had been even a little bit traditional. Or even romantic at all.
“Ask what he does for a living, his long-term financial goals, and what his dental hygiene routine is like,” Alice, ever the practical one, said. “Oh, and whether he cleans his own toilet. It says a lot about his character if he’s never had to use a toilet brush.”
“This isn’t a real date. I don’t need to know all that stuff.”
Jessie giggled, a clear sign she was on margarita number two already. “I agree. All you need to know to have a good time is that he’s cute, right?”
“No.” Cute didn’t even come close to describing the man’s lean muscles and chocolate brown eyes. “But he is annoying. I just need to find a way to pass the time. I’ve Googled a couple of first-date conversation starter lists, but they don’t feel right.”
“You could ask him what his death-row meal would be, or what weapon he would choose in a zombie apocalypse, or if he would rather get into a death match with a tiger or a ghost.”
Nora let some of the tension loosen from her limbs. Jessie always managed to make her laugh, no matter how stressed out she was. “Maybe I’ll just stick to current events.”
She could only imagine that her friends were grimacing at each other in the silence that followed. “You’re kind of…opinionated,” Alice said gently.
“Fine, less politics, more cute cat memes. What am I supposed to wear?”
“Little black dress,” her friends said in unison.
She got up and hunted in her closet for the cap-sleeved black dress with white polka dots Alice and Jessie had pressured her into buying despite the slightly risqué sweetheart neckline. The swingy, knee-length A-line hem was cute and perfect for the late September weather.
She threw the dress over her head and wrangled herself into it. The doorbell rang just as she was zipping it up. “He’s here!”
“Have fun! Do everything I wouldn’t,” Alice said.
“And everything I wished I could,” Jessie added.
She hung up and ran to the door. An itch at her armpit made her stop before she twisted the knob. “Crap.” She ripped off the price tag and tamped down the urge to run it over the kitchen garbage, setting it on the hallway table instead. Where it didn’t belong.
Relax. You can take care of it later.
She brushed her hand through her hair—not tha
t she cared what her neighbor thought—and opened the door.
Her mouth dropped at the sight. He was wearing a shirt, which shouldn’t have been all that shocking considering this wasn’t a clothing-optional kind of date. Except it was a worn-looking blue T-shirt with a frayed neckline and a picture of a T-Rex riding a dolphin, matched with cargo shorts and flip-flops.
She looked down at her fancy dress and back at him, then closed her eyes out of embarrassment. Whoever said the LBD worked in any situation had clearly not been in this situation.
“Hi,” he said, shoving his hands in his pockets. “You look really nice.”
The awkwardness between them was so thick, she could have spread it around like peanut butter. “You didn’t tell me to dress casual.” She hated feeling unprepared and disorganized. Careful preparation and planning was vital to her self-confidence. “I’m completely overdressed for whatever you have planned, and you look like you washed up from a surfing video.”
“First of all, I was aiming for artistically tousled, and second, you look great. Like Audrey Hepburn. Except more scowly. Like if Audrey Hepburn were blond and a dominatrix.” His lips twisted into a half-grin. “And third, I was going to take you to Rusty’s Roadhouse Grill. Best ribs in town.”
She cut him a hard glare, which only made him grin wider.
“Everyone in Shadow Creek has to eat at Rusty’s at least once. It’s a tradition.”
Two minutes in, and they’d already stumbled into completely disparate planes of existence. “This is pointless. If our date starts this badly, it’s only going to end worse. We’re obviously not compatible—”
He stepped inside and pressed his finger against her mouth to keep her from saying anymore. She was too shocked to react, too flustered by the heat of his skin against her lips to do anything but stand there like a fool. “This date isn’t pointless and we’re not cancelling it. Give me two minutes.”
He walked out without any further explanation. Nora shut the door behind him and counted to one hundred and twenty. When he didn’t return, she headed to her kitchen and contemplated whether ice cream or potato chips were the more appropriate I’m-so-incompatible-with-all-of-mankind-my-date-ended-before-it-even-started comfort food.
Both. The answer was always both. She tucked a Pringles can beneath her arm and shoved a spoon inside the Chocolate Cherry Garcia before licking it clean. By the time she chased her fourth bite of ice cream with a crispy barbecue chip, another knock sounded at the door. She considered ignoring it. Ben, Jerry, and the creepy mustached Pringles Can Guy had never let her down on a Saturday night before. Maybe she needed to stick to what worked.
“Open the door, Nora, or I’m just going to go play with my weed whacker until you do!”
“Go home, Humperdinck. This was a mistake. Let’s be grateful we figured this out before it ended in tears and broken power tools.”
“I’ve got a snow blower, too, Princess. Enough lithium battery power to go all night.”
Dammit. With a groan, she returned her snacks to their homes and opened the door. “Oh.”
“I know it’s not perfect, but it should do,” he said, running his hand down the front of the charcoal gray suit jacket.
“No, it’s fine,” she mustered in spite of the dryness in her throat. It didn’t matter if he was in a suit or nothing at all. The man was gorgeous. And she kind of hated him for that. “But this doesn’t change the fact we’re both overdressed for Rusty’s now.”
“Don’t worry about that. I’ve got a new plan.”
Following him out the door was probably as smart as walking naked into a snowstorm, but she did it anyway.
His truck was in his driveway, covered in mud, sawdust, and probably every other kind of dirt imaginable. She managed to hide her grimace but hesitated before opening the passenger door. He came around and opened it for her, looking almost embarrassed—despite seeming like the kind of guy who never got embarrassed. “Yeah, sorry. I haven’t had a chance to wash it with all the work I’ve been doing. But it’s clean inside. I promise.”
“It’s not that,” she lied. Just looking at the dirt made her skin itch. But there was something else she needed to do. She pointed to the back of the truck. “Can you stand there for a second?”
He gave her a curious look but complied. She pulled out her phone and snapped a photo.
“It’s a bit presumptive to be sending brag photos before we’ve even had dinner.”
She rolled her eyes and headed back to the passenger side. “I’m sending my best friends a photo of you next to your license plate so they can call the cops in case I don’t check in by ten o’clock.” At least he wasn’t lying about the fact it was pristine on the inside. She wasn’t exactly a germaphobe, but she’d paid a lot of money and waited more than a few years for an excuse to wear this dress, and she’d like to make it at least five minutes without getting it covered with mud.
He came around the driver’s side and hopped in. “The old ‘what if he’s a serial killer’ photo.”
“It’s nothing personal.”
“No worries. I sent one of you to my friends earlier, too.”
She laughed. “Yeah, right. When could you possibly have gotten a photo of me?”
He reversed the truck onto the road and headed north. “Not telling. It’s one of my super-secret serial killer stalking techniques.”
“Hate to break it to you, but insisting someone go out with you in front of a bunch of witnesses is pretty amateur for a serial killer.”
“Or so amateur it’s actually brilliant.” He winked at her before casting his eyes back on the road.
“I should not be laughing right now.”
“Why?” He shifted gears smoothly as they pulled onto the highway, merging seamlessly in between the fast moving cars. How was it fair that even the way he drove was sexy? “Scared you’ll actually have a good time tonight?”
“Hardly. We have nothing in common. And—”And you only asked me out as a pity date. She cleared her throat. “So, what would your mad genius serial killer name be?”
“The Weed Whacker Whacker, of course.”
She shook her head, trying not to laugh. “That’s not too bad.”
“I was going to go with Sex Machine Killer, but I’m pretty sure it’s already trademarked. But Death Stare Slayer is up for grabs.”
She responded with said infamous stare. “My resting bitch face is not that bad.”
“Only because you’ve never been on the other end of it.”
“That’s because I don’t blast music at one in the morning!”
He ran his hand along the back of his neck. “Yeah, sorry about that. The woman who’s renting you the house was super hard of hearing. I’ve been having trouble sleeping lately and kind of forgot someone new was living next door.”
“That excuses you for the first time, but not for the dozens of times that followed.”
“Maybe I liked being on the receiving end of that sexy little death stare of yours.”
Nora’s insides lit up like a flare. Was he flirting with her? No way. Not possible. He was just being a goof. She wasn’t even sure they’d gotten to the point where they stopped hating each other, much less progressed to actually liking each other.
“But I promise to not wake you up any more, okay?”
“Thanks.”
They drove a few more minutes on the highway. He kept to the speed limit, which helped her relax a little more and actually enjoy the view of the evergreen-covered hills in the distance. She hadn’t realized where they were headed until he pulled the truck into the Black Onyx, one of the swankiest restaurants in Shadow Creek—something she only knew because Rose had mentioned it was her favorite place. Instead of Rusty’s, he was taking her to the most expensive restaurant in town, all because she’d dressed wrong.
“I could have changed my clothes,” she said quietly as he switched off the ignition.
“Nah, you look too pretty in that dress.”
He came around to her side as she was stepping out, and held out his hand. She was tempted to bypass the offer, but even though she was wearing simple ballet flats, she was scared of falling on her face. Electricity jolted in her palm when it met his, tingling right through every limb. She stumbled on the ledge, landing gracelessly in his arms.
She looked up with her breath locked firmly in her lungs. His lips, pulled into a hard line, were too close to hers. The fresh, masculine scent of his skin invaded her senses. The hand on her waist tightened a fraction and she nearly melted into him.
She backed up before she let herself get carried away and cleared her throat. “Listen, Humperdinck. This is just a date. The kind that ends with us saying goodnight with a wave from our respective porches before we go back to ignoring each other, okay?”
The corners of his lips quirked upwards, like he found her amusing.
“What?”
“You don’t know my name, do you?”
“I—” Panic seeped into her chest. Holy hell. She’d been calling him Humperdinck for so long, she didn’t know his actual name. How was that possible? “Maybe I just prefer to call you Humperdinck.”
“Sure you do.” His grip on her waist loosened, but he didn’t take his hand off her. Instead, he slid it around to the small of her back and led her to the restaurant’s entrance. “Come on, let’s see if we can charm our way into getting a table at the last minute.”
To her surprise, they did manage to get seated almost immediately, but it was a small, cramped table tucked into an inconvenient corner near the bathrooms, far from the sweeping ocean views. Her knees bumped against his under the maroon tablecloth when she sat down. She ignored the explosion of tingles working though her body, and spread her napkin neatly over her lap. She snuck a dab of hand sanitizer from her purse and quickly inspected her cutlery for watermarks and caked-on food.
“Find anything interesting on that knife?”
“No, but you’ve got what looks like yesterday’s Bolognese dried onto yours.”
He picked up the utensil and inspected it with a shrug before wiping with his napkin, then dunked it right into the butter tray. Disgust curdled her stomach as he slathered the butter onto one of the complimentary slices of bread. He offered it to her, but she shook her head with a shudder.