“True,” Paige said with a nod, her head cocked to the side. “But, you said you wanted to find The One, and you went on these three Last First Dates.”
“And you did agree to the pact. Both times,” Cassie added with a wry smile.
“So?” I shook my head.
“So, we’ve agreed you need to give one of these guys a second chance,” Paige said.
“You’ve ‘agreed’ this?” I was incredulous.
“That’s right, and we’re not taking ‘no’ for an answer,” Cassie added, crossing her arms in that “don’t mess with me” way I knew from work. She might have been one of my best friends, but she was also my boss.
“But . . . but . . .” I protested, doing my best fish impersonation as I tried to think of how to get out of what was rapidly becoming a dating intervention—not the friendly catch-up with my besties I’d anticipated.
“We think we need to help you push through this fussiness thing you’ve got going on, Marissa. That’s why we want you to decide which one you’re going to date and go on another date with him,” Bailey said.
“With an open mind, of course,” Cassie added, and Bailey and Paige both nodded their agreement.
“It’s the only way,” Paige said.
I blinked at my friends. “And you all agree?”
“Yes,” they said in unison, nodding, like a group of Muppets—well-meaning but misguided Muppets, that was.
I pushed my plate away, my appetite gone. I bit my lip. “And you won’t accept that I just test ran these guys and not one of them was right for me?”
“Nope,” Cassie said as the others shook their heads in agreement. “But, you can rule out Mr. Mortician, if you like. We’re good with that.”
I thought about Coleman. Yes, ruling him out was a must. I literally ran away from him, after all. I’m not sure a girl can come back from that sort of thing.
At least the other dates weren’t quite as . . . horrible.
“That leaves Nash and Blaze,” Cassie said.
I thought about the two remaining guys. My date with Nash had been great, right up until that possible dog slobber transference situation at the end, that was. The thought of Dexter’s saliva mingled with Nash’s and mine still made me want to hurl. I moved on to Blaze. He may be “thick, strong, and thirsty,” but he was a nice guy, extremely hot, and we’d had fun on our date, albeit with a little too much talk about working out and “improving” my body.
“Okay. If I have to do this—and I want you all to know I’m doing this under duress—I’ll go on another date with . . .” I paused for dramatic effect, like they do on TV. “. . . Blaze.”
We would get married, have good-looking little bodybuilders, and live happily ever after. Although, with the milk we’d go through, we may need to invest in a cow.
“Oh, yay! He is so cute!” Paige exclaimed.
“Dammit! My money was on Nash,” Cassie exclaimed.
“What? You bet on this?” I asked, incredulous my friends would do something like that to me.
“There may have been a small wager placed,” Cassie said with a small shrug, looking embarrassed. I watched as she reached into her purse, pulled out a twenty-dollar bill, and handed it to Paige. I then watched as Bailey did the same.
“Thank you very much,” Paige said, folding the bills and slipping them into her own purse.
I regarded my friends, openmouthed. “You guys!”
“We wanted to make this interesting,” Cassie said unapologetically.
“Spying on me going on three dates in one day wasn’t interesting enough for you?” I asked, my eyebrows raised in question.
My friends merely grinned back at me. Clearly, it was not.
“All bets aside, I’m surprised you’re going with Blaze,” Cassie said.
“You’re just bitter you backed the wrong horse, Cassie,” Paige replied with a smug smile.
Cassie furrowed her brow. “No, it’s more than that.” She looked at me as she sunk her fork absentmindedly into what remained of her cake. “I’m curious, what did you two find to talk about on your date?”
“Oh, lots of stuff. Music, what we like to do in the weekends, what we drink . . .” I searched my brain for more.
“Working out?” Cassie asked, playing with her fork.
“Yeah, there was a bit of that.” I twisted my empty coffee cup in its saucer.
No, there was a lot of that. My mind began to whirr, whipping me into a frenzy about how little Blaze and I had in common, how boring the whole bodybuilding thing was to me, and how little interest I had in eggy milk smoothies. Ugh.
Blaze may be as hot as an Arizona summer, but you couldn’t base a relationship on that. Could you?
“You’re not sure about him now, are you?” Cassie asked, examining my expression.
“No!” My tummy began to churn. “God, what am I going to do? I don’t want to spend all my time at a gym, staring at my reflection in the mirror as I lift weights. And I do not want to drink a tuna smoothie, even if Blaze said they taste okay. Uh-ah, no way.”
Bailey pulled a face. “Why would anyone want to drink a tuna smoothie?”
“Exactly!” I replied. I shook my head, chewing the inside of my lip. “No, it can’t be Blaze. It just can’t.”
“That leaves Nash,” Cassie said.
“What was the problem with him? He seemed really good on paper. He was the one who was all manly and defended you at the construction site, right?” Bailey asked.
“Yes,” I replied begrudgingly, thinking of how dashing and sexy Nash had been that day. I let out a sigh. If it hadn’t been for the dog-slobber situation, he would easily have been the front-runner.
“So, what happened? Everything looked good from our vantage point, right, Bailey?” Paige said, and Bailey agreed.
I picked up my fork and pushed my cake crumbs around my plate. Without looking up, I said, “If I tell you guys, will you promise not to judge me?”
There was a chorus of “sure” and “yes” from my friends.
“Well, you see, everything had gone really well, you know? He’s a nice guy, maybe a little too into dogs, but we’d had fun. And I was thinking he might be The One, and then . . . well . . .” I paused as I struggled with how to say it. In the end, I simply blurted it out. “He let his dog lick his mouth, and then he kissed me.”
“Euw!” All three of them said, recoiling from me in horror—just as I had from Nash.
“Inside his mouth?” Paige asked, her own mouth dropped open in obvious repulsion.
“No. It sort of skimmed the outside of his lips, I guess.”
Cassie raised her eyebrows at me. “Skimmed?”
I shifted my weight in my seat. “Maybe? It was hard to tell.”
She threw her hands up in the air. “Oh, my god, Marissa! You’ve totally overreacted to this. You’ve freaked out over virtually nothing!”
I crossed my arms, knitting my brows together. “No, the dog did lick his face, and then he did kiss me.”
“There is a world of difference between a dog licking someone’s face and a dog licking someone’s mouth,” Cassie replied, shooting me an “are you insane” look.
I glared back at her, pushing away the uncomfortable feeling inside that she may—just may—be right.
“You know, Marissa?” Bailey said, breaking our staring competition. “All you have to do is ask him not to let his dog lick his face while you’re around.”
“I guess.”
I weighed up my options: I could either spend the next date, or ten, being asked to punch and squeeze and prod Blaze’s various muscle groups, or I could simply do as Bailey suggested and ask Nash not to let Dexter lick his face if kissing was ever on the table.
In the end, there wasn’t much of a competition.
I let out a heavy sigh, pressing my lips together. “All right. I guess can do that.”
“So, you’ll go on a second date with Nash?” Cassie asked, her face lighting up.
&n
bsp; “I’ll go on another date with Nash”—I smiled at my friends, hoping like crazy I’d just made the right call—“without his dog.”
“And you won’t go making up problems out of nothing as an excuse not to date him?” Cassie asked, looking at me like a stern parent.
I pursed my lips. Begrudgingly, I admitted to myself I may have done that with the dog-slobber thing. I nodded.
“Awesome!” Cassie said with a glint in her eye.
I watched, slack-jawed, as she put her hand out and Paige fished around in her purse for the money. “Thank you, ladies,” she said to them both as Paige handed over their money.
“You have got to be kidding me,” I muttered.
“A bet’s a bet,” Bailey said with a shrug.
“It’s not about the money. I really think you’ve made the right call in choosing Nash,” Cassie said, pocketing her cash. “That creepy mortician guy and Mr. Muscles weren’t for you.”
I drummed my fingers on the table. Nash. I was going on a second date with Nash, a Last Second Date. Despite my persistent repulsion at the whole Dexter-saliva thing, a couple of butterflies beat their wings in my belly.
Maybe Nash would end up being the guy for me?
Chapter 6
I sat, waiting at Alessandro’s Café, pushing my hair behind my ears several times, eyeing the entranceway. I had two lattes in front of me, remembering Nash had ordered one on our date last weekend. I had hoped it may soften him toward me after that whole botched-kiss thing the last time I saw him.
I had texted both Blaze and Coleman, thanking them for the dates and telling them I had decided not to see them again. I said I hoped there were no hard feelings, although in Coleman’s case, I imagine he already had a voodoo doll of me with a fully sharpened pack of pins at the ready.
Blaze had texted me back, telling me I could work out with him whenever I wanted, but Coleman had gone into total radio silence. I could hardly blame him after what I’d done. I was ashamed, just thinking about it.
To meet Nash, I had purposefully chosen a canine-free location. Not that I had anything against Dexter. He was a great dog, I just wasn’t so keen on being reminded of the dog-slobber situation that had caused this furor in the first place.
Although Nash had clearly been reluctant to meet me, I told him I needed to explain something. Of course, I had no intention of telling him the actual truth about why I ended our date so abruptly. What would have been the point in that? Instead, I’d made up a story about receiving an urgent, worrying message that had caused me to have to leave suddenly. It seemed convincing enough to me, and I hoped he’d buy it so we could move on.
Finally, a good eleven minutes late—I mean, how rude!—those hamsters turned up in my belly and began scuttling around again the moment I spotted Nash walk through the café door. He was wearing the same work combo of shorts, T-shirt, and work boots he was in the day I met him. Only this time, when his eyes landed on me, he wasn’t smiling.
As he approached our table, I stood up to greet him, a smile placed firmly on my face. I had deliberated for hours over what to wear, not knowing what an “I’m sorry for getting freaked out over the dog saliva and would you like to go on another date with me” outfit looked like. In the end, I’d settled on my favorite navy pencil skirt, a cute pale pink blouse, and a pair of heels—it was a work day, after all.
“Hi, Nash. You look great.” I beamed at him, trying my best to ignore the growing tension in my head.
“Thanks,” he replied. Still no smile.
Without me inviting him, he sat down in the chair opposite me. I sat slowly down in my own chair, pushing my hair behind my ear once more, despite the fact it was very firmly there already.
It’s going to be like that, is it?
After an awkward moment, during which Nash simply looked at me as though he was taking my measure, he said, “I was surprised to hear from you.”
“Really?” I squeaked. “I had a great time on our date.”
He cocked an eyebrow. “You did?”
“Oh, yes. You’re great, Dexter’s great, the restaurant was great. It was all . . .” I searched my mind for the correct word.
“Great?” Nash offered.
“Exactly. Great.”
“Ah-huh,” he said, clasping his hands together on the table. “So, how about the end of the date? Was that ‘great’ too?”
I shot him a puzzled look, pretending I didn’t know what he was referring to: Dog Slobbergate.
“The kiss.” His voice was low, quiet—pretty darn sexy, under different circumstances, actually.
I cleared my throat, distinctly uncomfortable. He was being very direct. “Ah, yes. That.” I averted my eyes as my cheeks began to heat up.
“What was it? Technique? Attraction? Had you friend zoned me or something? But then, if you’d done that, you wouldn’t have asked me on a second date, right?” He furrowed his brow. “Would you?”
I let out a puff of air. “Look, the thing is, I had a message that was very worrying and I had to leave, quickly. It had nothing to do with you, or Dexter, or anything.” I let out a breath I hadn’t known I was holding.
“With Dexter?” he questioned, looking more confused than he was before.
“Yes! It was nothing to do with Dexter.” My voice had become unnaturally high. Why had I mentioned Dexter? I didn’t need to, I hadn’t rehearsed it. Mentioning Dexter just raised questions in Nash’s mind, questions I didn’t want to have to answer.
“Look, if you don’t like my dog, then we’re done here.” He pushed his chair out from the table with a screech when the chrome of the chair scraped across the polished tiled floor. He straightened up, ready to leave.
“Nash, don’t go! Please. I’ll, I’ll tell you the truth.”
Without sitting, he replied, “All right.”
“Please sit down. Please.”
He studied my face for a moment before, thankfully, plunking himself back down on the chair.
My smile denied the nerves rattling around inside me.
“Shoot,” he instructed.
I swallowed. “Well, here’s the thing. I . . . I was a little put off by the . . .”
“The what?”
I scrunched up my face. “By the dog saliva.” I looked up into his eyes, nervously awaiting his response.
He let out a short, sharp laugh. “The dog saliva?” He shook his head, leaning in toward me. “Marissa, what are you talking about?”
“Well, you may not remember this, but Dexter licked you on the lips just before you kissed me, and it . . . it kind of bothered me.”
I watched as he leaned back in his chair, roaring with laughter. My eyes darted around the room as people at nearby tables turned to look at us. I smiled at them, hoping Nash’s amusement would abate.
Eventually, after what felt like a long time, he rested his chin on his fist. “That’s why you didn’t want to kiss me, because you thought Dex had licked my lips?”
I gave him a weak nod. “I thought maybe it might have worked its way into your mouth, too.”
He shook his head, a fresh smile teasing the edges of his mouth. “Marissa, Dex didn’t lick my lips, and his saliva didn’t get anywhere near my mouth. Granted, he licked my face, but that was an accident that sometimes happens with dogs, especially ones as affectionate as Dex.”
“Are you sure he didn’t get them? Not even the edge or something?”
“Marissa, I don’t know what sort of guys you’ve dated in the past, but I’m not in the habit of French kissing dogs.” He shook his head, chuckling to himself. “Hand on heart.” He placed his hand on his chest and shot me a serious look—well, as serious as he could right now.
I almost sighed. He was more like Jon Snow than ever before. I could half imagine him in black robes, a manly scowl on his face as he plotted how to save The North from the Night Walkers. I sighed.
When I didn’t respond immediately, Nash’s eyebrow shot up again in question.
�
�All right, I can accept that. You didn’t have any dog slobber on your mouth.” I returned his smile, my anxiety receding.
“You had a little freak-out there, didn’t you?”
I nodded, embarrassed.
“Do you do that a lot?”
“No, of course not,” I replied, indignant.
He narrowed his eyes. “That’s a lie, isn’t it?”
“No?” I chanced.
He shook his head, chuckling. He reached across the table and found my hand. Holding it in his, he said in a low voice, “I like you, Marissa.” I nodded, my mouth suddenly dry. “How about you tell me the next time something bothers you and we’ll deal with it?”
There was going to be a next time? Those hamsters started up a tap-dancing routine in my belly. “Okay.”
“Good.” He still held my hand in his, and I liked the feeling. It was a strong, warm hand, the kind of hand you could rely on. “In that case, would you mind if we tried it again?”
“Tried what again?”
“This.” He put his fingers under my chin and gently lifted my face so we were looking into one another’s eyes. I swallowed down a lump in my throat. He leaned over the small table and gently brushed his lips against mine, right there and then, in the café, in front of everyone.
And I didn’t care, not one little bit.
And you know why? It felt good. No, scratch that, it felt amazing. He slipped his hand around the back of my head, and I breathed in his scent. I was lost in our kiss, the world around me a blur of voices and music and unidentifiable sounds, merging into nothing.
He pulled away from me, his eyes dancing. “Better?”
I swear, I saw stars.
“Better,” I confirmed breathlessly, while inside my brain yelled “Best kiss ever!” and my toes curled in my shoes.
He nodded at me, sitting back in his chair. “Good. I assume that means the freak-out is over?”
I bit back a smile. “Oh, yes.”
He let out a soft laugh. If I’d known Nash could kiss like that, I don’t think I would have freaked out in the first place. Okay, maybe I would have, but I wouldn’t have wanted to.
Three Last First Dates Page 6