Four Last First Dates

by Kate O'Keeffe

  Although I’m not sure Nondescript Guy and his “health journey” would approve of even those.

  Fortunately, the bell sounded, so I didn’t have to pass comment. Instead, I smiled and said, “Nice to meet you.”

  He got up and moved on to Perky Blonde. I heaved a sigh of relief.

  “Hello.”

  I looked up to see a small, bespectacled man standing by my table. He was dressed in a button-down shirt and khaki pants. He looked more than a little nervous.

  “Hi,” I said brightly, trying to put him at ease. Although he didn’t look like they type of guy I’d dated in the past, I knew I needed to keep an open mind. “Please, take a seat.”

  “Oh, I err . . . okay.” He pulled a pad and pencil out from his back pocket and sat down opposite me.

  I glanced at his name tag. “Your name is Reg? Is that short for Reginald?”

  He nodded. “Lieutenant Reginald Barclay the third, actually.”

  Lieutenant? Very formal. He didn’t look much like a military man, with his slim frame and lack of stature. But who was I to judge?

  “Nice,” I said with a smile, trying not to let on what I was thinking.

  “It’s not ‘nice.’” He scowled at me as though I’d insulted him. “Lieutenant Reginald Barclay is the most underrated member of the Starship Enterprise.”

  The what now?

  “Oh.” Not for the first time tonight, I didn’t know quite what to say.

  “It’s all Captain Kirk and Spock, the superstars of the series.”

  “This is a Star Wars thing?”

  “Star Wars?” he spat, his features forming a disapproving scowl.

  You’d think I’d insulted his mother.

  “Star Trek.” He shook his head, his lips forming a thin line. “Reginald is a crew member of the Starship Enterprise.”

  “Gotcha.” I didn’t at all.

  “He needs his time in the spotlight, too, you know. He was a technical genius, not one of those ‘look at me, I’m an alpha male’ types.” He glared at me as though I was personally responsible for this Reginald Whatshisname’s lack of superstar status. “Beta males are just as important for the procreation of the species.”

  I cleared my throat. Is this guy for real?

  I glanced down at his notepad, landing on a way to move the conversation on. “You’ve come prepared.”

  “Yes, I . . . have some key questions I’m looking for answers to.”

  “Okay,” I replied, steeling myself for what was to come.

  He flipped the notepad open and studied his notes.

  I waited and waited.

  And waited.

  I shot my friends a desperate look I hoped they could read. It went something like “get me the heck out of here!”

  “Ah, excuse me, Reg?”

  He looked up at me as though I were some sort of irritation to him. “What?”

  “We only have four minutes together. You know that, right?”

  “Yes, yes.” He waved his hand in the air at me.

  I knitted my eyebrows together. This was feeling less like a date and more like a visit to the school principal.

  “Aha!” he exclaimed, making me jump.

  “You’ve found your question?”

  “Yes, I have.”

  “Great.”

  “What is your bust measurement?”

  My mouth dropped open. “My bust measurement?”

  “Yes.” His tone was matter-of-fact tone. “Your bust measurement, otherwise known as the circumference of your . . .err chestal area.” He made a circular motion in the air with his hands.

  I crossed my arms on the table in front of my “bust.” I cleared my throat. “Why do you want to know that?”

  “Because I assessed you as you arrived, and you have the proportions I am most invested in.”

  What? Invested? Proportions? What was this guy, a freaking mad scientist? Or, worse yet, a serial killer?

  “Invested in for a date?” I asked, really not wanting to know the answer.

  “Of course!” he replied a little too loudly. “Why else would I be here? There isn’t any other explanation. I’m here for the dating. I want to meet someone to date.”

  I wasn’t buying it. I glanced down at his notepad. There were numbers scrawled over the page. I let out a laugh, hoping to lighten the mood. “I don’t know. Maybe you’re doing some research or something?”

  He pursed his lips and glared at me. “Who said that?” His eyes darted around the room in accusation.

  I shifted in my seat. “Ah, me?”

  He let out a puff of air. “I’m here for the dating, and as part of that, I would like to know what your bust measurements is, thank you.”

  To my astonishment, he half-stood and reached into his front pocket, pulling a blue plastic measuring tape out in a long coil.

  “You’re serious?” I guffawed. I shot a nervous look over at my friends. They all had incredulous looks on their faces, watching the bizarre speed date with “Reg”—allegedly the most underrated of the Starship Enterprise crew—unfold before their eyes.

  “I thought I’d made that clear already. Do you have an objection?”

  I crossed my arms. “Actually, I do.”

  His glasses slid down his nose, and he pushed them back up his face with his index finger. “Well, in that case, I will need to hug you.”

  “Hug me?”

  This was getting more and more perverse.

  “Yes. That way I can assess you, since my measuring tape appears to be so abhorrent to you.” His tone suggested I was slow on the uptake and he needed to explain things more clearly. “It won’t be as accurate, of course, but if you won’t provide me with your consent, I shall have no choice.”

  That was it. I’d had enough. I placed my hands palm-down on the table. “Look, Reg—or whatever your actual name is. I’m not interested in being assessed or measured or anything. So, can you please refrain from asking me again?”

  He slumped in his chair. “But you’re the best one.”

  “The best one for what?”

  Why oh why did I have to ask?

  He let out a puff of air. “I’m designing something, even if Father thinks it’s a ‘waste of my education.’” He did air quotes, his face contorted in bitterness.

  “What are you designing?”

  My mouth was clearly disconnected from my brain at this point.

  “The perfect woman, only robotic so she won’t have any of the challenges of a real woman.”

  Oh, no.

  “She’s going to be incredible. Beautiful, loving, flexible, do whatever you want . . .”

  I held my hands up. “Stop!” I’d heard more than enough. I slid out of my chair and stood up.

  Reginald Barclay III looked up at me in surprise. As I stepped around the table, he also stood and attempted to swing his measuring tape around me.

  I grabbed a hold of one end of it and snapped it away from him. “You have got to be kidding me.” I smacked the tape down on the table, turned and walked away, just as the bell sounded for the next round of “dates.”

  But there would be no more “dates” for me. I’d had more than enough Jamie wannabes and sicko mad scientist guys to last me a lifetime.

  I was done.

  Chapter 3

  “HE WANTED TO MEASURE you?” Cassie’s face a study in disbelief.

  I nodded, my arms crossed. Like Queen Victoria, I was so not amused.

  “Bailey, I’m sorry,” Paige said, her hand on my arm. “I had no idea there’d be such crazies at these things.”

  “Crazy” was definitely a massive understatement for Reginald Barclay III. The guy was making a sex robot, for goodness’ sake. And he wanted to base its bust measurement on me!

  I shuddered at the thought.

  “It’s not over, yet. Did you want to give it another try?” Marissa asked. “There are some normal looking guys here. Well, normal-ish.”

  I shot her a withering look
. “Seriously?”

  “I’ll take that as a ‘no,’ then.” Marissa shrunk back from me.

  “Sorry, I’m just a little tightly wound.”

  “We get it,” Cassie replied. “Don’t we, Marissa?”

  Marissa gave a reluctant nod. As I said, speed dating had been her idea. I guess she was more invested in the outcome than the others, especially as I was the last in the pact to find her man.

  “I think four dates in one evening is more than enough, especially with the selection here,” I added.

  The four of us were standing in the ladies’ room of O’Dowd’s, the speed dating carrying on in the bar without me. Some poor schmuck was waiting at my empty table for a “date” I wouldn’t be returning to any time soon.

  “What about that second guy? He was cute. You liked him, right?” Paige was ever the optimist, looking for the silver lining to my speed dating disaster cloud.

  I nodded. “Adam.” He’d seemed nice and didn’t appear to be a member of the nut bar squad. I shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess I’m a bit put off by the whole thing right now.”

  “Give me your card.” Marissa stretched her hand out and waited.

  With a resigned sigh, I reached into my purse and pulled out my speed dating card. It had a list of the ten men here tonight. Ten? Wow, I’d only got through four before I’d had to escape. Six more Fake Jamies or Reginald Barclays would probably have killed me.

  But according to the rules of our Last First Date pact, one of those men out there was supposed to be my HEA—my happily ever after. And you know what? Speed dating had seemed like a good idea; a smorgasbord of guys to choose from, all in one evening.

  Low effort: high yield.

  And I’d liked the odds—that was, until I’d met the guys. “Odd” didn’t even begin to describe them.

  I let out a sigh. I guess that meant I’d just been on a total of four Last First Dates, for a total of sixteen unpleasant minutes. Well, other than the four with Adam.

  I handed the card to Marissa who clicked her pen. “Right, which was the crazy robot guy?”

  “Reg Barclay.”

  She put a big cross next to his name. “And what about the guy with the long, flicky hair who looked like he was more than a little in love with himself?”

  “He called himself ‘Jamie.’”

  “Strike him off.” Marissa placed a large cross next to his name.

  I smiled. There was actually something quite satisfying about doing this.

  “Who was the guy you liked? Was it Adam?”

  “That’s him,” Cassie confirmed.

  “Tick?” Marissa looked at me, brows raised and pen poised.

  I pulled a face. He seemed nice enough, and he was cute, but I just didn’t know anymore.

  Man, this dating thing was hard! No wonder I’d avoided it for so long since . . . well, since the last time.

  “Come on, Bailey. What have you go to lose?” Paige encouraged.

  I looked at my friends’ hopeful faces. They were all watching me, waiting for my response.

  I wanted what they had—a partner, someone to spend my life with. Someone to love. I needed to take this leap of faith.

  Despite my reservations, I nodded, pressing my lips together.

  Paige clapped her hands like an excited seal as Marissa drew a big tick next to Adam’s name.

  “Right, all you have to do now is turn this in to the convener and see whether Adam picked you,” Marissa said as she handed me the card.

  “Of course he would have picked Bailey. Look at her!” Cassie gestured at me.

  “I know, right?” Paige said.

  They all nodded like three bobblehead puppies in the back of a car.

  I felt a blush bloom in my cheeks. “You guys.”

  It was sweet of them to compliment me, but if I had my way, I’d be several inches taller, shave a good few inches off my hips and thighs, and be able to go braless once in a while without being able to store a handful of pencils under there.

  But then, I did love my food, and hell would freeze over before I gave that up. I thought of the guy on his “health journey.” Did my love of food put me on a “cake journey?” I sure hoped so. I smiled at the thought.

  We hung around in the ladies’ room, waiting for the event to finish. Once we heard the convener announcing it was time to turn in our cards, we exited en force. I avoided eye contact with every man in the room as I made a B-line for the convener’s table, my card held tightly in my hand.

  “Thank you,” he said, smiling up at me. “You’ll find out if you have a match shortly.”

  I thanked him and returned to the sanctity of my friends, extremely relieved my inaugural speed dating session was now done and dusted. Inaugural and last, that was. Female robot designers and sleazy chefs had completely put me off trying anything like this ever again.

  “Here, you may need this.” Cassie handed me a glass of chilled white wine. I thanked her and immediately took a large glug.

  “So, have you found the man of your dreams here tonight?” a deep voice said behind me.

  I turned to see who it was, hoping—praying—it wasn’t Fake Jamie, here to deliver a new sleazy line while looking down my top.

  To my relief, it wasn’t. I looked up into a pair of hazel eyes set into a handsome face, regarding me with gentle teasing.

  Ryan Jones.

  “Maybe?” I said with a smile, my tummy doing a flip at the sight of him.

  He raised his eyebrows in response. “Did he have a good pick-up line? I’ve got some, you know.”

  “You do? Like what?”

  He licked his lips, readying himself. “Okay, here’s my best one. I hope you know C.P.R., because you just took my breath away.”

  I cocked an eyebrow. “Seriously?”

  His lips curved into an easy smile. “What, you wouldn’t fall for that one?”

  I shook my head, laughing. “Um, that would be a ‘no.’”

  “Okay, how about this one. Were you in the Scouts? Because you sure have tied my heart into a knot.”

  A laugh escaped my lips. “That’s actually not bad, for a totally cheesy line, that is.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Okay, I think I’ve got one.”

  “It had better be good.”

  “Oh, it is. Your name must be Google, because you have everything I’m searching for.”

  He nodded, grinning. “Not bad, De Luca, not bad.”

  I beamed. “Why thank you.”

  “I’ve got another.”

  “How could you possibly top my Google line?”

  “It was good, but not that good. Take this one for a test drive. Do you believe in love at first sight, or should I walk past you again?”

  I put my hand over my heart as I laughed once more, genuinely enjoying myself for the first time tonight. “Tell me you’ve never used one of those.”

  He shook his head, his gorgeous hazel eyes dancing. “No way.”

  “I’m glad to hear it. What are you doing here, anyway? Been doing the speed dating thing, too?”

  “Me? Oh, no.” He shook his head. “I’m just here for the beer. A much better idea.”

  I broadened my smile. “Good call.” I raised my glass of wine, and he clinked his beer bottle against it. “Cheers.”

  “Cheers. Here’s to not finding The One.”

  “Who said I haven’t? He might be in this room right now.”

  “Yeah? Maybe he’s that short guy over there, watching you closely. I think he’s taking notes in his little pad.”

  Startled, I followed Ryan’s line of sight to see Reg, intermittently studying me, his pencil doing overtime on his notepad.

  “Oh, no.” I maneuvered myself so Ryan’s body obscured Reg’s line of vision of me, hoping it would end his little note taking.

  “Why is he doing that?” Ryan asked.

  I let out a heavy sigh. “He’s building a robot.”

  He raised his eyebrows, clearly amused.
“He is? What type of . . .?” He looked over at Reg, who had moved himself to get a better view of me. “Oh, I get it. A female robot, right?”

  I nodded, shifting closer to Ryan.

  “And he wants to base her on you?”

  “Yup.”

  He moved so he was once again in Reg’s line of site. “Well, I can totally see why.” Ryan’s eyes slid back to me. “If I were a weird scientist guy making a pervy robot, I’d base it on you, too.” A smile teased at the edges of his mouth.

  My tummy did a massive flip in response. I had to resist the urge to giggle at the fact that a guy who looked a lot like Thor was currently shielding me from a mad scientist in a crowded bar—and he thought I was attractive.

  Really, I couldn’t make this stuff up.

  “Err, thanks,” I muttered, heat blooming in my cheeks.

  “Want me to have a word?” He nodded at Reg, who had now wormed his way closer, his notepad and pencil still clutched in his hands.

  As appealing as it was to have a Norse god defend my honor, I knew I could fight my own battles.

  “No, but thanks anyway. Can you hold this for me?” I handed him my glass of wine.

  “Sure.”

  I stepped out from behind Ryan and made my way past a group of people to Reg. Although I’m only a diminutive five foot four in my heels, I towered over him.

  He looked up, what appeared to be a mixture of awe and fear in his eyes.

  “Are you still taking notes?” I crossed my arms, glaring at him. My voice was calm, measured. I may still have been blushing from Ryan’s compliment, but I wasn’t the type to take this kind of treatment lying down.

  He flipped the cover of his notepad over and clutched it against his puny body, his eyes darting around the room. “It’s just research.”

  Before I had the chance to say another word, he ducked around me and zig-zagged through the crowd. I watched, open-mouthed, as he disappeared from sight, obscured by the regular-sized people in the bar.

  Well, that was beyond weird.

  I returned to Ryan and my glass of wine.

  “What did you say to him to make him take off like that?” Ryan asked, shaking his head.

  “Nothing much. I just asked him if he was still taking notes on me.”