Four Last First Dates

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Four Last First Dates Page 10

by Kate O'Keeffe


  It was the kind of kiss you wanted to go on forever. The kind you never forget.

  Chapter 12

  THE FOLLOWING DAY, I swear I could have floated into the café on a cloud. I was light and ecstatically happy. I couldn’t stop grinning. I’d had to pinch myself when I woke up with my alarm, tell myself it wasn’t all a dream.

  Ryan had professed his feelings to me. He liked me just as much as I like him, since the day we met, in fact, but wasn’t ready for anything new following his break-up.

  And not only that, we’d kissed—and kissed and kissed.

  It was . . . heavenly.

  I walked passed Addi’s empty florist shop, a “for lease” sign pasted to the window. I wondered who would take the place on, what sort of business we’d have next to the café. Whoever it was, I hope they did it soon. There was something about this place, something I couldn’t quite put my finger on.

  I guess it needed someone to love it.

  I let out a contented sigh as I unlocked the door, floated to the kitchen where I flicked on the lights, and stowed my purse away. I was the first one in most mornings, and I was thankful for it today. It gave me the chance to stay in my Ryan happiness bubble for just that little bit longer before it got hijacked by the busy café.

  Switching on the oven, I got to work. Saturdays had become one of our busiest mornings, with brunches and take-outs, people often dropping in with their dogs or kids to get their caffeine fix to go, often a slice of cake, too.

  Paige walked through the back door. “Well?” she asked before she’d even closed it behind her.

  “Well, good morning.” I bit back a smile. I knew she wanted to know if anything had happened with Ryan after she’d left last night.

  She plunked her purse down on the counter. “You’re not going to hold out on me, are you?”

  I couldn’t stop my smile from spreading right across my face.

  “Oh, my.” She placed her hand over her heart. “Something did happen, didn’t it?”

  I nodded, scrunching up my face. “Kinda.”

  Paige let out one of her characteristic happy squeals. “Tell me everything!”

  “Okay.” I told her about how we’d played Wii, how we’d had so much fun together, how he’d told me he had feelings for me.

  “Well, I could have told you that. And?”

  “And . . . we might have kissed.”

  She clapped her hands together. “I knew it! Oh, I’m so happy for you. You two are perfect together.”

  “I don’t know about perfect.”

  She laughed. “Have you seen yourselves?”

  I thought of Ryan with his messy crop of dark blonde hair, trimmed beard, and broad shoulders.

  She beamed at me. “When are you seeing him again?”

  Last night he’d stood on my doorstep, saying goodnight with another spectacular kiss. Neither of us had wanted the evening to end.

  “We didn’t make any plans.”

  “He’ll probably turn up with flowers today or something, you watch. Oh, this is so exciting. Think about it. You went to the speed dating thing to meet your Last First Date, and Ryan was there! We all thought it would be one of the guys in the speed dating, but it wasn’t.”

  “True.”

  “Bailey, don’t you see? Ryan is your guy, he’s your Last First Date.”

  I rubbed the back of my neck. Although I really liked Ryan—and kissing him could very easily become my new favorite pastime—I didn’t want to get ahead of myself. “I don’t know about that. I mean, I like him, but a Last First Date is a big thing.”

  “Oh, Bailey, you’ll see. You so deserve to be with a great guy.”

  In an instant, my mind darted to another great guy, one I had been lucky enough to be with—Dan. I’d opened up to Paige about him a long time ago, telling her how it had almost destroyed me when he’d died. I’d thought I was going to spend the rest of my life with him, I’d thought he was my Last First Date.

  My chest tightened at the memory of our first date. If I’m honest, it hadn’t exactly gone to plan. In fact, it was kind of a miracle we ended up dating at all. He turned up late, spilled his spaghetti sauce all over his white buttoned shirt, and kept making stupid jokes that weren’t even funny. I remember coming home to my cottage that night and deciding, as cute as he was, he wasn’t the guy for me.

  And then, the next morning, I got a text from him asking me to meet him for a cup of coffee. I figured I’d let him down gently, and it was kinder to do that in person.

  He explained he was so nervous on our date he could barely see straight. Nervous because he thought I was so beautiful. That was why he’d been late, that was why he’d spilled his food, that was why he’d made all the dumb jokes. I warmed to his honesty and willingness to be vulnerable, and I accepted a second date.

  I was head-over-heels in love with him before the end of the month.

  I pulled myself back to the here and now. No. I couldn’t go there. Dan was gone. I’d moved on, found a type of peace. I wanted the next chapter in my life.

  I wanted my next love.

  Maybe Paige was right? Maybe Ryan could be that guy?

  * * *

  After we’d closed the café for the day, Paige sat at her computer as I worked out what we needed for Cozy Cottage Catering’s very first job coming up on Monday lunchtime. I’d just added a couple of items to the list when Paige made another one of her excited squeals.

  “What’s up?”

  “We’ve got another email asking us to quote for another catering job!”

  “Awesome!” I walked around the counter and peered over her shoulder at the screen. “It’s a private party at someone’s house? That’s great.”

  “Yes, and it’s only five days away. That’s not a lot of notice.”

  “Their caterer must have let them down. Why don’t you call the number they’ve given and ask them what they want? We’ve got enough time to pull something together for them. We’ve only got one other job on right now.”

  “And Cassie and Will’s wedding.”

  “Which isn’t for three months.”

  She laughed. “Okay. I’m on it.”

  I went back to work while Paige made the call. After a few moments, a knock at the back door interrupted me.

  A seed of hope that it was Ryan grew as I walked over to the door and pulled it open. It wasn’t Ryan. It was Sophie, dressed in a pair of jeans and a T-shirt, and she had someone with her.

  My eyes moved from Sophie to the guy standing at her side. My jaw slackened, and my heart began to thud in my chest. Sure, he was tall and good looking, with dark hair and a big smile. He was probably a handful of years younger than me and had an air of confidence I could sense the moment I laid eyes on him.

  But that wasn’t what made me react the way I did. It was who he looked like that got me, right in the heart.

  Dan.

  From the curve of his smile to the deep blue of his eyes, he was Dan’s doppelgänger, through and through. Only here right now, standing in front of me. Alive.

  Breathing.

  “Hey, Bailey.” The brightness of Sophie’s voice was at odds with my internal turmoil.

  “S-sophie.” I tried to pull myself together. “You’re not scheduled on until Tuesday.”

  “I know. I wanted you to meet my roommate, Jason. You know, the one I told you about?”

  I nodded dumbly.

  “Jason Christie, meet Bailey De Luca.”

  “Hey,” the guy said, offering me his hand. “Great to meet you.”

  I took it and we shook. “It’s ah, nice to meet you, too.” I didn’t look up into his eyes.

  “I wanted to bring him down to meet you before Monday,” Sophie said.

  Monday. Catering job. Of course.

  “Right.”

  Sophie shot me a questioning look. “You okay there? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

  It sure felt like I’d seen one.

  “Yes, I’m totally f
ine. My mind is just on different things, that’s all.”

  I glanced back at Jason. His face creased up into that smile again, and I swear I was back at Dan’s apartment, talking and laughing with him, cuddled up on his sofa.

  Only I was here, at the café, with a stranger who only looked like the man I once loved.

  I had to pull myself out of this.

  “I’m going to leave you to it. People to see, places to go.” Sophie shot me a smile. “You two be good, now.” She waggled her eyebrows at me.

  I stifled a gasp. If Sophie knew the emotional rollercoaster I was on right now, I’m sure she wouldn’t be so flippant.

  “Sorry about my roommate,” Jason said with a chuckle once Sophie had waltzed down the alleyway toward the street. “She’s got some crazy idea you’re looking for a man, and I could be him.”

  Well, he was a straight shooter.

  I crossed my arms over my chest and let out a laugh. It sounded forced, unnatural, even to my ears. “I’m looking for a waiter, that’s what she means.”

  “Sure.” He paused, still standing on the back step. “Should I maybe come in?”

  “Oh, yes. Of course.” I wrung my hands as I stood back. He brushed by me into the kitchen.

  “So, this is where it all happens, huh? I love your food, although I can’t afford to eat here much these days.”

  “Medical school, right?”

  He nodded. “For my sins.”

  Paige walked back into the kitchen, phone in hand. “Oh, hi there.”

  I made the introductions, explaining who Jason was and why he was there. I concentrated on avoiding eye contact with him. But my belly twisted into an elaborate knot, my mind taking me places I couldn’t go.

  “Well, we’re going to need you on Monday for lunch and next Saturday night for a party.” Paige grinned.

  “We got it?” I asked her.

  “Sure did. Cozy Cottage Catering is a-go.”

  “Sounds good to me,” Jason said. “I can do Saturday night as well as Monday. I could really do with the spare cash, so anything you’ve got, I’d be happy to take it on.”

  Even his voice sounded like Dan’s. It all became too much for me.

  “Paige? Why don’t you take Dan-Jason through what we need him to do Monday? I’ve got to . . . do . . . something.”

  Like get out of here, stat!

  “Sure. No problem.” Her tone was uncertain, questioning.

  I ignored the look she shot me as I collected my purse and jacket. “See you later!” Without glancing back, I pushed through the door, out into the warm afternoon sun. I darted up the alley and out onto the street, gulping deep breaths.

  I hurried down the street, dodging groups of people out enjoying the sun, my need to get far away pressing on me. I kept walking, two blocks, three, four, until I reached my destination—a small park with a few benches scattered around by mature, leafy trees. I found a spare bench seat and dropped down.

  I bit my lip and drummed my fingers on the wood.

  An image of Dan’s face clouded my mind. In an instant, we were back at my cottage after I’d come off a bicycle. Dan had been trying to transfer his love of mountain biking to me, and I’d given it a shot—with mixed results.

  I could see myself sitting on my sofa, my leg stretched out in front of me. Dan had a bag of frozen peas in his hand, which he had wrapped in a tea towel and applied to my swollen ankle.

  “It’s only sprained. We need to keep it elevated like this and apply ice for ten minutes. Do you think you can do that?”

  I nodded.

  “Here.” He took my hand and placed it on top of the bag of peas, stood up, and walked in the direction of the front door.

  I shot him a confused look. “Aren’t you going to stay?”

  “I’ll be back in ten minutes.”

  The door closed behind him, and I was left on my sofa, wondering what my boyfriend of five months thought was more important right now than being here with me. Before the ten minutes were up, he let himself back into the house, balancing some items in his hands.

  “I thought you could do with a few things. Here’s a cup of coffee from that café we both like down the road.” He placed a takeout cup on the coffee table. “A bar of your favorite chocolate.” He held up a magazine. “And a magazine about dresses or movie stars or diets you girls seem to like so much.”

  I beamed, my heart full. “I’m probably less interested in the diet part. You’re the best boyfriend, you know that?”

  “Oh, I almost forgot the most important thing.”

  “What?”

  He dropped down beside me, lifted my chin with his fingers, and kissed me. “That.”

  “Of all these things—” I gestured at the items he’d put on my coffee table, “I think I like that part the best.”

  “Yeah,” he replied, his eyes soft. “Me too.”

  A child’s sharp cry pulled me back to the present.

  Jason. His name was Jason. He was just a guy who was doing some casual work for us.

  My brain knew it wasn’t Dan. I knew it was only a guy who happened to look like Dan—just like him—who reminded me of what we’d had together.

  Of what I’d lost.

  This was nothing more than a jolt from the past. I could deal with this.

  Totally.

  Didn’t I get a similar jolt whenever I saw Josh, his brother? Or when I saw his mom, Meredith? Although that happened less and less now that Paige had replaced her as my partner in the Cozy Cottage.

  No. It meant nothing. It was just an echo, Dan was dead and gone. I’d moved on with my life.

  I’d had to.

  And having some guy who looked like him working for us was not going to change that.

  Chapter 13

  THE NEXT MORNING, MY phone beeped on the nightstand. I was sitting in bed, a cup of Earl Grey tea in hand, enjoying my one morning off in the week. I picked it up and read the screen. I smiled when I saw it was from Ryan.

  Busy?

  This was the first I’d heard from him since that sizzling make-out session on Friday night, and warmth spread across my chest.

  Yes, doing very important things right now.

  I took a sip of my tea and waited for his reply, dots appearing on the screen. I didn’t have to wait long.

  Can I interrupt those things?

  Depends what you had in mind.

  I want a rematch.

  I let out a light laugh. Friday night had started out so badly with Fake Jamie and ended quite the opposite with Ryan.

  Before I had the chance to reply, my phone beeped again.

  Either that or a real game.

  Baseball?

  Tennis.

  Although I hadn’t picked up a racket in some time, I’d played tennis all through high school, and I was pretty good, representing my school and club. I fired off a text, complete with tennis player emojis, a boy player and a girl player.

  You’re on.

  Pick you up in an hour.

  Fifty-eight minutes later, I’d managed to dig out my old tennis skirt and top, discovered to my glee they still fitted, and found my racket right at the back of my hallway closet. I knew I’d be rusty, but I wanted to at least manage to hold my own, so I did a few practice shots with a flat ball against the wall at the back of my cottage.

  Let’s just say it didn’t instill a lot of confidence in my abilities.

  The doorbell rang, making me jump. It’s funny how you can be waiting for someone to arrive, and when they do, you still get a surprise.

  I opened the door to see Ryan standing in a pair of sports shorts and a white T that accentuated his muscular physique and wide shoulders, a black cap with a silver fern on his head. His grin was wide, making him even more handsome—not that I’d thought that was even possible.

  “Ready to be humiliated on the court, De Luca?” His eyes twinkled.

  “The question is, are you ready? I mean, if your delicate male ego can take another beating
, that is.”

  He laughed, and I wished he’d kiss me. “Fighting talk, De Luca. Fighting talk.”

  I picked up my tennis bag and slung it over my shoulder, collected my keys from the hallway table, and stepped outside into the morning sun.

  Once in Ryan’s SUV, we chatted about tennis, and I began to get seriously concerned Ryan was a lot better than just a “handy” player, as he’d referred to himself on Friday night. A short drive later, we arrived at some tennis courts I had passed many times but never actually played on.

  All but one of the courts was in use, so we walked to the back court where we both dropped our bags on the ground and pulled out our rackets. Ryan opened a fresh can of balls, and we went to opposite ends of the court, ready to play.

  “I’ll go easy on you to begin with,” Ryan said, bouncing one of the balls on the ground. “But then I may have to release the fury.”

  “The fury?” I questioned with a laugh.

  “Oh, I’m famous for it.”

  “So, I should be afraid?”

  “You just wait and see.”

  I walked around the net to my end of the court. Ryan got himself into position to serve and bounced the ball a few times with his hand.

  “Do you think you’re Novak Djokovic or someone?” I teased, referring to how the famous tennis player always bounced the ball a bunch of times before serving.

  Instead of responding, he fired a serve down the court—and straight past me.

  Uh-oh. I’m in trouble.

  “Shall we warm up first? That was probably just me showing off.”

  “Probably?”

  “Okay, definitely. Let’s just hit the ball around for a while, then we can see if we want to play a game, ’kay?”

  “Sure.”

  He pulled another ball out of his pocket and served it to me. This time, thankfully, the shot was a lot less bullet-like in its delivery. I hit it back, enjoying the thwack of my racket making contact with the ball, and we started a rally.

  From that initial serve, I knew he was going easy on me, but I was okay with that. I valued my dignity, and if that serve was anything to go by, it would be in total tatters within minutes if he pulled out his A-game.

 

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