Blind Date (Dating Series Book 7)

by Monica Murphy

  I’m impressed by how she sits perfectly still. Doesn’t fidget at all. While I’m over here squirming in my chair, wishing the ceremony was already over. I’m impatient, and I’ve never been one able to stay in one place for too long. That’s probably why I enjoy this job so much. I’m all over the place throughout my shift, constantly moving.

  Losing interest in the ceremony, I turn all of my focus on Amelia. The sun is slowly going down—they lucked out that it didn’t rain—and the light casts across her face, giving her a golden glow. She swings her head, subtly flipping her shiny hair over her shoulder, and I can’t help but wonder what it feels like. It looks slick and soft. I wouldn’t mind grabbing a handful in my fist and give it a gentle tug. Pull her back a little so I could press my mouth to those pouty lips.

  Would she like that? She’s definitely not my type, but she’s the sort of woman a man wants to grab hold of and mess up a little. Smear the lipstick with his mouth. Make a mess of her hair with his hands. Slowly strip her out of that dress—

  “I now present to you Mr. and Mrs. Charles and Candice Sullivan!” the minister suddenly announces, knocking me from my thoughts.

  Charlie and Candice raise their linked hands above their heads, shaking them as if in victory. They’re both wearing giant grins, and I clap along with the rest of the crowd, smiling back at them. There are no finer people on this earth than those two. They truly belong together.

  The wedding party exits after the newlyweds and then everyone starts to leave, making their way to the tent that was set up in an extremely short amount of time and now houses the reception. I can already hear the strains of music coming from within, and my stomach growls because yet again, I forgot to eat during my shift.

  I stand at the end of my row, letting people file past me. Including the beautiful and mysterious Amelia. When she sees me, she does a double take. “You’re a wedding guest?”

  She sounds surprised. Huh.

  “I’m friends with the bride and the groom,” I say as I fall into step beside her.

  “Really? What’s your name?” she asks. “I never did catch it.”

  That’s because she never asked.

  We exit the aisle and head toward the tent. I suppose I could tell her what everyone calls me around here, but that’s just embarrassing. Especially if I’m trying to impress this woman. So I go with the truth. “Isaac.”

  Is that relief on her face? Odd. “Ah, Isaac. A nice, traditional name.”

  “I guess.” I shrug.

  “You don’t say much, do you?” She sends me an amused look.

  Is she teasing me? “I don’t chatter on and on, if that’s what you’re asking.”

  “I can tell.” She smiles. “It was a beautiful ceremony, wasn’t it?”

  “Definitely,” I say with a firm nod, letting my gaze roam over her. She’s wearing a soft green dress that I’m pretty sure is velvet, and it clings to her lean body in all the right places. She’s tall, with gentle curves, and my hands suddenly itch to touch her. “They make a good couple.”

  “They do, don’t they?” A wistful sigh escapes her and I wonder about it. “I’m happy they found each other.” She glances over at me as we continue walking together.

  “So am I.” My stomach chooses that moment to growl, and I rest a hand over it, laughing to hide my embarrassment. “Never did eat lunch today. Was too busy.”

  “Whatever they’re serving for the reception, it smells delicious,” Amelia says.

  “Yeah, it does. Probably why my stomach is complaining.” I don’t know what else to say. And I’m worried I sound like an idiot, which isn’t like me.

  This woman makes me…nervous. And not in a bad way. I just want to impress her so damn bad. I want her to like me. I want her to see something in me.

  Is that ridiculous? Probably. Most of the time, I meet a woman and it just…happens between us, or it doesn’t. I don’t really try to impress. Yeah, I can get tongue-tied, but that’s why I remain quiet most of the time. That way, I can’t mess anything up by saying something stupid.

  “Lucky for you we’re about to eat.” She wiggles her fingers at me in a cute wave. “See ya around.”

  “Maybe on the dancefloor?” I ask like a hopeful idiot.

  She sends me—yep, I know it when I see it—a flirtatious look. “If your luck keeps up.”

  I couldn’t wipe the grin off my face even if I tried.

  Seven

  Amelia

  Isaac is cute. Not necessarily my type, and I have the distinct feeling he’s a few years younger than me, but cute nevertheless. I like his dark blond hair. And his smile. There’s something very…intriguing about the fact that he doesn’t say much. I like that.

  I like it a lot.

  Once we go our separate ways inside the reception tent, I’m dazzled by the décor. There are tiny white twinkling lights everywhere, giving the entire tent area a fairytale glow. Lush greenery and deep red roses are on every available open surface, and just by seeing the flowers alone I know a lot of money was spent on this reception. No surprise, considering Candice’s family is extremely wealthy, and then they go and save money by having everything here at the farm.

  Currently the bride, groom and wedding party are outside taking photos. I can’t wait to give my friend a hug and congratulate her. She was beaming throughout the entire ceremony, she was so happy.

  What’s that like, finding someone who makes you smile so much your face hurts? I don’t have a clue. Though at one point, I believed I did.

  I find a gorgeous table not too far from the entry, where we can sign our name on a giant matte frame that I assume they’ll use for a wedding photo of the two of them. There’s also a seating chart on display. Which is really just a list of the guests written in perfect calligraphy with a number by their name. I spot my number—eight.

  “Amelia! There you are.” I turn to find Stella standing in front of me, her boyfriend—our friend Caroline’s older brother—planted firmly by her side. They make a very attractive couple, especially when they’re decked out in wedding finery.

  “Hey guys,” I greet them. “Are you at table eight?”

  “We’re at ten,” Stella answers, smiling up at Carter, who’s watching her as if she can walk on water. I can’t help the stab of envy that hits me right in the heart. “Wasn’t the wedding gorgeous? Only Candice would get married at a tree farm.”

  “Well, her husband does actually own the tree farm,” I remind her, making them both laugh. “What? It’s not that funny. It’s the truth.”

  Stella removes herself from Carter’s side and comes a little closer to me, her voice dropping. “Where’s your Jonesie?”

  I make a face. I completely forgot all about the mysterious Jonesie. Sort of. “I have no idea.”

  Come on. How in the world is Candice supposed to pair me up with this guy when she’s got an entire reception to take care of and hundreds of people to talk to? This meeting with Jonesie is never going to happen. Though maybe we’ll talk to each other since we’re supposed to be at the same table—if he shows up.

  Oh dear. That kind of freaks me out.

  “I suppose you’ll meet him at your table,” Stella says like she’s read my mind. “We’re going to the bar. Want to come with?”

  “Please,” I say. I definitely need a drink to get through this evening. Weddings are kind of depressing to me. My ex and I talked about getting married. Of course we did. We were together for a couple of years. At one point, I believed I’d be the first of my friends to be married.

  Now, I’m the furthest thing from married, and while I’m not as torn up over it as I was when I went to Caroline and Alex’s wedding, I’m still a little melancholy. The entire moment seems bittersweet. To have what you thought was a solid relationship with a man, at one point so confident it would last forever, only for your relationship to completely fall apart, is very distressing.

  It leaves you unanchored. Drifting.

  That’s how I
feel. Right now.

  I make small talk with Stella and Carter while we wait in line at the bar. Eleanor joins us, a permanent smile fixed on her face thanks to the big guy at her side. Mitch is intimidating when you first meet him, but he’s actually a big ol’ teddy bear who can never seem to tear his gaze from his girlfriend.

  It’s rather sweet. Even though the look in his eyes is more like he wants to tear her clothes off versus cherish her for life.

  Once we have our drinks, we make way to our tables, splitting up when I stop at number eight. None of my friends are sitting with me, which is kind of annoying. Did Candice do that on purpose? Strand me all alone so I would have no choice but to turn to this Jonesie guy for company? If so, that was very sneaky of her.

  Arriving at my table, I sit down, smiling at the lovey-dovey couple sitting across from me. They murmur their hellos before dipping their heads close together, speaking in low tones I can’t hear. Currently, they’re the only other ones at the table.

  No Jonesie to be found.

  I take a big swig of my drink, needing the liquid courage to calm my nerves. Feeling jittery, I open my small black velvet purse to check my phone. Of course, no notifications. Everyone I know and care about, minus my family, is here at this reception right now, and there’s no reason they want to text me or send a funny meme via Instagram DMs. They’re having fun. With their significant others.

  Oooh boy. Sounds like a pity party of one is about to go into full effect.

  “No frickin’ way.”

  I quickly glance up at the sound of the vaguely familiar male voice to find Isaac standing in front of me, his hands gripping the back of the chair next to mine.

  “Why did you say that?” I ask him irritably. I clear my throat. Do my best to rearrange my face so I don’t scowl. I need to quit being so sensitive. There’s nothing wrong with this guy. As a matter of fact, he’s very attractive. Especially all dressed up.

  “You at this table?” He tips his blond head toward me and I can’t help but smile.

  “I am. Are you at table eight too?” Hope flutters in my chest and I tell it to get lost. I don’t need to feel fluttery around this man. Boy. Whatever I should call him. He’s young. Younger than me, I’d almost bet on it.

  He nods. “Mind if I sit next to you?”

  “Please do,” I say without hesitation. Though that means nothing. I’m just being polite. And it’s nice to see a somewhat familiar face at my table. I was feeling very alone…

  And now I don’t.

  Isaac pulls the chair out and settles in, his arm brushing against mine, he’s sitting so close. A shiver steals over me and I exhale a quiet, shaky breath. It’s been a while since I’ve spent any one-on-one time with a man and I’m just…sensitive. Yes, that’s it.

  “You look pretty,” he says, his eyes trailing over me appreciatively.

  My skin grows warm from his compliment. The way he looks at me. “Thank you. You clean up nice as well.”

  He sits up straighter. “Why, thank you. Not every day I get to dress like this.”

  Since he so blatantly checked me out, I return the favor. He has on black pants and a dark gray button-up shirt, with a black tie. He’s completely clean shaven and though his longish hair is a bit mussed, it’s a good look for him.

  A very good look for him.

  “Mostly jeans and sweatshirts working around here, I assume?” I ask, recalling the outfit I saw him in when he dropped off our tree.

  Not that he looked bad in those jeans. I happened to notice his butt. He has a nice one. He has a nice everything, truth be told.

  Look at me. I haven’t enjoyed male company in so long, I’m finding myself drawn to a man who I have nothing in common with except vicinity.

  “Yeah. There’s not much reason to ever dress up, you know?” He shrugs. “Just going to make a mess of yourself anyway.”

  “You like working at the tree farm?” I ask, taking a sip of my drink. Another couple joins us at our table and we all say polite hellos before I turn my attention back to Isaac.

  To find him already watching me, those pretty blue eyes of his warm and inviting. Perhaps too inviting. “I do. I love it. I’ve been here over three years. Started the summer after I graduated high school.”

  That makes him twenty-one. I’m twenty-six. Five years older than him. My ex was a year older than me. I’m not a cougar, but come on. I have no business being with a man who was only thirteen when I graduated high school. He was still in middle school, for God’s sake.

  “It was just a part-time job at first,” Isaac continues. “I thought about leaving a bunch of times, but after a while, I felt like I found my…place.”

  I frown, not understanding. “What do you mean?”

  “I like working outside. Working the land. Hauling heavy shit around—whoops, excuse me.” His cheeks actually turn ruddy, I assume from him saying shit. “I don’t want to be cooped up in an office or building or whatever, wearing a suit and tie every day. I don’t mind dressing up every once in a while, but this isn’t my scene. I’d much rather be outside, breathing in the fresh air.”

  Easy for him to say this. He’s still young and doesn’t have to make any hard or fast decisions about his future yet. Plus, I’m sure his destiny hasn’t been planned for him. By the time I was aware, I knew I was supposed to help take over the family jewelry business someday. My brother and I are fully expected to run it. We were always told it was our future, and when we tried to rebel against that—me mostly, never Palmer—I was gently discouraged from pursuing another career.

  Lee’s Fine Jewelers is my future. My destiny. I’m a little envious of Isaac’s choices. He can do whatever he wants.

  While I’m stuck with something that was never my choice in the first place.

  “I suppose I can’t blame you for feeling that way,” I say softly. “If you have the freedom to do what you want, then you should go for it. Very rarely do our jobs bring us joy.”

  “Mine does,” he says without hesitation. “Does yours?”

  I turn my head so our gazes meet. Lock. His eyes are pale blue. Like the sky in the early spring. When it’s bright and full of promise. That’s what his eyes are telling me.

  That he’s bright.

  And full of promise.

  “It does,” I finally admit. “Sometimes.”

  He frowns, his golden brown eyebrows furrowing. “Only sometimes? Isn’t it your family business? I see the Sullivans work together every day, and they seem to love it.”

  And aren’t they the lucky ones?

  “It’s not that I hate my job,” I tell Isaac, my brain searching for the right words to say. “It’s just…a job. It’s not my passion. I’ve been told since I was a little girl that I would run the family business someday. I started working in the store when I was eight.”

  He chuckles. “Eight?”

  I nod. “I helped clean at night. I wielded a bottle of Windex at those glass display cases like a weapon and scrubbed them clean as if I were doing battle.”

  His smile stays firmly in place. “I bet you were a cute kid.”

  I shrug. “I suppose.”

  “How long has your family owned the business?” he asks.

  “Over thirty years. Since before I was born,” I answer.

  “And how old are you? Do you mind my asking?” I can see the curiosity written all over his face. I walked right into that one.

  “Twenty-six.”

  He grins. “So you’re an older woman.”

  “Not that it matters in friendship, am I right?” I raise a brow in challenge.

  Isaac watches me, and I can tell he’s trying to come up with something to say. Or more like, the right thing to say. I wait in breathless anticipation, curious.

  “Amelia. I am not having friendly feelings toward you at all.” He leans in close, his mouth right by my ear. “Has anyone ever told you how gorgeous you are?”

  A jolt runs through me at his words, the sexy tone of his v
oice. Is it the alcohol that’s made him so bold? Or is Isaac just that confident, and has no qualms in saying what he wants?

  I can’t help but angle my head toward his, our mouths terribly close. Kissing close. I can smell him. The faint scent of male cologne, mixed with that fresh pine smell. The sudden thought of pressing my face to his warm neck and inhaling him flashes in my brain, and I shove it away.

  “Not lately,” I answer him, my voice almost a whisper.

  “Well, you are. And I’m sure you’re thinking what’s a kid like me doing, going for a hot-as-hell woman like you. But if I don’t shoot my shot now, when will I ever?” He reaches out, tangling his fingers in my hair and gently pushing it away from my face. I inhale sharply, secretly wishing he would touch me again.

  I say nothing in response. It’s as if I’ve lost all ability to speak.

  “Or it could just be a night of harmless flirting and that’s it,” he continues. “Never to see each other again. What do you say?”

  I gape at him, at a complete loss for words. Oh God.

  What do I say?

  Eight

  Isaac

  I wait on pins and needles for Amelia to say something, worried she’s going to tell me to fuck off, yet hopeful she’s going to agree with me. Doesn’t help, that she’s sitting so close and smelling so good, looking at me like I’ve lost my damn mind. Her glossy lips are parted, and I can practically see the cogs turning in her brain.

  Should she? Or shouldn’t she? That’s the debate going on in her head.

  “I don’t know—” she starts, but her words are cut off.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome the couple we’re here celebrating tonight, Mr. and Mrs. Sullivan!” the DJ roars into his mic.

  Everyone applauds their approval as Charlie and Candice make their way to the center of the dancefloor hand in hand. Charlie lifts his hand in greeting. Candice grins and waves her bouquet back and forth above her head, right before she rises up and Charlie bends his head down, their lips meeting in a lingering kiss.