Blind Date (Dating Series Book 7)

by Monica Murphy

  A collective “aww” rises from the crowd, including Amelia, who’s currently resting her hand against her chest.

  I’m grateful for the DJ’s announcement. I think she was about to turn me down. This delay could work in my favor. Maybe I should reel back the compliments. But like I said, when am I ever going to get the chance to shoot my shot with Miss Amelia Lee? I will probably never see her again unless I make a reappearance in her family’s jewelry store, and then she’ll just think I’m a nuisance. Or worse, a stalker.

  Yeah. No. Tonight, right now, this is it.

  “They look so happy,” Amelia says on a sigh.

  “They do,” I agree, not looking at the happily married couple at all. Instead, my gaze lingers on Amelia’s pretty face. Her red, glossy mouth is twisting me up inside, and I normally don’t go for that sort of thing. I don’t normally go for classy, older-than-me-by-five-years women either, so I guess tonight is a night full of surprises.

  Once Charlie and Candice appear, the reception is on. Within minutes of the wedding party being seated, servers appear in the tent, wielding giant trays covered with salad plates. We’re served almost immediately, and I excuse myself to grab a beer and another drink for Amelia, because I’m a gentleman like that.

  “Where you sitting at, Jonesie?” asks Dave, one of the tree farm managers, who’s standing in line at the bar as well. “Did you bring a date?”

  I make a face. I really hate that they still call me Jonesie. It’s a habit I haven’t been able to get them to break, no matter how hard I try. “I’m a single man tonight,” I tell him. “And I’m at table eight.”

  “How’d you get so lucky? We’re at table fifty-two,” he says, his eyes dancing. I can only assume his joking. No way are there fifty-two tables under this tent.

  “Sounds like you won’t get your salad until tomorrow morning,” I say, my expression serious. “That sucks.”

  “I know, right? Oh well. You have fun sitting with the fancy people,” Dave says, moving up to the bartender and giving her his order.

  I glance around the tent, my gaze scanning the crowded tables. There are a hell of a lot of people here, and I don’t know most of them. Dave is a familiar face. So are the bride and groom, of course, and the rest of the Sullivan family. Besides them and Amelia, I feel like I don’t know a damn soul here.

  Once I grab myself a beer and another Tito’s and soda for Amelia, I make my way back to our table, settling her drink beside her before I slip back into my chair.

  “That didn’t take very long,” she says, setting her fork on the side of her finished salad plate.

  I take a look at my still untouched salad, wondering if I should eat it. I’m not anti-vegetable, but when it’s a bunch of colorful-looking lettuce and stuff, I know some of that shit could taste bitter. Why can’t they give us good ol’ fashioned iceberg for once? “The line wasn’t too bad.”

  She sips from her drink while I chug from my beer. I can feel her eyes on me, and I wonder what she sees. What she thinks. Am I just another chump? Or does she find me attractive? I think she’s hot. There’s something about her…she’s so perfect. I want to grab hold of her and mess her up. Run my hands through her hair. Run my hands over her clothes—

  “You’re not going to eat your salad?” she asks, her sweet voice pulling me from my thoughts.

  Eager to impress her, I set my beer down, grab a fork and start eating. It tastes pretty much like nothing so I just plow through it, growing hungrier with every forkful I shove into my mouth. With a few bites, I’m finished, dropping my fork onto the empty plate with a faint clatter.

  “Do you always do what you’re told?” she asks, amusement lacing her voice.

  I glance over at her to find she’s watching me, her lips curved into a barely there smile. “I aim to please,” I drawl with the quickest wink.

  Her cheeks turn pink and she looks away. Damn, she’s cute. The innuendo is strong between us tonight. I’ve had friends who’ve hooked up with chicks at weddings before, but I’ve never done it myself.

  I think tonight has the potential for a major hookup. If I can get Amelia completely on board.

  Is she the hookup type? I’m going to guess probably not. Will that deter me?

  Not really.

  Hey, the worst she can say is no.

  Salad plates are soon cleared and entrees are next to be brought out. We even got a choice on our invitations, and when I heard steak was on the menu, I chose the beef option. The thick-cut steak on my plate looks juicy, and my stomach starts growling the moment it’s set in front of me. There’s steamed vegetables and fancy potatoes on the dish as well, and I reach for my silverware, ready to dig in when Amelia makes a comment.

  “You look like you’re drooling,” she teases.

  “I’m hungry,” I tell her, not hesitating as I start carving into my steak. “Been working all day.”

  “Do you work out?”

  “Huh?” My mouth is already full of steak, and it is melt-like-butter delicious.

  “Do you go to the gym and work out?”

  “No, why would I? When I work out, it’s here on the farm.” I fork up another bite of steak and start chewing. “Don’t really need to lift weights or whatever if I’m hauling trees around all day long, right?”

  “Oh.” I swear I hear her swallow. What’s that about? I look at her to find her gaze locked on my arm as I keep sawing into my steak. “Your shirt is…kind of tight. Around the arms.”

  Ah. Thanks to hauling all those damn trees around, my arms have been looking pretty defined lately. I could say something cheesy about my guns—aka my biceps—but I keep it cool. “Hard work pays off.”

  “I’ll say,” she mutters under her breath.

  Making me smile.

  It’s like this for the entirety of dinner. We chat. Make vaguely suggestive, overly flirtatious conversation. Stare at each other a little too long a couple of times, which feels promising. I brush my hand against her arm as I speak. She touches my sleeve when she laughs. Her eyes become hooded as I tell her a silly story about the aggravated customer we dealt with a few days ago. She tells me a ridiculous story about a pissed off client at the jewelry store last Christmas, and I can’t stop staring at her lips when she talks.

  Some of the gloss has worn off, but they’re still red. And plump. Her upper lip is about the same size as her lower lip. Her perfect skin glows, I swear, and my fingers itch to touch her. Run my fingers along her cheek. Across her lips. Right before I—

  “Jonesie! There you are!”

  It’s Charlie, accompanied by Candice. They’ve been making the rounds once they finished eating, stopping by and talking to everyone at each table. He comes right up to me and slaps my shoulder lightly, a giant smile on his face. Swear this is the happiest I’ve seen my boss ever. “You look good,” he tells me.

  “So do you.” I smile up at him, my gaze then sliding over to Candice. “Congratulations, you two.”

  “Thank you.” She beams, then gathers Amelia by the shoulders and gives her a quick squeeze. “Are you having fun?” Candice asks her.

  “The wedding was beautiful. The food is delicious.” Amelia sends me a mysterious look. As if this is the first time she’s ever really seen me. “The company—interesting.”

  I rest a hand against my chest. “Your words wound me. I expected you to say fascinating. Amazing. Sexy as hell.”

  Candice bursts out laughing. Amelia’s lips twitch. Charlie slaps me on the shoulder. “Don’t come on too strong around Candice’s friends. You gotta keep that Jonesie mojo in check.”

  “Jonesie mojo?” Amelia starts laughing, shaking her head. “Really?”

  Now I am a little wounded. “Hey, I’ve got mojo.”

  “Plenty of it,” Charlie adds. “He gets all the chicks.”

  Candice elbows her husband in the chest, making him say, “Ow.”

  Amelia’s expression isn’t quite as friendly as it was a moment ago.

  Damn it.


  What changed? Charlie’s remark probably didn’t help matters.

  “We need to go, but we’ll talk later,” Candice tells Amelia, giving her a meaningful look before they make their way to the next couple at the table.

  “So hold on a minute,” Amelia says after they’re gone. “You’re Jonesie?”

  She says this like she already knows who I am. “Isaac Jones, at your service, ma’am.”

  Her lips part and she slowly shakes her head. “Did you know about this?”

  I frown. “Know about what?”

  “The blind date. The wedding blind date.”

  What the hell is she talking about? “I’m confused.”

  “You and me both.” She crosses her arms, her expression pouty. Beautiful. Can this woman ever look bad? Doubtful. “Were you in on this setup and trying to trick me?”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about. And I’m definitely not trying to trick you.” She sends me a look, one that says yeah right. She’s a touchy one. A little prickly.

  I like that about her.

  Amelia parts her lips, her expression fierce, and I prepare myself for the verbal blast I’m about to receive.

  “Okay, ladies and gentlemen, it’s time for the bouquet and garter toss! And because we’re polite, it’s ladies first, so come on up, ladies! Get ready to fight for that bouquet.”

  Thank God for the DJ. He put a stop to that speech. The relief that spreads through me is strong and I relax in my chair.

  “God, I hate wedding reception rituals,” Amelia mutters as she rises to her feet, tossing her cloth napkin on top of her plate. “Be right back,” she says cheerily, starting to make her way to the dance floor before she comes to a sudden stop, turns and stalks back to our table. “You should come with me.”

  She points at me, her expression just as fierce.

  Yikes.

  I make a face. “Ahh…”

  “Yes.” She nods, her voice firm. “Come on. Time for you to make a grab for the garter while I try to make a play for the bouquet.”

  Reluctantly, I rise to my feet, toss my own cloth napkin on top of my plate, and reluctantly make my way to the dancefloor, mumbling under my breath the entire time.

  Yeah. I hate wedding reception rituals too.

  Nine

  Amelia

  I don’t know why I’m fuming. Or why I accused Isaac of tricking me. From the way he just reacted, I’m pretty sure he’s completely innocent in this. I suppose he didn’t know about Candice’s blind date plan. Or if he did know, he’s really good at faking it and pretending he didn’t have a clue.

  I’d rather believe he didn’t know. Then I won’t feel like I’ve been tricked.

  Of course, I’m the idiot who didn’t put two and two together. He works at the tree farm. He was invited to the wedding. He sat at my table. I should’ve known he was Jonesie. Yet I didn’t.

  I join my friends on the dancefloor, along with a smattering of other single women of a variety of ages. Including one woman who looks about ninety and a couple of teenagers.

  Bet the teenagers will get the bouquet. I’m sure that’ll annoy the crap out of Candice. I know she’s probably aiming for one of us.

  “Why are you up here?” I ask Stella when I spot her.

  “I’m not engaged or married.” She throws her hands up in the air. “But maybe this will help my luck.”

  When I see Eleanor walking toward us, I roll my eyes. “You shouldn’t be out here either. You’re already blissfully in love.”

  “There’s no ring on this finger. He can’t tell me what to do.” She wags her hand in my face, making me laugh.

  Kelsey joins us too, though she’s basically married to Theo. Originally, he was the guy who went on a blind date with Eleanor and eventually became her financial advisor. Kelsey went with on that same blind date with one of Theo’s best friends—and the date was an utter disaster. It was Theo and Kelsey who actually clicked, though, and now they’re happy. About to have a baby.

  “I used to hate this shit so much,” Kelsey mumbles, making me laugh. Which in turn makes her smile.

  “I used to love it when I was smug and supposedly happy in my relationship,” I tell her. “But now I’m single again and everyone expects me to be in hot pursuit of a new man.”

  “That’s kind of annoying,” Kelsey says with a frown. “If we’re putting too much pressure on you about the blind date, tell us.”

  “No, it’s all good. It’s been nice, talking to Isaac tonight,” I reassure her. “And I’m trying for that bouquet, so watch out. I’ve got pointy elbows. I might jab you in the face when I lunge for it.”

  There is no way I’m going to actually lunge for it. I don’t want the stupid bouquet.

  “Bring it on,” Kelsey says, pretending to already elbow me.

  “Okay, ladies, line up. Don’t be shy! Our bride Candice is ready to throw you the bouquet. Anyone you’re aiming for, Mrs. Sullivan?” the DJ asks.

  Candice points at Stella. “That one!”

  Everyone claps and yells. Stella hops up and down on her sky-high heels and cheers. Like she’s about to enter a boxing ring. I can’t stop laughing.

  “All right then, here we go! You ready?” The DJ glances over at us and we all roar our approval. We are so ready. “Let’s do this on the count of three. One!”

  I take a step back, letting Kelsey get in front of me.

  “Two!”

  Glancing over my shoulder, I spot Isaac standing on the edge of the dancefloor, watching me. He smiles. I smile back, facing forward once more as the tingles wash over my skin.

  “Three! Get it, ladies!”

  It’s a mad rush of arms up and noises of disappointment when the bouquet flies over their heads. It lands…

  Straight into my arms.

  What the hell?

  “OH MY GOD!” Eleanor grabs my arm and holds it up in victory. “Amelia caught it! Yay!”

  My friends crowd around me with offers of congratulations and a few grumbles over not catching it. The DJ is saying something into the mic, but I can’t make it out. I’m too surrounded by women who are all over me. Women who are my friends.

  Women I love dearly.

  I hug them all, and we’re laughing and whooping it up like a bunch of overexcited toddlers, but I’m too happy to care. So what if I look ridiculous. I caught the bouquet! My friends love and support me no matter what!

  I’ve never felt so cared for.

  “But I really didn’t want it,” I say once they’ve pulled away from me. I glance down at the gorgeous bouquet, the deep red roses that are so soft, they look like velvet. I touch the edge of one, bring up the bouquet to my nose so I can inhale the delicious scent. “Oh my God, it’s beautiful. And they smell amazing.”

  “Uh huh,” Eleanor says, and I can hear the doubt in her voice, though I can also see that her eyes are twinkling with amusement. “Sure you didn’t want it.”

  “Now it’s time for the guys! Get on up here, gentlemen! And you’re going nowhere, Mrs. Sullivan. Your mister has to take the garter off first!” the DJ announces.

  We go to the edge of the dancefloor as all the single men make their way out there, led by Charlie. He heads straight for Candice, wraps her up in a big hug and a deep kiss, leaving Candice standing there with very red cheeks and her hand on her head. Like she needs to keep it there or her head is going to fly off.

  Adorable.

  I clutch the bouquet tight while someone brings out a chair and Candice sets her foot on the seat. Charlie slowly lifts up the skirt of her wedding dress, exposing her bent leg, and the delicate pale blue garter wrapped around her slender thigh. He sends his bride a seductive look, then tugs the scrap of fabric down her thigh, over her knee, along her calf, before slipping it off. He turns to face the guys, twirling the garter around his index finger and grinning like a mad man.

  You can just feel the happiness radiating off the newly married couple, and it makes my heart ache with long
ing.

  I want that.

  Someday.

  “All right, men. Line up and get ready to grab that garter! You know the myth that accompanies these rituals, am I right? Whoever catches the bouquet and garter, they’re the next to marry.”

  Please. That is so not going to happen. Stella will be the next one to get married in our friend group. Actually, Sarah is the one who’ll walk down the aisle next, considering she’s currently wearing a giant rock on her finger. Thanks to her fiancé, Jared, who just so happens to be the brother of the bride.

  I’m still wallowing in the aftermath of ending my toxic relationship. Marriage is the last thing on my mind.

  “Are you ready?” the DJ asks. All the guys shout their agreement. “On the count of three! One!”

  “Carter better get it,” Stella grumbles.

  “Two!”

  “No way. It’ll be Mitch. He catches footballs for a freaking living,” Eleanor stresses.

  “Three!”

  The men are like ancient warriors battling it out on the dancefloor for that stupid scrap of lace and satin. I watch in horror as they all seem to tackle each other—save for the big burly guy who happens to be the only professional catcher out there. I’m guessing he didn’t want to hurt anyone since he’s a giant who could do permanent damage to the average man.

  “Yes! I caught it!”

  My eyes widen when I hear the familiar voice. See the familiar man standing in the center of the rest of them. I didn’t realize Isaac was so tall compared to the rest of the men here. And his shirt is clinging to his back and shoulders almost lovingly as he holds the garter above his head in one hand, grinning like he just won the heavyweight champion of the world.

  I can’t help myself. I burst out laughing.

  Of course he caught it. And he’s turning toward me with that triumphant smile. Our eyes meet and I slowly shake my head, still laughing. He nods toward the bouquet clutched in my hand, then tilts his head to the side, in the universal gesture that says, come here.