Blind Date (Dating Series Book 7)

by Monica Murphy

  I nod, mulling that word over in my mind. I’m about as nontoxic as it gets. I’m not one to suffer through drama. Most of the time I avoid it. I don’t like to argue or fight for no reason. It doesn’t take much to make me happy. I’m a simple guy.

  “Sounds like he was a real keeper,” I mutter when I can’t think of anything else to say.

  Amelia starts to laugh, covering her mouth with her hand and muting the noise, which is a damn shame.

  She has the prettiest laugh in the world.

  “He was awful,” she says once the laughter has died down. “I don’t know why I thought I wanted to marry him. Was I that down on myself that I was so willing to settle?”

  She sounds so damn sad. And this guy sounds like a complete asshole. “That’s some straight-up bullshit if you ask me.”

  “Oh?” Her eyes widen the slightest bit. She’s looking at me as if she doesn’t believe what I’m saying. This is probably how much the guy has warped her. “Why do you say that?”

  “Why wouldn’t a guy want you hanging out with your friends? When you’re in a relationship, you shouldn’t spend all of your time together. That’s the quickest path to boredom. What would you talk about? Don’t you think you’d get sick of each other?” I reach for my wine and take a big gulp, wincing as it goes down. I’m guessing it’s an acquired taste. I’d much rather have a beer.

  “Valid point,” she tells me, her voice soft, her expression thoughtful.

  “Being overly jealous and controlling gets you nowhere,” I continue, warming to the subject. “It just makes you look like an asshole.”

  Amelia raises her glass in the air. “Hear, hear,” she says before she takes a giant sip.

  I raise my glass as well and clink it against hers. “To assholes. May they stay out of our lives as much as possible.”

  “Amen,” she murmurs.

  I never tear my gaze away from hers as I take another swallow of wine, this one going down a little smoother. She seems pleased with how I reacted and I feel like I won the damn lottery. I said the right thing. And fuck all if I didn’t mean it too.

  I meant every damn word I said. I’m not the jealous type. Hell, if Amelia Lee was my girlfriend, I’d tell everyone I could that woman was mine. I’d be proud to show her off on my arm. I’d encourage her to go spend time with her friends, and ask her all about it the next day. That way when I want to go hang out with my friends, she won’t protest.

  “You really are exactly how you present yourself, aren’t you?” she says, her eyes glowing in the dim light of the restaurant.

  “What do you mean?”

  “No pretense. No trying to impress me or show off,” she answers.

  I sit up straighter. “I can show off if you want me to. Stop by the tree farm in the next couple of days and let me impress you with my strength.”

  Amelia laughs. “See, you only want to show off because I mentioned it to you. It never occurred to you that’s part of the mating ritual.”

  It’s my turn to laugh. “Mating ritual? Is that what we’re doing right now?”

  Her cheeks turn red and she waves a dismissive hand. “You know what I mean. You don’t feel the need to act like the big man in front of me. I like that about you.”

  “I’ve got a few big man traits,” I say, my voice low and the faintest bit pervy. I can’t help myself. I may be a nice guy, but I don’t want to seem like too much of a nice guy.

  She laughs even harder this time. “Ha! That was vaguely dirty.”

  “I meant it as completely dirty,” I tell her, wagging my eyebrows with an exaggerated leer. I chuckle at the look she sends me.

  The server chooses that moment to drop off our fried calamari at the table and we both make a grab for a piece, our fingers brushing against each other, causing a little spark to flare up—and that’s not caused by the food either. The calamari is hot, but I don’t care. I’m starving.

  I dunk the piece I just grabbed in the accompanying marinara sauce and take a bite, practically moaning aloud at first taste.

  “Fuckin’ delicious,” I murmur, my gaze finding hers. “I mean—”

  “You don’t have to watch your mouth for my sake,” she reassures, sounding amused. “I don’t mind the occasional f-bomb.”

  I swallow my bite of calamari before I speak. “You don’t seem much like the type to tolerate bad language.”

  “I can say fuck here and there.” She drops the word so casually I almost didn’t hear it.

  But I did, and my eyes are about to bug out of my head. “Amelia.”

  “What?” She wiggles in her chair, seemingly pleased with herself. “I’m allowed to curse. I find myself cursing more lately. He—my ex—didn’t like it when I cursed. Said it wasn’t ladylike.”

  I make a face. “This guy is a complete prick.”

  “Tell me all about it.” She rolls her eyes. “I need to stop talking about him.”

  “Yeah you do,” I readily agree.

  “He doesn’t need to be the third party in this date,” she goes on. “Fuck that guy.”

  I’m grinning now. Damn, she sounded ferocious.

  “I like it when a lady curses. The contradiction is what always gets me. Pretty and refined, yet with a filthy mouth,” I say, teasing her, though I’m also flirting, because damn.

  If elegant Amelia really does have a dirty mouth? That’s sexy as hell.

  “Pretty sure I can deliver,” she says, her lips curling into a secretive smile.

  “Really? I’d love to test that,” I say, taking my shot.

  “If you’re lucky…” She leans across the table, her expression turning sultry as she studies me. “Maybe you will.”

  Fourteen

  Amelia

  I was flirty with Isaac throughout the entire dinner. Maybe it was the wine. I consumed a lot of it. Far more than normal, and definitely far more than Isaac did. Or maybe it was the food. It was delicious. I can’t believe I’ve never ate at this restaurant before, but I’m so glad he suggested it.

  More than anything, though, I’m pretty sure it’s the company I’m keeping. I think Isaac is bringing this flirtatious mood out of me. The way he watched me so hungrily throughout dinner made me feel…beautiful. Alluring.

  Alive.

  My ex didn’t look at me like that. Did he in the beginning, when we first started dating? I don’t think so. If he did, I don’t remember.

  Isaac stares at me from across the table as if I’m the most beautiful woman on the planet and he’s just the lucky sucker who got to hang out with me for a few hours.

  That is so incredibly heady and addicting.

  It’s not just the way he looks at me, though. It’s his attitude. He’s so refreshing. The complete opposite of my ex, which is exactly what I need. Isaac might be young, but he’s smart and focused. He’s mentioned a few times before that he still doesn’t know what he wants to do with his life, and only a few days ago—heck, when I first met him—I found that a little off putting. I thought I wanted to be with a man who knows exactly what he wants, and already has a plan in place.

  Now I’m starting to realize it’s okay to be unsure. To change your mind. To not be so damn rigid all the time.

  Maybe that’s my problem. I can be rigid. Unyielding. I’ve been told that before. My parents are the same way. So is my brother. The majority of my family, even. We know what we want, and we know what to do. Once the plan, the goal is in place, it’s hard to deviate from our path.

  Spontaneous is not a word I would use to describe me, that’s for sure.

  “Hey,” Isaac says, his soft voice causing me to lift my head and find him already watching me. Our dinner plates are long gone and Isaac already paid for the meal. We’ve been lingering, making small talk. I’m reluctant to end the evening but I don’t quite know how to say it to him without sounding…desperate? “I feel like I lost you just now.”

  I blink at him, studying his handsome, earnest face. What would my family think, if I brought h
im home for Christmas dinner? Mother might like him. She did rave about how nice and accommodating he was when he brought the Christmas tree to the store. My father might not approve at first, but that’s only because he’s overprotective and wants the best for me.

  Would it be so bad, spending time with a guy like Isaac?

  Okay, I’m being ridiculous. I’m totally rushing things. I just got out of a serious relationship only a few months ago. I thought I was going to marry the guy, for God’s sake. And now here I am imagining bringing this guy to my family’s house for Christmas dinner?

  Clearly, I’m getting way ahead of myself.

  “Sorry,” I tell him when I realize he’s still waiting for me to say something.

  “Everything all right?” he asks quietly.

  “I was thinking,” I admit to him, my voice just as soft.

  His brows draw together. “What about?”

  “You. Me.” I decide to be completely honest. What’s the point in playing games and being coy? I have no issues with flirting, and we’ve been doing that all evening.

  Hiding my feelings, though? That gets me nowhere. I refuse to ever do that again when it comes to relationships. I did that enough with my ex, like I was afraid to tell him how I felt.

  “You and me, huh?” His lips kick up faintly. I think he likes the idea.

  So do I. Again, I’m getting way ahead of myself, but it’s like I can’t stop.

  “Yes,” I say with a firm nod. “The idea of us.”

  “As in you like the idea?” Those furrowed brows are now rising up his forehead. He seems hopeful.

  I know I’m feeling hopeful.

  “As I’ve mentioned before, you’re not my usual type,” I admit.

  “Same for you,” he returns quickly. “But that’s not really stopping me.”

  “It’s not stopping me either.”

  My confession sits between us as we stare at each other, and I get lost in his blue eyes for a moment. They seem darker than usual, or maybe that’s just the dim lighting in the restaurant. Slowly they start to sparkle, until he’s reaching across the table, his hand finding mine.

  “Let’s get out of here,” he says, the sexy low timbre of his voice sending a shiver down my spine.

  I say nothing. Instead, I give his hand a squeeze before I slip it from beneath his, reaching for my bag, which is sitting on the floor by my feet. He understands exactly what I’m doing and stands, waiting for me before we exit the restaurant together. The hostess calls out a cheerful goodbye, wishing us both a pleasant night, and I get the distinct feeling the night is going to be more than pleasant.

  Dare I think it could be exciting? Explosive?

  The moment we’re outside, the chilly night air washes over us, making my shoulders curl inward. The sweater I wore isn’t thick enough to ward off the cold temp and I’m eager to get to my car. Yet not eager whatsoever to leave Isaac.

  He rests his hand low, at the base of my spine, and his touch warms me. “Want me to walk you to your car?”

  I nod, turning toward him. “Where are you parked?”

  “Just over there.” He inclines his head across the street.

  “Maybe…” My voice drifts and I sink my teeth into my lower lip, cautious. No, I shouldn’t suggest that. What would he think? What if he says no?

  “Maybe what?” He touches my cheek, his roughened fingertips gliding across my skin. He has a man’s hands. Tough and hardworking. Not afraid to do anything. I like that about him. How strong he is. Solid. I don’t know him that well, but I’d go so far as to call him dependable.

  Who knew dependable could be so sexy?

  “Maybe you could—come over? To my apartment?” I’m squeaking like a little girl and I clear my throat, annoyed with myself.

  “You really want that?” His blue eyes are positively glowing right now, and he’s still touching me, his fingers in my hair now, stroking through the strands right behind my right ear. It feels so good, I’m leaning into him like a cat.

  I nod, my voice leaving me, my gaze never straying from his.

  “I can follow you,” he suggests, and I nod again, reaching out to rest my hand against the solid wall of his chest.

  “I’d like that,” I whisper.

  He removes his fingers from my hair and takes my hand. Without a word he leads me across the street to his truck and opens the passenger-side door for me like a gentleman. I climb inside, watching as he eagerly runs around the front of the truck and hops into the driver’s seat, his expression serious as he starts the engine. “I’ll drive you to your car. Tell me where you’re parked.”

  I give him instructions, and within a minute, we’re at my car, parked not too far from the jewelry store. The Christmas tree gleams in the front window, the lights shut off since it’s a real tree and we don’t need to spark a fire, but Mother set a spotlight on it to shine all night long. It’s beautiful.

  Glorious.

  “Hey, the tree still looks good,” Isaac says when he notices it, sounding surprised.

  “My mother makes my father change out the water every single day. She said you recommended fresh water,” I tell Isaac.

  He glances over at me. “I did tell her that. I’m glad she’s taking such good care of it.”

  I have the image of him taking good care of me in bed and my heart starts to thump heavily against my chest. “Look, I don’t normally do this sort of thing, but…”

  “But what?” he asks when I don’t finish the sentence.

  “You don’t mind following me to my apartment?”

  Isaac nods. “If that’s what you still want.”

  “I want,” I whisper, a thrill moving through me when he leans in and brushes his lips against mine.

  I feel like I’ve been waiting for that kiss all evening. The moment our mouths connect, I want more. I slip my hand around his nape, keeping him there as I kiss him again. And again. He parts his lips, his tongue meeting mine, and the next thing I know, we’re wrapped around each other, full on making out in front of Lee’s Fine Jewelers.

  Oh, if my parents saw me doing this, they’d flip!

  We don’t come up for air for what feels like hours, but it can only be minutes. When he finally breaks the kiss first, he’s breathing hard. So am I. We stare at each other in wonder, our lips parted, my head spinning.

  “Let’s get out of here,” he says, pushing me away from him gently. “Go get in your car.”

  “Okay.” I lean in and kiss him quickly, making him groan when I pull away.

  “Go. Seriously. I don’t want to fuck you in my truck,” he admits, and oh my God, his words are like an aphrodisiac.

  And they’re like alarm bells that get me springing into action.

  I slip out of his truck and practically run to my car, struggling to find my keys in the bottomless depths of my purse. Once my fingers curl around them I’m frantically hitting the unlock button, a sigh leaving me when I settle into the driver’s seat and start the engine.

  Once I pull out onto the main road, I check my rearview mirror, sweet relief filling me.

  He’s right behind me. He follows me all the way to my apartment.

  I can barely contain my excitement.

  We make it back to my apartment in record time. It helps that it’s later in the evening and the streets are mostly empty so we don’t have to contend with traffic. I wait for him once we’re in the parking lot, standing by the back of my car and feeling like a fidgety bundle of nerves. I haven’t brought a guy to my apartment since I first moved in here. I haven’t been with anyone else since my ex.

  Tonight is a first in lots of ways. I’m trying to put no pressure on myself, but let’s be real. The pressure is on, even if it’s only self-inflicted. If Isaac and I end up doing…things, great. Fabulous. If not, that’s okay too.

  But I would really, really like to do a few things with him, which is pretty shocking. I don’t move this fast. I never have. Yet every time our lips connect, I feel scorched. The
man has a magical mouth.

  I would like to test that mouth in a variety of ways.

  “This is a nice complex,” he tells me as he approaches, all loose nonchalance. Looking as pleased as he can be too. I envy his easy confidence right now.

  “It’s newer,” I tell him, surprised I can make small talk and not sound like a nervous wreck. “And I’ve only been here a few months.”

  “Oh, right.” He nods. I’m sure he’s thinking about my ending the relationship with my ex recently. Does that freak him out? It might. It probably should. We kept talking about him, which was such a mistake. Talking about your ex when on a date with someone else. I’m a complete idiot.

  Plus, there’s the fact that Isaac is the first guy I’ve dated since we broke up. In the normal order of things, he would be my rebound.

  I glance to my left, studying him as he walks with me toward my apartment building. What a rebound I’ve chosen, though. The more I look at him, the handsomer he gets. I like the way he walks. Almost like a confident strut. And he’s so tall. Taller than Joe.

  Oh God! His name!

  I realize it doesn’t bother me as much as I thought it might. Will I endlessly compare Isaac to Joe? Maybe at first, though I shouldn’t. I really need to focus on the here and now, and not worry about my past. No need to make comparisons. That’s unfair to Isaac.

  We head up the stairs to my second-story apartment, both of us quiet. The moment we pause in front of the door and I’m about to unlock it with the keypad—this place has a high-tech security system since it’s so new—Isaac grabs hold of me, pulling me into his arms.

  “Your head is spinning,” he tells me, his gaze dropping to my mouth. Like he’s thinking about kissing it.

  “What are you talking about?” I rest my hand on top of my head, attempting a joke. “From what I can tell, it’s not moving.”

  He smiles before he leans in and kisses me, his mouth lingering. “You’re thinking too much.”

  I sag against him, resting my hands on his chest. They start exploring as if I can’t control myself, though I don’t let them wander too far. Not while we’re standing outside of my apartment. “I’m a little nervous.”