His Personal Relationship Manager (Dating by Design Book 1)

by Jennifer Peel

  “Don’t worry, I won’t disappoint you. Now let’s get out of here.”

  He still insisted on getting my door. I didn’t make a fuss about it. There were worse things than being a gentleman.

  I placed my smoothie in the cup holder nearest my seat. It went right next to his almost gone mango smoothie.

  “Are you still hungry?” he asked as we drove out of my parking lot.

  “I’m good, thanks. So what kind of furniture are you looking to get?”

  “I would like to start with the great room and the dining room.”

  “Are you partial to any color scheme?”

  He barely glanced my way. “Did I mention I was a guy?”

  “So, no preference?” I laughed.

  “Your place looks good. I could probably be into something like that.”

  “We’ll take a look and see what kind of color scheme you already have going with your flooring and wall color.”

  “The walls are the basic beige you get with new homes.”

  “Did you want to change that?” I asked.

  He leaned forward slightly and his happy eyes met mine in the rearview mirror. “Are you offering to help me paint?”

  “How did you get that out of my question?”

  “I’m pretty sure it sounded like an offer.”

  “I’m not saying I will help you, but if you want to paint, now would be the time do it; while your house is still empty.”

  “That really sounded like an offer.”

  “Wow. You’re really pushing it.”

  “What if I throw in Canadian bacon and pineapple pizza?”

  “Do I get to pay for it?” I teased.

  “Heck, no.”

  “Then I don’t know.”

  “Let me get this straight, if you pay for the pizza, you’ll help me?”

  “Sounds kind of backwards, I guess.”

  “I would say so.”

  “The question is, who will do the taping?” I asked.

  He chuckled. “I take it you don’t like to.”

  “Not at all.” I enjoyed painting, but taping was the worst.

  “So, we have a deal? I tape, buy the pizza, and you help me?”

  “Who cleans up?” I asked in return.

  “Zander?” he teased.

  “Perfect.”

  His place was only about twenty minutes from my condo. It was in a nice area. Not as nice as the model home, but definitely upper middle-class. The homes in his neighborhood were all decent sized, two-story brick homes. The neighborhood screamed family friendly. It had a nice park, and the elementary school was nearby. It seemed like an odd choice for a single man who wasn’t looking for a serious relationship, but who was I to judge?

  Jason’s house sat on the edge of a cul-de-sac and had a long driveway. He drove up it, and then into his attached three-car garage. The garage was huge and mainly empty, except for a few boxes, a tool box, and a garbage can. The outside of the house was rather nice, from the quick glimpse I caught on the way in. It was little higher up than the houses next to it. It had a charming front porch that begged to have a porch swing and plants hanging from it. Several gray brick steps led up to the porch and the front door. The outside had me anxious to see the inside.

  He led me through his laundry room and I was impressed from the get-go. He had a nicer washer and dryer than me, not to mention the cabinet and counter space. I had a tiny closet where my stackable set resided. “Can I come and do laundry here?” I asked in jest.

  He turned and grinned. “Absolutely. You’re welcome here anytime.”

  “Do you offer folding services, too?” I hated folding my laundry.

  He chuckled at me.

  His house had that new house smell. It was one of my favorite scents.

  He stood in the middle of his great room and announced. “Well, this is my home.”

  I looked around and I was a tad jealous, and maybe half in love with it. “It’s beautiful. Is this one of your designs, too?”

  “I can’t take the credit for it.”

  From what I saw, the whole house had dark mahogany wood floors. The great room touted a gorgeous stone fireplace with built-ins surrounding it. The room was framed on one end with three large side-by-side windows framed by thick off-white molding. The room was warm and inviting. Or at least it would have been, had it been furnished with more than his pleather recliner and a television that sat in one of the built-ins.

  “You can take credit for choosing it,” I reminded him.

  “I suppose so.”

  I walked toward the windows. I loved the feel of the sun’s warmth. The view was his neighbor’s home. “How do you feel about curtains or blinds?” I asked.

  He joined me at the window and looked down at me. He always seemed to be smiling. “Probably a good idea.”

  “I suppose you need help with that, too?”

  “How did you know?”

  “Lucky guess. It looks like we have a lot to do, so we’d better get started.”

  “What should we do first?” he asked.

  “Let’s measure the room and windows and we’ll go from there.”

  He rested his hand on my shoulder. “Thank you, Kenadie.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  “By the way, you look great today,” he said almost offhandedly.

  “Yeah, I really rock jeans and t-shirts.”

  “Yes, you do.”

  I nudged him with my shoulder. “You don’t need to suck up to me. I already said I would help you.”

  “You need to learn how to take a compliment.”

  “Where’s your tape measure?” I asked in response. I wasn’t sure how to take him or his compliments.

  “I’ll be right back.”

  While he trotted off to get his manly tape measure out of the garage, I looked around his house a little more carefully. The kitchen was off the great room and only divided by partial wall, so you could see part of the kitchen from the great room. I liked it. It was different, but aesthetically pleasing. I particularly loved the eating area that sat between the two rooms. It also had a wall of windows. The whole house was light and warm. He had state-of-the-art appliances in the kitchen, complete with a double oven. Maybe I would cook and do my laundry here.

  Jason walked in and found me ogling his kitchen. “You like what you see?”

  “Uh, yeah. Do they have any more of these models available?”

  “Not in this neighborhood.”

  “Oh, well. Shall we start measuring?”

  “I like you,” he said out of the blue.

  I tilted my head and grinned. “I like you, too.”

  He tapped my nose. “I’m glad.”

  I was, too. It was weird, but he made me feel like everything was right in the world. I wasn’t sure why or how that was even possible, but there was something about him.

  We spent the next hour measuring. It took that long because he was a playful kind of guy and he talked a lot. Not in a bad way at all. I liked his stories, especially the ones that involved my moronic best friend. They all ended up the same, with Zander half-naked and drunk. The only thing that changed was which half.

  “Why did you put up with him?” I asked.

  “Because when he wasn’t doing stupid things, he was a class act. He got good grades, he’s neat and clean, and he always did his share. You don’t find a lot of college roommates like that.”

  “Believe me, I know. I had a crazy cat girl for a roommate my freshman year. We had no idea she had a cat until our dorm was filled with this wretched smell. The creepiest part was, she was stealing our panties as well.”

  Jason’s wide eyes looked my way from across the room. He was at one end of the tape measure and I was at the other. “Are you serious?”

  “I wish I weren’t. My momma had me moved out of there by the next day.”

  “That’s even worse than one of my roommates who played video games naked in his room a good portion of each day.”


  “Why are people so odd?” I asked.

  “Maybe we seem weird to them.”

  “You’re probably right.”

  He paused and looked at me thoughtfully. “It’s nice to be around a woman who says that.”

  “Do you have a habit of being wrong?” I teased.

  “I have a habit of picking the wrong women.”

  “Is that why you wanted to try Binary Search?”

  “Something like that,” he responded.

  “I’ll try and make sure you get someone who knows you’re right from time to time.”

  “I’m going to hold you to that, Kenadie Marshall.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Furniture shopping with Jason meant literally sitting and/or laying on every piece in the store. He was serious about comfort. Not that I blamed him, but as a picky woman, looks played a bigger part for me. He had me trying out the furniture as well. I was like his “dummy” date. With every couch, I had to sit next to him so he could put his arm around me to see how comfortable it felt.

  I did draw the line, though.

  The first sectional that caught Jason’s eye was a poofy leather monstrosity. It looked like it would seat fifteen comfortably. He was in love. He lay across the thing like he was at home. “Kenadie, come lie down next to me and let me see if I can hold you comfortably.”

  “You’re kidding, right?”

  “No. I need to see if this is couple-friendly.”

  I shook my head. “Believe me, it is.”

  “As my PRM you should realize the importance of this test.”

  “That’s a negative.”

  He sat up and laughed at me. “Well, if my date falls off the couch, I’m holding you responsible.”

  “I’ll refund your money if that happens. Oh, wait. You’re not paying me.” I smiled wickedly.

  “You’re a cruel woman, Kenadie.”

  “I do my best.”

  “But, seriously, what do you think of the couch?” he asked.

  I could tell he would have purchased it in a second, but it didn’t really fit the look and feel of his home, and it would have looked awkward in his great room. “Well, it wouldn’t be my first choice, but the most important thing is that you love it.”

  He smiled with his eyes. “I guess we better keep on looking then.”

  We—I mean he—eventually settled on a lovely three-piece set we found at the fourth store. The couch was camel-colored with clean lines. Not poofy, but firm and comfy. The two accent chairs were patterned with hints of browns, reds, and copper. Very manly. In addition, he bought a coffee table, since he needed a place to rest his feet and set his dinner. He also purchased a beautiful, three-pedestal farmhouse dining room table with benches. I wasn’t sure it was the best fit for his house, but he liked the idea of having a glorified picnic table in his dining area. He was a big fan of the outdoors and picnics.

  I took several pictures with my phone so we could find the perfect paint at the hardware store.

  By the time we left the last furniture store, it was dinner time.

  “Where do you want to eat?” he asked as we walked toward his Jeep.

  “Are you sure you don’t want to take me home? We can go to the hardware store another day.”

  His furniture wouldn’t be delivered for another two weeks, so there was plenty of time to paint.

  “Heck, no. We’re just getting started.”

  “You call nine hours just getting started?”

  He opened my door and smiled at me. “Has it really been that long? Today really seemed to breeze by.”

  I felt the same way, too.

  “Do you want to go home?” he asked.

  I thought for a moment, and I could honestly say no. That was an unusual feeling for me. I was a total homebody. I shook my head no.

  His face lit up.

  I wanted to be happy like him.

  “So food first then. I’m starving. That salad place we went to for lunch wasn’t very filling,” Jason half-complained.

  “But you have to admit, that was the best lemon-basil shrimp salad you’ve ever had.”

  “It’s the only lemon-basil shrimp salad I’ve ever had.” His reply oozed sarcasm.

  “Then it was the best,” I replied as I climbed into his Jeep.

  He shut the door while laughing. He jogged around to his side and smoothly slid into his car. “How do you feel about Italian?” he asked.

  “It’s always a good choice.”

  “You know what else is a good choice?”

  “What’s that?”

  “Letting me buy you dinner.”

  “I don’t think so.” I had refused to let him buy my lunch, which had ruffled his feathers.

  He turned the ignition on his Jeep. I could see the lines on his forehead scrunch together in an irritated sort of way. “You’ve spent your whole day helping me. It’s the least I can do.”

  “I spent an enjoyable day shopping with someone else’s money. And I didn’t agree to help you so you would buy me dinner.”

  “I would never accuse you of that. I just want to do something nice for you. This is what friends do.”

  “I don’t even let Zander do things like this for me.”

  “Zander hasn’t tried hard enough then.”

  “Why does it bother you so much that I want to pay my own way?” I asked him.

  He thought for a moment as he drove toward the onramp to the highway. “I hope this doesn’t sound like I’m a male chauvinist, because I’m not. I’m amazed by women. They are the better of the two sexes, hands down. And so maybe that’s why I feel like this is the least I can do for you. Does that make sense?”

  “It does, but it’s important for me to maintain my independence.”

  “How does me buying you dinner infringe upon that?”

  I sighed in frustration. Not out of being frustrated with him, but because I had conflicting emotions. I wanted to not have this discussion all while wanting to open up to him. It was unsettling.

  He leaned forward slightly and glanced at me through the rearview mirror. Could anyone look more understanding than him?

  “Jason, after Brian left me, it made me realize what a fool I had been. Not just about him, but about several of my relationships. I came to the conclusion that it was me that was the problem. I couldn’t be trusted, so I’ve tried my hardest to rely only on myself. Does that make sense?”

  He took a moment to answer. I liked that about him. It was nice to be around a thoughtful person. He reminded me of Rick some.

  “It sounds like a lonely way to live.”

  “It can be at times.”

  “You know, we all make mistakes when it comes to relationships.”

  “I know that, but I knew better, and yet I still went ahead with it, only to be publicly humiliated. It kind of does something to you.” Why am I spilling my guts to him?

  “Well, whatever it did to you, I think you turned out all right.”

  I smiled at him and shook my head. “You barely know me.”

  He reached over and rested his hand on my knee. “I have a sixth sense about these things.”

  “Is that so?”

  “Yep. And I have a feeling that someday you’re going to let me buy you dinner.”

  “You know you already have.”

  “That didn’t count.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because you didn’t willingly let me pay.”

  I still didn’t let him pay that night, though I felt a little guilty about it because it seemed important to him. To make me feel even worse, our waitress looked offended on my behalf when I informed her we needed separate checks. We have such a double standard in our society when it comes to that. Don’t get me wrong, I’m all for chivalry in general, but the men shouldn’t be expected to always pay. I don’t think that’s fair.

  “You’re going to give me a reputation,” Jason accused me as we left the restaurant. His tone was light and playful, which made me feel be
tter. He had that effect on me.

  I also found myself smiling and laughing more than usual when I was around him. Take for instance when we walked into Home Depot. He spread his arms out, breathed in deeply, and announced, “I’ve arrived in the motherland. Do you smell that?” he asked.

  “Smell what?”

  “It smells like man stuff.”

  I took a whiff. “Smells like someone mowed the lawn.”

  “Yes, and they did it with power tools. Can’t you smell them?”

  “I guess you have to have a Y chromosome for that particular sensitivity.”

  He ruffled my hair some. “I love your sense of humor.”

  “I’ve been telling Zander I’m hilarious, but he never believes me.”

  He nudged me. “I don’t know if I’d say hilarious.”

  “Just for that, I’m suggesting bright purple walls.”

  “I like purple,” he teased.

  We headed to the paint department, which was packed with couples. Who knew picking out paint was the hot thing to do on Saturday night?

  “Maybe you can bring Liz here on one of your dates,” I suggested as we looked at paint samples.

  He shrugged. “I don’t want to give her the wrong idea.”

  “And what would that be?”

  He gazed down at me with a meaningful look. “If you allow a woman to have a say in how you decorate your place, that’s like telling her you want her to be a permanent fixture in your life.”

  “Or maybe she would be like me, and know you’re just asking a friend for help.”

  His brow crinkled and he turned from me. “Yeah.”

  For some reason, I felt like his mood shifted. I couldn’t understand why.

  “I think you should get several samples of colors you may like,” I suggested.

  “Why?”

  “Because choosing what looks good in the store doesn’t always work once you get it on your own walls. And it’s also good to make sure you like the way the color looks both in the sunlight and at night.”

  “If you say so.”

  “I do, but it’s completely up to you. This is your home.”

  He gave me a close-lipped smile. “Thank you, Kenadie.”

  “You don’t have to keep saying that.”

  “What if I want to?”

  “Then I suppose you can. And, by the way, you’re welcome.”