One Last First Date

by Kate O'Keeffe

  “Oh, my gosh, Cassie! Everything is falling into place,” Paige said, nodding her head, her eyes huge.

  “Oh, no. Don’t you start with that goddess stuff again,” Marissa warned.

  “It’s just what Cassie does now is so important for us,” Paige protested, shaking her head. “The fact that things are going so well with Parker, she won the account, and now she’s got this interview has to mean something.”

  “Yeah, it does: she’s a lucky cow.” Marissa nudged me, and we both laughed.

  “And it’ll be our turn next,” Paige added, a look of quiet confidence on her face. I noticed as she glanced over at Will. He was propping up the bar with a couple of my beat-your-chest, he-man team members, laughing at something one of them had grunted. Probably “Me make fire; you get woman.”

  She blushed when he looked over at us and raised his eyebrows.

  “Hey, didn’t you say Will helped you win this deal?” Marissa asked. She drained her glass.

  I looked back over at him. He was drinking a beer and laughing at something one of The Cavemen had said. “Yeah, he did.”

  “Why didn’t he boast about that, then, do you think?” Marissa asked.

  I wrinkled my brow. Why indeed?

  * * *

  I set my alarm early on Saturday morning, and it pulled me out of a deep, dreamless sleep with a terrible shock. I hit the “snooze” button and rolled over, determined to catch another few minutes of precious sleep when my eyes pinged open: I had my Pilates date with Parker this morning!

  Despite the chill of the morning air—and the fact it was dark and miserable outside—I threw my blankets off and bounded out of bed, heading straight to the bathroom. I had set my alarm extra early today to allow enough time to look super Pilates cute for Parker. And that took time, people! Sadly, I was not one of those women who rolled out of bed looking well rested and beautiful. Oh, no. My hair was usually flattened on one side of my face and all bird’s nest-y on the other, my eyes puffy, and for reasons known only to some mysterious force, my nose actually looked bigger. Still, it was nothing a shower, hair straighteners, and a touch of makeup couldn’t fix.

  Sometime later, I was dressed in my cutest top and yoga pants, my socks with special grips so I didn’t slip over and embarrass myself in front of Parker again, and sneakers. My hair was freshly straightened, my makeup perfect. I glanced in the mirror as I collected my keys from the kitchen counter. Yes. I looked just right.

  We’d arranged to meet at the Pilates studio a few minutes before the class. As I pulled up, I saw Parker, dressed in track pants, sneakers, and a sweatshirt, reading something on his phone outside the entrance. I jumped out of the car and walked over to him, my mat rolled up under my arm.

  “Good morning, handsome,” I chirped.

  He looked up from his phone, and his face broke into a wide grin. “Hey, Cassie.” He took me by the hands and pulled me in for a kiss.

  “Ready for this?”

  He shrugged. “How hard can it be?”

  I grinned. “You’ll see.”

  Once inside the studio, I greeted a few of the regulars and Parker and I found a spot toward the back of the room where I rolled out my mat.

  Parker looked at it down on the floor, concerned. “I didn’t bring one of those.”

  “No worries. I’ll get you one.” I wandered to the front of the class and picked him up one of the studio mats. I placed it next to mine.

  Parker crooked his finger. I took a step closer to him.

  “You look really cute in your Pilates gear,” he whispered in my ear with a smile.

  I blushed. “Thanks.”

  “So, what do we do?”

  “See the woman near the front? That’s Monica. She’s the instructor. She’ll get the music going, and then start the class.”

  “Music?”

  “Not jazz.” I laughed. “More regular stuff. You know, the sort of thing you’d hear on the radio.”

  Someone approached us. “Hi, Cassie. Who’s your friend?” It was Nancy, one of a gaggle of super fit, middle-aged, stay-at-home mothers.

  “Hi, Nancy. This is Parker. He’s my . . . ah . . .” Do I say boyfriend? Man of my dreams? Future husband? My tummy did a flip. Definitely can’t say the last two.

  In the end, I didn’t need to put a label on him—Parker did it for me. “Hi, Nancy.” Parker extended his hand. “I’m Cassie’s boyfriend.” He gave me a sideways glance and grinned at me.

  Heat radiated through my chest. I smiled so much my face could have cracked in two. I was Parker’s girlfriend. Parker’s girlfriend! We were Parker and Cassie. Cassie and Parker. I wondered what our celebrity couple name should be. Passie? Ah, no. Carker? Yeah, I’ll need to work on that.

  “Oh!” Nancy’s eyes got huge. “This is news. Cassie?”

  With great reluctance, I tore my eyes from Parker’s. “Umm, yes. Parker’s my boyfriend.” Like a magnet, my eyes were drawn immediately back to Parker’s now glowing face. He reached across and took my hand in his. It was warm and reassuring, adding to my bliss.

  Nancy clapped her hands together. “Well, don’t you two look a picture.”

  “What’s this?” One of the other gaggle’s interest had been piqued. Nicole, a larger woman with thighs of steel who could outdo us all with her impressive lower abdominals, joined our group.

  “This is Parker, Cassie’s new boyfriend,” Nancy declared.

  I knew I was blushing. I didn’t care.

  Nicole raised her bushy eyebrows, not-so-subtly sizing Parker up. “Well, you’re quite the strapping young man, aren’t you?”

  “Err, yes. I guess,” Parker replied with a laugh.

  I squeezed his hand.

  Nicole grabbed him by the upper arm. “Not bad. Do you work out?”

  “Yes, I do. I go to the gym three times a week, run, and play golf.”

  “Well, golf isn’t going to do that for you, honey,” Nicole scoffed. “What do you do for a living?”

  And so began what we would later refer to as The Great Interrogation of Parker. He held up well, answering their questions with aplomb, never once letting go of my hand. When Janice and Claire got in on the action, Parker began to look a little overwhelmed. And who could blame him? Four menopausal women poking and prodding him like he was a piece of prime cut steak, quizzing him mercilessly about me, about his life, about anything they wanted to know, really. At least no one had asked what his intentions were toward me, although they came pretty close.

  I was relieved for both of us when Monica addressed the class. “Hello, all. Welcome, welcome. Let’s all start with a few warm-up exercises, shall we? Get those bodies moving on this cold Saturday morning?”

  We went through a series of movements as Parker and I stole glances at one another, sharing a smile whenever our eyes met. It was a great feeling. The best! He was able to keep up with all the exercises, despite grinning his face off during the “bridge” position—in which you lie on your back with your feet by your butt and push your hips up into the air to work on those “buns”—and making me giggle. At one stage, Monica shot me a look—the first time that’d ever happened in all my years of coming to this class. But I didn’t care. I was having a wonderful time with Parker, my boyfriend, sharing something I loved with him.

  And, what’s more, I didn’t fall over, say something wrong, or come across as an idiot. I was poised and in control the whole time. Other than the giggle, that is. But that was neither here nor there.

  Parker, on the other hand, struggled through the more advanced abdominal section, flopping in a heap on his mat. I persisted, shooting him a supportive smile, all the while enjoying the feeling I was better at something than him. Paige was right; Pilates was a great idea.

  Afterwards, Parker suggested we go to Alessandro’s for brunch. Although I’ve never been a fan of its high ceilings, endless chrome and glass—too cold and sterile for my liking—I agreed, and we drove the short distance into the city.

  Al
essandro’s was heaving, and we were lucky to get a small table near the huge coffee machine, which was in constant use, squirting and steaming and generally making a racket. We both chose eggs benedict, coffee, and juice. I smiled to myself, another thing we had in common.

  “So, how did you like your first Pilates session?” I asked between bites. “God, this is good!”

  “I told you! You’ll learn to love Alessandro’s, trust me.”

  I scanned the café, my mouth full of the delicious combination of egg, ham, and hollandaise. It was a very chic place and clearly popular with a mixture of the city’s well-to-dos and hipsters alike. I could see why Parker liked it. But it wasn’t the Cozy Cottage.

  “Pilates was all right,” Parker said, bringing my attention back to him. “Those ab exercises were a little more intense than I’d expected. I do crunches at the gym, but not hundreds with my legs flailing about in the air like an ant.”

  I laughed. “Your legs didn’t flail. You looked good.” My eye twitched as an image of him in a collapsed heap on the mat sprung into my head.

  “You were watching me, were you?” He smiled, looking at me through his lashes.

  “Maybe a little.” I smiled back. We were doing a lot of smiling at each other today. It was beyond wonderful.

  Oh, yes. I could get used to being Parker Hamilton’s girlfriend.

  Chapter 9

  I SPENT THE NEXT week in Parker Bliss Mode, now officially my favorite brain setting, the one I hoped would stick around for the rest of my life. And it really was spectacular. We talked and kissed, strolled through the park, kissed, ate, and kissed, and kissed some more. It was pure, unadulterated, dating nirvana.

  By the time my interview for the Regional Sales Manager’s job rolled around, I felt completely ready. I had been blessed by Lady Luck: how could I not get this job, the icing on my already sizeable cake?

  I collected my compendium from my desk and headed out the door and up the flight of stairs to the twelfth floor, trying to steady my nerves with each step. At the top, I pulled the stairwell door open and came face to face with none other than “Poop Boy” himself, Will Jordan.

  “Well, well, well. If it isn’t Dunny Dunhill.”

  I nodded at him, my mouth terse. “Hello, ‘Poop Boy’.”

  He chuckled. “What are you doing up here on the exec level? Been a naughty girl, have we?”

  I crossed my arms and glared at him. “I have an appointment, actually.” My air was defiant. And what was it with this “naughty” rhetoric? Couldn’t he think of anything new, for crying out loud?

  He raised his eyebrows. “An appointment, huh? Intriguing.” He tapped his fingers on his chin.

  “Not really. Now, if you wouldn’t mind?” I gestured at the door he was currently blocking.

  He stood back for me and bowed. “Of course, Duchess Dunny. I am, as always, your most humble servant.”

  I rolled my eyes. I wish.

  I approached Rottweiler slash Spoodle Brian’s desk. “Morning, Brian.” I smiled at him when he looked up from his computer.

  “Cassie. What, no treat for me today?”

  Totally thrown, I bumbled, “I . . . err, no. Sorry.”

  “That’s okay. I hardly need it.” He patted his protruding belly.

  He was totally correct, but I wasn’t about to say anything about it. “Shall I just wait here? I’ve got an appointment to see Laura at ten.”

  He held his finger up, telling me to wait. He stood up and knocked on her door, and I watched as he poked his head through a crack. A moment later, he turned to me and told me to go in.

  I took a deep breath and walked through the door. I was met by Laura and Hugo from Human Resources, both sitting on those plush leather sofas I covet, notepads on their knees. They both stood and greeted me with handshakes.

  We took our seats, and the interview began. And I nailed it. I was completely prepared for everything they threw at me. They complimented me on my successes, including the recent Nettco win, talked about my leadership potential, and even laughed at my jokes.

  Afterwards, I sailed down the stairs, my head filled with the interview and the possibilities it offered, back to my desk in the sales department.

  “How did it go?” Marissa asked eagerly, almost before my butt hit the seat.

  I grinned at her. “It went well. Really well.”

  She perched her aerobicized butt on the edge of my desk. “Oh, I really hope you get it. Then, I can get your job!”

  “That would be so great!” I had an image of Marissa and me working together, her my star Account Director, me her gracious and magnanimous boss.

  “When do you find out?”

  “They told me they’re putting their short list together over the next couple of weeks. I’ll know if I’m on that list soon. Oh, I hope I am.”

  Marissa brushed my momentary doubt aside with her hand. “You will be. No worries.”

  I smiled at her as my excitement rose once more. Marissa’s confidence was impressive. She was one of those people whose self-belief was unshakeable, who always believed things would work out, despite having a sizeable dollop of cynicism thrown into the mix.

  “Now, are we going in your car on Tuesday to Napier or do you want me to drive?”

  I felt a sudden stiffness in my neck. The sales team retreat. I’d forgotten all about it in the wake of everything that had been happening with Parker and at work. We did it annually at the end of the financial year. Kind of like a reset for the upcoming twelve months. This year, Richard had arranged for the sales team to spend a few days in Napier, a city in the beautiful wine-growing region of Hawke’s Bay. The idea was that we would take some time out to talk about our sales strategies, how to improve the team, and to have some much-needed fun.

  “I’m happy to drive.”

  Marissa grinned. “Road trip!”

  I shook my head. “You’re funny. It won’t be the same without Paige, though.”

  “It’d be great if she could come. We’ll have to get her to change her career to sales.”

  I smiled. “Just so she can go on the retreat?”

  “Exactly. Then, she won’t have to miss out on anything. Have you told Parker?”

  “That Paige is not in sales?” I asked, a cheeky grin on my face. “Yeah, I told him I had to go away. We’re seeing each other once I get back.”

  “So?” Marissa lead, her eyes sparkling.

  “So, what?”

  “Have you done it yet?”

  If I’d been drinking coffee, I would have chocked on it. I felt my face warm. My eyes darted around the room. No one appeared to be listening in. “We, ah . . . I think that will happen after the Napier trip.”

  Marissa smirked at me. “Wow. Big night.”

  I smiled back at her as my tummy did a flip—out of excitement and nerves. “Yeah.”

  “And?” She raised her eyebrows at me.

  “And what?”

  “Have either of you dropped the L-word yet?”

  “No,” I replied in a quiet voice as Marissa leaned down to my level. “It’s too soon.”

  She scoffed. “Too soon for your plan?”

  I shrugged. Of course, she’d hit the nail on the head. In my plan we didn’t say “I love you” until we’d been on a minimum of twelve dates. Any sooner and it may just be lust talking, any later and I might be wasting my time.

  You see, my life plan worked on both a macro level and a micro level. My macro plan was career, home, marriage, kids. My micro plan mapped out when each step to achieve these larger goals took place. In the romance stakes, Date Twelve was “I love you,” and meeting one another’s parents needed to happen by Date Twenty at the very latest. And a marriage proposal? Well, I could be a little more flexible with that, although it needed to happen before a full year of dating was done. Because otherwise? Well, let’s just say I was on a tight schedule with this.

  Our eleventh date was just around the corner.

  “The date after ne
xt is the big twelfth date. It’ll happen by then.” I glanced at the ginger cat, sitting next to my computer screen. A smile teased at the edges of my mouth as a sense of peacefulness pervaded my chest. “I have no doubt.”

  Marissa smiled back at me. “Look at you. You’re already in love.”

  I blushed. “Maybe.” I thought about all the things we’d done together, about the kind of man Parker was, about how he seemed to feel about me. He was as close as anyone I had ever met to being my perfect man. Was I in love? Well, if I wasn’t, I was very well on my way to being so.

  * * *

  Marissa and I drove through the entrance gates of the beautiful old Monastery Estate Winery late on Tuesday afternoon. We’d had the classic road trip experience: eating junk food, singing along to our favorite playlists, talking about anything and everything, and stopping to shop whenever the whim took us. So maybe it was more of a girls’ classic road trip experience. Girl road trip heaven, even. Just the way we liked it.

  “I need to be your maid of honor,” Marissa insisted as she searched her phone for our next pop-tastic music compilation.

  “Well, I have to think of Paige, too. I know, how about I make you both maid of honor?”

  Marissa laughed. “I’m not sure it works that way.”

  “It can if I want it to. It’s my wedding, you know.” Or it would be, once Parker had asked me to marry him. Which I knew was on the cards. We had been on our eleventh date on Saturday night, and he had told me I was unlike any other girl he’d dated and that he really, really liked me (his words). With the all-important twelfth date coming up on Friday night, I knew that was about to turn into the big L-word.

  “Okay. That’s fine with me, but you have to let me choose the bridesmaids dresses. I don’t want Paige and her kooky hippy ideas anywhere near it.”

  I laughed. “Sure. Ooh, look. There’s that place we stopped at last time we were at Lake Taupo. I call a shopping stop!” I pulled the car over and parked. And so began the third shopping expedition of our road trip. So far, the trip to Napier had taken twice as long as it ought.

  As I said, it was girl road trip heaven.