by TC Matson
My mouth goes dry. This man is the epitome of handsome.
“If you press a finger between your eyebrows too, it’ll help more.” That voice is what every woman dreams her future husband will have—rich, smooth, low, and just wow. “Nathan,” he introduces himself as if it’s a chore.
“I’ve tried between the brows, but it doesn’t give me the same relief as just the sides.” Mentally, I give myself a high five for forming a complete sentence. “I’m Brooklyn.”
He looks bored to be here.
“So give me your round of random questions that will give you the sense you know me well, and me the impression of whether you’re a creep or not,” I say with a light heart.
His laugh is enough to burst my panties on fire. He shifts, a mysteriousness in his eyes holding me hostage. “Sounds like you’re having just as much fun as I am.”
“If your night has consisted of where do you live, how much money do you make, do you screw on first dates, and do you like a trouser snake…” yes, the trouser snake was a few dates ago, “then I’m having a blast.”
“I was set up by my friend to be here.”
“Me too.”
His eyes glint at my response. “Mine came with me to make sure I didn’t bail.”
“Oh. I guess I lucked out. Mine didn’t come but did fail to mention the small print in the agreement she forged my name on. I debated running before it all started.”
His tongue swipes across his bottom lip, the corners teasing a smile. “Sounds as if you’ve been the one answering the questions tonight. Turn the tables and give me the third degree. I’ll take one for Team Setup.”
I stifle a laugh then pry my eyes off his gorgeous face and look to the ceiling to ponder questions. Tapping my finger on my chin, I pretend to think hard. “Do you like pickles?”
His face remains stoic, but I’ll be damned if his eyes do. They dance with mirth and his eyebrow does a little tick. “No. You?”
“No.” I smile. “What’s your least favorite chore?”
His brow ticks again and I swear I feel it in my stomach. “Bathrooms.”
I scrunch my face. “Me too or cleaning windows. I hate windows.”
“How do you like your coffee?” he asks.
My face hurts from the grin I have. “Hot. Splash of milk and if I’m feeling frisky, a whole packet of sugar instead of half.”
He leans forward, closer to me, causing the lights to gleam from his irises. “If someone had something in their teeth, would you tell them?” he whispers like he just revealed the biggest secret he carries.
Replicating his actions, I lean closer. “Depends if I like them or not. Enemies need broccoli in their teeth. Bastards shouldn’t have crossed me.”
He breaks his reserved expression and laughs. “I needed this date. You’ve brightened my night. Thank you, Brooklyn.”
Buzz!
No! No buzz. For once tonight, I don’t want to hear the buzzer.
“Thank you for not liking pickles,” I say, keeping the desperation of that damn buzzer out of my voice.
Over the next few dates, every time I peek at Nathan, I catch him watching me. The second our gazes are locked, something in my stomach flutters and I can’t help but smile at him. It’s hard to focus on the men sitting across from me when there’s a pull to seek what’s on my left.
“Hey.” This guy is handsome and dressed to impress with dirty blond hair that most definitely doesn’t scream surfer and deep green eyes. “I’m Cody.”
“Brooklyn.” I offer a polite smile.
He’s grinning as he looks me over from my hair to my tits. “I understand it now.”
My face pinches with confusion. “I’m sorry. What?”
“You met a friend of mine several dates ago and this entire event, he hasn’t cared to interact with anyone until you.”
Nathan. And just thinking his name scoops my stomach up and drops it, leaving behind a beaming grin. “You must be the friend who set Nathan up.”
He nods with a chuckle. “That would be me.”
“You know. I was set up too, but my friend isn’t here, so I’ll murder her later. But I’m willing to bet you two rode together, so he’ll probably shank you on the way home. He’s miserable and you’re a shitty friend,” I say teasingly.
“I’m sure he’ll thank me later. What do you do for fun, Brooklyn?”
“Read. Occasionally I’ll put a puzzle together. I’m a ball of fun.”
Chuckling, dimples appear. “You don’t look like you’re sixty.”
I bat my eyes. “I’ve taken good care of myself over the years.”
His lips twist to the side. “You should stick around and have drinks after this is over.”
“Are you asking to extend our five minutes?”
With a cunning smirk, he replies, “Maybe.”
“What was your favorite subject in school?” I ask.
“Math. I like numbers.”
Playfully, I sigh and then tighten my lips as I shake my head. “You had so much going for you, Cody.”
Buzz!
He pushes out of his seat. “You’re a spitfire. Thank your friend for me for forcing you to come tonight.” He winks and then moves to the next table, the smile he had with me gone.
Finally, the event is over and the coordinator thanks us, invites any of the couples who hit it off to stay for drinks, and goes back over the rules for second dates. With the exception of a few guys, tonight was interestingly boring and extremely awkward for the most part. I’m not necessarily an introvert, but I’m certainly not an extrovert. As an ambivert, I don’t mind being around people until I’ve had my fill. Then I need to decompress and right now, that’s just my plan.
Grabbing my purse, I make a beeline out of the building, casting a quick glance to the bar. Cody and Nathan watch me, both smiling. Nathan’s gaze is intense and it causes my heart to flip-flop. Ripping my eyes away, I push out the exit.
If he wants a second date, he’ll have to come and get it.
THREE
“How long do you have before you need to put your notes in online?” Aimee asks through the phone.
I’m on my lunch break sitting at the picnic table under the shade tree as I enjoy my peanut butter crackers and coke. I’m a health nut. Can’t you tell?
“I don’t know. I’m not sure I will.”
“Isn’t that against the requirements?”
I roll my eyes. “What are they going to do? Arrest me for not dating?” I snort.
“Nowadays, who knows. Did you meet anyone interesting?”
Boy, did I. Nathan stayed on my mind well into the night until I was able to fall asleep, but I’m not ready to admit that yet. Not to her. She’ll hound me into another date with him. “You know I’m still mad at the two of you for setting me up. I can’t believe you of all people went along with Shyla’s shenanigans. You’re supposed to be Team Brooklyn.”
She laughs loudly. “I am, but as one of your best friends, I believe you need a man to add to your life.”
I roll my eyes although she can’t see it. “I don’t need anything. I’m happy. Why is it so hard for you two to believe that I’m honestly happy being single?”
“Because we both have men who contribute happiness to our lives. You know just as much as I do that having a man in your life is more exciting. I mean, anytime sex. Hello.”
“I can get sex anytime I—”
“Don’t feed me that line of bullshit. Emotions…” she mocks me. “You need them in order for those sexy legs of yours to spread. I respect that you have morals and integrity, but you’re getting older and I want you happy. Forgive me for loving you.”
“You’re forgiven,” I reply. “I’m still young, Aimee. Some women don’t settle down until well into their thirties and nowadays, newsflash, some of those women are having babies.”
My phone alerts me of a notification.
Insta-Dates: You’ve been selected for dates from the following: Aiden #15.
Declan #27. Spencer #8. Blake #6. Please respond so we can let the bachelors know.
No Nathan. My heart sinks a bit at the disappointment.
“I’ve been notified that four men have chosen me for a second date.” I take a sip of my coke. “I truly hate the two of you.”
Aimee squeals. “Go on all of them. You might have the best time of your life.”
“Okay, first, Spencer wanted to know if I knew what a trouser snake was. Aiden and Blake? I vaguely remember them.”
“And the fourth? You said there was four. You named three.”
“Declan,” I say. “He was sweet.”
“Then give him a chance. I mean, he’s taking one on you.”
“I hate you and your sense-making abilities,” I snort.
“You love me. Now respond and call me later.”
* * *
I’ve looked at the text from Insta-Dates at least thirty times debating on if I really want to respond and hoping Nathan’s name would magically appear on the list. Fact of the matter, I wish he or even his friend Cody would show up. Those two made me smile the most that night, and Nathan had my stomach dipping.
I’ve tried thinking back on the night to remember Aiden or Blake, but I’m really coming up empty handed. Maybe it has something to do with the setting, but most of the men just didn’t interest me.
After making a roast beef sandwich with a salad on the side, I grab my plate and take it to the couch where I eat and contemplate if I want to respond or not. Then I take a shower where I do my best thinking.
Aimee’s right. What would going on a date hurt? What if Declan sparks my interest in a different setting where we have time to actually get to know one another?
Me: #27
I throw myself back on the couch and when my phone chimes again, my heart slams against my chest.
Insta-Dates: Do we have permission to give the selected dates your phone number? Please respond YES or NO.
Me: YES
Insta-Dates: Thank you for giving us a chance to find your happily ever after. After each date, please go online and rate each date to let us know how we did.
* * *
Today’s my cleaning day since I don’t work on Sundays, and since I live alone and am a mature responsible adult, I don’t need to do it. Instead, I sleep in, cook two eggs, clean that mess up, and catch up on my guilty pleasure—cooking shows.
Fact—I can’t cook. I’d burn down a fire department. When I was growing up, I preferred to help Dad hold down the couch while he watched car shows rather than help Mom in the kitchen. As I’ve gotten older, the microwave has become a great friend.
Unknown: It’s Declan. Brooklyn?
Me: Yes.
Quickly, I store his number into my phone for no other reason than hating to see numbers across my phone instead of names.
Declan: You doing anything today?
He’s straight to the point.
Me: Not really.
Declan: Feel like a late lunch?
Me: Sure. What time?
Declan: Two?
Me: That sounds good to me. Where at?
Declan: Are you in the mood for fancy or burgers?
I like choices.
Me: Burgers sound good to me.
Declan: I know just the spot. :-) Meet me at Slaters.
Me: Great. I’ll be there.
And let the dating begin.
* * *
I didn’t get dolled up for this date. No over the top dress and heels. Nope. Today, I went with “just me.” I’m in a pair of skinny jeans with my favorite white low-cut sneakers and a cute cold shoulder black blouse. My hair is down with light waves and my makeup is naturally on point. I need him to see me for me.
I park my car in the parking lot beside the restaurant and make my way toward the entrance when I spot Declan standing by the door. He turns, looking at me, and then smiles. He’s so good-looking.
“Hey,” he says.
“Hi.” I beam as he pulls open the door.
The place smells fantastic—burgers and draft beers—with a little rock ‘n’ roll music playing.
After we’re seated, we each order a beer.
“Have you ever eaten here?” he asks, not looking at his menu but setting it down instead.
“Actually, no.”
“Their cowboy burger is the best, but you better not mind getting messy.”
“Will you judge me if I make a mess?”
“As long as you don’t judge me.” His smile is handsome and makes me feel like I’m in good company—a comfortable get-together with an old friend.
I drop my menu on top of his. “That solves it. We’re getting messy.”
Smiling, he picks up his beer. “So what made a beautiful woman like you sign up for Insta-Dates?” he asks over the rim of the bottle before taking a swallow.
“I was set up by my two meddling best friends.”
He rubs his jaw. “Are these two still friends?”
“They’re in the dog house,” I jest. “I know you said you just moved here on our first date. Where from?”
“Virginia. The owners moved the facility here. It only made sense for me to follow.”
“Why’d you sign up for Insta-Dates? You’re good-looking with a popular profession. Why would you need help?”
“Why not?” He folds his arms on the table. “A friend of mine met his fiancée at one of these things a few years ago and I’ve had to endure the story of how they met at least fifty times. Meeting someone outside of racing has been hell, so I decided to give it a shot.”
“Did you have fun?”
“Define fun?” he says with a chuckle. “It was…interesting.” His gaze gleams. “That was a hell of a lot of dates in one night.”
“So many awkward moments,” I add.
“A lot of different personalities, that’s for sure.”
I take a sip of my beer and meet his gaze with a smile. “So, how’d you get into racing?”
His right brow raises. “I’m a guy. I like to go fast. I live to drive fast. Add those together and I’ve got one hell of a career.”
“Do you spend a lot of time away?” I ask.
“Yeah.” The single word comes out in a hesitant sigh. “During off season, I spend time shooting the shit with friends, taking care of things my parents may need help with, and stopping by the shop to see what those guys are up to. During race season, I’m traveling. Depending on the schedule, I’ll either fly home for a few days or fly out where the race is.”
“I bet you get to see a lot of incredible things and places.”
He nods with a smile. “There are definitely perks to the job.”
Our food is placed in front of us and the sight of the burger drops my mouth open.
Declan chuckles. “I promise no judgement.”
Mouthgasm. The. Best. Burger. Ever.
Declan devoured his. I only got halfway before I couldn’t go any further. I tapped out and got a to-go box. As we step out of the restaurant and onto the sidewalk, Declan glances down to me.
“Are you having a good enough time to continue our date or…?” His question dangles out there.
“What else would you like to do?” I ask with a smile.
“Feel comfortable enough to ride with me?”
Narrowing my eyes, I purse my lips. “Will you drive with sense or will I be screaming the entire way with my eyes closed?”
He lets out a hefty laugh. “Only on the track. Come on.”
I’m surprised when he takes my food and places it in his truck and then tips his chin for me to follow him on the sidewalk.
“You’ve been the one asking all the questions. I haven’t asked much about you. Tell me everything. I want to know it all.”
“How far back are we talking?” I jest. “I can’t remember what my first words were.” I bite my lip flirtatiously.
He hums, twisting his lips to the side. “Who is the Brooklyn now?”
“I don’t live an excitin
g life like you. Close, but not quite.” I giggle. “I’m a pharmacy technician and my only awesome hobbies include reading and girls’ dinner every Wednesday.
He claps his hands together. “Your life trumps mine by a long shot.”
Playfully, I roll my eyes. “You’re such a horrible liar.”
“Okay, so you lack in the adrenaline section, but you’re not rushed by obligations. That’s relaxing.”
“You’re trying to tell me you think boring is relaxing? You’re in for a treat with me then.”
When he looks down, his light brown eyes glimmer with mischief. “I’ll agree with the treat.”
It causes a shiver to race down my spine. His words are sincere, braided with a sexy hidden innuendo.
He clutches my hand and tugs me around a corner and up a flight of stairs before opening the door for me. Golf clubs everywhere.
“You’re kidding, right?”
Declan’s lips are pulled up, his eyes glinting with zest. “Nope.
“I don’t know a thing about golf.”
“Good.” He drops his voice bringing his mouth to my ear. “I’ll teach you.”
His whisper warms my body up. I fight not to grab his face and kiss him to see if this chemistry is real between us and not some fake infatuation.
“No judgment?” I ask.
He winks and then orders a bucket of balls.
Of course he swings like a pro, hitting the stupid little ball off the stupid little tee. I’ve missed so many damn times that it’s embarrassing as hell. And every time I look to Declan, he’s leaned against the metal pole watching me and grinning like a Cheshire cat.
I set up again, swing and miss before groaning to the sky and blithely glare at him. He’s biting back a laugh, his teeth sunk into his bottom lip. I point my club at him. “You said no judgement.”
He loses his battle and bursts out laughing, holding his hands up with his club dangling in the right. “That’s before I knew how bad you were. Wow.”
Him buckling breaks me as well and I crack up. Declan places a tee down, sets a ball on top of it, and moves behind me, wrapping his arms around me and putting his hands on top of mine to grip the club. His breath is against my ear as he explains exactly how to hold the club.