by TC Matson
His chest is pressed hard against my back, the muscles flexing as he moves our arms side to side, showing me the proper way to swing. His pelvis is against my ass, and it causes a flush to creep up my body. As he talks, I close my eyes listening to his voice but not hearing a damn thing he’s saying. He smells good. He feels good.
“Try it,” he says, stepping away and leaving me to stand…alone.
Shit.
He knows. He totally knows. It’s written on that sexy smirk of his. But I swallow and grab the club with determination. I swing and the club connects with the ball, shooting it out in front of me about twenty feet.
“Yes!” I shout throwing my arms up and spinning to him. “I hit it! I hit that little bastard!”
He raises his hand for me to high five and I slap the shit out of it.
We stay for another hour—him nailing everything he swings at and me putting in a good effort. It was a fifty-fifty shot each time, but we had a good time cracking up.
As we head back to our vehicles, he reaches for my hand and laces his fingers with mine. I like Declan, and am a little drawn to him, but I’m still trying to figure out if there’s an emotional connection. Sure, I find him handsome, but is there more to us?
“Do you have anymore dates?” he asks.
I tighten my lips and shake my head. “No.”
This causes a grin to spread across his lips. “That’s good for the ego. I’d like to have another date if you’re up for it. Maybe we can go putt-putting since you seem to have that distance down.”
Laughing, I bump him with my shoulder. “No judgment, my ass.”
He barks a laugh. “Your ass looked incredible out there.” He winks. “What do you say? Can I take you out again Friday?”
“Sure,” I smile with a nod. “I’d like that. But Fridays are my late nights at work and I don’t get off until nine-thirty.”
“Do you think you’ll be too tired afterward, or will you be up for it?
Him worrying about me flutters something deep in my stomach. “I’ll be up for it.”
He gets my food out of his truck and walks with me to my car, opening the door for me. He pulls my chin to his face, leaning close. My breath catches. His eyes flick between mine and he grins. “God, you’re so fucking pretty.”
My cheeks heat up.
His lips are so close to mine. Just a little closer and they’d be on me. Reading my mind, he places a brief and chaste kiss to my lips.
It’s…it’s…anticlimactic.
There’s nothing. No sparks. No zips of electricity over my skin. No flutters.
“Call me.” He winks and then strolls away.
I drop in my car feeling a little stunned and confused. Considering the amount of attraction we had, I thought for sure our chemistry would be off the charts. Wow. I was wildly wrong. Maybe because it was rushed?
FOUR
“I am up!” I shout at my alarm clock for the fourth time, smacking it and then falling to my back.
I don’t mind mornings. They’re great—a fresh start to a brand-new day that you own—but getting out of bed, the warm and very comfortable bed, is the hardest thing.
My scrubs are on. My hair is in a ponytail. I am ready for work. As I gather all my things, my phone chimes a text message.
Insta-Dates: You've been selected for dates from the following: Nathan #22. Cody #30. Please respond so we can let the bachelors know.
My heart slams into my ribs just seeing his name. “Oh, holy shit.”
He picked me. They picked me. “Shit. Shit. Shit.”
Instantly, I call the one person who can keep me calm—Shyla.
“He picked me,” I rush out as I shut my front door behind me.
“Who?”
“Him! Nathan.”
I told the girls about him just the other day. She should know who him is.
“Ohhh…” she sings. “And have we accepted the date?”
“No. Not yet. I’m not sure I want to. What took him so long? It’s been a week. Did all his other dates go to hell and I was last on the list? The last ditch effort to love? I don’t want to be the last. I should be the first.” I’m a mess, babbling words uncontrollably.
“How do you know you’re the last and not the first? What if—”
“His friend picked me too,” I interrupt just as my Bluetooth switches over to my car radio and Shyla blares from the speakers.
“The other hottie? I knew this was a good idea. You go from nothing to hotties falling at your feet.”
“This isn’t a good idea. This isn’t me. It’s complicated things. I want peaceful and easy.” Of course, it would be nice to share that with a man, but I don’t have to have that.
“It’s not complicated. You’re flipping out over nothing. Reply. Go on dates and see what everyone brings to the table. You said you’re attracted to Declan physically and you’re intrigued with Nathan. What if someone brings both emotional and physical?”
I hear her statement loud and clear. “You just want me to get laid.”
Her laugh shoots out of my speakers. “Of course. That too. If your vag is happy, you’re happy.”
“I am happy!” I snap back.
“Does your unused vagina feel the same way? You two may not be on the same page.”
“Jesus, Shyla.” I snort.
“Respond to the dates. You know you want to. I’ve got to get off here. I’m about to walk into work and my first appointment is already here. Gotta love Mrs. Callahan,” she whispers under her breath.
Two minutes after hanging up, I’m parked in my normal spot at work and staring at the two names on my screen.
I take a deep breath. Here goes nothing.
Me: #22. #30
I choose both because why not? Take risks, right?
Shit.
I shouldn’t have chosen both.
Insta-Dates: Do we have permission to give the selected dates your phone number? Please respond with 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.
All morning, I was either freaking out with anticipation of a text or feeling phantom vibrations from my pocket and then freaking out even worse. Once lunch comes, I sit at the picnic table with my phone on my lap as my back rests against the tree enjoying a pack of crackers and my coke.
Remember? I’m a health nut. Totally.
My phone rings and it startles me. I jerk, knocking it off the table, and jump for it before it hits the ground like a damn football player scrambling for a fumble.
“Hello?” I’m totally out of breath.
“Brooklyn?”
Shit…shiiiittt. It’s him. “Yeah.”
“It’s Nathan. How are you?”
My heart can’t take his velvety smooth voice.
“Oh. Hey, Nathan. I’m good. How are you?” I fake the shit out of not being too excited ‘cause you know…dignity.
“I’m doing well. Since you accepted my second date. Would you like to have dinner Friday?”
“Friday?” I squeak instantly thinking of Declan.
“Yes. If that’s not a problem.”
He sounds so different, so much more professional than what I remember. “I, um. I don’t get off work until late on Fridays.” Please don’t ask for a late date.
There’s shuffling in the background and a few clicks on what sounds like a keyboard before he asks, “What about Thursday?”
“I’m off by five.”
“Care to join me?”
“You sound really different over the phone than in person,” I blurt. Seriously? I slap my palm to my forehead and shake my head.
He chuckles and yeah. It’s so him. Only he has a laugh that wakes up the butterflies.
“Did your friend force you to call me?” Clearly my thought-to-speech neurons are running amok and not doing their job.
“Not at all,” he
responds.
“Your friend chose me for a second date today too.”
What the hell is wrong with my mouth?
“Did he now?” His tone drops and I hear the aggravation in it. “Well, he likes pickles. Probably eats them as he cleans the windows in the bathroom.”
A laugh bubbles from me. “While he drinks cold coffee?”
“Precisely.” I can hear the smile in his voice. “Where should I pick you up Thursday?”
“I’ll meet you. Just text me the address.”
“I will. Look forward to it. Hope you have a good day.”
When we hang up, my breath is ragged like I’ve run three miles. Quickly, I store his number and then text the group chat with Shyla and Aimee.
I know what you’re thinking. Group chats are hostage situations, but I’m not the one who created it. That evil eye should go to Aimee.
Me: Come this Thursday, I may die.
Aimee: OMG. With Nathan?
Me: Yes!
Shyla: You’ll need to sneak a photo of him. I need to see the man who is making you squirm.
Me: I’m totally not pulling my phone out during our date and snapping a picture of him.
Aimee: Why not? I did with William.
Shyla: I did with Brady.
Me: Sigh.
Aimee: You should let your dignity and morals go for one night.
Shyla: I second this. One night. One beautiful night.
Me: I can’t even with you two.
Aimee: But we love you.
Suddenly, our texts drop out and my phone rings with an unknown number.
“Hello?”
“Brooklyn! It’s Cody. What’s going on, spitfire?”
His exuberance instantly pulls a smile out of me. “Hi, Cody. I’m eating lunch. How are you?”
“Alive…for now,” he adds wolfishly. “What are you doing this weekend?”
“I’m not sure. Why do you ask?”
“Whoa. Calm down eager beaver,” he says sounding over the top and adds a chuckle.
What the hell?
“Okay. Okay. If that’s what you want. Screw the weekend. Let’s do this week. I’d love to take you out.”
I pinch the pressure points between my eyes, trying to relieve the confusion in my damn face. From his tone, he’s misleading someone, but who exactly and why?
“Cody. Why do you sound like there’s a gun pointed to your head and you’re asking for ransom?”
“That obvious?”
“Yes,” I draw it out. “Is Nathan there? Are you setting him up again?”
“God, you’re such a spitfire. I love it.”
“Why are you doing this?” I ask. “Is he right there?”
“Yep.”
“Is this some twisted game between you two?” I bite out, beginning to feel as if I’m being taken for a ride.
“Absolutely not. That I promise.” His voice shifts into a deeper and more sincere tone.
“Why are you doing this then?”
“Yes. I understand. I’d love it if you called me when you get off work,” he says still sounding like the gun is at him.
“Are you going to die when we hang up?”
He chuckles. “Strong possibility. But trust me, spitfire. I can’t wait either. Look forward to hearing from you.”
And he hangs up.
“What in the ever-loving hell was that?” I stare at my phone perplexed.
Shyla: Where is he taking you?
Me: No clue. We haven’t gotten that far. But I just got off the phone with his friend Cody. I think he was trying to piss Nathan off. Seriously testing him.
Aimee: Testing?
Shyla: As in prodding him like we are you?
Me: Yeah and I’m not sure I like it. I have to go for now. Lunch is over. Love you two.
Aimee: Love you!
Shyla: Love you too.
* * *
After a long afternoon at work filled with scripts, impatient people, and my mind all over the damn place, I’m walking the aisles of my grocery store. My thoughts are everywhere except trying to figure out what I want for dinner—the reason why I came here in the first place. Instead, Nathan and Cody are on my mind. Why would Cody want to mislead Nathan into thinking I’m interested in a date with him? And why is he trying to set him up so badly?
Nathan: If you choose to go out with Cody, make sure it’s in a public place. Please.
Thinking of the devils…
Me: I don’t know what he’s told you, but I haven’t agreed to anything with him.
Me: Also, you’re making him sound like a psychopath.
Nathan: He’s not. Unfortunately, you’re caught up in the middle of a scheme.
Me: Care to fill me in?
Immediately, my phone rings and my pulse begins to race seeing his name.
“Got a minute?” he asks.
“Sure. I’m not doing anything other than browsing the aisles of Grocery Kart until I find something for supper.”
There’s a low grunt before he says, “Let’s have dinner tonight and I can explain Cody’s scheme.”
“And you can’t do this over the phone?”
“I’d rather see you.”
I look down to my clothes. “I’m still in my work clothes.”
“As am I.”
“I look like shit,” I contest flatly.
“I seriously doubt that.”
I worry my bottom lip and then give in because I really would like to see him, and finding out what Cody’s up to is a plus. “Okay. Nothing fancy though.”
“I can be at Baxter’s in ten minutes. Sound good?”
I’m really doing this. “Yes.”
“See you soon.”
It didn’t matter at the moment that I had no clue where Baxter’s was. He didn’t need to know that. Besides, Google is my friend. The problem rests on the fact it’s located dead smack in the middle of downtown and parking sucks. By the time I found a spot and paid the parking fee, I was a block away and five minutes late. Fabulous first-second date…
I’m rushing down the sidewalk with the restaurant in view when a deep voice to my left says my name and scares the shit out of me. Shrieking, I spin and flail my hands up. Yeah. My survival instincts aren’t the best.
Nathan is leaning against a black SUV, chuckling.
He’s in a charcoal gray suit, fitted against his body with a white shirt and an azure tie. He’s sharp looking and incredibly good-looking.
“Oh, holy hell,” I sigh roaming my gaze all over him, swooning with a gaped mouth.
The glint in his eyes dances as he smiles. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”
I shake my head. “Yeah. No. I mean…” I titter, taking a deep calming breath. “I’m sorry I’m late. I didn’t realize it would be this busy.” I look down to my black and pink sneakers and back up to him. “When you said you were still in work clothes, I didn’t realize it was a suit. I’m not dressed for the occasion.”
He grins. “You look beautiful. Come on. Let’s eat.”
He places his palm to the small of my back and guides me into the diner. The heat from his hand spreads like a wildfire throughout my body. Sparks charge my skin and it forces me to concentrate on not wobbling as we walk. But just as much as his touch turns me on, it also makes me feel safe and comfortable. And horny. Definitely horny.
The moment the hostess spots us, she lights up. She pulls her shoulders back, straightening her spine, and grins from ear to ear. “Mr. Be—” suddenly her face falls, the grin faltering only slightly, and she nods. “Two?”
“Please,” Nathan responds behind me.
“Right. Follow me.”
She takes us to a small outside courtyard where several large tables are covered by teal umbrellas. White globe string lights drape through the arms of the umbrellas giving it a sweet relaxing and romantic feel.
Nathan pulls my seat out before taking his across the table. When the hostess asks what we’d like to drink, I debate on a b
ottle of vodka, but instead, settle on a vodka cranberry while Nathan gets a rum and coke.
“Scrubs. What field are you in?” he asks with those sexy cacao eyes trained on me.
Is licking an eyeball a thing because his eyes are fantastically sexy.
Most people believe scrubs are for nurses, doctors, surgeons and all other medical field professions. They forget the small guys like me. “I’m not a nurse, if that’s what you’re thinking. I’m a pharmacy tech,” I reply.
His left brow twitches slightly. “Don’t assume I’m assuming. For all I know, scrubs could be your choice of pajamas.”
“What about you?” I tip my chin. “Nothing during our first date indicated you wear suits.”
“Not even my fancy dress shirt?” he responds playfully.
I titter, pursing my lips together. “Almost every man had a dress shirt on. What kind of work do you do that you need to wear suits?”
“Are we speed dating again?” he jokes.
“Are you skirting around my question?”
The waitress brings our drinks and we order our food. He takes a sip of his drink before answering. “I work in an office all day.” He lifts a shoulder. “Mundane and meetings.”
My brows hike high. “Are you some important guru? Where do you work?”
His mouth contorts to the side. “Sure. I guess.”
He doesn’t seem like he wants to talk about work, so for now, I’ll drop it. “Well, how was your day then?”
“Interesting,” he replies. “Yours?”
Our conversation has taken a stiff turn since bringing up work and I don’t like the uncomfortable feeling that’s settled in around us. “It started off quiet until your friend decided to cause a little drama. Explain Cody to me. What’s going on?”
He takes another sip of his drink and rests back into his chair, steepling his two pointer fingers. He’s had to practice this because it’s hot and intense. “My dear ol’ friend believes I need a woman in my life. A relationship. I haven’t dated in a long time and for some reason he wants to change that.”
I sink my teeth into my bottom lip. “Our stories sound the same.”
“Is that so?”
“My two best friends, Shyla and Aimee, set me up on Insta-Dates in hopes I’d find a man. They can’t fathom that I’m absolutely fine being alone. I’m happy.”