“Hardee har har,” I respond and grab the can from him. He jumps on the counter and watches me put the groceries away. Of course, he doesn’t offer to help. He is a man, after all. When he clears his throat before speaking, I know I’m in trouble. I stop what I’m doing and assume the position – hands on hips in preparation for a fight.
Jack waves my position away. “No need to get your back up, Izzy.”
Not wishing to give up entirely, I cross my arms and raise my eyebrows. I’ll wait him out. He sighs. “Well, you see,” he sounds almost sheepish, “I kinda, sorta arranged a date for you.” He has the good sense to duck his head and stare at the ground to avoid my infuriated eyes.
“What?” I shriek. Not a pretty sound, but he – my gay best friend – did just say he arranged a date for me and, unfortunately, it wouldn’t be the first time he’s done this. Jack likes to set me up with men who are hiding in the closet. His words - not mine. Then he’ll casually run into me during the date and try to pick the unsuspecting man up. And it works! Which is pretty annoying when the guy picked me up at my house and then takes off with Jack. I now keep a key to Jack’s car on my key ring.
“Don’t get your panties in a twist,” Jack shouts. I growl. “This one wasn’t gay.” I raise my eyebrows in confusion wondering what his angle is this time. “He was at the speed dating.”
My hands are back on my hips. “What? Did you see the men there?”
“Did you?”
I roll my eyes. “Which speed dating event were you at?”
“The same as you,” he’s glaring at me now. “Did you not see that hunk of a man sitting next to you at the bar?”
It only takes a second for Mr. Drop Dead Gorgeous’ face to flash into my head. I assumed he wasn’t involved in the speed dating. I mean he was more than good looking. Why would he need to go to a speed dating event? My memories catch up to my vision of the hottie, and I slap my forehead.
“Uh oh, what did you do?” Why does he assume I did something? Maybe he’s right 90 percent of the time, but it’s still rude to assume!
“I forgot to switch my brain on before I opened my big mouth,” I mumble as I remember my words telling Mr. Hottie just exactly how hot he is.
Jack waves my concerns away. “Doesn’t matter.” I grunt, but he ignores me and continues. “I got his number and talked to him this afternoon. He remembers you and wants you to give him a call.”
“When exactly did you get his number?”
Jack shrugs but doesn’t answer. I really don’t expect him to. He’s always had this mysterious ability to get phone numbers from men and women for that matter.
“Wait,” I shout as something occurs to me. “Did you get his number for you or for me?”
Even before Jack answers, the pink in his cheeks gives him away. “For me, so I can unequivocally say he’s not gay.” Hmmm… that conversation must have been awkward. Although, knowing Jack the way I do, he probably sounded smooth and debonair without even trying. So freaking unfair.
Jack reaches into his jeans and pulls out a slip of paper with a phone number and name written on it. “He’s expecting your call.” He sets the paper on the counter, jumps off, and leaves with a kiss to my forehead, but not before he snags the bag of caramel popcorn I’d just unpacked.
It takes me two hours and two glasses – okay three – of wine before I work up the courage to call Noel. Yes, Noel is his name. And isn’t that just hot? I manage not to embarrass myself too much, I hope, and we set a date for dinner on Friday. It’s only Sunday. How are my nerves going to survive until then?
Chapter 5
"Bad Moon Rising” by Creedence Clearwater Revival
On a hope and a prayer, I decide to dig out a set of sexy underwear for my date with Noel, the sexy hunk who for some strange reason was also at the speed dating event. Putting on the sexy underwear fills me with all kinds of confidence and I decide that, yes, I can wear high heels without killing myself. This date is going to totally rock!
I’m ready fifteen minutes before Noel is set to pick me up. Just enough time for a bit of liquid courage. I pour a glass of chardonnay and sit on my sofa sipping quietly while trying not to be too nervous about my date. Oh, who am I kidding? I’m gulping wine down while pacing the kitchen.
Lucky for me, and my kitchen floor, Noel is right on time. I answer the door hoping he is just as hunky as I remember – before a tequila shot, bottle of beer, and two, or was it three, glasses of wine.
“Hi!” I answer the door a bit breathlessly.
Noel smiles and extends his hand. He doesn’t shake my hand when I reach out though, instead he grasps it with both of his hands and looks me directly in the eyes. “Nice to officially meet you, Izzy.” I swoon a bit at that.
Noel is hotter than I remember. Go me! With my five-eight frame and wearing three inch heels, he still has to look down at me. He must be a few inches taller than six feet. I love that I can wear high heels and not tower over him. He’s also a big guy. Not fat, but broad and built with wide shoulders and a muscular chest. Luckily, he’s well-proportioned – no chicken legs on this one! It’s clear he works out. I can see muscles bulging under his button-down shirt. His hair is dark and curls at the edges and his blue eyes sparkle with mirth as I stare at him.
“Nice to meet you too,” I finally stutter in response.
Noel chuckles and releases my hand. “Ready to go?” I nod and follow him to his car after locking up.
The car stops me in my tracks. “Wow! She’s a beauty.” I circle the car checking out the finish on this classic baby. “Did you restore her yourself?” Ryan – aka speed junkie extraordinaire – was obsessed with muscle cars. It was one of the few obsessions of his I shared. I’ve always loved speed, but didn’t know much about cars until Ryan. At the start of our marriage, he’d drag me to car meets all over Oklahoma and its surroundings. I soon shared Ryan’s love of muscle cars. And Noel doesn’t have any old muscle car but the muscle car of all muscle cars – a Pontiac GTO – one of the top ten muscle cars of all time, according to Car and Driver magazine.
Noel stops in his tracks and looks at me. “You know about muscle cars?”
I blush, embarrassed to be caught drooling. “I freaking love them.” I shrug. “My late husband was obsessed and I caught the bug.” I hear Noel’s swift intake of breath, and realize I’ve broken date rule numero uno according to Cosmo – never mention a former lover, especially a dead husband. Crap.
“I’m sorry to hear about your husband,” Noel sounds sincere, but I shake my head. Sure, I loved Ryan, but I fell out of love with him years before he died. I miss Ryan, the man I fell in love with, but I sure as heck don’t miss the unmotivated drifter he turned into.
“Thanks,” I respond. “It’s okay, it’s been a while.” When I see Noel open his mouth, I raise my hand to forestall any further questions. “Let’s not talk about it okay?” My nose wrinkles of its own accord.
Noel looks puzzled, but nods. I quickly change the subject back to the object of my lust. “So, how long have you had her?” I tilt my head to indicate the shiny, black muscle car.
“All my life. It was my dad’s car.”
“Seriously? He bought it from the manufacturer?” I’m even more intrigued now as I know how much money these babies are worth, especially if there has only been one owner.
Noel nods and smiles before opening the door and ushering me in. I sigh as my butt slides into the front seat. As we drive into town, he tunes the radio to a classic jazz station. I chuckle. “Is this what you normally listen to in this baby?” I don’t want to sound rude, but come on, jazz and a muscle car? I’m surprised she hasn’t spit us out yet.
Luckily, Noel doesn’t take offense and shrugs instead. “Not really, but I didn’t think hard rock was appropriate for a date.”
I laugh and reach for the radio. “Seriously? My gay best friend set us up after he asked you out. I think we left appropriate behind before we began.” I turn the radio to the classi
c metal station and dial the volume up. A song from the gods of metal, Metallica, is playing and Noel and I sing along as we drive through town.
Noel drives to a small Mexican restaurant. I turn questioning eyes on him, and he lifts his hands in surrender. “Okay, I confess! Jack told me Mexican food was your favorite.” Let’s just hope that’s all my former bestie told Noel.
Dinner is good, maybe even awesome! I limit myself to one margarita because those things pack a punch and who knows what idiocy would flow forth from my mouth after one too many of those bad boys. Noel is an awesome guy. He’s a detective on the local police force. He was worried that would bother me, but I’m not sure why. Do I look like I’m harboring guilty secrets? He explains he works long hours and gets calls at all times of the day and night. Apparently, some bitchy old girlfriends have had problems with that. (I added the bitchy part.)
But I’m not like other girls. I understand perfectly the need to work odd hours. Even if graphic design isn’t as important to society as the police work Noel does, I still have to pay the bills and being self-employed means accepting nearly every assignment that comes my way and putting up with crazy deadlines from clients. And let’s face it, after supporting my husband’s daredevil habits, I’m just glad that Noel even has a job.
By the time dinner ends, I’m holding my breath waiting for the catch. I mean, seriously, Noel is hot, sweet, and has a job! He must be a cross-dresser or something. I consider asking him what’s wrong with him, but luckily my brain and mouth are properly connected before I blurt out any stupid questions.
The waitress arrives with the check and Noel grabs it while I reach for my purse. He puts a hand on my arm. “I got it.” I’m not used to men paying so I’m a bit tongue tied. “Um, thanks?” It comes out sounding like a question. I’m such a dork sometimes.
“I’m just going to go to the bathroom before we head out.” I stand and grab my purse. Emboldened by a great evening, a hot guy, and one margarita, I add a bit of sway to my hips and an extra bounce to my step. And down she goes! I miss the step from the restaurant into the hallway where the restrooms are located and end up sprawled across the hallway floor. Crap on a cracker!
Of course this is the night I’m wearing a short dress that flares out and a very sexy thong. My dress is now bunched up around my waist displaying my thong for all eyes to see. A thong which doesn’t even come close to covering my butt cheeks. The very same butt cheeks that are now mooning everyone in the restaurant. I think the heat from my face just lit the kitchen stove on fire.
I jump up as quickly as possible and pull my dress down before running out the back entrance of the restaurant. I’m already standing by Noel’s car by the time he finds me.
“Are you okay?” He asks as he opens my door.
I nod but don’t say anything. How freaking embarrassing! I don’t speak on the ride home. Noel tries to start several conversations, but gives up after I only utter monosyllables in response. I jump out of the car when we reach my house. I yell thanks and goodbye before unlocking my door and slamming it behind me. Great! I finally meet a hot, nice man with a good job, and I had to totally ruin it. I’m done dating.
Chapter 6
"Friends Will be Friends” by Queen
The smell of hot cinnamon rolls and the sound of an incredibly girly shout of “Good morning! Time to rise and shine!”, wake me the next morning. I peer at the alarm clock and notice it’s only nine. After the most embarrassing date of the century, I tossed and turned the vast majority of the night only managing to fall asleep around three. A wake-up call at nine on Saturday is definitely not welcome.
I roll over and hide my head under the pillow. “What are you doing here at this ungodly hour?” I ask the bed.
“I heard about your little incident last night,” Jack chuckles. That’s right. The man actually dares to chuckle at me.
I briefly rise out of bed and throw my pillow at him. Unfortunately, my eyes are still caked shut from sleep, and I miss Jack completely. Not bothered, he giggles and bounces on the bed. “Now, now, my little padawan.” He hands me a large latte and holds a cinnamon bun under my nose.
I gotta admit it, Jack knows how to win me over. I sit up and grab the offering. I take a huge bite before asking, “How did you hear?” Oh great, now I’m the talk of the freaking town!
“A hot cop called me this morning and asked me to check up on you. He was worried.”
I nearly choke on my coffee. “Noel called you and told you what happened?” I stare at my coffee. “I bet that was a hilarious conversation,” I grumble.
Jack puts his arm around me and squeezes. “You know I would never laugh at you in front of other people.” Fortunately, this is true. He may tease the living daylights out of me, but he protects me like a papa bear when others are around. I lean my head on his shoulder. “Thanks.”
We finish our cinnamon rolls and coffee in silence. “Well,” I say while bundling my trash together in the takeout bag. “That’s that. No more dating for Izzy.”
Jack grabs my hand and stops my nervous movements. “You’ve got to be kidding me Iz. That hunk of a man called me this morning worried about you! You’ve got to give him another chance.”
I shake my head. “No way, José.” I jump from my bed and head to the shower.
After a lazy shower, I walk into my bedroom dressed only in a towel to find Jack reading on my bed. “Shit,” I yell with my hand on my heart, “you scared me.” I walk to the dresser and pull out some underwear. “What are you still doing here?”
Jack doesn’t even look up from his reading. “Did you forget lunch with Grandma?”
Face plant. Shit, er, shoot. I did forget. Now I can’t spend the day wallowing in my pajamas and eating ice cream. I sigh and turn to my closet for a Grandma-appropriate dress. We are taking Grandma to her favorite restaurant and she has strict dress code standards. I glimpse at Jack and notice he’s in the requisite khakis and button-down oxford shirt.
Thirty minutes later we’re in Jack’s car on our way to pick-up Grandma. I normally don’t take long to get ready, but my hair takes forever to dry and Grandma does not approve of wet hair or a sloppy bun. Don’t even get her started on pony-tails. You won’t survive it! Trust me. Of course, she’s right, but mostly I’m too busy to care about the appropriate hair care for the middle-aged.
Grandma is sitting on her porch swing when we arrive. Her front door is locked, she’s got her purse in her hands, and her coat is on. Shoot! We must be late. I don’t bother to check the clock. I immediately start with the apologies.
“Sorry we’re late Grandma,” I say as I jump out of the car and walk to the porch to help her. “I had a bad date last night and didn’t want to get out of bed this morning.” No sense beating around the bush. If Grandma doesn’t coerce the truth out of me, Jack will spill the beans anyway.
Grandma doesn’t say anything until we’re seated in Jack’s car on our way to the restaurant. “What did you do now young lady?”
I don’t bother pretending I don’t know what she’s talking about. If her voice, filled with disappointment, doesn’t work on me, she’ll use her cane. Seriously, you don’t want to mess with my grandma. While I’m trying to figure out a way to respond, which doesn’t cause any more embarrassment than necessary, Jack fills her in. “Turns out our Izzy mooned an entire restaurant during her date last night.”
Jack chuckles, but not Grandma, no Grandma guffaws. When she finally calms down, which feels like it takes freaking forever, she asks, “How did you manage to do that, child? Did you forget to wear knickers?”
“I was wearing a thong,” I mumble. I’ve long been of the opinion that Grandma has selective hearing because somehow she manages to hear the word thong despite her oft issued lament that she is deaf.
“A thong,” she chortles. “Don’t you know better than to wear dental floss for underwear?”
Jack’s driving becomes erratic as he snort laughs. I tune the two of them out for the rema
inder of the drive. I really don’t need to hear the opinions of a gay man and an old lady on what is fashionable underwear for a young lady. Not that I’m a young lady, but you get my meaning.
Despite the somewhat uncomfortable start, lunch with Grandma is always great fun. She drops the subject of my awful date when we reach the restaurant. She has an opinion about everyone and everything – and they’re not what you would expect at all! When she’s sees a tatted up man enter the pristine restaurant, she sighs and wishes she were 40 years younger. She’s not afraid to yell at children who are running around the restaurant acting like little hooligans either. I have to actually keep her from using her cane to deliberately trip young kids, although it’s impossible to stop her yelling at the parents for raising hellions. I totally agree with her and can’t wait until I’m old enough to spit out my opinions and everyone is too afraid to respond to me.
After we finish lunch and dessert, because it’s not a meal out without dessert, Grandma demands we take the long way home and naturally Jack not only agrees but also has no problem assenting to driving way over the speed limit. It’s clear where Ryan got his need for speed from. After a not-so-leisurely drive, we drop Grandma off at her house and then Jack takes me home. I’m exhausted and ready for a nap by the time we arrive. Jack grabs my hand before I can escape. “Just. Call. Him.” I shake my head and he releases my hand with a groan of frustration.
Chapter 7
"Lightening Crashes” by Live
The phone ringing pulls me out of the zone. Despite my obsession with the most embarrassing date ever and my compulsive need to mull things over in my mind until I think my head will explode, I’ve managed to get into the zone with my work. I am kicking graphic design butt today! Or at least I was until the phone starts ringing and pulls me out of the zone. I consider not answering, but I’m a bit compulsive about always answering the phone. I mean you never know, right?
The Gray-Haired Knitting Detective Series: (Books 1 - 3) Page 3