The Introvert's Guide to Speed Dating (The Introvert's Guide, #2)

by Emma Hart

  “At the risk of sounding utterly pathetic, I really don’t.” I laughed, resting my arm across the back of the sofa. “It’s nice to do something other than watch TV shows I’ve watched a thousand times, go for a run, or read the always happy news.”

  “Oh, come on. You do have friends. There are plenty of things for you to do that don’t involve hanging out with a six-year-old.”

  “In my defense, he’s a very cool six-year-old.”

  “Oliver, what are you really doing here tonight?”

  I held up my hands with a small laugh and turned to face her. “I really am here to help Leo. I know the game and, if he really wanted to, I truly believe he has what it takes to go professional.”

  Her lips parted.

  “He’s a good kid. He’s smart and determined to improve, and that’s why he got upset earlier when he didn’t save my last shot. He wants to be the best he can be and that’s a good thing for him.”

  “That doesn’t answer my question.”

  I sighed. “I came to help Leo and stayed for your company. Is that better?”

  A smile tugged at her lips. “My company? Are you sure you just aren’t here to spy on what I’m writing about you after our interview?”

  “There might be an ulterior motive.” I picked up my tea and raised it to my lips. “Does your laptop have a password by any chance?”

  “It does. And facial recognition. Sorry.”

  “Damn it. I don’t suppose you have a brunette wig I could borrow to break into it?”

  “Sorry, it’s all my own hair.” She hid her smile behind her coffee cup. “You’ll have to wait until the article is done and published.”

  “Aw, I can’t even read it early?”

  She tilted her head to the side. “How many games are in the tournament this weekend?”

  “Six. Why?”

  “If Leo keeps a clean sheet in four of those games, I’ll send you the article early.” She quirked an eyebrow in challenge. “If not, you have to wait.”

  “That’s more of a challenge for him than me.”

  “Nope. You have to make sure he does. If he doesn’t, I’ll hold you personally responsible.”

  “Starting to regret saying I’d stayed for the company. It’s more competitive than I thought.” I sipped my tea. “Although now I see where your son gets it.”

  London snorted and leaned forward, clapping her hand over her face. “Oh, my God. That went down the wrong way.”

  “You mean up, right? Right up your nose, to be precise.”

  “Shut up!” She laughed, hitting my thigh. “Oh, my God. It burns so badly.”

  “Nothing I can do about that.” I was desperately fighting my own laughter.

  “It’s your fault!” She fanned her face with her hand, sniffing a few times as she did so. “I think that’s better. Holy crap.”

  “How is that my fault? I had no idea you’d find it funny. I was just stating a fact.”

  “It’s not my fault my family is wildly competitive,” London said defensively. “We all blame our grandmother. She’s the worst. When we were growing up our parents were very, “Your best is the best, it doesn’t matter if you win or lose!” and if she caught them saying that to us, she’d yell at them and tell them nobody gives out trophies for second place, and if we don’t get trophies, why did she buy the trophy cabinet?”

  I blinked at her. “She bought a trophy cabinet?”

  “Two of. Awfully presumptuous for a woman who has three granddaughters and no grandsons.”

  “Not to mention that she thought you’d hand the trophies over.”

  “I hear that. I did cheer in middle school, and we won a regional tournament. We told her we came second, and I hid the trophy whenever she came over.”

  “Why am I not surprised by that at all?”

  “Probably because you have the misguided notion that you’re figuring me out.” London reached up and retied her ponytail. “And I’m letting you because I don’t like to disappoint you.”

  “Who said I was figuring you out?”

  “You have that look about you.”

  “Like I’m trying to solve a crossword or something?”

  “Did you just compare me to a puzzle?”

  “Hey. You’re the one who started it. Would you prefer to be a riddle instead?”

  She gave me a withering look, but there was the tiniest hint of a smile playing a the corners of her mouth. “Have you been this insufferable your entire life, or is it just a weird British sense of humor I don’t understand?”

  “My family will tell you the former, but I’m going to completely err on the side of a weird British sense of humor. Is it not endearing to you?”

  “All right, Mr. Darcy.” She patted my knee and got up. “I don’t want to be rude, but I have a thirty-minute argument about a shower with a six-year-old boy to attend and I don’t want to be late for that.”

  I picked up our empty mugs with a chuckle. “Want me to go first and convince him it’s a good idea? Worked with the tomatoes.”

  She dipped her head and darted inside, but not before I saw the light rise of a blush on her cheeks. “No, thank you. I don’t need a naked man walking about my house this evening.”

  “Are you sure? Naked men can be very useful.”

  “Are you—are you flirting with me?” She looked back at me, her cheeks still a rosy shade of pink.

  I half-grinned. “I’m sorry, should I stop?”

  “I, um—” She cleared her throat and looked away for a second. “I really have to get Leo in the shower.”

  I put the mugs in the sink, desperately trying to stop my grin from widening. “You go ahead. I can see myself out. Thank you for dinner, it was delicious. I’m afraid I’m going to have to come back on Thursday to help Leo a little more. Do some reflex work, you know?”

  Her throat bobbed. “S—sure. Of course. Um, he’s with his dad again on Friday so we were going to make pizza. Is that okay?”

  “Is pizza okay? London, if you cut me open and examined my blood cells, you’d see a mix of footballs and pizza.”

  She smiled, a little of her awkwardness fading away as she wrapped her arms around her waist, guiding me to the front door. “Okay. Um. Well, thank you. I… really enjoyed not having to be the one to play Mario tonight.”

  Her eyes met mine.

  Her cheeks were still a little flushed, and I knew enough about body language to know that the way she was hugging herself was nothing more than a small defense mechanism.

  If she were anyone else, I might have kissed her right now.

  Heck, I wanted to. If I’d walked into her house being attracted to her, I was sure as hell leaving it even more so. I wanted to kiss her—just once, just enough to let her know that I really didn’t mind… playing Mario.

  I couldn’t, though.

  I knew her boundaries on dating, and while I had a real soft spot for Leo, this wasn’t my move to make.

  Not yet, anyway.

  “I really enjoyed… playing Mario,” I said slowly, letting a lopsided smile take over my face. “Thank you. I’ll let you get to that shower argument now.”

  She leaned against the door, smiling almost shyly. “Thanks, Ollie.”

  “Pleasure was all mine.” I pulled my keys from my pocket and headed for my car, turning my head back only at the sound of the door clicking shut.

  I got into my car and pulled out my phone, bringing up our text message thread.

  ME: You didn’t tell me to stop flirting with you.

  After hitting send, I tossed my phone on the passenger seat and pulled away from her house.

  And try as I might, I couldn’t wipe the stupid fucking grin off my face.

  CHAPTER NINE – LONDON

  RULE NINE: PINK MAKES THE BOYS WINK. ESPECIALLY IF THE PINK THING IS YOUR CHEEKS.

  “Hey, London? These were just delivered for you.”

  I looked up from my laptop and froze. “What?”

  Mandy poked her
head out from around the bouquet of flowers. “They have your name on. Do you have a secret admirer?”

  I pushed my chair back with a shake of my head. “Not that I know of, but then again, if I knew, it wouldn’t be secret. Can you put them on the desk, please?”

  My assistant shuffled over and put the bouquet of pretty colored flowers on an empty part of my desk. “They’re amazing. The card is just here.”

  I took the folded white card she offered me and opened it.

  London,

  Thanks again for dinner last night. It’s really been a long time since I had homecooked food.

  Ollie

  I fought back a smile and folded the card, replacing it in the bouquet, then looked at Mandy. “Thanks. Just a friend thanking me for dinner.”

  She peered over at the yellow roses that were interspersed with purple irises and pink carnations. “If that friend is a male, I don’t think he wants to be friends.”

  I cleared my throat, and she grinned.

  “I’ll get back to work now.” She skipped out of my office and closed the door behind her.

  I turned back to the flowers.

  Why had he sent flowers? The dinner was a thank you to him.

  Was Mandy right? Was Oliver interested in more than friendship with me?

  No. That wasn’t right. He was Leo’s soccer coach. That wouldn’t be appropriate, would it?

  He did get along with Leo. Leo loved him, actually. Had for ages. And Oliver was handsome and sweet and made me laugh.

  He also said in his interview he wasn’t sure if he was staying in America, and I wasn’t interested in a relationship that might not last.

  Oh, fuck it all.

  I grabbed my phone and snapped a picture, then sent it to both my cousins and all my friends individually to see what they thought, explaining the situation.

  The messages came back one by one, all promptly.

  You’d think none of them had a life or a job.

  IVY: Oh, yeah. He’s interested.

  I started a quick tally chart on my notebook.

  SAYLOR: Yup. Bang him at least.

  Always elegant.

  TORI: Definitely interested. Good chance to get laid.

  As with Saylor, I was not surprised by that response.

  KINSLEY: Oh I agree with Mandy. He’s definitely interested in you. This could be good for you!

  Why couldn’t Ivy use that many words? She was my cousin, after all.

  PIPER: OOOHHHHH HE WANTS YOU

  My friends, ladies and gentlemen.

  HOLLEY: Saylor said bang him, Kinsley likes this journey for you (she needs to lay off Schitt’s Creek) and I’m going straight down the middle. I think he definitely likes you. I also think it wouldn’t hurt either of you to have some fun while Leo is away.

  The voice of reason.

  Well, I didn’t think he was interested, so I was wholly outnumbered.

  The idea of sleeping with him was out, though. I didn’t do that. I had never had a one-night stand in my life. I’d actually never slept with anyone I wasn’t in a relationship with.

  It wasn’t anything I intended on doing anytime soon.

  I chewed the inside of my lip. I knew I had to text Ollie and thank him for the flowers—and I was truly grateful—but I didn’t know what to say.

  Thank you didn’t seem adequate.

  Anything else seemed too much.

  Ugh.

  I was overthinking this, wasn’t I?

  Yes, I was. Totally overthinking this.

  I opened my messages with him and typed.

  ME: Thank you for the flowers.

  I hesitated. No, no. That was too simple.

  I just got the flowers… Thank you.

  Ugh. Still not right.

  The flowers are beautiful. Thank you. You shouldn’t have.

  Oh, that still wasn’t it. For the love of God, why was this so hard?

  A shrill ring echoed through the room, and I squealed, staring at my desk phone. I put my phone down and switched it for the handset. “Hello?”

  The line went dead.

  Ugh.

  Freaking fake calls. I was getting so over those.

  My cell buzzed, and I once again switched the phones over.

  OLIVER: Just wanted to say thank you properly. Glad you liked them. x

  Wait.

  What?

  What did I send?

  Holy shit.

  I blinked fast and read my message. It was the last thing I’d tapped out, and I blew out a long breath.

  Well, it could have been worse.

  At least I’d gotten that out of the way, and his message didn’t really warrant a response.

  For now. Leo did have practice tonight, after all, and I’d have to see him then.

  Ohhhh.

  I dropped my forehead onto the desk. What was I doing? Why was I acting like a teenager over this? I was a mother, for goodness’ sake. I had no business fluttering about like I was just seeing my teenage crush in person after years of having a poster on my wall.

  I sat up and looked at the time. I had a ton of work to do. I didn’t have enough time to be sitting here lollygagging and thinking about someone who may or may not have feelings for me.

  And I definitely didn’t need to be doodling a heart on the notebook to my right.

  Damn it.

  I tore off that page, scrunched it up, and tossed it in the metal trashcan under my desk right as two knocks sounded at my door and it was pushed open.

  “Ebony, come on in,” I drawled, pushing hair from my face. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

  “How is your special edition coming on?” she asked, feigning interest as she walked around my office.

  God, I hated her.

  “Well, thank you. What are you doing in here?”

  “I need you to work on a piece for me.” She turned and looked at me through her appropriately colored black hair. “There’s a concert by a local band this Saturday at Bronco’s and I need you to cover it.”

  “Uh, I can’t. I’m busy working on the edition about the sports center, and you know that, since you started with it. Can’t someone else do it?”

  “Nope. They’re all busy, and I know you don’t have your kid this weekend.”

  “Exactly. This weekend is my weekend off. Mr. Chester told you I can’t pick up your assignments while I’m working on this. You’ll have to do it yourself.” I got up and held the door open a little wider in the hope she’d get the point. “If you don’t mind…”

  Ebony approached the flowers instead of leaving and ran her finger over one of the petals of a lily. I scowled as she plucked the card out from between the greenery and opened it.

  “Do you mind? That’s private.”

  “‘London, thanks again for dinner last night. It’s really been a long time since I had homecooked food. Ollie,’” she read, lifting her eyes to mine and pouting. “How sweet. But, wait, isn’t Ollie the British guy at the sports center?”

  I glared at her. I knew exactly what she was implying, and I knew exactly what she would do with whatever conclusion she was going to jump to with absolutely no information whatsoever.

  “Does Mr. Chester know you’re flirting on office time?”

  “You should be careful jumping to conclusions. You never know what cliff you might end up falling off.”

  “Ooh, very philosophical,” she snapped. “I’m keeping an eye on you, London. If I find that you’re using work time to conduct personal activities, I’m going to make sure this project is your last.”

  “Are you threatening me?”

  “Absolutely not. Just reminding you that I’m your superior.” She stalked out of my office, her heels clicking on the floor.

  “Yet here I am, working on the big project you expected, while you’re covering a local band on Saturday night.”

  She froze, then turned to glare at me over her shoulder. “Why, you—”

  “Careful sitting up so high on
your horse,” I said flatly. “It’s going to hurt if you ever fall off.”

  Then I slammed the door on her and locked it so she couldn’t burst back in.

  I sat back at my laptop and got to work on typing up some of my interview with Sebastian. It’d been only half an hour when there was another knock at my door, and I jerked up.

  “Come in?”

  The handle rattled.

  Right.

  I’d locked it.

  “Hold on, sorry!” I darted over there and unlocked it, opening it to see my boss standing in front of me.

  Uh-oh.

  Despite my apprehension, Mr. Chester chuckled. “Don’t worry. I’m no stranger to locking my door. Sometimes you just need to focus, am I right?”

  “Uh, yes. Yes. Come in, please.” I opened the door fully for him to come in. “What can I help you with, Mr. Chester?”

  “I had a—ooh, these are very nice.” He walked over to the flowers. “Lovely. My wife would like these. Do you know where they came from?”

  “The card is there with the—here.” I picked the card and tore off the front with the florist’s name on and passed it to him. “Does that help?”

  “Yes, lovely. Do we have an admirer?” His eyes twinkled.

  “Oh, no, no. Um, they’re from my son’s, um, soccer coach.”

  He raised his eyebrows. “Oliver?”

  “Yes, um, Leo is going to be the goalkeeper at their tournament this week and, um, he came over last night to give him some one-on-one training and I, uh, cooked him dinner. As a thank you, you know. So this is him. Saying thank you. For the food.” I rubbed the back of my neck. “Very unexpected.”

  Mr. Chester looked at me knowingly for a minute with a smile. “Well, it’s nice to see some young men still have manners.”

  “Yes, yes. For sure.”