Ashley was always calm and reasonable. It made her good at her job, but it didn’t make me any less miserable.
“You sent her off on another date,” I said. Why pussyfoot around? “With an inferior candidate, I hope? A real loser who makes me look good by comparison.”
Ashley laughed. “In your dreams, Jeremy, my friend. You know that’s not the way it works. None of my clients are inferior. My professional reputation is on the line with every date I send clients on. You also know I value my clients’ privacy. I can neither deny nor confirm that Crystal is on another date.”
“Like hell you can’t.”
Ashley laughed again. “But you can assume she’ll be dating other men. She’s a brand-new client, as I told you. Clients get lots of matches. The friendship between you and me doesn’t factor in. Other than giving you first crack at her, I’m not stacking the deck in your favor. You’re going to have to work for this woman. But if you win her, you’ll know you deserve her.”
“When,” I said. “When I win her.”
“Exactly. That’s the spirit,” Ashley said. “If I may offer you some advice as your matchmaker? If I were you, I’d begin planning a wonderfully romantic second date right away.”
“It’s going to have to be some date to make up for stupid low commitment coffee.” I slumped back in my chair.
“And for your other obvious sin—not thinking she’s quite as beautiful now that she’s not a blonde.”
“I didn’t say that—”
“You didn’t need to. It was pretty obvious from your attitude and the way you told the story. It had to be plain to her, too.”
I grumbled to myself. “You’re a big help, a real confidence booster.” I took another deep breath.
“Just calling it as I see it. Ask yourself—did you fall for her because of her hair color? Or something deeper?”
“We had an instant connection,” I said. “I felt the spark today, too. You have to help. The next guy already has one over on me. He’s taking her to lunch. And another is taking her to dinner tomorrow.”
“No comment,” Ashley said. “Up your game. And trust me. That’s all I can say.”
I was quiet for a moment, debating. There was no way I was letting some other guy get the advantage on me. Crystal told me to text her—why should I wait?
“All right. Thanks for the advice,” I said. “I gotta go.”
“Jeremy? No. Don’t even think about it—”
“What?”
“Do not, I repeat, do not text her the moment we hang up.”
Mind reader.
“Don’t resort to needy, too-enthusiastic nerd behavior,” Ashley said.
“Who’s always telling me that women are the hot commodity in this city?” I said. “That men snap the good ones up as soon as they come on the market? That if you want the girl, you have to move in confidently?”
“And strategically,” she said. “Wait until I’ve talked to Crystal, get her feedback, and get back to you. Once I talk to her, we’ll know how to proceed. Promise me you won’t text her.”
“I promise to follow all of your advice that I think is most pertinent here and helps my case. Bye, Ashley.” I hung up and did exactly what Ashley told me not to do. I texted Crystal.
8
Crystal
I had a fun, pleasant lunch with my second date of the day, a handsome tech exec named Rick who was very much to my tastes. At least on the surface and on paper. If I’d met him two weeks ago…
I gave Ashley points again for listening to me and accurately finding what I said I wanted in a man. All these years of my adult life looking for dates on my own and I had not been as successful as she had been for me in the space of a few days.
When I first found out that Jeremy and Ashley were friends this morning, I felt betrayed. And more than leery about this second date. Was my matchmaker going to set me up with dogs to make Jeremy look better?
All of those concerns were now put to rest. Ashley was the ultimate professional. Clearly, she wasn’t letting her personal feelings of friendship for Jeremy come before my needs, and the needs of her other clients. Rick was clearly a catch. Very charming and successful. Creative. Funny. Nice looking.
Like Jeremy had, Rick hugged me hello. And better yet, he’d put a lot more thought into the date. We dined at a restaurant on the waterfront renowned for its seafood and innovative dishes.
The place was packed, but we had reservations and were seated at a prime table. I was still happy and excited from my date with Jeremy, even though he’d underwhelmed me with coffee and had a bit of trouble recognizing me immediately. With Rick, there were no such early missteps. But something just didn’t click, and it was clear we both knew it.
I hadn’t realized until our date was over that I’d accidentally gone old school for my date with Rick. I’d forgotten to take my phone off airplane mode after leaving Jet City Coffee. And Rick, tech geek that he apparently was, hadn’t let texts or calls interrupt us from his end, either.
I really should have been in to him. I really should have. I liked him. A lot. But there was something missing. Something terribly important—chemistry. He smelled good. He looked good. There were absolutely no apparent deal breakers, but…
But is never good. But here it was, my gut feeling, my antennae, my trend-spotting radar had kicked in with him. I couldn’t see any trend line where he and I ended up together making babies and a life together. I just couldn’t.
All right, back to being picky. I could already picture my best friend Anna chiding me when I told her about my dates. I could hear her saying there was no way I could know for sure a guy wasn’t right for me after only one date, and one very pleasant date at that. That I should give a good guy like Rick a second date.
All that was going through my mind as I told Rick I’d had a good time and he said he’d be in touch. And I said I looked forward to hearing from him again. We both knew it was all pure BS. There would be no second date. Neither of us were the type of people who wasted time. We were too busy. And we had a matchmaker to find us plenty more dates where this one came from.
My first-date postmortem with Ashley was going to be interesting.
I was thinking all this through as I got in my car to drive home and pulled my phone out of my purse to take it off airplane mode.
Almost immediately, I was bombarded with texts from Jeremy.
It’s bad form to text so soon after a first date, but I can’t wait. Having coffee with you was the best first date I’ve had. Ever. It was also the worst. I blew it. I know it. I’m an unobservant douche. I’m down on my knees apologizing for getting off on the wrong foot. I should have recognized you immediately as the hot woman who captured my imagination at the accident. I should have showered you with lunch or dinner or a European vacation.
I’d like another chance. A chance to make it up to you. Second date?
My heart melted. I was smiling again. The first time I met Jeremy was perfect. This second time was cemented that impression. I couldn’t get him out of my mind.
His first text had been sent minutes after I left. It was followed by three more.
Okay, no pressure here. I get it. You’re in the middle of your lunch with bachelor number two. Whatever he promises for date number two, I’ll double it.
I laughed.
Still at lunch? That’s a long lunch. I’m getting insecure. Let me at least buy you a beer, a real beer, not one rolling down the street.
And finally…
A year of dating suaveness down the drain. All Ashley’s advice thrown out the window. Don’t blame her for this. I’ve reverted to geeky begging all on my own. Give me a second chance?
I had to put this guy out of his misery. Begging and insecurity were usually turnoffs. But his sweet sense of humor and sincerity outweighed the downsides. I texted him back.
All right. You’ve convinced me. Second chance it is. But not until Friday. I’m busy until then.
Never be
too available. Besides, it was the truth.
He responded immediately.
Whew. I was sweating bullets. Friday evening. Let me impress you this time. I’ll text you the details later.
Fortunately, it wasn’t yet three and traffic was light, for Seattle, as I pulled out of the parking garage, smiling profusely.
*
Crystal
I was nervous as I sat down with Ashley for my date postmortem at the Pair Us offices. The Pair Us suite was beautiful, elegant, and upscale—as I would expect it to be for the prices they charged. Not that I was complaining. I’d already had dates with two awesome men, unicorn-type men.
Ashley’s assistant, Lottie, greeted me and offered me coffee, tea, or a cold beverage. I was too nervous to drink anything. Lottie was a warm and comforting soul. Very personable and almost maternal. She made me feel at home, but I had the impression she was watching me when she thought I wasn’t looking. As if I were a curiosity. Did I have a stain on my blouse? I wasn’t that special.
Of course, now I was skeptical. Cynical, in a way. Was Lottie friends with Jeremy, too? Was that why she watched me so closely? And how would she brand me? As the woman who would break Jeremy’s heart given the chance? I inwardly laughed at the idea.
I picked up a magazine and idly leafed through, looking but not seeing. A pretty sculpture of an elegant bridge sat in the middle of the reception area. Heart-shaped gold locks hung on it. Gold locks with the initials of couples engraved on them. Ashley’s success stories. I knew all about the heart locks. The locks were a genius marketing scheme.
Ashley stepped out of her office before I had time to really settle in. Her eyes lit up when she saw me. “Crystal!”
She came out and warmly clasped my hand, looking perfectly turned out as usual as she invited me into her office and shut the door behind us. “Thank you for coming in to the office today. I usually like to meet someplace less formal, but I’ve been swamped and hard-pressed to get out today.”
She repeated Lottie’s offer of a beverage. Feeling a little calmer, I accepted a chilled bottle of water. We settled in to two cozy chairs with a view of Lake Union in the seating area of her office, which was designed to feel like a living room. The chairs were placed in front of a gas fireplace, an end table next to each one. Bookcases lined the walls, filled with books on romance, dating, and relationships. One of the books caught my attention—it was written by Ashley.
Her office was a corner suite with walls of windows overlooking the lake. It was decorated in reds, whites, and blacks, with a romance theme. Pictures of happy couples and wedding, engagement, and anniversary photos sat all around, interspersed in the bookshelves like framed pictures of family. They spilled over onto any empty wall space, advertisements of her success.
She uncapped a bottle of water for herself and handed me an open velvet jewelry box. A gold-plated heart-shaped lock with a key sat on a bed of satin inside. “It’s engraved with your initials. All of my clients get a lock when they sign up. When you get engaged, or move in together, decide to make a life together, you lock it on our bridge sculpture in the reception area.”
I studied it. “This is pretty. I was wondering when I’d get my lock.” I snapped the box shut and met her eyes. “I saw the bridge while I waited. It’s fantastic visual marketing. It showcases your successes brilliantly. What will you do when your bridge is full?”
She grinned. “We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.”
I slid my lock into my purse. “So how does this postmortem work?” I uncapped my bottle and fiddled with the cap, finally reminding myself to stop fidgeting.
“We chat about your dates.”
“We chat?” My bottle of water was cold in my hand. “Like old friends? Girl talk? As if I was talking to Anna, my best friend?”
“Almost.” She set her water bottle on a coaster on the table next to her. “More like to your bossy, but wise, older sister. Someone you go to for advice about boys.” She winked.
I studied her. “Are you sure you’re from Manhattan? You don’t act like a New Yorker. Or sound like one.”
“I’m not as direct?” she said. “Not as brash and forthcoming with my opinions? I don’t have the accent?” She laughed. “Maybe that’s because I’m not a native New Yorker. I’m a transplant, like I am here. After my husband was killed during his tour of duty, I moved to Manhattan to set up business. It seemed like the place to be. Either there or LA, and I had more connections at the time in the Big Apple. Before that, I was a military wife, which is a nomadic life in a way. I followed Ruck to wherever he was stationed.”
“I’m sorry for your loss,” I said. “I didn’t realize you were widowed.”
Her smile remained in place. “Thank you for your sympathy. My widowhood isn’t something I advertise. I don’t hide it, but I don’t put it in my bio. It’s nice to throw back at smartasses when they ask why, if I’m such a great matchmaker, I’ve never been married. Then I explain that I was, and the first love of my life was taken from me in service to his country. That shuts up ninety percent of them. The other ten percent are unredeemable. I won’t take them on.”
“Good for you.” The water bottle was sweating, but I perversely refused to put it down, preferring to have something to do with my hands instead.
“So tell me about your dates,” she said. “What did you like and dislike about each of the men? You’ve been on two dates so far, one with Rick and one with Jeremy. Any sparks with either of them? Any feedback?”
“You’re very coy. Before I confide in you, I have to tell you that I didn’t realize until Jeremy told me that you and he are friends.”
“I am. That’s no secret.” She nodded. “You’re new to matchmaking, but being friends with your clients isn’t at all unusual. Maybe not as common for matchmakers who are as established as I am, but new matchmakers, that’s how they begin. By matching people they know with other people they know—friends, family, colleagues, acquaintances.
“You know that I’ve personally met and ‘dated’ every man that I send you out with. By dating, I mean I go on simulated dates to coach the men before I send them out in the dating world. I could have done that for you if you’d been interested. We still can if you want. But I have to warn you, when I play the man, I like to throw curveballs.”
I laughed. I liked Ashley. She had that “it factor” about her—poise, charm, and charisma. She genuinely liked people and her clients, and it was obvious.
“But, to be more direct,” she said, “yes, Jeremy is a real friend. He’s a college buddy of my fiancé and one of my original clients here.”
She paused. “Does that bother you? Do you feel like it’s a conflict of interest?” Now she sounded like a therapist. “I feel like I can be completely professional and unbiased even when I’ve sent you out on a date with a close friend of mine. My interests as a matchmaker have always superseded taking sides with one client over another. But in the future, I can warn you when I have a strong attachment to one of my clients that I’ve matched you with, if that’s what you prefer.”
I set my water down. “I’m not calling your ethics or professionalism into question. I was surprised, is all. What I really want to know is this—how do I win Jeremy’s heart?”
I didn’t think it would be so easy to surprise the matchmaker and catch her off guard, but clearly I had. Yeah, I was good with sussing info out. She’d just confirmed my suspicion that she’d already talked to Jeremy. And he was worried that I hadn’t been impressed, just like his texts to me indicated.
“You liked Jeremy?” Ashley said slowly.
“Very much.” I smiled. “Are you surprised? Didn’t he tell you that we’d met before? At an accident scene where we hit it off immediately, but each neglected to get the other’s number.”
Ashley lifted a perfectly shaped eyebrow. I had eyebrow envy. Maybe I’d ask her where she got them done.
“Nice maneuvering,” Ashley said. “But you could have simply a
sked. The answer is yes, I’ve already talked to him and gotten his impression of the date. Before we talk about that, tell me about Rick. How did that date go? What do you think of him? Would you like to go out with him again?”
I relaxed and shook my head. “You clearly haven’t talked to him yet. If you had, you’d know that we had a good time. A very good time. We felt like old friends. But sadly, and very confoundingly, there was no chemistry. I enjoyed my date with Rick. Everything about him impressed me. I could see us continuing as friends, but not lovers.
“You did a great job picking him. Our date was wonderful. He thoughtfully planned it. We were comfortable with each other. There were no awkward gaps in the conversation. No obvious deal breakers. It was just…despite him appearing to be my type physically and on paper, there just wasn’t that indefinable something special between us.”
“So nothing I can tweak in my selection process of men for you?” Ashley said.
I shook my head.
“And Jeremy?”
I gave her the side eye. “For a start, he could improve his dating game to show me he wants to impress me. And make it a little less obvious that he prefers blondes.”
Ashley laughed. “Other than that Mrs. Lincoln, how was the play?”
I laughed with her. “Love is crazy, isn’t it? Not that I’m in love with Jeremy. Way too early for that. But that out of the two dates, one perfect and one, well, not perfect, I want the guy who didn’t put much effort in.” I took a deep breath. “Maybe I just have bad taste in men.”
“None of my men are bad guys or bad catches,” she said. “But I take your point.” She got a serious expression. “Is there anything you can put your finger on about Jeremy that will help me make other matches for you? Anything at all?”
I thought about it. “He’s genuine. I like that. And sweet. Not full of himself. And…”
Mr. Accidental Her_Jeremy Page 8