Love at Blind Date Complete Series: Books 1-4

by Lorelei M. Hart

  “I need all the details.” He didn’t. It was very much not him, but he knew I needed to talk and think about not the badness. He was that kind of a friend, and I was beyond grateful. Because right now—I needed him so I didn’t pull over and cry.

  101

  Ethan

  Standing on a ladder that was leaning on Gran’s roof in the early morning and breathing in the fresh, small-town air had me looking forward to the day ahead. Even though I had a hose in one hand and a trowel in the other and was staring at a gutter clogged with leaves, the day was full of promise.

  I was up early to do a job I hated before the June sun became unbearable. Afterward, I’d shower, cycle to the family-run coffee shop, grab an Americano for me and a cappuccino for Gran.

  Early mornings—as well as afternoons—were usually my time to write, and afterwards, I’d drive to my grandmother’s and we’d go for coffee. But today she was immersed in some love-gone-wrong saga in the neighborhood, and she and her friends were video chatting about how it had happened and whether they could fix it.

  My grandmother was a tech whiz, though some of the others weren’t judging by the constant yelling of, “Turn the mic on,” and “We can see your butt.”

  I’d make up my writing time this evening at home when the town was quiet apart from insects humming chirping in the trees beside the house.

  If I was honest, getting outside and away from the talk of relationships suited me. Gran was a keen matchmaker, and when her mind wasn’t occupied with putting people together, she turned her attention to me—often with disastrous results.

  My mind wandered as I got to work attacking the leaves and crap in the gutters. Me taking a year’s leave to complete that novel I’d been working on for over two years had unexpected consequences. Such as more exercise than usual and eating home-cooked food courtesy of my grandmother.

  Originally, when I’d suggested taking time off, my colleagues had poo-pooed the idea saying everyone thought they had a novel inside them. “It’s a pipe dream.” “Stick to teaching biology to college kids.” “You’ve been published in academic journals so why make a fool of yourself?”

  In truth, they looked down on writers of fiction, pretending they’d never read a good mystery or romance. But I went ahead and applied for a year’s leave. And thanks to a grant from the English department given to foster their new creative writing program, I was given full pay for the first semester and half for the second. After saving most of my salary for years, I was able to afford the drop in income.

  But I needed to get out of the city and clear the clutter in my head—much like I was doing to the gutters—and while my grandmother’s second house in the small town where I’d spent my summers growing up wasn’t the first choice, I accepted her offer. She was savvy with money and had bought the other place to rent, but the tenant had moved out the previous month. Lucky coincidence, I suppose.

  Though she was fit and her mind as sharp as ever, she couldn’t get up on the roof or do big renovation jobs around the house. Well, she wasn’t supposed to, but I had a sneaky suspicion she climbed a ladder every now and then instead of paying the high school kid next door.

  As I attacked the crud on the roof, my mind wandered to the chapters I wanted to write later. But as my grandmother and her friends’ animated voices floated through an open window, my thoughts went to my own love life—or lack of it.

  Soon after my arrival in town, Gran had set me up with a friend’s grandson. She’d meant well, and I only went on the date as a favor to her. She insisted he was lovely and we were perfect for one another as he taught in a local community college.

  But I’d barely touched my food during the evening, preferring to push it around on my plate and staring anywhere but at the guy. His fingernails were dirty, and at first I figured he spent a lot of free time in the garden. I know how hard it is to scrub embedded crap from under your nails when you’ve had your hands six inches deep in soil.

  Until he picked his nose. Not once or twice, but constantly. While he spoke about his job, his hobbies—gardening wasn’t one of them—what he’d last seen at the movies and the books he loved.

  I couldn’t look at him, and it turned me off my food. I went to the bathroom twice to wash my hands ‘cause it was gross. And he’d had the nerve to ask if I had a problem with my bladder.

  “Ewww!” I said to myself and made a face when memories came flooding back of that night, just as a car pulled up opposite. I glanced over my shoulder, surprised as Mr. Jenson wasn’t up to driving. He’d just come out of hospital after breaking his hip and had a nurse with him until his family turned up. Gran had been over there to take soup and a casserole she’d made.

  The person getting out of the car was young. Omega. I could tell at a distance. Bit younger than me I guessed and definitely not an elderly man. He shaded his eyes and looked in my direction. Did he hear me and think I was ewwing at him? I wanted to yell, “Not you. It was the nose-picker,” but then I’d have to explain and it was too much trouble.

  My gaze stayed on the newcomer as he opened the back passenger door and pulled out a bag. Nice ass! Maybe he was checking out my butt when he stared at me. Dream on, Ethan! He was probably thinking he should hire me to inspect his own gutters.

  Oh my God, I didn’t mean that. No, I did, but I was thinking of gutters clogged with leaves not being a smart ass and thinking of that omega’s…

  My cheeks burned, and I froze, half-expecting the guy to have overheard my thoughts. The omega glanced in my direction again, gave me an odd look before stalking up the path and into Mr. Jenson’s house. Maybe he was the home help. Doctor on call? I should ask Gran if everything was okay over there. She’d have heard the latest gossip.

  But as I climbed off the ladder, my grandmother came to the front door. “Who was that?” she asked.

  “No idea. I was coming to ask you the same thing.” Her eyes lit up with a look I recognized. “Stop right there, Gran. Do not get any ideas.”

  She huffed and folded her arms. “No clue what you’re talking about. I’m just concerned about Jim.” She waved a hand toward Mr. Jenson’s house. “And I was coming to ask if you were going for coffee.”

  “Chatting with your friends is thirsty work, huh?”

  “You’re not too old to put across my knee, young man.”

  I kissed her gray hair, tied loosely in a bun on top of her head. “I believe it.” I held up three fingers. “Scout’s honor, I’ll behave.”

  Gran harrumphed, but her eyes lit up as a smile appeared on her lips. “Didn’t you burn down something when you were learning fire lighting in the scouts?”

  Damn my grandmother and her excellent memory. My family never let me forget that accident. I changed the subject. “Cappuccino?”

  Her smile broadened. “Please.” She leaned forward and sniffed. “Shower first. You never know who you’ll meet while you’re out.”

  “Yes, Gran.” I threw the words over my shoulder as I headed for the bathroom, glad I’d kept a spare set of clothing there. But as I stood under the flow of warm water, my thoughts went to the omega I’d seen earlier and wished he was standing beside me. Naked!

  102

  Keith

  “I’m home,” I called into the front room, not sure who the little car out front belonged to, but guessing the nurse my aunt made a huge deal over was here. Like she had created some miracle by giving the woman the address or something. It was fair to say I was pretty done with her after the whole not telling me things and trying to put Grandpa in a home.

  No answer came so I shut the door behind me, putting my keys in the bowl that lived there, and heading to where his recliner was. He joked he wanted to be buried with it, but I wasn’t so sure there wasn’t some truth behind it. He loved that stupid thing.

  I walked in to see things completely moved around. The couch was flush against the wall, the throw rug was gone, and the television had been moved to the far wall. The only thing where it belonged
was the recliner.

  “Hello?” A weak voice came from around the corner in the hallway.

  “I’m Keith, the grandson,” I called back, worried I’d scared whomever it was.

  A young man, not even my age, walked around the corner wearing jeans and a scrub top. “I’m Tyler. I’m here for today until you take over,” he explained. “I’m with Nurse at Home.”

  “Where is he?”

  “He’s in bed. He wants to go to the recliner, but I told him to wait until you arrived so I could teach you how to help him, and he fell asleep. Let me show you what I did.” Tyler took me around the house and showed me what he moved where and why. My grandfather needed the room to use his various mobility devices. He was not going to be pleased about his television so far away. Maybe I should get him a new one the size of the wall so he could see it.

  The bathroom led to more equipment, and we ended the tour in the bedroom where Grandpa was now waking up. He looked old...so very, very old.

  “Hey, son.” He gave me a half-smile, falling back to my old nickname, the one that comforted me when things had been really bad. “Glad you're here. My daughter wanted to put me in a home. A home. Like some kind of old person. All because she wanted to get back to whatever she did with her life that had her ignoring me.” I kind of hated my aunt. She only ever came around when she had to, and even then she was less than cordial about it.

  “She mentioned a rehab center, yeah.” And also how livid he was about it and how he refused to sign any paperwork for it. He was as stubborn as she was so. Those poor medical workers at the hospital.

  “Saw you got a new neighbor.” A hot new neighbor, but I left that part off. “What happened to Miss Stella?”

  “That old bat’s still there.” The little grin he wore spoke volumes. He liked her even if she was the neighborhood gossip. She always brought him cookies for Christmas, and that was pretty much all it took to win over Grandpa. “You probably saw the neighbor on the other side of her. He’s a high school kid who helps sometimes. Can you believe he dyes his hair that color? Green. I mean, really?”

  “It was not him. This guy was closer to my age.” And hotter than hot.

  “She was talking about her roof not too far back. Probably hired someone. Trust me, she’s not going anywhere.”

  “That’s good.” There was a long pause and his eyes started to shut, only to have them flick open with a start.

  “Why are you here?” He squinted. “Did you come to visit for the holidays? I like cookies.”

  I began to explain and then gave up. He was obviously loopy, and Tyler was doing a piss poor job of holding in his amusement. “I heard you wanted to hit the rocker.”

  “Finally.” He sighed. “I thought I would miss my show.” Which made zero sense since pretty much everything could be on demand, but knowing him, he was watching something on one of the few traditional television channels left.

  “Then let’s get you out there.” Tyler stepped between the bed and me, and explained in very minute detail the ways to help Grandpa up and where he needed to go and how to get him in his chair or his bed again. It was a lot of work. I instantly saw why they wanted him in a rehab. Not that I blamed him for wanting to be home. I would too. There was something about being with your own things that was comforting. Not to mention the noises of those places. Too many monitors and fluorescent lights for my taste.

  “What did you want me to turn on?” I asked as he settled in his recliner. He was back to fully awake and cognizant. Tyler said that might be a thing for a while due to his meds. Poor Grandpa.

  “Shifter World isn’t new yet, so maybe let’s go with the news.”

  “Andrew loves that show.” I flipped on the television. “Ginormous Subs is doing collectors cups, and he has them all.”

  “Is that your new man?” Great. Just what I needed; to talk about my non-existent love life.

  “No, he works with me.” I found the news and put on the closed captioning and turned the volume down the way he liked. “Speaking of which, I may need to upgrade your internet.”

  “It’s fine.” Grandpa was not a fan of technology.

  “I promised Jason I would redo the website and a bunch of other things while I was here.”

  “How long are you staying?” Tyler asked. He was packing up his bag and getting ready to head out. I was a bit worried about him going. This was a lot to take in.

  “I’m playing it by ear.” As long as he needed, but that would just get Grandpa worked up so by ear would need to work.

  “PT is coming in at nine.” He handed me a folder. “This has all the paperwork and instructions from everything we went over. You can also call me direct or the main line. Both are printed on the inside of the folder.”

  “Thanks.” I could do this. I could. Grandpa needed me and I wasn’t alone. Not really. He had PT, OT, and nurses coming and going. It would be fine. I’ve got this.

  He said good-bye and walked out the door, leaving me to make supper and get him back to bed when the time came. I cried myself to sleep that night. I so didn’t got this. I so very much didn’t.

  103

  Ethan

  “And that’ll be delivered tomorrow?”

  The male voice crackled through the land line, making me think I should have used my own phone, but it was charging in the bedroom. I was one of those people that followed the manufacturer’s advice of ‘Always fully charge the device to prolong the battery life’. “Around ten. That suit you?”

  I calculated in my head how much writing I could get done if I got up at six, then went for a run or cycle, showered, and headed to Gran’s after picking up coffee on the way. “That’s fine. The delivery’s going to my grandmother’s, but I’ll be there when you arrive.”

  “See you then, Ethan.”

  Writing would only be done in the early mornings from now on. I’d promised Gran to build her a patio. Summers were long and sweltering, and she needed somewhere to sit outside. And a patio would allow her to keep an eye on what her neighbors were doing.

  It was going to be grueling doing manual work during the day, and I’d be beat by the time I got home and in no mood for getting creative with my characters.

  I headed to the kitchen to make a snack when a shrill voice echoed through the small house. “Tough day.”

  “Tell me about it,” I replied. After making myself a PB&J and grabbing a can of soda, I sat at the desk which overlooked the garden. The previous tenant had worked miracles with what had been a barren pile of nothing but weeds and dirt.

  The scents of lilac, lavender, honeysuckle, and gardenias mingled and drifted through the open window. Shame the guy had accepted a new job across the country, but woohoo for great timing regarding my year off.

  While Gran would have welcomed me to stay at her place, we got along much better having our own space. It was nice seeing her almost every day, hanging out, drinking coffee and going for walks. Though her trying to play matchmaker and find me the love of my life was a pain.

  A shriek behind me brought me back to the present. It was followed by a cackle, and I took a cracker from a packet on the desk and outstretched my arm. “I’m hungry,” said the same voice that had commented earlier.

  “That’s why I’m giving you a cracker.” The green-and-red parrot pushed its beak through the bars in the cage and took the food, but not before giving my hand a gentle scratch.

  A year ago when I got home from work, I’d made out a voice coming from my balcony. Peeking through the curtains, I’d spied a bedraggled bird sitting on the railing. He was obviously someone’s pet, and when I offered him water and a small piece of banana, he’d come straight to me. Poor thing was starving.

  The bird had repeated, “Floyd,” over and over, and I wasn’t sure if that was his name or his owner, but he’d responded when I said it. So, Floyd it was!

  He spent the night in an upturned laundry basket while I’d gone online trying to find his owner. But after a week of contactin
g pet shops and online parrot forums, I was stumped. I bought a cage, bird seed, and toys, and we became a team.

  “Laid. Get laid. Get laid.”

  It was his favorite expression along with “Fuck!” Whoever had owned him must have thought it was funny to teach him that. Or perhaps they were into porn or just had a lot of sex.

  When I had friends over to my place in the city, I often covered Floyd up and put him in the laundry room, though most of my acquaintances loved the bird and egged him on. But there were no visitors here except Gran, though I usually went to her house and took him with me. Floyd had free-ish rein.

  “Shush, I”m trying to work.”

  “Work! Work! Work!”

  “Please, Floyd, stop or I’ll put you in the other room.” I gave him my crust which occupied him while I stared at the computer screen hoping inspiration would reach out and whack me over the head.

  My phone rang, and while normally I’d be irritated with the interruption, this time I was relieved. Gran. “Hi.”

  “I didn’t get my cappuccino this morning.” That was my grandmother’s way of saying she hadn’t seen me today. She was perfectly capable of walking or driving to the café. Or having it delivered.

  “Sorry. I was on the phone most of the morning ordering the supplies for your new patio. You know, the one I’m building for you.”

  “In that case, you’re forgiven.” She changed the subject by asking, “How’s the writing?”

  “Don’t ask.”

  “That bad, huh?” There was a pause, and she cleared her throat. “I have something that might cheer you up.”

  If it’d been a friend on the other end, I would have replied with, “An omega who wants to suck my cock,” but I bit my tongue. No matter how open-minded Gran was, I wasn’t going to discuss my sexual fantasies with her. Not that they were particularly exciting. Just a naked omega in my bed, shower, car, anywhere. “Oh yeah. What’s that?”