The Blind Date

by Landish, Lauren

  “I’m not good at much, but what I can do is bake. So I decided to spread a little sunshine myself. My baby’s six, and he’s got some real good teachers, gonna help make something of him. I baked every one of those teachers a little cake to say thank you for all they do for him. They weren’t fancy, but they were tasty. And you won’t believe it . . .” She pauses dramatically. “One of those teachers has a son who’s a baker. She told me that as soon as she took a bite of my cake, she knew it was something special. She wrapped that bit of cake up, took it to her son when school got out, and made him eat it. And he offered me a job! He’s training me to be a baker now too!”

  Her joy is infectious, her energy buzzing with happiness, and her pride is well-earned.

  Happy tears spring to my eyes, pouring down my face even as I smile. “That is amazing, Myra! I am so thrilled for you.”

  “Me too, Riley. Me too. And all because of you. If I hadn’t heard you say ‘spread sunshine’ over and over, I wouldn’t have thought to make cakes for those teachers. I was barely holding my own head above water, to be honest. But I spread the sunshine, and then somebody gave me some of theirs to brighten my whole life.” Myra throws her arms out wide.

  “Thank you for sharing that. You brought some sunshine to my day too.”

  Myra laughs like that’s the funniest thing she’s ever heard. “Me bring Riley Sunshine herself some sunshine? Pshaw, you don’t need it, girl. You’ve always had plenty, and you’ve got even more now. I saw that man of yours. Fine piece of . . . cake.”

  “Yes, he is,” I agree. My phone dings, and I look at the time. “Oh, I’m sorry, Myra. I have to go. I have a meeting in five minutes.”

  “No worries. I need to get to work, anyway. I only took this way because I was a little early and wanted to enjoy the beautiful day. It’s like I was meant to run into you,” she says with a smile.

  She waves goodbye, a regular wave this time, and continues down the sidewalk.

  “Raffy, did you hear that? Mama helped Myra, and she’s doing awesome now.” I’m filled with joy for her and for myself because Myra is a perfect example of the power of the work I’m doing.

  Spread sunshine.

  It seems like a little thing, but it can mean so much and change someone’s life in ways they never expect.

  Back inside, I give Raffy a treat, and he promptly lies down, eyeing me because I told him to hurry and then spent several minutes talking to Myra. But I log in to my conference call just in time.

  “Hi, Riley!” the woman says as the video connects.

  And it’s back to work . . . making the world a better place.

  Fifteen minutes later, Sharon wraps up her pitch.

  “So, Riley, what do you say?”

  I lean back in my chair, taking a moment to consider. “One hundred percent organic beeswax mood candles that are scented with real extracts sound interesting. What exactly are you hoping to achieve from this partnership?“

  “Riley Sunshine is the sort of positive, uplifting energy that we’re targeting because we’re certain your audience and ours overlap enough to forge a new relationship,” Sharon says. She’s technically the company’s president, but I suspect they wear many hats at Positive Vibe Candles. “We’d expect three sponsored photos per month for six consecutive months, with the candle being the primary photo focus in at least one of those monthly shots. And you’d have a private link and code to share for your followers.”

  Ah, there it is. This is a lesson I learned the hard way early on. Sponsorships aren’t always the easy money they’re cracked up to be, so I have to be smart about the pay structure and expectations, and that’s after extensively vetting the company. Too many businesses want to only send ‘free’ product and expect you to bend over backward for it like they own you, or they’ll pay well but want you to bring in such a ridiculous amount of traffic that you never see a penny of the promised revenue.

  “And the private link and code . . . you’ll be tracking those, of course. If the placements are successful, we’re fine. But what’s the follow-through rate at which you’ll be concerned about the sponsorship?”

  We talk business in a bit more detail, but I’m not hearing anything alarming. In fact, it all sounds really good as long as the candles are amazing. I won’t promote something I don’t truly believe in because I won’t risk my hard-earned reputation on shady companies or harmful products.

  “I need a few samples to evaluate so I can personally see how they burn, their scents, things like that. But other than that, it sounds like we have a basic agreement?”

  Sharon, who’s been looking nervous, sighs in happy relief. “Great! Of course. I already have a six-pack ready to ship to you, if you’d like. And I can email the contract today.”

  We wrap up the rest of the call, and I sit back, pleased. Positive Vibe isn’t going to be a huge addition to my monthly income, but every bit adds up.

  I make myself a note to follow up on the contract, samples, and dates for possible future posts. That bit done, I look at the clock.

  “Oh! Gotta go, Raffy.” He doesn’t move from his place on the couch. Usually, he’s excited for his lunchtime walk, but today, he only opens one eye and it’s glaring at me like, ‘Really? We just came in.’ I guess our morning walk was late . . . and long.

  “Fine, be a bag of lazy bones. I have lunch plans anyway, so it was going to have to be a short walk,” I tell Raffy, who’s already closed his one open eye again. Not even the words ‘bones’ or ‘walk’ get him to wake up, so he must really be tired.

  I decide to head to my lunch date with Eli a little early and enjoy the beautiful day. I’ve already had three big wins as Riley Sunshine this morning, but a bit of actual sunshine would be nice for me, Riley Watson.

  I roll the windows down in my Bug and turn the radio up, singing along as I drive toward Eli’s bank.

  As I walk in, Eli gives me a wave. “Hey, Cuddle Fluff, you here to rescue me?” Eli asks, coming over to give me a kiss on the cheek.

  “Cuddle Fluff? I think I like Honeychops better. Fluff makes me think of the giant marshmallow monster in Ghostbusters.”

  Eli laughs. “You don’t choose the name. The name chooses you. And that was the Stay Puft marshmallow man. Cuddle Fluff is like a cozy pillow you want to curl up with for a Sunday nap while it rains outside.” He pulls his arms into his chest like he’s snuggling himself, or maybe an imaginary pillow, I guess. “Mmm, mmm, mmm.”

  I lift one brow, not believing him for a second.

  “Lunch?” he asks, wisely changing the subject.

  “I’m buying. What’s your fancy today?”

  “Hmm . . .” Eli muses before rubbing his flat belly. “Well, my naughty side says we go down to Sharkey’s for fried chicken-topped pizza. But the good boy in me says let’s get some subs at Malone’s. So . . .”

  “Sharkey’s?” I answer wryly.

  At the same time, Eli says, “Malone’s it is.”

  Eli checks in with the assistant manager, who tells him she’s got the bank covered for the next hour while he heads out. Minutes later, we’re seated at Malone’s, an old-school deli with some of the best pastrami in town.

  “So, being a good boy?” I ask Eli as I notice that he’s got a double serving of lean chicken breast on his sub and more vegetables than I’ve seen him eat in an entire month. He shrugs, taking a bite and chewing thoughtfully.

  He’s not as sassy as usual, and I set my own BLT and cheese sub down to look at him carefully. “Eli? Is everything okay?”

  Eli sighs, looking at his sandwich with disgust as he sets it down. “You didn’t tell me. I had to hear about it from Arielle.”

  It is Noah, of course.

  I set my sandwich down too. “Well, we sort of told her unexpectedly, you know.”

  “Oh trust me, I know. Actually, I got in a bit of trouble for asking too many pointed questions,” Eli says wryly. “I mean, all I asked was what position you two were in, if the goods were hard or so
ft, a description of sizes and shapes, and there was something else . . .” Eli taps his chin, looking off like he can’t remember, and I wait for the crazy punchline. “Oh, yeah, if I could watch next time.”

  “Eli! That’s his sister. And ew . . . no,” I say with a grimace, even though I’m fighting back laughter. He’s not serious. He never is. He just likes to shock people with the outrageous things he says.

  “So what I’m hearing is . . . there’s a chance,” he teases.

  “Incorrigible,” I tell him, and he grins. “So, other than hating not being the first to know everything, what’s going on with the good boy act and all that healthy stuff? You’re not exactly known for your good choices.”

  That’s mild compared to how we usually tease each other, but to my surprise, Eli flinches slightly. “Damn, right in the feels, woman. I’m definitely sticking with Cuddle Fluff now.”

  He’s avoiding the question, so I glare at him, not letting him joke his way out of it. Finally, he says, “I’m just trying to cut some spare weight, maybe put on an extra five or ten pounds of muscle. Be even more of a sex machine than I already am.”

  “So . . . what, you’ve found some hot young thing you need to keep up with?” I guess.

  A crack starts in my heart for my friends. I don’t know what’s been going on with them lately, but I’d hoped they were figuring it out. I guess not if Eli’s already moving on from their most recent FWB moment.

  “More like a classic. I’m trying to gear this engine up for a long drive.”

  We are definitely not talking about cars. Eli is a lot of things, and I do mean a lot, but a car aficionado is not one of them.

  “Is that so?” I ask, gleeful. “Why, Eli Taylor, are you done drag racing?”

  Eli laughs as I awkwardly stick with his metaphor. “Maybe.”

  “And does she know this?” I ask, taking a bite of my sandwich.

  “Yes, I’ve told her. I’ve . . . let’s just say I’ve surprised myself at some of the things that have come out of my mouth over the past few weeks.” As if afraid of what he’s going to say now, he takes a huge bite of his sandwich, shoving an escaping bit of lettuce into his mouth.

  “I see.” I chew thoughtfully. “But you don’t look happy.”

  “That’s because I know my past,” Eli admits as he swallows. “I’ve had a lot of fun, done a lot of things. Done a lot of people, too. And I don’t regret it, not one bit of it. Well, there was one time. I’ll spare you the details this time, but it’s a great story. However, it scared the shit out of me. So I got more careful, learned my lesson. I started growing up, I guess you could say. But now, some of that’s coming back to bite me in the ass.”

  “What do you mean?” I ask. “How?”

  “She knows my past too, and she’s got reservations. Like I said, I get it. I change cars like some people change socks, and I don’t have a good track record with commitments. She wants to know for sure that I’m not just going through a phase. So while I’ve put myself out there for her, she’s still . . . questioning whether to buy or lease.”

  I raise my brows and look at Eli’s sandwich. “And do you think putting on five pounds of horsepower is going to earn her answer?”

  “No,” Eli admits grudgingly, “but it gives me something to do to help focus myself. And I have to admit, it’s pretty easy to focus when I’m being a good boy, eating right, lifting hard, and . . . well, being there for her.”

  “And that’s all you need to keep doing,” I assure him. “She’s had a lot of men walk out on her, her father being the biggest one. And I’ve known her even longer than you. Time after time, men come in with sweet words and big promises, only to walk out of her life. Hell, even at her job, she forms a friendship with some of these old folks and they pass away on her. She knows loss—she expects it—so she’s careful with her heart, keeping it hidden behind protective walls and disguised with sassy comebacks.”

  He’s quiet, thinking about that for a moment. Quiet, contemplative Eli is an unusual sight, which makes me think there’s a lot of truth to what he’s saying. “She’s trying to push me away, challenging me at every turn to test if I’m gonna bail. But I want to be there for her, Riley. And not just short-term.”

  I pat Eli’s hand comfortingly. It’s funny, really. With their history, the shoe’s definitely on the other foot. Eli is typically the one running from any commitment, but it seems that he’s the one chasing now.

  “Keep being there, Eli. No matter the test. She notices. That I can promise you.”

  Eli nods, and we eat the rest of our sandwiches quietly.

  After a bit, he laughs softly. “You realize we went that whole conversation without saying her name?”

  “Whose? Voldemort’s?” I ask, and Eli laughs a little louder. “That’s the Eli I know. Look, you want to put some muscle on, do it. But the muscle she’s going to care about the most is the one deep inside your chest, not the ones on your arms. And that muscle’s pretty damn strong already.”

  I put my hand over my heart, hoping he can stay the course however long it takes Arielle—I mean, Voldemort—to decide he means it.

  Eli nods and wipes his mouth. “Thank you.” A switch flips in his eyes, and he says, “Now, back to our original topic. Exactly how naked were you two when she came in and busted you? Explain everything . . . slowly . . . and in detail.”

  He closes his eyes, his fingers at his temples like he’s willing the image to appear in his mind.

  I throw my wadded-up napkin at him. “None of your business, pervert!”

  “Fine.” He huffs, rolling his eyes. “Can’t you give me something, though? I’m dying here.” He lets his head fall to the side, his tongue lolling out.

  “Well, there was the time on the treadmill . . .” I let my voice taper off as Eli perks up, his eyes suddenly bright and locked on me expectantly. “But that’s private,” I finish with a wink, and he groans in disappointment.

  “Ugh, I love you, girl, but I hate you. You’re taking away all my fun.”

  “I think you’re getting plenty of fun. I’m just glad that’s not enough now and that you’re looking for something more,” I tell him proudly. “Do you know the most important part of friends with benefits?”

  “The benefits,” he says, hands wide like ‘duh’.

  “No, Cuddle Fluff,” I say, using his own nickname against him. “The friends part.”

  He smiles, and I know he hears me. But it’s going to take time.

  When they figure it out, Arielle and Eli are going to be amazing together. They have a strong foundation of friendship, obviously get each other sexually, and they’re putting in the work to build their relationship properly from the ground up as they change the rules from their previous arrangement.

  I just hope it doesn’t take too long because a double date with them would be awesome! I think about telling Noah that tonight but decide maybe I’ll keep that brilliant idea to myself for now. I’m not sure he’s ready to hear more about his sister’s love life when she’s been so close to ours recently. It’d help if she’d quit texting him toga pictures when he least expects it, but I’ll admit, that’s pretty funny. And so like Arielle.

  Chapter 22

  Noah

  “Noah, Lady Elisa would like to see you in her office,” Gina says on her end of the line. “Are you busy right now, or can I tell her to expect you soon?”

  While Lady Elisa doesn’t demand us to jump at her every request, I’ve found it’s not a bad idea to do so, especially if you want to stay in her good graces. If she asks if you’re busy, you better have a pretty damn good reason to not drop what you’re doing and get up there. Like a fire. Or a rabid dog currently chewing on your ankle.

  Or maybe a zombie apocalypse . . . but I think Lady Elisa’s tough reputation would scare off any undead threats. Whether Shaun of the Dead slow style or World War Z speedsters, she’d stop them with a stare.

  “I’ll be up there in two minutes,” I assure Gina. �
�Thank you.”

  Locking my computer, I grab my jacket and head upstairs, where Gina’s alone in the front office area. “Hello, Gina. Holding down the fort alone?”

  “Something like that,” she says, giving me a smile. It’s an unfamiliar gesture, and I realize that until now, she’d smile for River but not for me. Have I been that much of an asshole to everyone? “She’s in her office. Go on in.”

  Lady Elisa’s office, as always, inspires me as I step inside. Motivation, maybe a bit of envy, and an overwhelming sense of awe . . . I’m not sure how to put it all together into words. I just know that I want an office like this someday and that I’ll do anything to make it happen. With my nose to the grindstone for the hard work, a dedication to learning, and even a bit of luck, I feel more confident than ever that I can do it.

  Although I still have plans to change the desk placement and get rid of that awful red throne chair. Black leather will suit me better, I decide.

  “Noah, I’m glad you could come up so quickly,” Lady Elisa greets me, simultaneously indicating one of the chairs in front of her desk. “Please sit down. I want to have a talk.”

  I take one of the chairs, doing my best to stay calm. This isn’t her informal sitting area, which means she wants to talk business. And she’s getting right to it. No small talk or offers of coffee. “Of course. What can I do for you?”

  “Talk to me about the latest on BlindDate,” she demands.

  I feel like this has all the hallmarks of being a trap. Lady Elisa doesn’t often ask things she doesn’t already know the answer to, and I’m certain with BlindDate being the company’s most recent launch, she’s got her finger on the pulse of the stats. But perhaps she’s checking my assessment?

  If so, I’m on solid ground. “Downloads and utilization rates are steady, even showing a small increase. We’ve released an initial update, making the questionnaire more user-friendly and adding in a few additional parameters. The coding team is also working on a way to add profile personalization, letting users . . . for lack of a better term . . . ‘decorate’ their profile to give a better sense of who they are to prospective matches. Virtual stickers, backgrounds, effects, and so on.”