“You don’t have to do this,” I tell Riley, ignoring Keith as I set her down. “You don’t have to sign a contract with Life Corp.”
“I’m not,” she says.
Confusion rolls over me like a thundercloud. “What?”
“I wouldn’t sign without you. BlindDate is your baby, and our relationship is our own. This is something we need to discuss together. Mr. Nord is giving me all the information because I planned to tell you over dinner. I thought we could do a little light contract reading before bed. Surprise!”
She makes contract reading sound like the filthiest, nastiest thing we’ve ever done even though her tone is perfectly even. Keith clears his throat uncomfortably.
“We were going over the contract details—sponsorship funds, expectations of name placements in Riley’s videos, and things like that,” Keith explains.
“And I gave her the hard-sell treatment on the tour,” Elisa says from behind me, scaring the shit out of me. How does she move as quiet as a ninja in heels? “Told her all about our charitable donations to the city and our various apps that are environmentally sound and self-improvement driven. I want Riley to know who she’s agreeing to work with and that my goals aren’t dissimilar to hers.”
I blink slowly so my face doesn’t give away my thoughts on that. Riley Watson and Elisa Montgomery couldn’t be more different. Riley is all warm sunshine and joy while Lady Elisa is cold, calculating ambition.
Riley smiles, nodding her head as she shares a look with Elisa.
Hmm. I glance between the two of them, and suddenly, I can see it. Their surface differences are readily apparent. My Riley with her wild blonde curls, and even for today’s corporate meeting, wearing her Docs and knee socks. Elisa has on a power suit, her hair slicked back into a tight bun. But deeper than appearances, they are the same.
Women with dreams of making life better—Riley for her followers, Elisa for Life Corp’s customers. They’re willing to take risks, be bold, and succeed on their own terms.
“How could I not want to sign up with Life Corp after that?” Riley says, the compliment to Elisa woven through the question. “Besides, I’m going to be honest with my followers, as real as I can be. If I only offer a filtered, fake version of me, why would they trust me to help with their real, messy lives? And the truth is . . . I wouldn’t have met you without BlindDate. I’ve negotiated what the sponsorship will look like, and we’re going to do great stuff together. If you want to, Noah.”
“If it affects your decision at all, Mr. Daniels . . . I think your app is ground-breaking. I’m glad to have you and River here. Keep up the good work.”
A compliment from Lady Elisa? My dreams are coming true all over the place today . . . with Riley and with work.
And with that, she spins and heads back upstairs to her throne. Just another day at Life Corp, except it’s like no other day before for me.
It’s a Sunshiny day.
Chapter 29
Riley
“Hello, Sunshiners!” I greet the camera, wiggling my fingers in the Sunshine Salute. Next to me, Noah’s doing the same thing, his fingers looking a bit robotic, but he’s trying. He’s nervous, not used to being the center of attention other than in a boardroom, and then, it’s all about the facts and figures.
This is different. This is about us.
Which is why we’re sitting in my living room, on my couch, with my camera on a tripod on the other side of the coffee table. Yes, I have a ring light, and I cleaned like crazy, but it’s a real-life setup, exactly what I wanted. Elisa offered to hire a production crew with all the bells and whistles for my first Life Corp-sponsored post, but I told her, ‘No, thank you.’ That’s not me, and I’m going to stick with what has worked for Riley Sunshine from the beginning, a peek into my life.
I’m nervous too, honestly. Not because of the camera like Noah. I quit being nervous about that a long time ago, but because this video is one of the most important ones I’ve ever done, and I want to do a good job. For Noah, for BlindDate, for Life Corp.
“Riley Moonshine here where I—”
Noah laughs, nudging me with an elbow. “Uh, baby . . . that’s not your name.”
“Huh?” I replay what I just said in my mind and laugh too. “My brain is running faster than my mouth.”
“Someone really amazing told me this one time . . . big breath, hands up, and wiggle, wiggle, wiggle.” He does the movements as he speaks, his arms and entire body shaking like a bowl of Jell-O in the middle of an earthquake.
I laugh, doing it too until we’re both silly and laughed out, panting for breath.
“Better?” Noah asks.
“Definitely. Let’s do this,” I tell him, excited and with a real smile now.
I hit a couple of buttons on the remote, restarting the video recording.
“Hi, Sunshiners!” I wave, and this time, Noah’s wave is better too. “I’m Riley Sunshine, and this . . .” I look to Noah, letting all my love for him show without filter, “is Midnight Mark.” Noah smiles at me and then the camera.
“Hi, Sunshiners,” Noah says evenly. He’s relaxed now too, leaned back on the couch with his arm laid out along the back cushions, surrounding me but giving me space to move and talk.
We planned out what we wanted to say, even practiced it a few times for Noah’s comfort, and I’m glad. It let us have some very detailed conversations about what we want to share and what we want to keep private.
Not that we’re hiding anything, but there are some things that are just for us, like no one needs to know that I’m shifting around on the couch, not because I’m overly excited but because I can feel the sting on my ass from where Noah smacked me right before we sat down. He promised me more of that when we’re done, so I’m ready to say the things we agreed on and get back to my bedroom. Maybe we can break my new bed too? Though I did invest in a more robust one, learning my lesson from the thin wood of the last one.
“I want to talk to you about . . . us.” I point a fingernail—yellow painted, of course—from Noah to me. “After my last video, there was a lot of speculation and assumptions were being made, and I want to be completely transparent. About everything. So, here’s the truth . . .”
“We knew each other a long time ago, and well, to be honest, we didn’t like each other much.” I make a face at Noah, scrunching up my nose and mock-glaring at him, but he just lifts one brow, silently and cockily daring me to come at him. I laugh and turn back to the camera. “Flash forward years later, when I joined the BlindDate app and started talking to this guy. We did exactly what BlindDate says to . . . we got to know each other, and he was everything I wanted—kind, funny, interesting. So imagine my surprise when I showed up for my blind date to find this guy.” I point at Noah with my thumb.
“Surprised,” Noah repeats, doing air quotes with one hand. “More like horrified and furious. She stomped out and left me standing there like an asshole.”
I giggle, shrugging innocently. “Well, you can’t say you didn’t deserve it.”
Noah nods and agrees with me. “I totally deserved it. But I chased you down and apologized. With tacos.” To the camera, he says, “Guys, always bring tacos.”
I push at his chest with a grin. “Anyway, so that was how we found out that we’d both used fake names. Yes, I’ll let you in on a little secret . . . Mark isn’t really his name. It’s Noah.” I put a finger to my lips, telling the thousands of viewers to keep that tidbit quiet. “But for Riley Sunshine’s sake, we’re going to stick with Mark here because he has a personal life too, and Midnight Noah doesn’t have quite the same punch, right?”
Taking his cue, Noah tells the viewers, “Speaking of my personal life, I’m an app developer—an idea guy with a focus on statistics. The first app I developed was FriendZone. Maybe you’ve heard of it? It’s the precursor to BlindDate. Yes, the app where Riley and I met. It’s my latest project baby, and I’ve put countless hours of work into seeing it come to life. Admittedly, my
greatest pride is in knowing just how well it works.” He looks to me, sweetness and happiness in his smile but heat in his eyes. “Without BlindDate, Riley and I wouldn’t have seen past our old assumptions to make the connection we now share.”
“And I want you, all of my Sunshiners, to share in this joy,” I add. “Which is why I’ve signed a deal with Life Corp. I’m endorsing and promoting BlindDate. You know I only bring you suggestions and recommendations after testing products, sampling goods, and researching the companies. I wasn’t trying to vet BlindDate when I signed up. This wasn’t a publicity stunt or anything like that.”
Yeah, I’m looking at you, Kitty Warner. Take that and put it in your litter box.
“I was searching for someone the way we all are. But having experienced it first-hand, seeing how it works, and learning about Life Corp, I feel good about recommending BlindDate to you.” I stare directly into the camera, letting them see the honesty and integrity in my eyes. This isn’t a ploy or some scheme I’m promoting because Elisa threw money at me. It’s real, and I believe in BlindDate the way I believe in Noah.
“I want all of you to find your Midnight Mark. Well, not exactly. There’s only one of him, and he’s mine!”
Noah laughs. “You know it, baby.” Then he leans in close, quietly growling in my ear, “And you’re mine.”
I squirm, ready to be done with this video right now. Like right now. “Uhm . . . Noah, the microphone probably caught that,” I whisper.
He looks back to the camera and shrugs, a cocky smirk on his handsome face.
A little too fast, I give the wrap-up. “So, Sunshiners, that’s what’s happening. Now you know how we met, that it wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows, and I’m happy on a whole different level. Not because I have a man in my life now but because I’m learning and growing as a person and as a partner. If that interests you, check out BlindDate. And stay tuned for more adventures with Riley Sunshine.”
“And Midnight Mark,” Noah adds.
We give a closing Sunshine Salute to the camera and freeze for a moment before I click the remote to end the recording.
“Now what?” Noah asks.
“I’ll do a rewatch, make sure there’s nothing to edit, and send it to the media team at Life Corp for approval. I won’t have to do that every time, but for this first big reveal, they want to preview it.”
“That’s not what I meant, Riley,” he says, deep and dark. “Now what?” he asks again.
I find my inner flirt. “Well, I guess I am rather thirsty. Coffee, juice, water?” I ask coyly. “I bet there’s going to be a lot of thirsty women after they see that video.”
“I only care about one woman’s thirst. And I’ve already prepared a straw for you,” Noah says, somehow keeping a straight face as he looks pointedly at the bulge in his pants.
“That was bad,” I answer with a little laugh.
Noah smiles, not offended at all. I like that while we can have amazing, powerfully intense sex, we can also tease and taunt, sweetly making each other happy with our version of humor. Not everyone sees it, but Noah is a funny man.
I trace the upturn of his lips, liking that I do that to him. More than anyone else, and in so many ways, I make him smile. He deserves that.
“Should I get champagne again? To celebrate our video?” I ask, knowing full well that he’ll remember the time I gave him a blow job with a mouthful of liquid bubbles.
He groans, his abdomen caving in as his hips curl up, searching for me. “Just your mouth, Sunshine. Please.”
Oh, I love it when he says please. Turns me to goo, instant putty in his hands.
Chapter 30
Noah
“I do believe that’s checkmate, right?” the old guy says, looking down his nose at the chessboard. His brow is furrowed as though he’s uncertain, but I was warned about his ploys.
“You win again, Viktor,” I tell him with a shake of my head. I’m not letting him win. For all his tricks and ‘playing forgetful’, he’s wiped the board with me three games in a row.
“You want a break? We could check on the ladies. See how they’re doing,” he suggests, already standing up and grabbing his cane.
I guess we’re going to check on the ladies. Not that I mind.
When Riley told me about today, inviting me to come along, I’d been unsure. I’m not exactly the guy who volunteers with senior citizens to put on a makeshift prom at four in the afternoon. Or anytime, ever.
But her excitement had been beautiful, and I wouldn’t miss the opportunity to see her happiness for anything. So here I am . . . entertaining Viktor, who’s been way more entertaining to me than vice versa.
I slowly walk inside with Viktor, letting him set the pace.
“Hello, lovey ladies,” he calls out when we find the female residents, Riley, and Arielle sitting around a table covered in Joroast makeup supplies. To one particular woman, Viktor says, “Oh, Mrs. Johnson, your eyes are looking especially beautiful tonight. Maybe I can fit you in my dance card if you’d like a spin around the floor this evening?”
The woman blinks in response, which Viktor takes as a yes. He picks up her hand, kissing the back gently, and then offers her a friendly dip of his chin, tipping an invisible hat. A few steps away, he whispers, “It’s good to see her awake. Sleeps most of the time these days.”
“Will she be able to dance?” I ask worriedly, “or move the chair around the floor?” I correct, realizing that the old woman is sitting in a wheelchair.
Viktor smiles sorrowfully. “She won’t remember the conversation, Son. That’s why I said that. She’s awake and mostly alert. Might as well give her a moment of joy . . . a compliment, a promise of something to look forward to, a kindness. It’s the least I can do for her.”
“I’m not always the scoundrel my reputation makes me out to be,” he says with a grin that belies his words. I think Viktor likes his reputation, even if it’s not all entirely true.
“I told you he lies,” Riley says, overhearing Viktor’s last words. “And cheats. That’s why he always wins at checkers.” She’s teasing, laughing and joking with the old man who preens at the attention.
“Pretty sure he beat me fair and square,” I offer.
Riley leans toward me, and I catch a whiff of something sweet and vanilla. “That’s what he wants you to think.” Her brows lift and lower conspiratorially.
“Aw, don’t tell all my secrets, honey,” Viktor scolds Riley, but he’s smiling too. He begins making his way around the table, talking to each woman about her hair and makeup like it’s the most interesting thing he’s ever heard. He’s good at making each woman feel special and beautiful.
Riley notices me watching him and bumps me with her shoulder. “Don’t be taking notes on the old flirt.”
“He seems like a nice guy,” I argue.
Her smile is bright and happy, but unshed tears glisten in her eyes. “He is. I’m gonna miss him.”
My brows jump together. “Is he not doing well?” I look back over to the man who’s using a cane, but he seems pretty healthy to me.
Riley shrugs. “He is. But it’s reality. That’s why things like this prom are so important. It gives them something fun and different, a new memory to make and enjoy.”
“I think you enjoy it just as much as they do,” I tell her gently, and she nods in agreement.
I want to kiss her, but Arielle’s sharp voice cuts through the air. “No fraternizing.”
I jump, not used to hearing that level of authority in Arielle’s voice, especially not directed at me. She’ll give me shit, but this is her domain, and she reigns with a loving but forceful hand. But I have no doubt that she’d pop me on the back of the head if I don’t listen to her and follow her rules.
“Yes ma’am,” I sass her back, and the ladies all whisper.
“Ooh, he’s done it now.”
“That one ain’t too bright, is he?”
“Get ’im, girl.”
“Viktor, Noah . .
. can I get your help in the other room, please?” Arielle asks.
Viktor confidently winks at the tableful of ladies. “She can’t get enough of me, that one.” They titter and giggle like he’s hilarious.
“Oh, shush.”
“She’d eat you alive, Viktor, and pick her teeth with your skinny bones.”
Even that is said as though it’s a compliment. These people are family, insulting each other the way only people who truly care about each other can.
I quickly peck Riley on the cheek, just to be ornery and piss off my sister, and then follow her out to the activity center room.
“Mrs. Watson!” I say, greeting Riley’s mom. “Mom!” I give my mom and Riley’s mom hugs. “How’s everything going?”
“Call me Rachel,” Mrs. Watson says. One day, maybe I’ll be able to, but not today.
Mom gestures to the room around us. They really have done a spectacular job converting the room. There’s a balloon arch in front of a backdrop for pictures, a long table with desserts and treats laid out, and all of the tables have crisp tablecloths with pretty flower arrangements in the center.
“It looks beautiful,” I tell Mom and Mrs. Watson.
“Thank you,” Mrs. Watson replies. “Did you see the table? Natalie made six different kinds of cake, and I made the veggie trays with veggies from my own garden.”
“Wow! It all looks delicious,” I say, noting the pickles, radishes, tomatoes, and broccoli plates. I also see a plate of individual cheesecakes that stands out. “Are those Jell-O No-Bake cheesecakes with Oreos?”
My mom grins, pleased that I noticed. “Of course they are. Nothing but the best for my son.” We share a private look, knowing that to us, those will always be the best. A reminder of times when that was the biggest treat we could possibly, and only occasionally, afford. Even if now we could have fancy, gourmet cheesecake for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, those no-bake ones just hit differently.
“Thanks, Mom.” I clap my hands, looking around again. “Okay, how can I help?”
The Blind Date Page 34