Page 19 of Gotta Kiss A Few Frogs

First Date

“This is...unexpected,” I say, taking in the surrounding scene. I don’t know what I was expecting, maybe the typical dinner date, but I should have known Emmett would be anything but typical.

“What’s the matter?” he asks, his cocky smile directed at me as he waved a hand in front of him. “You scared?”

And actually, I was scared. But his eyes seemed to be daring me to try it anyhow. Axe throwing. Not something I’d ever considered doing before. Especially not on a date. A glance at my wardrobe told me I was probably substantially overdressed for this, too. But I couldn’t bring myself to back down from the challenge in his beautiful brown gaze. I did need to make one thing clear, though. “I’m not scared,” I place my hand on my hip and point to him. “But are you sure you shouldn’t be? You should at least know me well enough by now to know that me and weaponry of any kind is not a good idea.”

He doesn’t look scared, though. Quite the opposite, actually. As Emmett takes a step forward, running his broad, firm chest into my outstretched finger, he says, “I’ll keep us safe.” He holds my gaze and as my insides melt into a gooey puddle of hormones, I can’t do anything but nod.

He brought me to a small axe throwing hall less than twenty minutes from my house. I had never even heard of it prior to now, but, taking another look around, I can admit it’s a nice place. We have our own private hall, so there won’t be any witnesses to my shame. The vertical room is dimly lit with ivy crawling along both side walls. At one end of room, the entire wall is a rough, wooden target with the divets of many prior competitors marking its surface. The other end of the room holds a small booth with a large pepperoni pizza, a bottle of what looks like white wine, and two glasses. A thick white line separates both halves of the room and a large stump with two axes protruding from it sends my heartrate skittering as I realize what I’m about to do. The music playing gently in the background adds to the almost sensual ambiance of the room. The activity itself might be unconventional, but I couldn’t deny the romance in such a secluded setting.

“Come on,” he leads me over to the table, making sure I’m seated before sliding into the booth across from me. “Let’s eat and chat first and then we can try it. Or if you’re uncomfortable, we don’t have to throw axes at all.” He doesn’t look upset or annoyed by the thought of me changing plans, but I don’t want him to think I don’t appreciate all the trouble he went through. This might be the first time a man has ever tried to plan something like this for me. And I’m determined to enjoy it. Even if I am a little frightened at the same time.

I smile as he opens the wine and pours us both a glass. “No, I want to. I just hope your life insurance policies are up to date, because I’m Murphy's Law personified.”

He chuckles, handing me my glass and waiting until I’ve taken a sip before grabbing his own. “I think you’ll be okay. And you’re not that bad. But I did wear my steel-toed boots. Just in case.”

He’s joking. At least I think he’s joking, but I can’t help risking a peek under the table. Alright, maybe he isn’t joking. I didn’t notice when he picked me up. I was too distracted taking in the sight of him standing at my door. His long, dark hair, tousled, like he had just run his fingers through it while he waited for me to answer the door. A simple white t-shirt clung to his chest for dear life, drawing all sorts of attention to his tattooed, muscled arms. His hands tucked into a pair of faded blue jeans molded to his thighs like a second skin. My inspection never made it to his footwear as I worked to pick my jaw up from the floor before my drool escaped.

Seeing the boots now, I bark out a laugh. “I’m glad your toes are protected, but you might need full body armor.”

He grabs a slice of pizza, the heavenly aroma wafting from it elicits a growl from my stomach as he plates it and sets it in front of me. Then, grabbing another, he folds it in on itself and leans forward to take a bite before the fleeing pepperoni has a chance to make its escape. Nothing about this should be sensual, it’s just a man eating a slice of pizza for heaven’s sake, but there’s something decidedly erotic about watching him close his eyes and groan in delight at his first taste. I look away before I’m caught staring and embarrass myself. Emmett doesn’t seem to notice my inappropriate thoughts and carries on talking about the evening’s activity. “It’s going to be fine. I’ll teach you how to play and you’ll be a pro in no time.”

I snort, and shove my own slice of pizza in my mouth to pretend that sound didn’t come from me. Emmett watches me with a smile, but doesn’t call me on it and I’m so thankful for that. Until he speaks, that is. “So, Charley. Tell me a little more about this love quest.”

Sitting my slice down and dabbing my hands on my napkin, I deliberate how to respond. A part of me feels defensive after the last conversation, but another part, a larger part, wants tonight to go well and jumping down his throat for a simple question won’t accomplish that. “What do you want to know?” I ask.

His eyes scan me up and down as if he can see through the table to my body beneath it. “Why do you need to do it? I wouldn’t think someone like you would have trouble in that department.” His voice is low, his eyes soft, and I can’t help but squirm in my seat under his perusal.

Why is his every move an aphrodisiac to me? Shaking my head as if that might clear some of my overactive hormones, I try to focus on the topic at hand. “Uh, yeah.” I swallow my nerves and continue, “I haven’t had much luck. I’m part of the hook-up generation looking for an old soul who still believes in soulmates. It’s an impossible task.” I throw my hands up in defeat and nearly knock my wine glass over. His hands steady the glass before it can topple over, only a small drop of liquid gushes over the side. Sheepishly, I say, “thank you.”

He looks amused as he says, “you’re welcome, Charley.”

“See, I told you. Murphy’s Law.” I’m smiling, but it’s stretched tight. I want so badly to make a good impression on this man, but I seem to be a lost cause regardless. I look down at the table, unable to meet his gaze any longer as dread builds up in the pit of my stomach.

His hand touches mine, only briefly, but enough to get me to look up at him again. His eyes are soft now, like warm, gooey chocolate as he watches me. “I think you’re adorable,” he says and while a part of me wants to protest, because adorable is entirely too platonic for my liking, my heart thumps just a little bit faster in my chest.

“I thought I was a menace?” I quip, a smile tilting the corners of my mouth.

He finishes his own slice of pizza and takes a drink from his glass before responding. “Oh, you are a menace. But an adorable one.” He smiles and I can’t help but smile back at him as my nerves calm enough for me to finish my pizza.

“I have a confession to make,” his tone is serious now and it permeates the happy bubble surrounding our cozy little dinner.

“What’s that,” I ask, hoping he doesn’t notice how hoarse my voice sounds as all the moisture seemed to dissipate with his comment. I take an unladylike gulp of my wine and choke it down as I wait for the other shoe to drop.

“I just want to be upfront with you, so you don’t feel like I’m wasting your time.” He waits for my nod before he continues, “I’m not looking for love. I’ve been down that road and I don’t want to go through that ever again.” Shadows cross over his face and a heavy weight seems to settle itself in the air around us. He finishes off his glass of wine, holding the bottle up to me in a wordless question. I shake my head. I need to remain sober if I’m going to be tossing axes around. Emmett fills his own glass and takes another sip. He seems to be struggling with how to say what he wants to, and the silence becomes so much that I almost break it. But just before I can open my mouth, he speaks again.

“I’m not a good guy. I’m not your Mr. Right and I’m definitely no prince.” Each word hits like its own physical blow, but I wait because it’s clear he’s not done. “But I’m selfish. And I enjoy being around you. I’ve never met anyone quite like you and I want to enjoy your company for as long as you’ll let me. I haven’t laughed in a long time, Charley. You bring out a lighter side to me and I don’t want to give that up, yet.” He’s looking at me hesitantly now. Almost like he expects me to get up and walk away.

I’m silent for a full minute. Because what do I even say to that? I’m elated that he enjoys being around me. I enjoy being around him, too. My entire body is aware of him on a level it's never been of anyone else before now. I know hanging out with him, even platonically, would be a dangerous game. Because my foolish heart does believe in love. Is it worth the risk? “Okay,” I say. His gaze snaps to mine, his surprise evident. My heart breaks for him in that moment and I decide that even if he doesn’t fall in love with me at the end of this, I want to show him that he deserves love, too.

“Really?” I’m still not sure this is a great idea, but when the genuine smile he sends my way has my insides curling I realize that I don’t have much of a choice in this situation regardless. Because maybe I’m selfish, too, and if he’s only willing to give me part of himself, then I’ll accept that.

“Yes, really. I have a condition, though.”

He cocks an eyebrow at me in response.

“Give me five dates.” Now he looks really confused. “Five dates?”

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