Page 1 of My Blind Date is a Werewolf

CHAPTER 1

It was a Tuesday night, and instead of curling up on the couch and reading the latest Eloisa James release with a nice glass of pinot grigio or getting myself in the mood for Halloween with a re-watch of Van Helsing followed by a binge re-watch of Castlevania, I’d decided to give this online dating thing one last go.

My date had not made a great impression thus far, and we hadn’t even met yet.

Timmy—the name alone was already a strike against him; any man over forty should have dropped such a diminutive nickname and used either his full name or just plain Tim by now—insisted that I be the one to drive over an hour to meet him in Beckford. And then, his choice of date venue was…well, not first-rate material. I’m not saying there’s anything wrong with driving all the way to Beckford, but given the fact that Timmy (ugh!) was the one who asked me out first, shouldn’t he have been the one doing all the heavy lifting? I should have just said no.

Joe’s Steakhouse, really? I enjoy a juicy steak and baked potato as much as the next gal, but if he was trying to make a great impression, a rowdy family restaurant was not the way to go.

A sigh escaped me as I stared at my reflection in my compact mirror, trying to psych myself up for the night. Honestly, all I wanted was to go back home and relax. After being on my feet the entire day, forcing a smile on my face for customers, and getting my hands elbow-deep in dough, all I wanted was a quiet night in. I was fine with being a spinster—Oh, wait. Divorced women are not considered spinsters. But all the same, after my calamity of a marriage and track record of trainwreck blind dates behind me, I was content to have me, myself, and I for company until death do me apart. But apparently, my family and closest friends were not okay with this choice, hence me sitting in my car staring at the steakhouse with exhausted resignation.

“It’s not too late to go home, Liv,” I groaned, my fingers twitching and reaching for the car keys. As if she was spying on me from the bushes, my sister’s face flashed on my phone screen, the loud and obnoxious ringtone she’d assigned herself blaring throughout the car.

“Yes, Angie?” I answered, a sigh escaping me as I rolled down my window to peep out into the inky darkness where the lights from the steakhouse could not reach.

“Just checking to make sure you made it to Beckford safe and that you weren’t having a meltdown in your car,” she sang into my ear. I heard someone cackle in the background, probably our cousin Eden. It figured that the two of them would get together the one night I had a date.

“First of all, I do not have meltdowns, and yes, I just pulled into the parking lot.” Frustration colored my tone. I loved my sister, but if she was going to give me another spiel about giving love a second chance, I might just drive back home to put a bullet in her skull. Now that she had found true love on her third go-around, she was determined to spread the cheer all around.

“Oh, please, I’ve seen you go full-on Britney Spears when you thought you were out of flower just before the breakfast rush at Jumpin’ Beans. You have meltdowns every other Tuesday, and I know for sure you’ve been sitting in your car for the past ten minutes, talking yourself out of going on this date.”

“No, I haven’t,” I answered quickly. Way too quickly, which Angie picked up on right away. She snickered and said something to Eden that I couldn’t make out before coming back on the phone.

“Sweetheart, it’s just a date, not a baking competition. Put your big girl panties on and charm the heck out of what’s his face. What could go wrong?”

I groaned the moment she said those words. “Now you’ve gone and jinxed it. With my track record, everything and anything could go wrong. My date before this one brought his wife because he thought I was a swinger like them.” Goosebumps broke out across my arms when I thought of what I almost got myself into.

“And the one before that was basically looking for a nanny for his kids; the whole night, I felt like I was at a job interview. And the guy before that had a blood fetish!”

“He was a vampire!” Angie cried in exasperation. I could almost hear her roll her eyes through the phone.

“A vampire with a blood fetish. Did I tell you what he wanted to do with my—”

“Okay!” Angie cut me off before I went on a long tirade. “Pause and take a breath. I know all your dates have been duds thus far, but keep digging long enough and you’ll eventually strike gold. Just keep the crazy hidden until it’s too late for him to back out,”

“Your metaphors suck. I can’t believe you’re an English teacher,” I scoffed.

“And I can’t believe you’re such a coward when it comes to love. One would think you’d be more of a romantic since you always have your nose stuck in a romance novel. Or do you just prefer men from times gone by? Because I have bad news for you, honey. You ain’t going to find yourself a tortured duke or reclusive earl who looks like a swashbuckling pirate these days. You gotta make do with what you got.”

“No thank you. I’ve already settled once in my life and look where it got me. Anyway, let me get this over and done with.” I sighed and said goodbye to my sister before she went off on a tangent about my ex-husband. Sean was lucky Angie was not a witch or else he’d have a lot more to worry about than his new wife blowing through his money like it fell from the sky.

I could hear the chatter of patrons coming from the restaurant the moment I walked out of the car. Smoothing my hands down my peplum dress, I took a deep breath before I walked in—not before checking that I didn’t leave sweaty handprints on the dress.

It was like walking to my execution, every pair of eyes looking up at me as I walked through the restaurant trying to find a single man in a red shirt who resembled the profile picture from the dating app. We’d both decided to wear something red so that we could easily catch the other’s eyes, but I’d already spotted about three men with red shirts on.

One was with a woman and three kids, so he was out. The second was engaged in a heated conversation with an older woman and had his back to me, so I couldn’t tell if it was Timmy Sloane or not. And the third, he and his boyfriend needed to get a room before they got thrown out for indecent exposure.

I did a 360-degree turn around the room in search of someone who matched my date’s description and came up empty-handed. I pulled my phone out of my bag, planning on giving Timmy a call. If he told me he was running late, I was getting outta here.

“Olivia? You’re Olivia Michaels, right?” a voice called out from behind me. Pasting on the most cheerful smile I could manage and ignoring the slight ache of my cheek muscles from doing so all day, I turned around…and that smile died a swift death.

The dude who’d been arguing with the older woman? Timmy—effing—Sloane. His guest, or whatever, was glaring daggers at me like I’d stolen the last butterscotch cookie.

“I thought that was you.” Timmy gave me a beaming smile, pushing his thick glasses up his face. He was not bad looking at all, the whole Poindexter vibe he had going on worked for him if you discounted the fact that the picture he’d used on the site was likely from a decade ago. I should have known it was too good to be true. I gave myself a mental facepalm.

“This is me, and that is you.” How much more lame could I get? I stretched my hand out and instead of shaking it, Timmy pulled me closer and gave me a hug and, possibly accidentally-on-purpose, grazed my butt when he did. My left eye twitched. If I smiled any harder my face was going to crack in two.

“Wow! I can’t believe you’re actually here…and that you’re actually this gorgeous. I mean, you won’t believe the pictures some people put out on the internet only to meet them and find out they’re…oof.” He shuddered.

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