Page 33 of My Blind Date is a Demon

“I’ll be right back to take your drink orders,” Rachel says as soon as we are seated.

“This was so nice of Beverly,” Damon says, perusing the menu.

“Spending the evening at a nice restaurant with my demon is not exactly my idea of a good time,” I say as I unfold my napkin.

“Oh? And what is your idea of a good time?”

“Probably spending the evening at a nice restaurant on a date,” I say. And that’s when it hits me. “Oh my gosh.” I put my head in my hands, lamenting what an idiot I am.

“What is it?” Damon asks.

“Beverly,” I say. “She tricked me. Tricked us.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m on a blind date with a demon!” I stage whisper. “With my demon. With a demon sent to make my life a living nightmare. Oh, this is just perfect.”

“Can I get you something to drink,” Rachel asks sweetly, practically appearing out of nowhere.

“Can I just start with a cranberry vodka?” I say. “And make it double.”

“Sure. And you, Damon?”

“Scotch on the rocks,” he says. “Top shelf.”

“Of course. I’ll be right back with your drinks and to take your food order.”

“What do you mean?” Damon asks as soon as she is out of earshot.

“Beverly, she’s the town’s infamous matchmaker,” I say.

“Yes, I know,” Damon says. “But what does that have to do with…” He motions between us. “This?”

“It’s a date,” I say. “We’ve been set up.”

“Really? How do you know?”

“Believe me. I’ve lived in Mystic Cove my whole life. Stories about Beverly’s matchmaking skills are legendary. She probably set up half the couples in this restaurant.”

“What does that mean, though?” Damon asks.

“It means… It means Beverly made a mistake. My soulmate can’t possibly be a demon. Do you even have a soul?”

“Wait. Soulmate?”

“Apparently, when Beverly makes a match, it’s supposed to be the real deal,” I explain. “Like your one true love. The one you’re meant to be with. But she must have made a mistake.”

“Does Beverly make mistakes?” Damon asks.

I pause before I admit, “Not that I’ve ever heard.”

“So…what do we do now?”

“Nothing,” I say. “We do nothing. We just have a drink, eat some food, go home, and pretend this never happened.”

“Yeah, that’s probably for the best,” Damon says, clearing his throat. I notice that he looks a little pale.”

“Are you okay?” I ask him.

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