Page 1 of Finally Moore

Prologue

Scott

AmandaErickson,35.

She enjoys cooking, specifically with ingredients from her home garden. Loves hiking, fishing, and skiing. Her favorite movies areMoulin RougeandBride Wars. One day, she hopes to backpack and do aTaste of Asiatour.

She’s perfect.

Almost too perfect…

My eyes graze over her dating profile for the hundredth time. Hopefully this app doesn’t track views, or at least saves me the embarrassment of reporting them. I’d hate for her to think I’m a stalker.

Fuck, is that why she’s late?

No, she’s not late. I’m early. But who could blame me? This could be it. She could be the one, and I couldn’t just sit around waiting to meet my soul mate.

Damn it, Scott. You’re getting ahead of yourself again.

Soul mate? You haven’t even seen her yet, and you’re already planning the rest of your lives together. Not that I really care about her looks. They change. I’m living proof of that. The geeky kid who spent high school hiding in his best friend’s shadow, then filled out his lanky frame and can now talk to a girl without the aid of a wingman.

At this point, I’d just be happy if this date goes well enough that she might consider joining me at my friend’s New Year’s Eve dinner party. It’s couples only, and I learned my lesson embarrassingly fast that holidays don’t make good first dates—Thanksgiving was proof of that. But that’s a story for a different day.

Not to mention, the upcoming event is in Chicago, so it’s probably best we meet beforehand. I dread the idea of a six-hour car ride, filled with awkward silence because we have zero ability to converse with each other.

I tuck my phone into my pocket. If she hasn’t already caught me studying her information like she’s going to give me a pop quiz, it would be best for her not to see just how anxious I am either.

I rub the velvety crimson pedal of the rose lying on the table. The calling card of the Red Rose Blind Date program so that she knows I’mme.It’s a cool concept, but right now I hate it. What if she saw me and already decided that I wasn’t what she wanted? While looks aren’t at the top of my list, maybe they are on hers?

“Scott?” an angelic voice asks. She smiles and my heart skips a beat. “At least I really hope you’re him. Otherwise, this is super embarrassing.”

My chair scoots across the hardwood flooring as I quickly stand and extend a hand to greet her. “Yes, sorry, I’m Scott.” I grin as her espresso eyes widen at my towering height.

As she assesses me, I use the opportunity to drink in her deliciously curvy figure that’s accentuated by her form-fitted dress. I know I said looks aren’t everything, butfuckare they an added bonus. And right now, I feel like I just hit the jackpot.

She lets out a relieved sigh. “Thank god.” I pull out a chair and help her sit before reclaiming my own. “I’m not sure what I was thinking. Blind dates are so stressful.” Amanda peers up at me through a pair of perfectly fanned lashes.

“Tell me about it,” I empathize with her.

“I thought it would be easier. This is my first date in a long time and, well, I thought getting to know you first would make me less anxious. But I think it’s made it worse.”

“How so?”

“The expectation.” She worries her glossy lip between her teeth. “You’re going to think I’m crazy and maybe I am? But it feels like I’ve known you my whole life. So I kept thinking things like… what if when we finally meet face-to-face, I’m not your type or… I don’t know… you don’t think I’m pretty or something?”

I laugh. She narrows her eyes at me, and I realize she probably thinks I’m being a dick. “No, sorry. I was just terrified of the same thing.”

Her shoulders loosen as she settles in. “Really?”

“Yeah, I mean, you’re perfect.” Her round cheeks flush at my compliment. “And I haven’t had the greatest luck when it comes to dating. So, I’ve honestly been waiting for the other shoe to drop, and figured you’d get one look at me and walk away without a word.”

All the awkwardness magically disappears, and everything is back on track.Perfect.I know I keep saying it, but I can’t think of any other way to describe it. The conversation flows as smoothly as the bottle of wine we ordered. It was nice being able to discuss the menu with someone, analyze the dishes, commiserate over the struggle of choosing just one out of several amazing options. The only thing that could’ve made our evening better is if we would’ve shared our plates.

This doesn’t feel like our firstblinddate—no, it’s like we’re celebrating our twentieth anniversary. After all the ups and downs in my dating life this year, I can say without a doubt that this is how it’s supposed to be. Which really proves when it’s right, it’s right. Simple as that.

“Sorry.” Amanda frowns as she picks up and vigorously texts on her phone.

“Everything okay?” I risk asking this time.

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