Page 1 of SlapShot Sweetheart

CHAPTER 1

AIMEE

This had to be a mistake,right?

Aimee looked up to see her blind date enter the fancy restaurant in blue jeans, a T-shirt, and bandages on his brow. The man looked like he’d just been rolled in the alley by a gang of thieves. His eye was purplish and swollen, his lip split, and he was obviously fresh from a shower – or covered in sweat. She didn’t want to be that person who judged someone based on looks, but it was hard not to.

When her friend who ran a local bakery told her that some sweet guy was looking to meet someone special but had a hard time, she should have taken that as a warning. When she was younger, guys were always asking her out, but for one thing only. Everyone wanted to date the redheaded girl because of the assumptions that came with it. Did she have a temper? Was her hair real or from a box? Did redheads feel less pain? Even the devout sought her out, wanting to know if she was saved or had a soul…

Really?

Yes, yes, yes… and yes!

She was a normal person who wanted a normal house in a normal neighborhood with normal dreams, wishes, yearnings… just like every other normal woman in the world. Her hopeful heart believed in fate and destiny to the very bottom of her inspirational soul. Every cloud had a silver lining, and every sea was full of a variety of fish, you name it – Aimee believed it.

Until now.

Now, she wasn’t so sure.

This guy wasn’t quite what she expected, and, obviously, they had differing thoughts of what a first date should be. To her, a first date was your one and only chance to knock someone’s socks off. You should put your best foot forward, which is why she’d mentioned this place.

It was quiet, intimate, and would give them a chance to talk in a cozy atmosphere that had subtle undertones of romance – and Theo hadn’t balked. He’d insisted on texting each other, which was weird already, but now, seeing him walk into the place, she wondered if he was going to stiff her with the bill. He looked nearly homeless and like he’d had the snot beat out of him.

“Allo?” the man began, smiling at her and she saw his lip split as he winced, with a French accent that was exceedingly thick. “Aimee?”

“I’m Aimee Sanders. Are you okay?”

“Oui… why?”

“Are you Theo Batiste?”

“Were you expecting someone else?”

Just the smart-alecky, lofty tone combined with his slovenly appearance, the fact that his lip was obviously bleeding, and his bruised eye socket as he glared at her defensively, putting her on edge as he leaned forward. She did the same, unwilling to back down or be bullied because he was the one wearing blue jeans in a five-star restaurant on a first date.

“No, but I was expecting you to be on time and dressed appropriately.”

“J’excusé,”he snapped, “I had to work.”

“Work that leaves you beat up and looking like a hobo?”

“’Obo? ‘Obo? I don’t look like an ‘obo – and who are you to be questioningmoi?”

“Your blind date, remember?”

Just then, the waiter arrived, handing Theo a napkin like it was nothing, and he nodded simply with this arrogant look on his face. As she studied the strange man, she saw that his nose had a bump on it and it had obviously been broken before. Maybe he was an MMA fighter or something?

Mental notes, Aimee… you should ask more questions before agreeing to blind dates with guys you don’t know. This is why you always take your own car and plan on going dutch.

People could be disappointing – or she was expecting too much out of a relationship. Maybe it was her, and she was high maintenance?

“Tonight, we are featuring aPrix Fixemenu, andLa Poule au Potsoup will be our first dish of the evening. Would you like a red or whitevinavecyour meal?” the waiter began in broken French, making Aimee smile at the attempt… only to see Theo frowning.

“Bonhomme, you cannot throw wordsen francaiseand expect people to buy that you are French. You need to either speak the beautiful language or stick with English. Don’t mix the two, please.”

“He could be from Canada,” she hissed under her breath, mortified.

“Then ‘e would be speaking my language,Quebecoise, eh,bonhomme?”

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