Page 5 of Dashing for Love

It’s a stupid name, right? But the concept is that the app won’t let you see the person’s face until you’ve talked for a certain length of time. And then, it only lets you post pictures that don’t include your face. The whole thing’s bizarre and no way can it actually work, but tonight? I need to be a little less boring.

In fact, that’s my resolution for this decade: No more Boring Matty. No more all-work-and-no-play Matty.

Yeah. That sounds good. I can do this. I have no idea what being less boring looks like, but I can figure it out. Maybe I’ll make a list.

My first step is this app. It can’t hurt. Not like the women of this town are shoving each other down to go on a date with me, anyway. So I’ll do it.

With a fake name.

Or at least, with a name that doesn’t let the good people of Lucky know that their number one vet is using a blind date app. I may have resolved to be less boring, but there’s no shaking off the pragmatism. We’re not making miracles over here.

I pull it up and get to it.

Chapter 3

Goldie

WILLA GLARES AT me when I skip into Dash In Diner the next morning for one of the few shifts I keep. Even though I’m full-time at the local paper, I can’t quite give up waiting tables here; it’s my family history, and I love it. Our parents started the diner before we were born, and even though Willa is in the process of buying it from them, they’re still here, too. We’ve grown up here, the both of us gravitating into our respective areas: Willa in the kitchen with Dad, and me up front with Mom.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

She points a chef’s knife at me, bits of diced onions falling off the blade as she speaks. “Don’t ever let me drink tequila and eat carrot cake at the same time.”

I laugh. “Sounds like a you problem, Wills. I feel fine.” And I do.

She huffs and goes back to chopping.

Mom sidles up and drops a container of silverware on the counter before me, and I grab a stack of napkins to start rolling.

“I hear that you told Agatha to stop setting you up,” Mom starts.

I glance at Willa, who snorts and keeps her eyes on her work. “I did,” I hedge.

“But I thought you were having such a nice time.” Mom pouts as she speaks, throwing me a lower lip big enough to make a toddler proud.

I laugh. “Mom, I was having aterribletime.”

She waves at Willa. “She complained about Reid, too, and look what happened!”

“Reid doesn’t own an African Grey that he showers with,” I shoot back.

Mom opens her mouth, then shuts it.

I shrug. “Exactly.”

She sighs. “I just want both my girls happy. When I was your age?—”

“Barbara,” Dad calls from the back. “Leave her alone.”

I giggle and beam in Dad’s direction even though he can’t see me. “Thanks, Daddy!”

Willa snorts again and Mom mutters to herself.

I give Mom a side hug. “Come on, Mom,” I wheedle. “Don’t be mad that your baby girl is single. It’ll happen when it’s supposed to.”

Mom grumbles good-naturedly, then plants a kiss on my cheek. I know she means well, and in her defense, I was always the one with a steady string of boyfriends through high school, college, and a few years beyond that. But none of them ever stuck, and the past few years have seen most of the eligible guys get snapped up left and right. And honestly? It’s okay. Mostly. For years, I was only ever out for a good time. I’m focused on the paper now, and that takes up a decent amount of time.

The clock makes its way to seven, and we open up. Tom and Jerry are first in, like they are every day, setting up at the endof the counter to gossip like two old hens and drink more coffee than can possibly be good for them. They’re staples of Lucky, but even more, they’re staples of the diner. If I didn’t see the two of them posted up for hours at the diner on a daily basis, I think the world might actually stop turning.

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