Page 3 of More Than a Blind Date

She gives me a quick sweeping gaze, then lowers into the seat.

I sit across from her, positioned so that I can see the hostess stand and the table I just left. And I’m not sure if I’d call it perfect or horrible timing because as soon as I’m in my seat, Anderson steps up to the hostess stand and all the other guys arewith him. He looks at me, raises an eyebrow, then speaks to the hostess.

That girl looks like she’s died and gone to heaven. With a wide smile, she leads my friends to the big table. They take seats around the table, acting like they don’t know me. Then the hostess glances at me, and a look of confusion pinches her brow. But thankfully, she doesn’t say anything about my table switching.

I need to figure out how to fess up to Rose, my unexpected blind date. Normally speaking in sentences isn’t difficult, but I’m having trouble stringing words together at the moment. “I, uh…” After dragging my fingers through my hair, I hook a thumb toward the door. “There was a man in a suit?—”

Rose leans forward. “My date left, didn’t he? If I had to guess, you’re supposed to be having dinner with them.”

She’s probably really good at matching games.

“Yep, but I’d like to buy you dinner. No point in going home hungry.” I feel bad about her getting stood up, so maybe buying her dinner will cheer her up. Although, she doesn’t seem all that disappointed.

“Are you sure?” She lays a hand on mine.

I stare at her pretty nails. “Not all guys are like the one who walked out. Some are nice.”

She bumps my leg with her foot. “Like you. And that’s good because I’m hoping you can help me.”

“Help you?” I was trying to do something nice, and now a nagging tingle tells me I’ve waded into a situation I’m not prepared to handle. I yank my hand out from under hers and cross my arms. “With what?”

“I need a boyfriend for a few months. I’ve been using dating sites to meet potential fake boyfriends, but I’ve had no luck. Until tonight.” That killer smile is back in force.

The waitress approaches the table, and Rose’s expression changes.

“Evening, I’m Tanya. I’ll be your server this evening. What can I get y’all to drink?” She runs through her lines before even looking at us. When she spots Rose, her face lights up. “Hey, girl.”

Rose shifts in her seat. “Hi, Tanya.”

We order drinks, and Tanya walks away.

“That’s my cousin.” Rose sighs. “When I set up this date, I had no idea she worked here. Or anywhere for that matter. And I’d rather that she not know about the whole fake fiancé thing, so when she comes around, just don’t talk about that, okay?”

I nod.

“Thanks. But is there any chance you’ll do it?”

She started by calling it a fake boyfriend, and now the word fiancé has dropped. I recognize a bad situation when it’s draped in red flags and waved in front of my face.

“Oh, no. I’m definitely not the right person for that.” I keep my voice low so that my buddies don’t hear the conversation. “And using dating sites like that could be risky. You never know what kind of men you’ll meet.”

“Normally, I’m much more cautious, but it’s coming down to the wire, and I’m a bit desperate.” She picks up her purse. “Thank you for being nice. I won’t make you buy my dinner. I’m going to see if I can snag another date for tonight. Because if I can’t find a fiancé before next Friday, I might…” She purses her lips, then shakes her head. “I don’t know what I’ll do. Is there anything I can say that will make you reconsider? I’m willing to discuss compensation, but I don’t have a ton saved up.”

“Stay.” The word comes out a bit snippy.

She drops her purse and flashes a smile, one that worries me and makes me shiver deep down in my bones. “Okay.”

“Aren’t you kind of young to be engaged?” There are many other ways I could have worded the question, but I’m still having trouble with English, the only language I know. “And you have no way of knowing that I’m a good guy. Someone could… you know.”

“You’re wrong. I can tell that you’re a good guy. Because if you weren’t, you wouldn’t worry about my age. So, you’re not a pervy weirdo. I’m not worried that you would ‘you know’.” She uses air quotes to set off the last two words. “And, for the record, I’m twenty-five.” She opens her phone case and shows me her license. “So, no. I don’t think I’m too young to be engaged. If my parents had their way, I’d be married and have two kids by now. But as I mentioned earlier, I’m looking for a pretend fiancé. Not a real one.”

“Good might be a stretch, but I’m not a weirdo. I am too old for you, though, fake or not.” I may look young, but I’m thirty-six.

She shrugs. “Okay.”

Then she picks up her phone, and my heart squeezes. This woman is going to get herself into trouble. And that bothers me.

“Where are you going?”

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