Page 8 of Accidental Blind Date
His blonde hair (with a dash of silver) is cut very professional, very sleek and he’s clean shaven.
His jawline is strong,maybe even strong enough to split a coconut, (just like his forearms),though it is more rectangular than I’d pictured.
I squeeze my thighs tighter under the table, half because this skirt is shorter than I typically prefer and half because I might be just a tiny bit wet down there.
But I never said that.
Also, kudos to me. I didn’t even know the water works still had a functioning valve.
But what really has my jaw dropping and my panties in a knot is the fact that he is standing over me, holding two drinks, looking right at me.
I look over and find that this man, this Viking of a man, has his gaze locked on me like a fighter pilot.
With that, my heart jackrabbits in my chest.
He came in hot and I’m not sure if the runway is clear for landing.
“Sorry I’m late,” he says, and I’m pretty sure his voice is the same consistency as gravel. It’s an interesting contrast to his put-together persona. I don’t hate it. “I didn’t realize you were here yet. I went to the bar to get us drinks. I’m Jax.”
I realize I am still sitting here, my finger’s pinching a debit card because I was about to start a tab for myself, my wallet wide open.
His eyes trail down to my hand and his lips quirk in the corners. “Did you think I wasn’t going to show?”
“No, I just, I–” I shake my head and stand up to shake his hand. That’s what you do on a first date, right? Shake hands? I mentally kick myself for not looking up the protocol. “I’m Libby. Obviously.”
But before I can do or say anything else to make this immeasurably more awkward, Jax pulls me into a brief hug.
He smells like cinnamon and pepper and something sweeter.
He’s also no less than six four because even in my heels, the top of my head barely hits his shoulder.
We stand there awkwardly for a moment before I realize he is waiting for me to take my seat again before he will sit down.
A gentleman?
Who would have thought.
As he hands me my drink I narrow my eyes down at it. “How did you know this was my drink order?” I ask.
“We talked about it, didn’t we? On the app?”
My eyes, still skeptical, drag from the muddled gin and tonic up to his face. “No…I don’t think we did.”
Jax smiles, the warmest, sexiest smile that has ever been smiled at me in my life and I swear to God I am going to have to change my panties soon if he keeps this up. “I’m sorry. I guess I’m nervous. You just look beautiful, and my brain is glitching. Can you remind me again…what we did talk about?”
“The rules,” I say. “The rules for the date.”
“Rules for the date,” Jax leans in on his forearms, which by the way, look even better than his profile pic. And that’s saying a lot because they were utterly phenomenal in that photo. “So, I’m going to be completely honest with you. I was so nervous I got here early and sat in the back just to have a little pre-game drink to calm my nerves. And now that you’re here, now that I am looking at you… I’m going to need a refresher on those rules too.”
“Of course,” I say with a giggle because I’m fairly certain I’ve been reverse cat-fished if that’s even a thing. Then I pull my phone out and click on the app’s messaging. “How about we refresh both our memories?” I ask. Because I am struggling too. So, I read the rules off.
Neither of us are looking for anything serious.
