Page 43 of Five Dates Between Friends

I nearly spit out my mouthful of coffee. “Orgasm-inducing pie?”

“I said what I said.”

I had no response for that, so I just shook my head and sipped my coffee as she took a few orders from the to-go window. A text from Lindsay lit up my phone. It didn’t matter that part of me had been expecting this all day, my stomach still dropped through the floor. I had every intention of telling her the truth, but how exactly did I say:sorry there won’t be another date because I’m interested in someone else, who also happened to be there last night. How did one phrase that tactfully?

After wiping my spontaneously sweaty palms on my shirt I opened the text.

Lindsay:Hey Mack, I wanted to say thanks for last night, it was a lot of fun. You’re a great guy, but I think we can both agree that there’s someone else you’d rather be dating, isn’t there…

I didn’t know what the fuck to say to that. I thought I’d done well keeping my shit together around Chase. Yes, I bought her shoes but Lindsay and I had been a solid team in the bowling. We talked, we laughed … as she said, we had a good time. But she still knew. Relief swept over me in a rush and I sagged on my stool.

Me:That was not what I expected you to say. But I’m not going to be an even bigger asshole and disagree. I’m really sorry, I probably should have said no to the date from the beginning.

Lindsay: No, I’m glad we did it. Like I said, I had fun but I know when someone’s not really into me. Wanting the outcome to be different doesn’t make it that way. I’m sure I’ll see you around x

I read the exchange three times, trying to think of something to say, but she hadn’t left a great deal of room for further conversation.

“That doesn’t look like a texting the love of my life face …” Harley said, her attention once again on me. “You wanna talk about it?”

“There is nothing to talk about.” And there wasn’t. I still felt like a dick for leading Lindsay on the way I did but she didn’t seem to be a grudge-holder.

Harley studied me for a long moment, her whiskey eyes scanning, then promptly started talking about the guy she was with last night. He was hung like a horse (good for him) but sadly, didn’t know how to use it, or anything else by the sound of it.

“I mean,” she continued, “if your face is literally in a pussy, how is it so difficult to locate a clitoris? You know? I bet you know where it is, don’t you?”

“Yes Harley, I’m aware of the location of a clitoris.”

“Praise be. It’s not that hard, is it?”

“Not if you’re paying attention.”

“Exactly! He told me he wasn’t a virgin, but I’m not sure I believe him.”

If she was in virgin territory, I was tempted to ask how old the guy was, but thought better of it because I didn’t actually want to know the answer.

Thankfully, my food arrived and Harley was distracted by the arrival of a new guy at the bar so I was left to eat in peace. Well, relative peace, I almost choked on a piece of toast when she asked him if he knew where the clitoris was.

By the timeI made it to Rudi that afternoon, the anxious energy that had kept me up most of the night had well and truly evaporated and an easy kind of contentment was warming my chest. Harley, outrageous as she was, had a lot to do with it. Her quiet, or not so quiet as it were, confidence in Chase, in me and Chase, was encouraging.

The fact I had not heard from the woman in question was of some concern but, whatever her answer, I didn’t think it would come via text. Because I already knew the answer wouldn't be a simple yes or no. Brevity had never been a particular strength of Chase’s and, if it was a yes (as I hoped it would be), there would be caveats.

I hung up my coat and bag in the office, taking a deep hit of Chase’s scent that always permeated the small space. I considered tidying the desk, which was strewn with papers but had a feeling I’d disrupt some system I wasn’t aware of. She existed in a perpetually state of barely organised chaos

Quiet and empty, Rudi Blue was one of my favorite places. I couldn’t put my finger on what it was exactly. A sense of home, maybe, or pride in being part of creating this place from the ground up. Despite that feeling, deep down I’d always considered Rudi Chase’s baby and not mine, not really. I knew she’d disagree with me, but that didn’t change the fact that, as much as I loved Rudi, it wasn’t mything.

Sometimes I was convincedI’d never find my thing and, if that was the case, I’d be okay. I’d still die a happy man because I really did love my life.

Only maybe I had found it. If I had the balls to actually claim it. Pies. I fucking loved making pies. Orgasm-inducing pies, if Harley was to be believed. But there was a big difference between enjoying making pies in the privacy of my own home and actually doing it full-time. What the hell would I do? Open a pie shop? I snorted out a laugh. How the hell would I do that? I wasn’t a chef, not like Nash, and I wasn’t a business brain either, that was Chase’s department. I was the one who went along for the ride. I guess I needed to decide if I was happy doing that forever

The thoughts continued to swim around my head as I went through the routine of setup and headed into the store room for more bottles. I should talk to Chase about it, except then it would be out there in the world and I knew she’d tell me to do it. That scared me more than anything, of not living up to what she thought of me.

I stopped short, weighed down with a crate, because there she was. She stopped on the opposite side of the bar, her eyes going wide. I took her in, boots, black jeans and her cherry red peacoat, dark hair wild from the wind outside. She was perfect, as always.

“Okay,” she said, stuffing her hands deep into the pockets of her coat.

“Okay?”

A nod. “Okay. One date.” And just like that, pies were the very last thing on my mind. “Don’t smile yet,” she continued. “I'm only agreeing to one date and I have stipulations.”

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