31
CHASE
Seconds pass and I don’t tear my eyes from Pippa as she scopes out the room for my “date” and the camera crew. Her profile is perfect. I’d like to kiss her cheek, the space behind her ear...her neck.
The back and forth, hot and cold, up and down has been going on for too long and the kiss changed something within me. No, it lit a fire. I’m always the nice guy, going along with the crowd.
All this time, I’ve felt like I’m a kid again, subject to the rules of the adults in my life. Admiring Pippa in secret, stolen moments from across the dining hall. Only, I’m the adult. This is my life.
It’s time for me to man up or shut up.
So here I am. No, hereweare.
“Good evening and welcome to Dalton’s. May I get you something to drink?” the server asks.
“He’ll wait for his date,” Pippa responds, now reviewing her menu like a chemistry exam study guide.
“Uh, okay,” the server says, seemingly perplexed that she’d replied to the question even though we’re at the same table with only enough for two people.
I place a little bet with myself to see how long it will take Pippa to realize she is my date. After our kiss on the street, I went home and sulked. Then I snapped.
It was time to make a change, so I called Rhiannon and told her what’s going to happen for the final installment ofCrush or Cupid. She went along with it when I told her The Crush List on her desk was about me, rendering her services as a dating coach unnecessary if she’d let me do things my way.
Raising my first few fingers in a friendly gesture to retain the server’s attention, I say, “Actually, I’ll take an Arnold Palmer and she’d like the pink mint lemonade granita.”
Pippa wiggles in her seat. “Ooh. That sounds good. Lucky lady. I haven’t heard you order for your date before. That’s old-fashioned. Some women are okay with it and others not.”
I let out a breath. “I haven’t quite had a date like this before.”
“Well, don’t mind me while I wait for a nearby table to open up. I am just here to observe. So far, so good.” She gives a couple slowly finishing their meal, the side-eye as if that’ll get them to move along.
“Don’t worry about the table.”
“But your date, Jude, should come at any moment and would be insulted if she saw?—”
“I sincerely appreciate your concern about what my date will think about me. But seeing as this is all for show...”
“Not if you get your happily ever after.”
“Who said I want a happily ever after?” I ask.
Trust me, I want one.
“Family, farmhouse, dogs...you said so yourself.”
“So that’s what a happily ever after looks like, huh?” An amused smile plays on my lips. “Then we want the same thing.”
“I didn’t say I want that.”
“Okay, then describe your happily ever after.”
Pippa’s throat bobs as if she’s nervous to confirm that we want the same thing. “Um, I’ll live in an apartment with a bunch of cats, alone.”
I squint because this is such a lie. Then again, she’s been telling some whoppers lately. “You’re allergic to cats. Cats and chocolate. A crying shame, if you ask me.”
“How do you know?”
“In high school, Marlow was asking around about who had a cat so she could collect fur, probably for a prank. Your brother said he didn’t have a cat because you’re allergic. I am too, so it stuck in my mind. I like cats.”
