“Okay, I think we should start with the chiffon first, then we can go from there. You’re going for a simple, classic look, right?”
Hannah nods and steps into the changing room with Shannon while Luna takes a seat on one of the velvet chaises for guests. “And while we’re working on getting you into the gown,Willowcan share her news,” Shannon emphasizes my name, briefly poking her head out with a raised brow before retreating to assist Hannah.
“Oh, intriguing indeed. Tell us what’s happened.” Luna props one leg over the other and leans forward, anticipation lighting her eyes.
“Well, I signed up for your app yesterday and got a match this morning. He wants to meet tomorrow night at Daffodil’s.”
“This is so exciting!” Luna gushes. “You’re the first person I know well enough to observe the app’s work in progress.”
“Who is it?” Hannah asks, her voice muffled.
“I don’t know. There’s not much to go on except for his bio since it’s meant for blind dates. All I know is that he hasn’t had much success with the app yet.” Glancing toward Luna, I shrug in apology. “Sorry. I’m sure that’s not what you want to hear.”
She waves away my concern with purple-tipped fingers. “It’s fine. It won’t work for everyone, but if I can bring even one couple together, it’ll be worth it. Maybe you’ll be the lucky two!”
“Fingers crossed. My single season has to end eventually, right?”
“Right.” Hannah steps out in a beautiful A-line gown covered in floating layers of pale chiffon. “Just look at me and King. Love happened in a matter of weeks for us after years of pining, and it can happen to you, too. We never know when we’ll meet ourheart spark. Yours could be at Daffodil’s tomorrow night.”
Giddy with optimism, I send up another prayer for this mystery man to bemyman, then focus on Hannah. “Enough about me, though. You’re the star today and that dress is lovely. How do you feel?”
Shannon and I listen as she details what she likes and dislikes, and we spend the rest of her appointment laughing and swooning over dresses until Hannah walks out in the perfect one, tears of joy glimmering in her eyes.
Someday that’ll be me.
Someday.
CHAPTER TWO
RHYS
Dating sucks.
The women are nice enough, but none of them light a fire in my gut, especially when all of them get dreamy-eyed and wax poetic about love andheart sparks—a combination guaranteed to nix any chance we have together. It’s why I’m about to delete this fucking app from my phone.
I don’t know what King was thinking when he created an account for me.
Or why the hell I thought this app would be different from everything else I’ve tried to find a woman?
Instead of giving it one more chance, I should’ve trashed it and moved on with my life, but apparently, I’m a sucker for failure because when a new match came through, I set up a date anyway.
TheCarrotsMeow.
The name made me chuckle, which was a point in the woman’s favor, and her cute explanation had me smiling. So I figured, “What the hell?” Maybe tonight won’t be so terrible. Her bio listed the usual items like favorite books and movies, but other than a couple of random facts, she remains a mystery.
The sound of a truck pulling up to my forge distracts me from my thoughts, and I set down my current project to clean my hands before Austin Fielding enters.
“Hey, man.” We shake hands in greeting as I lead him to the finished light fixtures he ordered for his bar, The Ole Aces. “Here they are. What do you think?”
Austin runs a careful hand over each piece composed of metal and wood. “They look really good. Better than what we have now, that’s for sure, so thanks.”
He bought the bar a year ago after the previous owner grew too old to maintain the business and the rowdy crowd it drew, so since then, Austin’s been working on updating the interior while retaining its rustic charm.
“No problem. At least now I won’t be afraid to play pool under one of those deathtraps you have hanging now.” Every time I visit The Ole Aces, someone’s standing on the old green bombazine-covered pool tables tinkering with the light overhead to ensure its stability.
“Yeah, I’ll be thankful to not have that liability on my shoulders anymore,” Austin mutters, running a hand through his long hair. “I shouldn’t complain since I bought the old place for a song, but the renovations never seem to end. It’s one thing after another.”
“On the bright side, I think it matters more to you as the owner than your customers. We’ve been going there for years despite its rough edges; it matches our personalities,” I joke, patting him on the back in encouragement. Owning a small business is tough—full of non-stop work—which I’m intimately familiar with. And I don’t even manage a staff of people like Austin does. It’s just me and the accountant I send my books to.
