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“Do you cook?”
“I do.”
“Great, that’s good to know because my mom’s a great cook. Do you think you’d be opposed to using her recipes if we get married?”
What. The. Absolute. Fuck? He did not just go there… Have we gone back into the 1950s and I just missed it?
“Um, no one said anything about getting married…” Despite the look on my face, he still continues on.
He nods. “I know, but it’s an important question for now because if you won’t, then this just isn’t going to work.”
“I’m to the point of knowing this isn’t going to work…”
“Was it something I said?”
“Yep, definitely.” The bell rings and I jump out of my seat, thrilled to get away from this momma’s boy. He’s starting to give me lives-in-momma’s-basement vibes. My eyes fall to the door and I wonder if I should just go ahead and leave now. Clearly this whole thing has been a bust so far.
No, I said I’d do it.
My eyes drift over to the next table and the guy looks up at me and smiles. A tiny sliver of hope emanates inside me. “Hey, I’m Corbin. Nice to meet you. What are you drinking today?”
“Willow. Nice to meet you, and this is one of my favorites, white hot chocolate.” I smile back at him, thinking that finally I’ve found someone who legitimately wants to be here. “So, what do you do?”Let's start with an easy question, right?
He smiles and his cheeks form the cutest dimples. “Well, I’m a troubadour, roaming from town to town singing songs to beautiful women like you, and wooing them into relationships with me.”
Is this dude for real?I internally roll my eyes and think of something to placate him. “Oh, well that sounds like a delightful life story.”
The bell rings and I'm not sure if I’m excited or disappointed I’ll be moving on to the next table. Corbin is nice, but his story makes him seem like a total player, and he’s the very last type of person I should be involved with right now. Been there, done that, and never again.
I go through eight more five minute dates. Not impressed with any of them until my eyes catch on Mr. Perfect across the room. I mean he’s gorgeous, right? He’s tall, with dark ebony hair, and his jawline could chip away at a mountain. His laugh is deep and masculine like I always imagined my perfect man having. It’s as if I’ve heard it before in my dreams and I drink it in like the most luxurious wine.
Dark eyes find mine and I swoon.Now, I know what you’re thinking. This is completely shallow. There’s no way I just found my dream man and I haven’t even talked to him yet. But who was I to say no to a one chance encounter. Even if this never amounted to anything more than a one night encounter, I’d sure enjoy the hell out of myself.
But what if I did? What if we were brought here at the same exact time for a reason?
His smile could make any girl weak in the knees, and I can only imagine his voice…Gah, get it together, Willow!I internally reprimand myself. My eyes roam over his chest looking for the typical name tag that would indicate he’s part of the speed dating tonight, but no luck. My eyes caress his arm muscles. His biceps are huge and rippling because, clearly, he works out a lot. That’s good. Being healthy is important. His sweater is drawn tightly over his broad chest, and his khaki pants hang low on his hips. I’m picturing a GQ model under all that clothing,obviously.
I watch as a dark-haired woman slides up beside him. Kissing him on the cheek as she gives him a side hug. Awareness spotlights within my mind. And… there goes my chance at Mr. Perfect. He’s with someone already. Another book worthy guy who’s already found his one true love. My heart sinks at another lost opportunity. My shoulders slouch a little in defeat. I pick up my cup. It’s empty and this girl needs a refill.
Wrapping my black and white polka dot scarf tighter around my neck, I get up from the table and put on my new black winter coat. I’ll put my gloves on once I have another cup of hot deliciousness to go.
“Hi, I’d like another white hot chocolate to go, please.” I won’t need an extra hit of peppermint schnapps now since this event is totally over. The cashier rings me up and points me to the pickup at the end of the counter.
The voice that comes over the speakers as they crackle yet again is nasally. “Order for Oliver.”
I watch as the perfect mystery man walks past me to grab his coffee.
“Order for Willow.”Oh, that’s me!He’s still standing at the pickup counter and I have the urge to blurt out how we’re complete soulmates, but I resist. Because it would be stupid to say that in front of his girlfriend.
Hot chocolate in hand, I turn too quickly.
Why is he so close?
I watch, almost in slow motion, as my hot chocolate sprays all over him.Noooooooo.
He winces, causing his own drink to spill. I’m sure both are burning into his skin as he watches; a grimace covering his perfectly chiseled face.
“Oh, my God, I am so, so sorry! Here let me help you…” Before I know what I’m doing, I’ve picked up a napkin and am wiping him down without permission. My hand has a mind of its own as I feel up and down his hard chiseled chest. I try not to moan at the sheer delight. Dang, I’ve never felt pecs this muscular. I continue down with my napkin and realize I’m legit rubbing his cock in his pants. I mean… it is quite a package.
