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“No, and no.” Arlo shimmied up, then leaned against the sink cupboard. “It’s just, I have this thing.”
“What thing?”
He stared at me and seemed to be steeling himself to give me bad news, so I sat my ass on the floor and crossed my legs. It couldn’t be too awful because, yes, he seemed distracted, but not completely miserable, so my first guess was it had something to do with his brothers—they were the only reason he’d skip what had become our regular thing. Although, why would any of that affect our standing date-slash-non-date, I didn’t know.
“What thing?” I repeated and poked him to encourage a smile.
He wouldn’t quite meet my gaze, and again, he moved away from my touch. That never happened—Arlo was a big cuddle monster, a soft bear of a man who was tactile and open with his feelings. His heart was so pure, so freaking full of love that sometimes, he couldn’t even contain it and would hug me so hard I couldn’t breathe.
He bit his lip, a typical Arlo habit when he was stressed. This was at odds with him saying everything was okay.
“Ihaveadate,” he blurted in one long run-on sentence, then dipped his gaze, and I swear his face was scarlet.
I slowed down the words to parse their meaning.
I. Have. A. Date.
“You’ve got a what now?” I asked after a pause; not sure I was hearing right.
He cleared his throat and, at last, held my gaze. For a moment, I was lost in watching him tug at his gray hair and seeing the uncertainty and nerves in his intriguing gray eyes. “A date,” he repeated in a softer almost apologetic tone.
Of all the things he could tell me, why was it something that was going to make me spin out?
Since when did Arlo date? He’d told me point-blank that being responsible for his two younger brothers, plus working for me, was enough without contemplating dating. I’d taken that at face value and almost settled into that sweet spot where we could be friends and I could lust from afar, ignoring the unrequitedeverythingI had going on.
The last thing he needed, or should expect, was for me to ask why he was going on a date.Don’t ask. Don’tfreakingask.
“Why?” Shit. I couldn’t help myself.
He shot me one of his affectionate, patient smiles. One of the cute ones that made his eyes sparkle with mischief. Or something.
“Just because…” He sighed. “Sutton left for college, and now… I’m ready to move on. Ineedto date.” He stared at me.
I tried to read his expression and the determination in his tone. “Date,” I repeated.
A familiar smile teased his lips. “Trace downloaded this app thing, and I swished or swiped or whatever, and then, someone matched me, so I’m meeting this guy called Wilton tonight.” In one sentence, he threw open all my tightly checked emotions and ripped apart my ordered world.
Apparently,he was ready to date.
Dateotherpeople.
With no warning.
“I’m meeting him at this place called The Angel Bar,” he told me. Then, while I stared at him open-mouthed, he slid back under the sink, knocking on something as he spoke, his voice muffled again. “Apparently, Friday night is karaoke night.”
What kind of name was Wilton, and who in God’s name chose a karaoke bar for their first date??. I wasn’t going to say any of that, though.
I reached out to keep the cupboard door open as Arlo worked. God knows what he was messing around with under there, but I knew better than to ask him. Instead, I focused on thisWiltonand began cautiously “Don’t you think a first date should be the getting-to-know-you bit? Y’know, dinner, and drinks, and talking?”
He wriggled back a little farther, his head in the cupboard, his voice muffled. “Says the expert on dating?”
I huffed. “I don’t have to be an expert to know karaoke is a shit first date,” I snarked loud enough for him to hear.
Arlo chuckled, a rumbling—sexy—sound that hit me hard. “I don’t care; hell, it’s been so long since I dated, I’ve forgotten how to do it. Might as well get drunk and sing.”
I leaned over to peer into the cupboard under the sink, strands of my long red hair falling around my face. “What do you know about this guy? He’s a stranger.”
“Well, duh.” Arlo said. “I mean, that’s the definition of a blind date.”
