I quirk a smile at him. “Trust me, I’m not in a rush to settle down. I’m twenty-three, I’ve spent my whole life in school, and I’ve barely even dated. I’m not sure I know what I want yet.”
But I wouldn’t be at all surprised if what I want ends up looking exactly like Chuck. Smoldering eyes and all.
“This place was perhaps too romantic for a blind date,” he confesses, looking discreetly around at the other tables. “Look at all these lovebirds.”
“Completely head over heels,” I agree, taking in the many couples seated around us. I have to admit, if only to myself, that it’s sweet how absorbed in each other they all seem to be.
“What do you think they’re talking about?” Chuck asks, nodding in the direction of a nicely dressed couple a few tables over who seem seconds away from lunging across the table and swallowing each other’s tongues.
I laugh, and realize this is as animated as Chuck has been since we left my house. I decide to take a risk.
I lean forward and lower my voice as I say, “I think he’s saying he’d like to eat her pussy for dessert.”
4
Chuck
I’m damn near a spit-take and it’s all I can do to swallow the whiskey in my mouth instead of spraying it across the nice linen tablecloth.
Cassidy must have noticed because she’s grinning at me, and I manage to regain my composure. I’ve got this girl all wrong.
When I picked her up at her parents’ house tonight, my first thought was, holy shit, this woman is gorgeous. In a fifties-style dress that hugs all her luscious curves, with red lipstick I’d love to see smeared on my cheek… among other places… I immediately took back my assumption that she’d be frumpy or in any way a stereotypical librarian.
But she’s so young—five years younger than me—and she still lives with her parents. I have to confess I instantly got this picture of her in my mind, prim, proper… innocent.
To hear her talk like that, though… well, she’s got my attention.
“You run the senior book club with that mouth?” I ask, leaning closer to her.
“Oh, shush,” she says, but she’s giving me a coy smile and she raises one finger to her plump red lips. Yeah, there’s definitely more to this girl than meets the eye… and from the sparks that have been coming off her all night, I know she’s up for a little fun.
“What are you going to do, Miss Librarian?” I ask. “Fine me?”
“Oh, more than that,” she says, one corner of her lips curling into a smirk as her green eyes challenge mine. “I will Dewey decimate you.”
“Well, if that’s not an invitation to break all your rules, I don’t know what is,” I answer. Yeah, this blind date just got a whole lot more interesting.
Before I can push this any further, though, the waiter returns with our food and I take a long sip of water, cooling myself off so I can get through the rest of the meal. I’m just making a mental note to thank Gramps for this pleasantly surprising date when Cassidy asks, “So, speed dating lightning round—five questions. Don’t think, just answer. What’s your favorite genre?”
“Self-help.”
“Fiction genre?”
“No time.”
Cassidy pouts at that, but lets it go. It’s the truth. She asks, “Watch the movie without reading the book first?”
“Never.”
“Do you dog-ear your pages?”
“Only when I’m desperate,” I say, and I can already see the judgment in her eyes so I hurry to add, “Never library books, though.”
She smiles, satisfied, and there’s that fire in her emerald eyes again as she asks her last question. “How come your grandpa’s finding dates for you?”
“Because he’s a hopeless romantic,” I say. “He married the love of his life and he won’t be content until everyone around him has done the same.”
“Is that what you’re looking for?” she asks, and I hold up a chastising finger.
“That’s six questions.” She just shrugs and waits, so I give in and answer. “No, I’m not looking for anything serious. I’ve got too much work to do… and I’m not as convinced about the whole soulmate thing as Gramps is.”
She nods. “Fair enough. Your turn.”
“For five questions?”
I think for a minute while I eat—I’ve got a juicy coq au vin, Cassidy’s having vegetable quiche. The questions don’t come as quickly to me as they seem to have come to her because it’s been a long time since I’ve been on a date with a woman whose interests I actually shared. Who I was actually interested in. Finally, though, I’ve got it.
“Favorite book?”
“The Notebook,” she says, then immediately adds, “and if you pick on me about my gushy romance habits–”
“’I am nothing special, but I’ve loved another with my heart and soul, and to me that has always been enough,’” I paraphrase a line from the book, and Cassidy stops mid-sentence. I hope this hasn’t cost me a so-called Man Card in her eyes, but I can’t help it… it’s a good damn book.