Almost Matched (Almost Bad Boys) (8 page)

“Are you worried because the next candidate might not be easy to find?”

“Something like that. I hate the process. They get clingy. Or they are crap in bed. Or… I don’t know… make me want more, and that’s what I’m afraid of.”

I take her hand in both of mine and squeeze. “That’s it, Ali. I think that’s
exactly
what it is. You need to face your demons. You’re afraid of commitment. The rest is just fluffy fill to make you think otherwise.”

Her deep-brown eyes get huge, and her lips part. I manage to do the impossible—to make my outgoing, big-mouthed, sure-of-herself friend go speechless. Well, that’s what girlfriends are for, right? I listened and got the right conclusion. Now she just needs to trust my observation.
 
I think she’s going to turn it into a smart-ass comeback, or scoff at me. But she actually frowns, deep in thought. Wow.
 

“You really think so?” She sniffs.
 

I nod.
 

Ali sighs. “Well, I suspected as much. I’m fucked up, right?”

“Yep. But not more than most of us.” I grin. “Give Giuseppe another chance. But this time set the rules straight. Tell him what chased you away last time, would you?”

“Eh, I don’t know. He’s not fuck buddy material.” She shakes her head. “But he’s awfully cute.”

“I don’t want to preach or anything. But don’t break his sweet Italian heart again, Ali. Either put your cards on the table or move on.”

“Yes, Ma’am.” She salutes with a snort. “Go, scoot, Davenport. Colin is waiting for you. And I want a full report.”

“You’ll get it, and you know it.” I get up from my chair and kiss her cheek. “See ya, sweets. Try not to overthink this.”

SIX

“Coffee and love taste best when hot.”

German proverb

My head is crammed with thoughts about Ali, her guys, Colin, my past, and all in between. I don’t even realize when I take my exit from the freeway and maneuver my Dodge Caliber into my parking spot.
 

After a quick shower, I dress, do my makeup and hair, and call a taxi. The Motto Bar and Grill isn’t too far from my apartment, so it takes only about ten minutes to get there.
 

I walk in, look around, and proceed to sit at the bar. The place is totally cool, and yes—there is the motto Colin mentioned: in the shimmery-black block letters plastered onto the wall right over the bar area, a foot or so below the ceiling. Speaking of that ceiling—it perfectly fits with the rest of the décor—beefy, unfinished logs run overhead, and stuff hangs down from it: old copper pitchers, a few empty picture frames, a large chicken-wire basket, and two tiny, beat-up stools made of wood painted in white.
 

I lean over the sleek slab of wood that serves as the bar and signal the bartender. He frowns at me, murmurs something in response, and turns his back to me. O-kay, not a big deal, maybe he’s having a bad day. Or maybe he is a grumpy dickhead every waking minute of his life. I take my cell phone out and check for emails and texts. There is a text from Jena. She’s wondering if we could get together. Any other night I would say ‘yes’, but not tonight.
 

I’m busy, typing the response to Jena and don’t pay attention to what’s happening around me. The Grumpy Dickhead stands in front of me, buffing a tall beer glass, his mouth set in a grim line. “So what’s it gonna be?”

He startles me, and so I jump, dropping my phone onto the bar. Fuck. My heart wedges itself semi-permanently into the bottom of my throat. The Grumpy Dickhead continues to stare as if I killed his first-born. Well, if his first-born is as nasty as him, he probably deserves to die. No, I honestly didn’t just think that.
 

“Uhm… appletini please,” I choke out.
 

He grunts something and turns to mix my drink. I decide to watch him. You never know. Maybe his other job is delivering mail. He seems on the verge of going postal. I stretch my neck to monitor what exactly goes into my drink. I feel a pat on my shoulder. I jump again. Geez! What the fuck? Am I destined for a heart attack today?
 

It’s Colin. His smile is nothing short of radiant. My heart does that little flip I know way too well. Steady, I tell myself. Steady, girl.
 

“You look nice,” Colin says, settling onto a stool next to mine.
 

“Thank you,” I murmur, horrified at the effect he already has on me.
 

 
“Were you waiting long?” He glances at his watch. “I’m not late, am I?”

“Nah. I just got here.”

The Grumpy Dickhead slams my drink in front of me. The contents almost slosh. I ignore it. He takes Colin’s order and leaves.
 

“What are you drinking?” Colin asks.
 

“Appletini. I seem to always stick with appletinis. Unless I drink beer. Or sometimes red wine. Not so much white wine though. Nah, I don’t really care for white wine.” Okay, I’m blabbering. It’s time to shut my mouth and dip my lips in my drink.
 

“Good stuff.” Colin lifts his eyebrows in appreciation. “I need to try it next time.”

“You can try mine now.” Whoa! Where did that come from? That wasn’t my mouth speaking. It was that
other
body part—the one that always gets so brainlessly excited and doesn’t care about consequences.

Colin wraps his long, slim fingers around the glass stem and unhurriedly lifts it to his mouth. He keeps his eyes on mine while taking a small sip. That’s way too sensual for me to remain calm. My hands shake and so do my thighs. And I feel my mouth going dry. Dammit, Natalie. Keep it together.

He nods in appreciation. “It tastes great. Gentle but with a kick.”

“Yeah.” I laugh a bit too loud. Ugh, am I back in high school? Deep breath—yes, like that. One more.
 

“So, your company—how long since you’ve opened it?” He leans his elbow on the counter, watching me.
 

The Grumpy Dickhead brings Colin’s beer and gently—I swear,
gently
—places it in front of him.
 

“Ali and I did all the planning and research during college. So when we graduated, we had all the marketing in place, the bank loans secured, computer program running, and such. Our parents loaned some money too. Finally, we rented the office, and the clients started to pour in almost immediately. It’s been non-stop really.”

“That’s such an inimitable concept. Who came up with it?” Lord, those blue eyes aren’t leaving my face, sliding from my own eyes to my mouth.
 

“I came up with the idea kind of randomly. I always get those junk emails from dating services—legit and not so. And it made me think—professionals who work long hours or travel a lot don’t have time or inclination to look for dates. And it was also that old movie Ali and I watched, Pretty Woman. You know it?”

He laughs. “Yeah. It’s a fun movie. I like it.”

“Richard Gere plays that successful businessman and ends up with Julia Roberts’ character. I remember telling Ali that instead of settling down with a hooker he should have tried some matchmaking service for millionaires. And that’s how the idea started to grow.”
   

“And you’re still single? With all those successful young professionals around?” One corner of his mouth lifts in a tiny smile. Is he prying or is he making fun of me?
 

I slowly shake my head. “We do not get involved with the clients. It’s against the company’s policy.” There. That’s evasive enough.
 

“Would you like another?” He motions to my empty glass. Crap, I drained it way too fast.
 

“Uhm, maybe in a moment. I’m good,” I say. Another drink would definitely calm my nerves though. Why the hell is he making me unravel and melt inside like this? It’s not normal; I don’t even know him.
 

I start to panic inside. Maybe Colin is yet another pretty, bad boy who will charm me into his bed with no intentions of anything past that. Haven’t I had enough with the continuous string of heartbreaks? Suddenly I’m not sure what to do. Maybe I should just get the hell out of here and stop making a fool out of myself. But the last thing I need is to act like a complete loony. And running out of the bar would be just that. So I keep my butt in the chair and try very hard to appear unperturbed.
 

Dammit, maybe I exaggerate. What if he just wants to be friends? Yeah, like hell he does. Who am I kidding? No guy wants to be
just friends.
Unless friends with benefits. Aha, here it is again—the idea that Ali put in my head. I know why she suggested it to me. She’s well aware of all the screwed up assholes that I somehow seemed to settle on in the last few years. There wasn’t one good guy there. Not even one! She had similar experiences. So her solution is to keep the boundaries, but not give up on fun. The result—a fuck buddy. But would Colin be a good fit? No—that’s not the real question here. The real question is this: am
I
made of right stuff to do it?
 

Either way, I don’t have to decide tonight. I have to calm down and just enjoy his company. After all, he isn’t doing anything wrong. It’s my hormones that decide to take the driver’s seat in his presence. And I can’t blame the suckers. Colin is great looking and seems to be totally easy-going and fun. Oh, hell.
 

“Earth to Natalie.” I hear Colin’s voice.
 

Crap, I spaced out while having a heated debate with myself.
 

“Oh, sorry.” I blush.
 
“Maybe I will have another one of those.” I point to my empty glass.
 

He smiles that little sexy grin that makes me want to lean forward and kiss him. What?! Where did that come from? How embarrassing.

“And some ice water too,” I add quickly. Yeah, a large enough bucket of ice water so I can stick my whole head in it.
 

Colin orders for me. This time the Grumpy Dickhead has my drink ready in record time. I excuse myself and go to the bathroom. On the wall next to the women’s bathroom is a huge framed dry erase board. Dozens of phrases are written on it in colorful markers, each in different handwriting. A small sign next to the frame states:

NO CRAP. NO CONTACT INFO. ONLY COOL QUOTES ALLOWED. PERIOD.
 

Huh. I start to read. Some are hilarious, some deep, and the others… well, just meh.
 

‘YOU’RE A HABIT I’D LIKE TO KICK, WITH BOTH FEET’
 

Or,
 

‘BEAUTY IS IN THE EYE OF THE BEHOLDER, AND IT MAY BE NECESSARY FROM TIME TO TIME TO GIVE A STUPID OR MISINFORMED BEHOLDER A BLACK EYE! MISS PIGGY’
 

I step back, take my cell phone out, and snap a picture which I promptly text to Ali, Jena, and Caroline. I look at the wall behind me, next to the men’s restroom, and see a twin framed board with tons of quotes on it. I send a photo of that one to my girlfriends too. I know they would especially appreciate this one:
 

‘GETTING MARRIED TO GET SEX IS LIKE BUYING A 747 TO GET FREE PEANUTS. JEFF FOXWORTHY’
 

and a “matching one” on the women’s board:
 

‘MEN SHOULD BE LIKE KLEENEX: SOFT, STRONG, AND DISPOSABLE. CHER’

I chuckle to myself and shake my head. Caroline texts back, asking where I am. I tell her about my date with Colin. Ali and Jena text when I’m inside the bathroom, washing my hands. Why am I not surprised that each of them wishes me to score high. They are under the impression that I’ll get laid tonight. I haven’t decided if I want to try out the sex buddy idea that Ali and Jena subscribe to, but even if, I wouldn’t have sex with Colin on the first date. Okay, so maybe I sound like a prude, but hey, a girl has to have some rules. My rule is to wait till date four. Yeah, I know, this is very old school of me. But it’s a brand new rule, and I need to test it. Well, he practically saw me half-naked the first time in the office, but that doesn’t count.
 

“Did you see the quote boards by the bathrooms?” I ask Colin while climbing onto my barstool.
 

“Yeah, this place is famous for it. Some people take it seriously. They search the internet and libraries for the best quotes to write there.” That sexy little smile is back.