The Accidental Encore (17 page)

“Do you ski?” he asked, pulling her out of her thoughts.

“Pardon me?”

“Ski? Snow ski? I’m going out to Utah in a couple of weeks.”

“Oh, no. I’ve never been.”

“I can’t wait. The slopes on the east coast don’t compare to
the fresh powder in the West.” He eyed her over the lip of his cup. “We should
go some time.”

“Ummm,” she said and inwardly flinched. Who asked a woman to
go away on their first date? More importantly, did he think she’d agree to go?
She glanced at her watch. An hour into her date and she was already bored. They
had, it appeared, zilch in common.

As she watched the players skate around the ice chasing the
puck, she thought of Craig and wondered how his date with Emily was going. She
didn’t like Emily Brand, the perky paralegal with fake auburn hair and a
profile that read like she’d been created for men. Who had time to teach yoga
and spin class while hitting the trendy hotspots all over town? They were
probably done with drinks by now. Were they having dinner? Why did she care?

He bought her a slice of pizza and a beer at half time and
found a small thread of common ground discussing their parents. Steve’s
divorced when he was little and, strangely enough, he seemed to enjoy playing
one off the other. “My dad paid for college after my mom threatened to sue him
again. They hate each other.”

“Yeah,” she said. “Mine do, too. I have a hard time
picturing them being in love.”

“Mine weren’t,” he said. “They got married because she got
pregnant with me. I don’t think they were ever happy.”

“Sad, don’t you think?”

He took a bite and shrugged. “I’ve got a friend from college
who got his girlfriend pregnant. He tried to do the right thing by getting
married, but they’re struggling. He’s trying to finish his degree, she’s
nagging him all the time about the baby. I think they’d have saved themselves a
huge headache by not getting married at all.”

A giant red flag waved in front of Allie’s face, blinding
her vision before it swooped away and she was watching him chew. Not get
married? She couldn’t imagine that would be better for any of them.

“You know, my girlfriend Melissa has a new baby. They did it
the right way—they fell in love, got married, and then had the baby. She
tells me all the time how hard it is to focus on her marriage now that the
baby’s here. I think new parenthood is just tough at first.”

“But marriage throws a whole other layer of complication
into an already complicated situation,” he countered. “Both parties want to
have a baby, fine. Do it. But don’t add marriage into the mix unless you both
want it in the first place.”

“You see, I think we’re too cynical based on our
situations,” Allie said. “That, to me, is the worst part about having divorced
parents. We can’t even think about marriage without doubts creeping in.”

“Fortunately,” he said with a charming grin and an
irritating wink, “I don’t ever think about marriage. You ready to head back to
our seats?”

She wanted to say no. She really did, but he hadn’t said or
done anything wrong. She liked discussing heady topics, she liked digging
beyond the ‘what do you do for a living’ questions that seemed to dominate
these tedious first dates. Steve, it seemed, wanted to keep it light. Keeping
it light, Allie knew, meant there wouldn’t be a second date.

***

Craig accepted his second drink and closed out the tab while
Emily was in the bathroom. He wasn’t sure he wanted to have dinner with her,
but didn’t think it wise to keep the tab open, as she’d had no problem sucking
down two fifteen dollar glasses of wine and seemed headed for a third.

There hadn’t been any lapses in conversation, not with all
her talk about yoga and the gym where she taught spin three times a week.
Apparently she forgot to update her profile to mention that she’d been laid off
as a paralegal, which would explain her gusto for expensive wine on someone
else’s dime.

He signed his name, left a generous tip, and considered
eating at the bar. He was hungry and he didn’t feel right ending the date when
she’d had two glasses of wine without any food on her stomach. He thought of
Allie and how lightheaded she’d been after just one glass of wine. He cursed
himself for thinking of Allie. Again.

When Emily returned and hopped onto the barstool like a
teenager, she flashed a brilliant smile and Craig told himself he could man up
and handle another hour with the annoying little cheerleader.

She downed her last sip of wine and drummed her fingers on
the bar. “Boy, it’s really getting crowded in here.”

He had to lean in to hear her and caught a whiff of her
overly sweet perfume. “Yep. I guess it’s to be expected on a Friday night.”

“I don’t ever come here,” she confessed. “The crowd is so…”
She looked over her shoulder and scanned the room. “Old, I guess.”

Old? Where did she normally hang out, a dance bar? “You okay
to drive home?” he asked. No way was he paying for dinner when she’d just
called him old.

“Yeah, sure.” She slid off the bar stool and pulled her mini
dress down before sauntering toward the entrance with her fur lined jacket
slung over one shoulder. Craig felt as if he’d spent the evening with a hooker.

She gave him an uncomfortable hug in the parking lot that
did nothing to peak his interest and left him smelling like her perfume.
Perfect. He started up the truck, backed out of the space, and considered going
somewhere, anywhere to ease the discontent with his night. It was still early,
only eight o’clock, and he could think of nothing more enticing than an evening
at home with his dog.

He headed for home with thoughts of Allie at the hockey game
stuck in his head. The game was just getting started. Was she hitting it off
with Steve Kellman, graduate of the Berkeley school of Architecture? Would she
kiss him? Sleep with him? He forced his hands to unclench from the wheel and
took a calming breath. He had to stop thinking about Allie, wondering where she
was and whom she was with. He wasn’t going to ask about her dates. He wasn’t
going to contact her at all. She spelled trouble with a capital T and he didn’t
need any more drama in his life.

Two hours later, with his feet propped up on his desk and
her profile pulled up on his computer, he cursed himself when the phone rang
and her name popped up on caller id. Damn. He shouldn’t answer. He should let
her think he was still with Emily.

“Hello?” he said on the third ring.

“Hey, I saw you online.”

He dropped his feet and sat upright with a jolt. How did she
know he was looking at her profile? “How?”

“I’m on LoveFinders.com. You have a smiley face next to your
name, which means you’re online.”

Great. Nothing like being caught in the act. “Oh. What are
you doing online? I thought you had a date?”

“I did. It was kind of a bust. I’m looking at my profile to
see why I keep attracting the same kind of guys.”

“What kind of guys?” he asked as he felt himself relax for
the first time all night.

“A little immature.”

“Immature?” Craig chuckled. “He couldn’t have been more
immature than Emily.”

“I could have told you she was immature,” Allie said.

“How? And why didn’t you?”

“I looked at her profile. I wasn’t checking up on you,” she
immediately amended, “I was just curious. Anyway, I’d guess she was a
club-hopping adolescent.”

He wouldn’t admit she’d nailed Emily, not when he couldn’t
keep the admiration out of his voice. “You’d be close. I could have told you
Kellman was a prick.”

“I didn’t say he was…that word. I said he was immature.”

“Whatever.”

“So how did you know?”

“Every architect from a fancy school thinks his shit doesn’t
stink. Let me guess, whatever job he has now it just a stepping stone to bigger
and better?”

“Probably. He’s not tied to anything, or looking to be.” She
sighed and he wished he could see her face. “I mistakenly assume these guys are
looking for someone special to share their lives, when really, they’re all just
looking to have a good time. I like to have a good time, but I feel like the
only person on the planet who’s looking to find one person to spend the rest of
my life having a good time with.” She laughed. “And now you know I’m a typical
female nearing thirty.”

Now he knew Steve Kellman was the stupidest prick on the
planet. “Yeah, but I already knew that.”

“Maybe we should pick each other’s dates?” she suggested.

“You want me to blame you when my dates don’t work out?”

“Good point,” she said. “I’m never going to find a date to
this wedding.”

“What wedding?”

“Oh, this girl I’ve known since high school is getting
married in a couple of weeks. I need a date and I’d rather it not be a first
date.”

He felt tempted to offer to take her. He wanted to know what
it felt like to have her all to himself for one night. “You’d take a first date
to a wedding?”

“I wouldn’t want to, but so far I’ve got no one and I’m not
going alone.”

“What’s so bad about going alone?”

“I don’t like the bride, and I won’t give her the satisfaction
of knowing I couldn’t get a date to her wedding.”

Craig moved to the couch and relaxed into the cushions. He
scratched Blackjack behind the ear. “If you don’t like the bride, why are you
going?”

“Because if I don’t, she’ll think it’s because I don’t have
a date.”

“You don’t have a date.”

“Not yet, and by the looks of these guys, I won’t have one.”

He didn’t want her to have a date for the wedding. He didn’t
want her dating at all. Jesus, being around her, being friends, was the worst
idea in the history of bad ideas. He needed to deflect and fast. “How did your
lesson with Leah go yesterday?”

“Fine,” she said. “Have you talked to her?”

“No. I’m trying to stay out of the way so she doesn’t get
any more brilliant ideas about running to me when things get tough.”

After a long pause, she said, “I agreed to have lunch with
Carolyn.”

“Why?”

“She asked. She thinks I can give her some insight into
Leah, but I don’t know what to tell her. I think she’s struggling, Craig. I
think they all are.”

“Yeah, I know it, but I’m not sure how to help.”

“I’m getting too involved. I don’t want to be in the middle
of their situation. It makes me feel responsible.”

He was just about to comment about her butting her nose in
when she groaned. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

“I just got nudged.”

He felt the muscles tense in his neck. “Who by?”

“Jeremy Feckler. Let’s have a look.”

Craig jogged back to his computer, typed Jeremy’s name into
the search bar, and pulled up his profile. “Jeez, do you think he’s posted
enough pictures?” The dizzying array of poses made Craig want to vomit. “Look
at him, Allie. What kind of guy posts a picture of himself flexing?”

“He’s a teacher,” she said in a voice that told him she was
reading his ‘About Me’ description with more interest than he could stomach.
“He likes animals, is close to his family, and has lived in Atlanta for the
last ten years.”

“He’s a cheeseball,” Craig countered. “He’s flexing for the
camera.”

“You’re right. Those pictures are gross.”

“Speaking of pictures,” he said, “you only have one of you
and it’s not a close up.”

“So? I’d rather men judge me by my words instead of my
picture.”

“What do men say when they meet you? They’re pleased, I’m
sure.”

“Did Emily look like her picture?”

The bubbly redhead looked exactly as she’d been: a pubescent
party girl. “Yes, and it should have been my first clue.”

“We’re hopeless, Craig,” Allie sighed.

He was hopeless, all right. Hopelessly distracted by the
wistful sound of her voice, the lonely tone she couldn’t hide, and his ever
increasing need to soothe her. Damn it, he didn’t want to care about a
beautiful blonde who had the power to crush him. “Yeah,” he admitted. “But at
least we’re trying.”

Chapter 19

Allie had a difficult transposition and more students than
she should have had on her calendar each afternoon and evening. She was hopping
all around town, working on her music, and making plans for the upcoming
recital. She was too busy to date, she told herself each time she passed on an
invitation or ignored an email. She still scanned the site most nights and
every time ended up on Craig’s profile.

So typical of him to put only one picture, a shot he’d
cropped of him smiling. She recognized Mark’s arm around his shoulder and
Leah’s hand on the other. She hadn’t heard from him in over a week and she
missed him. Was he dating? Did he meet someone? Was that why he hadn’t called?

His lack of contact shouldn’t have bothered her. After their
last conversation, she’d ached to go to him, lay her head on his shoulder, and be
held. He’d never offered comfort, and certainly never touched her in a way to
suggest he would, but it was there. She couldn’t control her desires any more
than she could control her heart. But was it her heart that hurt because of the
lack of communication or was it her pride?