Three Blind Dates (Dating by Numbers, #1)

by Meghan Quinn

You know that smile the Grinch gets when he gets an idea, an awful idea, a wonderfully awful idea? Yeah, that’s the kind of grin Kevin is sporting

Although, in my head, I can see him wearing a pair of jeans, unbuckled, no shirt, and barefoot. Can I get an AMEN to that image? Irresistible, right?

I always think making friends as an adult is hard, but finding someone to spend the rest of your life with, now that’s the ultimate challenge. There’s so much vulnerability. You have to be strong and confident, but when that’s not your personality, when you embarrass easily, it almost feels like torture, trying to communicate with another adult about your feelings.

Have you ever wondered what it would look like if you took a hockey puck and split it in half? What you would see inside? I was convinced there was some kind of lucky charm inside one, so like the genius I was at twelve, I decided to find out for myself. With bravado and stupidity coursing through me, I placed a hockey puck on the back deck, roared my dad’s chainsaw to life, and cut a line right through . . . the back porch, missing the puck completely. That was the moment I thought, if my parents really love me, like truly love me, they won’t kill me over this. Thank God for unconditional love, right? Your turn. Noely

“Puedo bailar,”

Spanish Puedo bailer. I can dance

I know, I should be stopping the progress down this dark tunnel with blind date number two and eyebrow security guard, but curiosity wins me over and instead of being the intelligent human being who thinks rationally, I’m that girl you scream at while watching a horror flick. You know, the one who’s a complete idiot and winds up getting killed off in the first ten minutes. The one you yell at and throw your hands up in the air out of pure frustration. She deserved to have her head chopped off by that chainsaw, she should have “saw” it coming. We’ve all said it one time or another. So go ahead, say that about me and when you do, please say a prayer as well that my organs are the only things harvested from my body, none of that Jack the Ripper kind of harvesting

Oh God, does he kiss me. He kisses me with passion, with yearning, with a grip so tight on the back of my neck I can feel with the push of his thumb into my skin how domineering he would be in the bedroom. And I want that. More than I’ve ever wanted before.

Can I be cheesy for a second? I’m going to throw a cornball moment at you. Are you ready? Prepare yourself. But since I’m feeling all revved up on sports talk . . . Coming down the final straightaway, The Jock leads the way, trailing behind is The Rebel, and way behind is The Suit. Despite The Suit’s attempt to throw a curveball in the pursuit for my heart, it looks like The Jock might be the one who scores the goal. See what I did there? So many sports analogies.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m sorry.” I wave him off. “Now tell me what he’s doing here.” Raking a beefy and frustrated hand over his face, Kevin slouches in his chair. “Jack Valentine is here for the last segment. He’s the owner of Going in Blind, the one you’ll be interviewing.” Have you ever been sucker punched? I haven’t. I’ve never been punched actually, but for the first time in my life, it actually feels like Kevin plowed his fist through my stomach and took all the air in my lungs along with him. “He’s . . . he’s the owner?” “Yes, and he was going to give me a free membership, but because you so rudely interrupted, I wasn’t able to seal the deal.” I throw my hands in the air. I hate my producer. “Heaven forbid you should pay for anything, Kevin. You frugal bastard!” Storming off, I try to find Dylan. I need my friend. But, instead, I’m ushered to the stage where they mic me up. Thirty seconds until we’re on air, and I feel like going savage on our set, tearing through the couch and table like a beast on a rampage. Can you hear the snarl? See the fangs? That fire in my pupils? Yeah, it’s real. And it’s going to have to come out somehow, someway. Oh shit. This isn’t going to be pretty. Viewers, beware. The dragon lady is back, and someone is about to be burned.

We exchange a look, a heated look, and before I can say anything to cut the tension, he asks, “Want to order some Chinese food? Have a little fire with me and maybe a game of Monopoly?” There is a smile on his face but insecurity in his eyes, too. Strange. And that’s when it really hits me. I truly regret what I did, because every time I run into you, I see the beautifully intelligent and dynamic woman I foolishly let slip from my grasp. He truly regrets letting me go. That insecurity has been present in his stare every time we’ve run into each other. Even when he was deep inside me, I saw the same look. Despite his cool, alpha businessman demeanor, he’s insecure when it comes to me. Which only means one thing. He really likes me. And hell . . . I really like him. Crazy, I know! But . . . look at him. It’s not just his looks, his stoic posture, or the way he can slice you into a million pieces with a once-over from those dark, stormy eyes; it’s his heart. As he waits for an answer, I chew on my bottom lip and nod yes. His eyes light up, his smile grows to a full-on panty-melting grin, and he lifts off the railing, placing his hand on my lower back. “For some reason, I think you might annihilate me at Monopoly.” “I’m ruthless, so you better watch out, Suit.”

A walk to the door is a guaranteed make-out session, or at least it gives you the go-ahead for a little peck. Either way, butterflies are fluttering. And not because I haven’t kissed him already. You and I both know his lips have touched mine, but that’s not what’s making little butterflies flutter in my stomach from the prospect of Jack walking to my door. It’s the fact that the man who will be walking me to my door, the one who will possibly kiss me tonight isn’t just Jack. He’s NY152. And that’s a big freaking deal.

“Miss Clark, what a pleasant surprise. How are you?” It’s nice they know me by name here, but also slightly embarrassing. It’s not like a coffee shop where they know my order the minute I walk up; it’s a dating restaurant. “I’m doing okay, a little tense.” “I would be shocked if you weren’t. Going on a first date is always nerve-racking, but isn’t it a little thrilling?” “No.” I shake my head and laugh. “Not at this point. I’m just . . . really nervous.” Setting the glass down, Danny leans on the bar in front of me, his hands gripping the edge. “Sometimes, we can be blind to what’s right in front of us because of all the nerves and anxiety of meeting someone new, but the heart”—he taps his chest—“is never blind, so listen to what it’s telling you.” He winks and walks to the other side of the bar to hand someone their drink. Why are the employees here so damn insightful? Was that a requirement? Must be great at making patrons feel at ease. If so, well done, Jack, well done.

She kisses me so fucking hard that I feel dizzy from lust, lust for this woman, the one who so easily captured my heart and showed me that the saying is true, your mind might be blind, but your heart never is. From the very beginning, our hearts knew, we were meant for each other. It only took a date with a suit, a rebel, and a jock to figure it out. THE END