Chapter 6
Chapter 6
MARISSA AND PAIGE WERE both looking at me over our coffee and snacks as we sat at our usual table at the Cozy Cottage Café.
“All that aside, was it amazing?” Paige asked, a dreamy look in her eye.
“Yes.” I sighed. I’d just told them about my “scat” bumble and the whole virgin thing. I wasn’t feeling great about my date performance, despite the fact he’d asked me on another one. “I don’t know. I keep messing up around him. First the skirt slash punching myself in the nose debacle, then this virgin slash cat fiasco. He’s going to think I’m some sort of uneducated, self-harming klutz if I’m not careful.”
Paige’s face lit up. “I’ve got it. Perhaps you need to get him to do some of the things you love?”
“I’m hardly going to get him to come on a scrapbooking weekend, am I? A bunch of ladies with middle-aged spread and bunions sitting around, pasting things together. It’s hardly rock and roll, is it?”
“Hey!” Paige protested. “I love scrapbooking.”
“I know. And me, too. Just, it doesn’t seem like the kind of thing a guy would be into.”
“Derek likes it,” Paige objected.
“Derek is sixty-three, never been married, lives with his ninety-year-old mother, wears brown cardigans with leather elbow patches all year round, and smells kind of funky.”
“Ha!” Marissa almost choked on her orange and almond syrup cake.
“Good point. So maybe not scrapbooking.” Paige stirred her coffee.
“I know. What about Pilates class? You’ve been going for years. I bet you could show him how amazing you are at it. He might see you in a new light,” Marissa suggested.
I drummed my fingers on the table, deep in thought. It wasn’t a bad idea. Marissa was right, I was pretty darn good at Pilates—a Pilates Princess, even. No, that sounded terrible. The point was, I was good at it. It had been my go-to stress buster for years, and it had given me a six-pack you could almost see in certain lights. Well, on a good day. A very, very good day.
A smile spread across my face. “Marissa? You’re a genius.”
Paige shrugged. “We’re just doing the Goddess of the Beach’s bidding.”
Marissa rolled her eyes, shooting Paige a “whatever” look. “Tell us again about the kissing.”
“You guys,” I protested, although I was secretly thrilled. “It’s embarrassing.”
“I bet it was so romantic.” Paige sighed, her eyes dreamy.
“Me, too. Come on, Cassie,” Marissa chimed in. “Us boring singles are living vicariously through you. You have to tell us.”
“Okay.” I spread my fingers out on the table, a smile teasing the edges of my mouth. “We had our good night kiss and he was about to leave, and then he . . . I don’t know, seemed to have a burning need to kiss me again.” I shrugged. “So, he did.”
“And?” Paige lead as she held her cup halfway up to her mouth, as though frozen in midair.
“And it was . . . nice.”
“Nice?” Marissa questioned as she leaned back in her chair, looking disappointed. “Nice doesn’t quite do it for me. This is the guy you’re planning to marry, Cassie. If I were you, I’d want the kissing to be way more than just ‘nice.’”
Paige looked miffed. “What do you mean, he’s the guy she ‘plans’ on marrying? She’s going to marry him. One Last First Date, remember? We don’t get any second chances with this.”
“Sure, of course. Only Cassie’s the first one of us to take the plunge and actually date someone, so . . .” Marissa paused.
“So, what?” I asked.
“So, I guess the pressure’s on.”
“Awesome,” I replied, my voice dripping with sarcasm.
“Does it feel right to you?” Paige asked.
I thought for a moment. Parker was a complete gentleman. He was kind and sweet, and the way he bobbed his head up and down to jazz was so endearing. What’s more, he was a doctor, about my age so probably wanting to settle down, and seemed to like me. A lot. He was definitely Mr. Good-On-Paper, that was for sure, and being with him felt . . . good. No, great.
“Yes, it does.” I smiled as the excitement of what I was saying rose inside me.
Paige clapped her hands together, bouncing up and down in her seat. “That’s so wonderful, Cassie. Isn’t it, Marissa?”
“Yes,” Marissa responded, her mouth full of orange and almond syrup cake, so it came out more like “meb.”
“Cassie’s getting married! Cassie’s getting married!” Paige squealed.
I looked around the room, embarrassed. I noticed people at the surrounding tables smiled at me. An elderly woman leaned over and congratulated me on my upcoming nuptials. Self- conscious, I thanked her and hid my left hand under the table and glared at Paige.
Luckily, level-headed Marissa came to my rescue. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves here, Paige. She’s only gone on a couple of dates with the guy.”
“I know. It’s just so exciting the pact is working,” Paige replied, undeterred in her enthusiasm.
Marissa let out a sigh. “Well, for Cassie, maybe. Neither of us have any inkling who we’re going to go on our Last First Date with, do we Paige? You’re it.”
I took a sip of my coffee and looked at Paige. She had turned as red as a ripe tomato. “Paige?” I questioned.
She fanned her face in a vain attempt to cool it off. Her blush deepened. “Is it me or is it hot in here?”
Marissa arced her eyebrows. “I think it’s just you.”
The fanning continued. “Well, I must be having a hot flash or something. That’s it. It must be the menopause.”
“Paige, you’re twenty-seven.”
“Okay, so not the menopause. Maybe I’m ill?”
“I know what it is. You like someone, don’t you?” Marissa prodded.
By way of response, Paige’s blush turned positively nuclear. “Well, I kind of . . . umm . . .” She looked frantically from me to Marissa and back again. “No, no I don’t.”
I put my hand on Paige’s. “You can tell us, honey. If you’ve met someone, you know we’ll be incredibly happy for you.”
“And help you vet the living daylights out of the guy,” Marissa added.
“Absolutely.”
Marissa and I sat as patiently as two friends who’ve just heard this potentially life-changing news can as Paige studied her hands. “I’m . . . I’m not quite ready to say anything yet.”
“Why?” I asked gently. “Is it because you don’t know him very well, or are you not sure how you feel about him?”
“No, I know him pretty well, and I’ve liked him for a while now.” Paige bit her lip.
A man’s face popped instantly into my head. I narrowed my eyes at her. “It’s not ‘Poop Boy’, is it?”
Marissa laughed. “‘‘Poop Boy’? You crack me up.”
Without taking my eyes from Paige, I replied, “Yes. Will Jordan.”
I noticed Paige clasp her cup tightly. Bingo . I put my hand on her arm. “It is, isn’t it?”
Paige nodded. Marissa and I shared a look. We both knew about Paige’s crush on Will—heck, it was so well known it could be a recurring item in the company newsletter—but we’d never thought she’d act on it. Or that she would consider Will for her One Last First Date.
“Are you thinking of asking him out?” I asked, trying to sound casual.
Her eyes darted between us. “I . . . I don’t know.”
Marissa shot me a concerned look. “He has that supermodel girlfriend, doesn’t he?”
“Yes, but that won’t last forever.”
“How do you know?” I asked.
“She’s never here. She’s always off on some modeling job in a glamorous city. I mean, have either of you actually met her?”
We shook our heads.
“Well, no,” Marissa replied truthfully. She put her hand on Paige’s arm. “This is big. I mean, if you ask him out and he says yes, this is your One Last First Date.”
Paige swallowed. “I know.” She loaded her fork up with carrot cake with cream cheese frosting and took a bite. And then another. She looked lost in thought.
I raised my eyebrows. “He’ll need to dump Supermodel Chick before you go anywhere near him. And then there’s the fact we don’t know how he feels about you. Plus, he’s a bit of a jerk, always boasting about himself and things. Frankly, what you see in him is beyond me.”
Paige arced an eyebrow. “Finished with all the reasons why he can’t be my One Last First Date?”
“Sorry,” I muttered, realizing I’d taken things too far. “He’s very good-looking. You know, in that obvious, ‘look-at-me’ kind of manly way.” I hoped my offering would placate her.
Marissa laughed. “Us women hate those obviously good-looking guys, don’t we?”
Paige managed a smile. “Yeah, we prefer their good looks to be well hidden.”
“Look. All those things aside, if you like him and you’ve really thought this through, then ask him out. Right, Cassie?” Marissa looked at me.
I shrugged. “Sure. Of course.” I scooped some of my flourless raspberry chocolate cake into my mouth. Poor Paige, this can only end in tears—for her. “If he breaks up with the model.”
Paige beamed. “Thanks, guys.”
Back in the office, I sat at my desk, preparing for my next meeting with Nettco when my phone rang. It was Rottweiler slash Spoodle Brian, Laura’s apple-turnover-loving executive assistant.
“Laura would like to know if you could meet with her on the twelfth at ten.”
A rush of butterflies flapped around in my belly. “Yes, of course.” I tried to sound business-like and professional. With the excitement of what a meeting with Laura meant, I suspect I sounded more like I’d just taken a large breath of helium.
“It’s to interview for the position of Regional Manager, Sales,” Brian continued needlessly.
“Sure. Great. Thanks, Brian.” Gulp .
He hung up, and I sat for a moment, staring at the screen. This was really happening. I was about to interview for Regional Manager. Perhaps even get the job. I took a deep breath, steadying my nerves.
My phone rang again, making me jump out of my seat.
“There’s something for you at reception,” Debbie, our receptionist, said.
“That’s weird. I’m not expecting anything.”
“You’ll want this,” Debbie replied elusively.
Intrigued, I walked through the office and out into reception. Will was leaning against the desk, chatting to Debbie. I ignored him. “Hi, Debbie. What have you got for me?”
She greeted me with a smile. “It looks like you have an admirer.” She leaned down to get whatever she had for me from behind her oversized desk. I tapped my fingers as I waited, staring at the picture behind the desk.
“Having a good day?” Will enquired.
“Yes, thank you.” I shot him a terse smile. He might be my temporary boss, but I didn’t have to like the guy.
Debbie resurfaced with a large gift basket, covered in cellophane, a pink bow tied at the top.
“What is that ?” Will asked, quirking his eyebrows and smirking.
I took the basket eagerly and surveyed its contents. Sitting in the basket, holding a saxophone, a red heart-shaped balloon, and a bunch of flowers, was a smiling fluffy ginger cat stuffed toy with pretty green-blue eyes and long whiskers. My heart melted at the sight.
“So? Put us out of our suspense. Who’s it from?” Debbie asked eagerly.
“I bet I know,” Will responded.
I placed the cat on the desk, located the card, and opened it. A smile spread across my face as my heart contracted. For my Cassie. No longer a jazz “cat” virgin xx
I let out a contented sigh as I held the card to my chest, relishing Parker’s words. My Cassie. My Cassie.
Debbie was watching me. “Oh, it looks like someone’s got it bad. Right, Will?”
Will shook his head. “Date number two must have gone well.”
I shrugged. “Maybe.” I couldn’t help but grin. Maybe my foot. Despite my embarrassing jazz faux pas —which, judging by the gift I’d just received, Parker found endearing—I was now “Parker’s Cassie.” Things couldn’t possibly be any better.
Debbie turned the gift basket around. Looking it over, she asked, “Why a cat? I mean, don’t most guys give teddy bears?”
I blushed. “No, that would be too generic. Something happened on our last date, that’s all.” I admired the cat, holding the saxophone. “This is perfect.”
Will gave me a sideways glance. “Something happened involving a cat?”
“Kind of.” There was no way I was going to let Will Jordan know how I had mixed up “scat” with “cat” at the club. Parker may have liked it, but I had my dignity to consider.
Not letting up, he said, “That sounds like a story. Doesn’t it, Deb?”
She nodded, her eyes sparkling. “It sure does.”
They both looked at me with expectation.
Not wanting to go anywhere near what had actually happened, I collected my basket in my arms. “And not one I’m going to be sharing. Thank you, Debbie.”
I turned on my heel to leave, but that pesky Will followed me. “Come on, Dunny. Spill the beans.”
I bristled at the nickname. “It’s personal.” I picked up the pace.
He kept up with ease. “You can tell me. We’re friends, aren’t we?”
I stopped and turned to face him. He nearly ran into me, stopping in his tracks just in time.
“Look, Will. It’s between Parker and me, okay?” Now shut up!
He shrugged. “Sure.” His voice changed. “Are you serious about this guy?”
I stiffened. Why was Will Jordan asking me such a thing? Like my love life was any concern of his. “As a matter of fact, yes.”
He fingered the gift in my hands. “You might want to reconsider. I mean, any guy who gives you a stuffed toy has to be—” He trailed off.
I looked at him in expectation, my anger peaked. “What? A nice guy? Sweet, kind, thoughtful?”
“I was going to say about twelve years old.”
I pursed my lips. “Sure. Whatever. You can deride him all you like, but he’s wonderful.” And you’re not.
I turned and walked toward my desk.
“Hey, Dunny?”
My face tightened. I let out a puff of air before turning to face him. The haven of my desk was only five feet away, damn him! I pasted on a smile. “What is it, Will ?” I should have called him “Poop Boy”.
“How’s the Nettco contract coming?”
“It’s looking good, thank you. I’m hoping to present it to them within the week.”
“That’s great. Let me know if you need any more help.”
I took a long inhalation of breath. He was going to ride this I’m-the-one-to-get-Nettco-across-the-line wave for all it was worth. “Will do.”
He nodded at me. “Good. Well, I’ll let you settle your cat into its new home. Did he get you a litter box for it?” He laughed at his own joke.
“’Bye.” I sat down at my desk and opened my laptop to show I meant business.
Thankfully, he got the cue and sauntered back off toward his office. I pretended to type something until I saw him disappear behind his door. Once he was safely tucked away, I pulled the card out to read what Parker had written again. My Cassie . I ran my fingers over the handwriting. Was it his or the florist’s? It was neat, so probably not his—you know, the whole illegible doctor’s scrawl.
Within about two point three seconds, Marissa was at my desk. She patted the cat’s head. “From Parker, I assume?”
I grinned. “Yes. Look at what he wrote.” I handed her the card and studied her pretty face, waiting for her reaction.
“Aww!” She grinned at me. “Oh, Cassie. He’s the best. Making your mistake into something so cute?”
I nodded, my heart giving a squeeze. “I know. I’m so lucky.”
She shook her head. “You’re going to marry this guy.”
I bit my lip. My tummy did a flip-flop. “I am, aren’t I?”
And in that moment, I knew I was.