Round Nineteen
BILLY
Pretty sure that was strike two… or three… or ten.
I don’t even know.
I lost count a long time ago, and as I bring my car to a stop just twenty feet from the benches at Picnic Point, I stare out at the woman who waits for me with wringing hands, a shy smile, and eyes that can’t quite meet mine.
Dammit.
Magnolia has somehow managed to find me some of the nicest, prettiest, sweetest women in a hundred-mile radius.
Fuck knows, they’ll probably make someone really happy someday.
But I’m not that person, and every time they climb into their cars and drive all this way just to meet me, with their hair done up nicely and their makeup as flawless as they can get it without visiting a professional studio, I feel like a total jackass.
Apt, I suppose, since Magnolia’s convinced I’m exactly that. A jackass.
I brush a hand over my face, scratching the stubble I never truly shave away, then I cut the engine and glance across to my passenger seat, where my phone dings with an incoming text.
Not from Magnolia—which isn’t surprising at all, since she wants nothing to do with me—but from my first Magnolia-sanctioned date.
Brienne:
How’s it going, handsome? Did you tell her about us yet?
I got your other message… about what happened. You wanna call me later? Might make you feel better.
I drop my head back until it thumps against the headrest behind me, and squeezing my eyes shut, I indulge in my rudeness for a moment more, since poor Devina is already nervous.
At least she had the good manners to be here on time.
Unlike me.
I draw a chest-filling breath, expanding my lungs and holding the air in until my brain screams, then I release it again, open my eyes, tap out a fast response to Brienne’s text with a simple: Yep. Call you in a few. Then I lock my phone, snag my keys, and climb out of my car.
“Hi.” I paste on the friendliest smile I can muster and trudge around to my trunk to grab the dinner Magnolia already packed full of goodies.
Hefting the heavy basket and slamming the trunk, I come around my car and study my date, her white sundress that stretches all the way to her knees, her exposed arms, despite the chill in the air now that it’s October, and the long mahogany hair dangling most of the way to her elbows.
She looks a lot like Brienne, who looks a lot like date-number-two, Cassidy, and all three look annoyingly like Magnolia.
How doesn’t she see it yet?
I carry the basket all the way to our picnic table and set it on top, then I turn to Devina and grin. “It’s nice to meet you.”
“Hi.” Her cheeks blaze bright red. She’s so fuckin’ nervous, shaking all over as she inches closer, then backs away. Closer. Away. “Do you wanna… like… hug?”
“Sure.” Chuckling, I draw her in and wrap her up close, squeezing the way I squeeze my son when he needs a moment of bravery, then pulling back, I press a polite kiss to her cheek and double the severity of her blushing. Poor thing. “My name is Billy. But I guess you already knew that.”
She nods, overeager and uncoordinated as she settles on the bench and fusses with her dress. “Billy Caster. Thirty-three years old. One son. Police officer. I’m sorry,” she practically fucking wheezes. “I get really nervous.”
“Around men in general, or cops?” I flash a playful grin and whip the basket open to peek inside.
Maggie was thorough; she didn’t just pack dinner.
She packed canapes first. Salad to go with our mains.
Dessert for after, too. “Are you a fugitive, Devina? Running from the law and scared now that you’ve been roped into this date with a cop? ”
“I mean… I texted Maggie while I was driving.” She crosses her feet and smooths her dress over her legs. “That’s illegal in forty-eight states.”
I click my tongue, shaking my head in faux disappointment.
“I suppose if you promise never to do it again, I could probably let this one go.” Taking out a container, I open it to find tiny cucumber slices and…
I narrow my eyes. “I think these have feta cheese. And something kinda red and green.” I tilt the dish in her direction so she can look. “They smell good.”
“You don’t know what’s on them?” She reaches in with a shaking hand and takes one. “I thought you made these?”
“Nah. Maggie did. Why?” I set the container down, sit with one leg on each side of the bench seat, and take a cucumber slice for myself. “Did she say I did?”
She shrugs and daintily bites into her snack, humming her appreciation.
“I suppose it was implied. She didn’t lie outwardly, but she certainly emphasized how wonderful you were.
I guess I assumed.” Her eyes drop to my shirt, and finally, her lips curl into a playful smile.
“You look nice, by the way. Your shirt makes your eyes pop and your muscles look large.”
“Jesus.” I choke out a laugh and toss my canape straight onto my tongue. “She’s a car saleswoman out here spruiking my features, huh? Implying I made dinner, since a man who cooks gains points in a woman’s eyes. How’s my mileage? Do I come with a warranty?”
She snickers and licks feta from the side of her finger. “Wonderful father, dedicated police officer. You keep a stunning yard, apparently, with perfectly edged lawns and not a single weed amongst the Kentucky Bluegrass.”
“She said it was bluegrass?” Amused, I look inside the basket again in search of something to drink. “I didn’t realize she could tell. She seems more like a ‘that looks pretty’ type.”
“Mm.” She smiles in thanks as I set a plastic wineglass on the table by her arm. “She told me about how you fixed your own dishwasher, and the deck out back has a section of timber not original to the rest.”
I snag a bottle of wine, the kind with alcohol in it, which means we get a glass each. Not a single drop more. “She noticed my deck? I haven’t even mentioned it to her.”
“She said she and your son had been discussing it, and he told her that you’d spent most of last summer fixing it up on your own. Being a handyman buys you extra points, too.”
I fill her glass and earn a wider, more confident grin from the shy woman, then I fill mine and screw the cap back on. “So now I’m a cook. A plumber. A contractor. And a landscaper.” I pick up my glass. “I guess that makes me quite the catch, doesn’t it?”
“Quite the catch indeed.” She takes a smiling sip and studies me through eyes not at all like Maggie’s.
Devina’s are green with brown specks, while Maggie’s are gold.
Just… gold. “She’s been talking you up for several days now.
I think that’s why I’m so nervous, ya know?
I date men, and we go over the small talk and getting to know each other stuff. It’s not so bad.”
“It’s boring as fuck,” I grumble. “If I ask how many siblings someone has again, I might lose my mind.”
She snorts. “I concur. But then Maggie not only robbed me of all that first date material by providing each of us with a bio, but then she spent days telling me how amazing you are. It’s intimidating as hell.”
“Makes you very brave, then. To still come, even without prepared questions to keep the conversation rolling. To meet a strange man in a secluded picnic area instead of, say, a public restaurant with witnesses. Not Maggie’s greatest idea, was it?”
“Took a leap of faith, for sure.” She sets her wine aside and selects a second cucumber thing. “To make me feel more comfortable, Maggie shared the details of your previous dates. Names and phone numbers.”
“Oh, yeah? Did you speak to Brienne or Cassidy? I sincerely hope they left five-star reviews and mentioned how the green in my shirt sets off the green in my eyes.”
She snickers. “Spoke to them both, actually. Individually, and then in a group call.”
“Kinda giving me flashbacks to high school,” I chuckle. “Pretty sure the entire female body had a group chat going.” Nervous, I meet her eyes. “Guess that means you know everything, huh?”
She nods. It’s gentle and sweet. But it’s condemning, too. And comforting, in a way. “I’d say I’m fairly informed.”
“And yet, you still made the drive?”
“I did.” She reaches across and takes my hand. “I had to meet you for myself. Plus, I knew the food would be worth it, and that shirt certainly makes your eyes pop.”
I snort and shake my head. “Yeah. Thanks.”