Chapter 3 #2
It’s the man I saw talking to Aidan.
“Eh,” I deflect, “I guess I signed up for it.”
He takes a step back so we’re side by side. “You ever done anything like this before?” he asks. I shake my head. “Neither have I. I was in line at the bank and Raegan pretty much threatened me if I didn’t come.”
I let out a snort, and it grabs her attention as she’s finishing her introduction. I give her an apologetic wave, but when she sees the man next to me, she smiles knowingly.
“Alright,” Raegan states loudly, clapping her hands together, “Let’s get this party started! Everyone take your seats!”
If this was a party, I would have stayed home.
Each of us do as we’re told. I take my seat at the first table by myself while the men gather at the others.
Jamie passes around numbers, and they each pin them to their shirts.
As luck would have it, the first number called belongs to the guy I’d been talking to.
I smile as he walks over to my table and sits across from me.
He politely extends his hand, and I shake it.
“I guess I should properly introduce myself,” he says in a self-deprecating tone. “I’m Grant.”
His hands are extremely calloused. They grate against my skin like sandpaper.
Maybe he works outside a lot. Working on the farm certainly hasn’t leant anything to the state of my hands.
My nails are always broken, and the scars from scratches and other accidents are quite prominent. I wonder if he’s noticed them.
“Nice to meet you, Grant,” I say, then release his hand. I fold mine in my lap for lack of a better option and wait for my first question.
“So, why’d you sign yourself up for such torture?” he starts.
I can’t help but laugh. It’s not the question I thought he'd ask, but he’s funny. “Raegan’s my best friend,” I tell him, nodding to her as she returns to her seat next to Jamie. He kisses her affectionately on the forehead, and I’m reminded for the umpteenth time today that I’m still single.
He nods knowingly. “Ah, so she threatened you, too.”
“More like, bribed me with a dessert.”
Grant’s smile is infectious. It’s a lazy, natural smile that shows his dimples. I think I like it. That, plus his curly strawberry-blond hair that’s shaved on the sides and, so far, a great personality, he’s got all the attributes I’m looking for.
He tilts his head. “I guess I should ask what you do for a living?”
It comes out as a question about a question, but I go ahead and answer him anyway. “I work for myself. I run a small farm and animal rescue.”
Grant’s eyes widen with interest. It’s a common reaction from people whenever it gets brought up that I work with animals.
But what most people don’t know is it’s not all rewarding work or playing with cute puppies.
More often than not, it’s just a lot of days like this morning, where you’re faced with the reality of how much people suck and the cruelty they can inflict on innocent animals. And also a lot of poop.
“Yeah,” I continue, “I have cows, horses, chickens. A pig. But that’s just the farm. If I find an animal who needs help, I’ll bring it to the rescue. When I was younger, my mom and I actually rescued a vulture.”
“A vulture?” Now his eyes are wide with interest.
“Yeah! His name was Milo. He was super cool. We found him when he had a broken wing. It fell off after a couple weeks, and then he just wobbled around and lived his life.” My own smile must be infectious, because Grant’s grin grows exponentially.
“My mom used to rescue wild animals like that all the time,” I add fondly. “Her stories are crazier than mine.”
“Are you allowed to have a bird like that?” he asks, still amazed.
I frown. “You’re supposed to have a class one license for those types of animals. We weren’t able to keep it, but we at least knew he was healthy by the time that happened.”
He shakes his head in astonishment.
We spend the next ten minutes getting to know one another.
I learn he’s a high school history teacher who recently decided to go for his master’s degree.
He’s the middle child with two sisters, and he grew up further south but decided to take a job in Shadow Hills because of the lack of humans who were willing to teach paranormals.
I find that admirable, and it makes me think he’s someone who would show kindness to anyone different from him—animals, too.
Having respect for all living things is a big plus in my book.
Our chat is cut short by the sound of a timer going off. Then, Raegan loudly announces, “It’s time to switch!”
I wave goodbye to Grant, and as the next man is taking the seat in front of me, I catch sight of Aidan lingering by the drinks. His eyes follow Grant all the way to where he sits at another table with the rest of my dates.
I’m trying to focus on the new gentleman in front of me, Cliff, but I can tell just by the nasally sound of his voice that we are not going to hit it off.
The night goes by in ten-minute increments until I’ve spoken to everyone except for Aidan. After Grant, the conversations gradually become more and more dull, and other than the one guy who happens to be watching the same TV show as me, I have little to nothing in common with anyone.
I check the time and down my tiny glass of ginger ale. It’s a quarter after eight, and most of the men are gone. They must have gotten the same vibe I did, knowing nothing was going to come of our tantalizing conversations, and decided to bounce.
I’m about to make a comment about this to Raegan who’s standing just behind me at the head table with Jamie, but Aidan slides into the seat across from me with his usual perfect timing.
Is it just me, or has he gotten more handsome?
Maybe it’s the setting, or the way the streetlights outside the window are casting a shadow over half his face, but suddenly I’m struck with the realization Aidan is…kinda hot.
Too bad that sour personality of his cancels out any beauty that works in his favor.
He casually leans his forearms on the table and laces his hands together. With a bemused expression, he says, “Let’s get this over with, petite mouche.”