Chapter One - Wishing For You
Caroline
I can’t believe I let Mary talk me into going on a blind date the week before Christmas. Who even goes out on a first date this time of year? No one. This is when you’re supposed to be getting together with friends and family, not having dinner with someone you don’t know.
I glance around the restaurant, noticing that most of the tables are full even though it’s a Monday night.
I’m not surprised because Blue Diamond is popular.
I’ve tried to get reservations multiple times, but the earliest I could ever get was next fall.
Maybe it’s silly, but part of the reason I even agreed to this is because we’re having dinner here.
I’m breaking a cardinal rule of mine too because usually I insist on meeting for drinks for a first date.
That way, if it sucks, I only have to suffer for an hour or so.
But I couldn’t pass up coming here. The food alone is worth it.
Does that make me desperate?
Maybe I am.
I’ve only been out with a handful of guys since I deleted all the dating apps from my phone last Thanksgiving. The apps hadn’t led to any relationships, so I decided to take a break from them which led to my lack of dates over the past year. Maybe that’s another reason why I agreed to this.
Sighing, I adjust the sleeve of my dress and fidget with the copy of Pride and Prejudice that’s next to me on the table.
The book was Mary’s idea. She said that’s how Will, my date, would identify me. I guess telling him to look for a woman in her late thirties sitting alone at a table for two with a glass of red wine in front of her wasn’t good enough.
Although, I’m not sure how he’ll miss me since everyone else at the restaurant is with someone.
I take a sip of my wine. Resisting the urge to pull my phone out and scroll social media to distract myself, I take a few deep breaths to slow my racing heart. I’m nervous because I don’t know what to expect.
When I went out with guys I’d met online, I had gotten to know them a little bit because we’d chatted through whatever app we’d met on.
Now, all I have to go off is what Mary told me—that her cousin, Will, is my age, single, handsome, polite, and has a job.
I have no idea what his likes or dislikes are. If we even have anything in common.
“Caroline.” A voice breaks into my thoughts.
A voice I’d recognize anywhere.
I turn, glaring at the guy—Anders, my twin brother’s best friend and my self-proclaimed enemy, who is standing at my table dressed in one of his perfectly tailored and likely expensive black suits with a bouquet of Gerbera daisies in his hand.
Great. He gets a front row seat to my awkward first date.
As that thought enters my head, I register why he’s holding flowers and do a double take.
“No. No fucking way.” I cross my arms.
“Hi Caroline.” Anders pulls out the chair across from me, unbuttons his suit jacket, revealing the matching vest underneath, and takes a seat, setting the flowers on top of the book.
“You’ve got to be kidding me.” I squeeze my eyes shut, praying when I open them that this is a dream.
But it’s not.
This is real fucking life.
“Mary said my date’s name was Will. No way I’d have agreed to this if I’d known it was you.”
Fuck.
Me.
Why, universe?
Why?
What have I done to warrant this cruel bad joke? If you can even call it a bad joke. Nightmare, maybe?
Before Anders can respond the waiter comes over. “Welcome, sir. What can I get for you to drink?”
“Oh, he’s not staying.” I wave a hand at Anders, who has the audacity to smirk.
“A whiskey on the rocks please,” he says.
The waiter glances from me to Anders, clearly confused.
“Fine.” I huff. Giving in mostly because I don’t want to cause a scene in the middle of a crowded restaurant. “One drink.” I hold up a finger and give Anders a pointed look. He’d better get the hint.
The waiter disappears, leaving us alone.
Anders adjusts his watch, his wrists peeking out from beneath his white button-down and black suit jacket, and there’s something sexy about that.
Nope.
No.
Anders is not sexy.
He meets my gaze and has the nerve to wink at me.
“My first name is William. I’m Anders because Anderson is my middle name,” he says, finally answering my question.
Before I can say anything in response, our waiter reappears and sets Anders’s drink down in front of him. “I’ll give you a few minutes to decide if you’re staying past drinks.” He all but sprints away from the table.
“Oh, I’m staying,” Anders mutters, picking up his menu and perusing it.
“No, you’re not.” I grab my glass of wine and take a sip.
He peers at me, frowning. “Why do you hate me?”
I ignore his question, instead asking my own. “Weren’t you curious when Mary told you the woman she was setting you up with was named Caroline?”
He shrugs, turning his attention back to the menu in his hand. I glare at him, refusing to even consider choosing what I might like to eat because, oh no, this dinner is not happening. He’s finishing his drink and leaving. As if sensing that I’m watching him, he puts the menu down.
“Caroline is a pretty common name. I didn’t think much of it. But we’re here now. We might as well enjoy dinner. Especially when it’s so hard to get a reservation. I hear the seafood is excellent if you’re not sure what to get.”
“You’re so fucking uptight and stuck up,” I blurt out.
“Excuse me?” Anders raises his eyebrows, studying me, before taking a sip of his drink.
“You asked why I dislike you. That’s why.”
Well, that and other reasons, but he doesn’t need to know that. He doesn’t need to hear how I liked him immediately when my brother introduced him to me at a Fourth of July party.
That I was on my way over to talk to him when I overheard him talking to another guy about me. I didn’t hear the whole conversation, but I heard enough to know that my initial judgment of him was inaccurate.
“I’m not uptight. Or stuck up, Caroline. I also don’t buy that answer, but I’ll let it slide. For now.”
I shake my head, choosing to ignore the second part of his statement. “You wanted to have dinner here.”
I gesture around the fancy restaurant, everyone dressed to the nines, including me, the lights dimmed low, soft ambient music playing over the speakers, every table set with cloth napkins, not a plastic utensil, paper napkin, or any plastic dishware in sight.
The cheapest item on the menu, that’s not a side salad or cup of soup, is fifty dollars.
He frowns, glancing around. “I heard the food was fantastic, which is why I picked it. Do you not want to eat here? We can go somewhere else.” He starts to push his chair away from the table as if to leave.
I blow out a breath. “I’ve heard that too,” I admit. “I’ve wanted to try this place for ages.” Ugh, I am not giving in. Nope. I refuse to let my anger toward him dissolve based on him offering to go somewhere else for dinner.
“The perks of knowing the owner.” He leans back in his seat, picking his menu up again. “Let’s order, and then we can talk.”
My stomach rumbles, and I lose the energy to fight with him about eating together. I sigh and finally pick up my menu.
“Might as well get use out of that sexy dress anyways,” he mutters, and my heart skips a beat.
I ignore it, instead focusing on deciding what to eat for dinner. I settle on blackened, freshly caught cod with rice pilaf and vegetables.
“So,” Anders says, steepling his hands on the table and leveling me a look once the waiter has taken our orders and disappears. “Let’s get back to the topic at hand.”
“Oh.” I raise an eyebrow, something I’ve perfected over the years and that drives my twin, Thatcher, insane because he can’t do it.
“What topic is that? The fact that I never knew your real name was William and therefore got tricked into a blind date with you? Or the fact that we’re here together at all? ”
Anders picks up his whiskey glass, swirling it around a few times, and I can’t help staring at his hands, at his fingers and how big they are. And how they might feel . . . nope, not going there. I clench my thighs together, trying to ignore the ache.
I haven’t had sex in a while, and he’s arguably very attractive. You’d have to be blind not to see that. That’s all. Besides, it’s Anders for fuck’s sake. I don’t like the guy. I blush as I shake myself out of my stupor. He smirks, and I roll my eyes before distracting myself with a sip of my wine.
“My father’s name is William, so I’ve never gone by it.”
“Oh?” I perk up. This is the first I’ve heard about his father, his family in general. Not that I care. Nope, I don’t. I’m still here because the wine is good, and the food is hopefully going to be even better.
“Yeah. William Anderson Cunningham III. That’s me.”
Cunningham, that name sounds familiar, but I can’t put my finger on where I know it from. Maybe from hearing Thatcher say it. “Well, if you go by Anders, why does Mary call you Will?”
He huffs out a laugh. “To fuck with me. Growing up she used to call me William Anderson or The Third to get under my skin. It took a good many years to convince her to call me Will. Heaven forbid I ask her to call me Anders.”
The waiter chooses that moment to bring our dinner, and after making sure we have everything, he leaves us to enjoy our food. I stifle the moan that wants to leave my mouth the minute I take a bite of my cod. Whoever told Anders the seafood was fantastic wasn’t kidding.
“Do you really not like me?” Anders asks after a few moments of silence. “Or are you saying that to get under my skin?”
I take a deep breath, setting my fork down and staring at my plate for a few seconds before speaking. “You rub me the wrong way. I don’t know what my brother sees in you. You’re so uptight and stiff.”
“I can assure you I’m not uptight, and the only thing that’s stiff is the thing that should be.”
Did he make a joke?
I peek up at him and am met with the look of a man who is trying to stifle a laugh, his blue eyes sparkling. I open my mouth to snark back, but we’re interrupted.
“Hello, son.”
Wishing For You is available now, here.