15. Nate
Nate
This has to be perfect.
I’ve been up since five, pacing around my living room while I think, but I still don’t know what to do.
Rory agreed to go out with me. Three dates—that’s all I have. So each one needs to be perfect.
The right place, the right vibes, everything.
But even though I’ve spent almost three hours going through possible date ideas, none of them feels like the right move.
I sink onto the living room couch and bury my head in my hands.
“What do you think, Ollie?” I ask.
Ollie sets his chin on my knee but doesn’t offer any wisdom.
Smiling, I pet his head. “No ideas, huh?”
Is it just my imagination, or do his eyes look sad somehow? More than just puppy eyes, but a real sadness behind those big brown eyes.
“You miss Spam?”
His ears perk up slightly, enough for me to recognize the excitement at the little dog’s name.
“I know, buddy. I’m working on getting them both back.”
I run through the list of places in town once more.
Church Bar and High Times.
Lone Brews.
Mountain High Pizza.
Frank’s Diner.
I shudder at the last one. Almost everyone in town has gotten sick at some point after eating at Frank’s, but since it’s the only restaurant in town that serves something other than pizza or Italian, we keep going back.
It’s gotten worse in the last ten years since Frank’s son, Willard, took over. Willard is convinced that the diner needs more variety and seems to introduce a new menu item monthly.
Most of his new offerings only last a few months, because other than the bacon cheeseburger idea of a few years ago, his revolutionary ideas are just plain bad.
Nope, Rory doesn’t want to try the new clam-topped burger, even if Willard thinks it’s a genius idea and that you could use chowder as a ketchup substitute.
I wonder offhandedly if anyone has actually tried it, other than Willard himself.
My dates in the years since I moved back to HiLo after the police academy have been confined to drinks at the two bars, the occasional coffee at Lone Brews, and once, a third date where we got pizza and beer.
Just… basic, really. Not great, not bad.
But with Rory, it needs to be off the charts.
I’m not a billionaire who can fly her to another city for dinner, or a pro athlete who can offer her box seats. But she deserves all that and more.
So, after careful consideration, I’ve settled on this: our date is going to take us outside the town limits.
That may not seem like that big of a deal, but trust me. It’s huge.
I spend the next ten minutes pacing, still without any great ideas, until I can’t waste any more time and have to jump in the shower to get ready for the day.
I’m hopeful that something will occur to me while I’m standing beneath the hot water. People are always talking about how they come up with great ideas while showering, aren’t they?
But as I soap up, my mind sifts through idea after idea, and nothing seems good enough for Rory.
Finally, no closer to a plan for our date, I step out of the shower and towel off.
The best thing I’ve come up with so far is playing darts at Church. While it’s not a bad idea, it’s not quite what I need for this date, which needs to take place beyond town limits, if I’m going to have a shot at winning Rory back.
This needs to be all-out. Perfection.
Good enough or not bad isn’t going to cut it.
So I’ll keep mulling over ideas until I find the right one.
I pull a High Lonesome Police Department T-shirt over my head and run a hand through my wet hair before I head downstairs where Ollie sits by the door, ready for work.
I grab a jacket and his harness from the closet. Once we’re both suited up, I look down at him, leash in hand.
“Ready, Ollie?” I ask.
He pants, mouth open and tongue out in what I can only describe as a doggy smile.
Ollie’s always happy to be working.
Done.
The pile of paperwork that waited for me on my desk is gone, each of the files off to its respective spot.
I lean back in my chair and push a hand through my hair. Paperwork is perhaps the worst part of being a cop.
It’s not that I need the drama of some high-stakes shootout, but maybe we could compromise somewhere in the middle.
I manage the mundane calls, the cats up a tree and whatnot, and in return, I don’t need to write five paragraphs describing how Lionel Dowd and Bob Kretchmore called me out to mediate their fight over lawn ornaments.
That would be ideal.
After finishing the pile of paperwork that was waiting for me when I clocked in, I pull my phone out of my pocket and search for date ideas in the towns around High Lonesome.
The ski resorts won’t open for a couple of weeks, so that’s not an option just yet, but I stick that in the back of my mind for a later date.
There are several nice restaurants, coat-and-tie type places. Good, but generic.
Ice skating. Predictable, if you ask me.
Every Hallmark Christmas movie has the obligatory montage of the happy couple laughing and skating. Plus, I don’t know how to skate, and I’m pretty sure Rory doesn’t, either.
One person who can’t skate is adorable in a romcom montage. Both people falling on their butts? Not so much.
I swipe through my phone, willing to consider just about everything within an hour’s drive.
Unfortunately, most of the entertainment in the high Rockies targets either vacationing families or the ultra-wealthy folks who live in the multi-million-dollar mansions.
I’m comfortable, but no one would mistake me for a billionaire.
The goal here is to find something that will be fun and will give us time to talk and get to know one another again. To move forward instead of back.
Finally, I narrow it down to three possibilities:
An escape room, indoor golfing, and bowling.
I swipe between the websites a few times, weighing the benefits of each option.
An escape room seems fun. I think Rory likes puzzles. But I can also picture us getting stuck inside if we start fighting.
While locking her in a room with me may be the best way to get her to listen to my side of things, I’m not sure we could get through that mess and figure out the clues.
I move that option to the bottom of the pile.
Indoor golfing could be good or bad, depending on whether Rory knows how to golf—she didn’t when we were in high school, at least—or whether she’s interested in learning.
Same with bowling, although that game seems easier to pick up than golf for first-timers.
Hmm. I need an outside opinion to narrow these down.
I find Allie’s name in my contacts and type out a text.
Allie
Does Rory like golfing?
Like regular golfing?
Is there another kind?
Regular and mini.
Regular, I guess?
I don’t think she has strong feelings about either regular or mini golf, but are you sure you want to hand her a golf club while you’re nearby? She’s in a pretty fragile place right now.
Are you saying she might clock me in the head with a driver?
Is the driver the big club?
Yes.
Then… maybe. Anyway, maybe not golf. How did you come up with that one, anyway?
I’m almost ashamed to admit that these options were the best choices from an article titled How to Win Back Your Girl from a 2006 issue of Maxim.
Just brainstorming.
Do you have other options?
Well, I ruled out the shooting range.
Probably a good call.
I want to take Rory somewhere she can feel comfortable. Where we can talk but also have a good time.
Ugh, dating is the worst. I’ve never understood why we as a society go through this whole song and dance. If the point is to meet someone you want to marry and have kids with, why spend your time at bar or club or whatever? It seems counterintuitive.
No argument from me. But until she trusts me enough to come over for dinner, I need a neutral spot to spend time with her.
Hmm.
Maybe go for a hike?
Maybe. I’m not sure she wants to venture into the wilderness with me. Or at all.
Wait. WAIT.
Take her bowling.
That’s the earthshattering idea?
I never said it was earthshattering. I’m just offering options here. You’re the desperate one.
I’m not desperate.
Sure. But anyway, bowling could be fun. It’s hard to murder someone with a bowling ball.
Are you speaking from experience?
*winking emoji*
I set the phone down.
Do I think Allie has actually murdered someone with a bowling ball? Highly unlikely.
But Allie’s claim to fame is being a creature of mystery, one of those quirky girls, the kind that you never quite know what they’re planning.
God help the person who finally tames her into a relationship.
I blink, moving my focus to my upcoming date with Rory.
It has to be amazing.
I have the start of a plan in place, and now it’s time to focus on the details.
Should we have dinner after bowling? Before? During?
I debate the merits of each, playing out the scenarios in my head one by one, before deciding that dinner after bowling seems like the best option.
Based on this, date should start in the late afternoon. That will give us enough time to relax and have an hour or so of bowling before our dinner reservation.
Perfect.
I scroll through my phone some more until I find a restaurant that sounds promising: low-key, casual, nice, but not overly fancy. Lifting the receiver to my ear, I punch the number into my desk phone.
“Hi. Do you—“ My voice cracks, and I clear my throat as Conrad starts to crack up.
I shoot the junior officer a glare and try again. “Do you take reservations?”
They do, and I confirm a party of two for Thursday night, trying to ignore the fact that I sounded like a teenager going through puberty.
“Thanks,” I say, and hang up the phone as I turn to Conrad.
He looks far too amused at my expense.
“You sounded like a high schooler making a reservation for prom night, man,” he says, starting to laugh again.
The kid looks like he should still be in high school, but he’s who I have for a partner today.
“Hey, at least I have a date.” I mock-scowl.
Conrad is a good kid, as far as I can tell. He’s several years younger than most of the squad, and he gets teased for it, but I think he has a lot of potential.