Chapter 5
Lucy
Tucker hasn’t looked my way once.
The following week, Maggie’s Twelve Dates of Christmas fiasco was almost at an end.
I hadn’t heard from her since the night she’d stopped by my house and found Tucker, so I thought—no, I hoped—that meant she was done trying to fix me up.
But no such luck. This afternoon she’d texted me to be at the bar at six o’clock.
She said she’d found the perfect guy for me. Again.
I tried to say I had to work late and couldn’t make it, but she just made the time later.
Two other excuses hadn’t worked either, so here I was, on a date with Patrick Hastings—a dentist from the Upper East Side.
He was nice enough, but I found it difficult to concentrate on the man in front of me when a certain other man was behind the bar twenty feet away.
Tucker had been ignoring me all night, yet I glanced over at the bar again, only to find him talking to three attractive women.
I forced my attention back to my date and managed a smile.
“So, Patrick, tell me something about you that you usually wouldn’t tell a woman on a first date because it’s embarrassing. ”
Patrick sipped his beer. “I’ll tell you, but you can’t look at me differently after I do. Normally, I wouldn’t leak this type of sensitive information until at least the fourth date—when I’ve had a chance to lift something heavy, maybe grill something for you, and grow some facial hair.”
I smiled. “Noted that you’re macho with oodles of testosterone. But go on. You have me curious now.”
My date hung his head. “I cry at weddings. I can’t freaking help it.”
I chuckled. “Did you cry watching The Notebook too?”
He shook his head. “I’m not answering that. You owe me. What’s something you wouldn’t normally tell a guy on your first date?”
I tapped my lip. “Oh, I know. I’m obsessed with magazine quizzes.”
“That’s not too embarrassing.”
“It is if you really believe in them. I used to quiz every guy I went out with during our second date.”
“Used to? You don’t do it anymore?”
I shook my head. “I stopped because if the guy’s total points didn’t land him in the category I wanted, I mentally ruled him out and started finding things wrong with him. It made it impossible to go on a third date. But I do still carry the quiz folded up in my wallet, for some ridiculous reason.”
Patrick spread his arms along the top of the booth. “Pull it out. I’m up for the challenge.”
“That’s probably not a good idea.”
“Not to be too cocky, but I’m confident I’ll land right where you want me. I’ve felt chemistry since the moment we sat down. I’m not usually wrong about these things.”
“I don’t know…”
“Come on. I told you I cry at weddings, and you’re still sitting here. I think we can weather a magazine quiz.”
“All right…” I dug into my purse and pulled out a folded-up copy of my favorite Cosmo quiz. It was short and simple. “Question number one. Which answer most closely matches your ideal date?
Netflix and chill.
Going to a movie with a gallon of buttery popcorn.
A hike that ends at a pretty stream.
Clubbing.”
Patrick rubbed his chin. “I spend too much time indoors working, so I’d have to say C.”
I typed his answer into my notes app and read question number two. “Your date cooks you dinner, and it tastes disgusting. You…
Eat every bite.
Be honest and take her out to an amazing restaurant.
Eat a little bit and apologize that you had a big lunch and aren’t hungry.
Dump her. You need a woman who can cook.”
Patrick laughed. “Has anyone ever picked D?”
“You’d be surprised…”
He smiled. “I’d probably do C.”
I noted his response again and continued. “Question number three. If you could have one superpower, what would it be?
Flying.
Teleporting.
Reading people’s minds.
Talking to animals.”
“This is a hard one,” Patrick said. “I think it could be A, B, or D. Not sure I’d want to read people’s minds. That sounds like a recipe for disaster.”
“You can only pick one.”
“I guess I’d go with B. I really like to travel.”
I could tell from his first three answers that he was not going to score well. Yet I soldiered on. “Number four. What is your love language?
Physical touch.
Words of affirmation.
Acts of service.
Gifts.”
“Probably acts of service.”
“All right. Last question. Which kiss is your favorite?
In the middle of an argument.
Outside in the rain.
During sex.
After saying I love you.”
Patrick chose C, and then I tallied up his results. “You scored an eleven.”
“Does that put me in the winner’s circle?”
I offered a conciliatory smile. “No. You’d have to be seven points or under.”
“Oh man…”
I laughed. “It’s okay. You actually got one of the lowest totals out of everyone I’ve ever quizzed. I’m not sure there is such a thing as a man who can score a seven or under.”
An hour later, I yawned and said it was time for me to call it a night. Patrick offered to walk me home.
“Umm...” I glanced over at the bar. “Would you excuse me for a minute, please? I just need to check on something.”
“Of course.”
Patrick stood when I got up from the table. What a shame I didn’t feel a spark. He had such nice manners.
“Hey, Tuck.” I leaned my elbows on the bar and tried to sound casual. “Do you know if Maggie left?”
“Yep. About a half hour ago.”
Of course I already knew that, since she’d stopped by my table to say goodnight. But I’d been invisible to Tucker all evening, so he wouldn’t have noticed. Plus, I didn’t care if he did at this point. Him ignoring me had gotten under my skin, and I felt the urge to make him bristle.
“Oh, okay. I was just going to say goodbye before I left with my date.”
Tucker’s jaw flexed. I saw it! Yet he turned his back and started unloading glasses from a crate. Heaviness settled in my chest. Though…maybe he was trying to be respectful because I was, after all, on a date. Perhaps I needed to open the door for him a little.
“What about you?” I asked. “Are you leaving soon? If you are, maybe I can wait and we could walk together. Save my date the trip.”
Tucker’s eyes lifted to meet mine. He held my stare for a few long seconds, but then looked away, shaking his head. “I have to work late. You have a good night, Lucy.”
I felt deflated the entire walk home. If Patrick noticed, he didn’t say anything.
When we arrived at my house, he took both my hands and asked if we could see each other again.
I agreed, though I knew I’d probably blow him off when he called.
There just wasn’t chemistry, and of course, he’d scored an eleven on the stupid test.
Which reminded me…had I taken the quiz page with me? Once I was inside the house, I rummaged through my purse looking for it. I remembered folding it when we were done, but that was the last thing I could recall before talking to Tucker. I must’ve left it on the table at the bar.
Maybe I should go back and get it? I’d had that test in my purse for years.
No. You don’t need it. The only reason I wanted to go back is to see you know who.
I forced myself to take off my coat and shoes and sat down on the couch to relax.
But my neck was full of tension, and my skin felt too tight.
I kept replaying how Tucker had barely looked at me all evening.
Instead of winding down, I felt all revved up.
After thirty minutes of telling myself I wasn’t going back to The Rusty Nail, I stood abruptly, heart thudding, and grabbed my coat.
Tucker wasn’t behind the bar when I walked in.
So I went back to the table I’d been sitting at to see if I could find my stupid magazine quiz.
It was still there, though it was no longer folded up like I could’ve sworn I’d left it.
I grabbed the paper and started to bend it at the crease in the middle, but I stopped when I noticed that someone had circled answers on it.
I always wrote my date’s answers in my notes app, not on the page.
A quick tally made my heart race. Six points!
Someone had scored a six! Could it have been Tucker? I desperately wanted it to be him.
Joe, one of the guys who worked a couple of nights a week, was refilling a peanut bowl when I walked over to the bar.
“Hey, Joe. Is Tucker in the back?”
He shook his head. “He left. Went home.”
“How long ago?”
“Maybe forty-five minutes.”
My heart sank. Tucker had told me he had to work late. He’d lied, just so he didn’t have to walk me home. I felt my eyes filling, and suddenly, more than anything, I wanted to be back home. I swallowed and held out the paper in my hand.
“Thanks. Can you throw this out for me, please?”
He looked down as he took it. “What is it?”
“Just something stupid.”