Chapter Twenty-Five
Nerves had her fingers vibrating as she parked the car in the restaurant lot and shut the engine. A quick glance in the rearview mirror didn’t help. Those nerves were plain as day in her too-wide eyes and on her pale face.
You got this, Baby-girl whispered in her ear. The voice was an amalgam of every one of her family members, brothers included.
With a deep inhale, she closed her eyes, then nodded.
“Yeah. I do.”
Liv had mentioned a stylish-yet-relaxed dress code for the evening, so she’d done a quick change at home after the workday ended from Capri pants and wedges to a swingy sundress with capped sleeves and a bold floral print.
White sandals donned her feet, and she’d pulled her hair into a tall ponytail because the temps had crept into the eighties during the day, the humidity catching up.
Better to be comfortable and cute than stylish and frizzy, she’d told herself.
Once inside the blessed restaurant air conditioning, she gave her name to the greeter who escorted her toward the back of the establishment to a cordoned off section complete with a small bar and five tables arranged in a circle, two chairs sitting opposite one another at each.
Liv was speaking to a small group when she spotted Charity and waved her over.
“We’re almost ready to start,” she said, giving the girl a hug. “Just waiting on one more.”
Charity smiled at the group and took a quick inventory.
The women ranged in age from what she thought was early to late thirties, the men maybe a little older, but not by much.
There were five women altogether, which included her, and four men, making her believe the one they were waiting on was the final guy.
“Here’s your number and two drink tickets.
” Liv handed her an envelope with her first name on it.
To the group, she said, “The bar closes once the event is over. Since this is a smaller group – I usually have ten couples – I’m giving each date ten minutes instead of five, so you have a little more time to get to chat, ask questions, and breathe. ”
Collectively, the group chuckled.
Liv looked at something over Charity’s shoulder and smiled. “Ah. Good. Now we can begin.”
“Hey. Sorry I’m late.”
Charity froze.
No.
That voice was as familiar as the taste of her mama’s fried chicken.
No.
NO! It couldn’t be. Not here. Not now.
Don’t turn around. Don’t turn around. Don’t turn around.
She didn’t have to because into her direct line-of-sight shot Kolby O’Brian when he leaned down to kiss Liv’s cheek.
“You’re forgiven,” Liv told him with a smile as she handed him his envelope. To the group, she said, “Okay, everyone. Open your envelops and put your number tags someplace visible on your body, preferably a collar.”
Charity couldn’t move, shock paralyzing her. She stood with the envelope in her hands, unable to process what was happening.
“Charity?” Liv said, running a hand down her arm. “Sweetie?”
A shudder zipped down her spine, and her head shook back and forth in a jerky motion. Blinking several times, Liv came into focus.
Lowering her voice as she moved in closer, Liv asked, “You okay?”
“Why is he here?” she whispered.
Liv cocked her head and kept her voice lowered. “Kolby? Same reason as everyone else.”
That wasn’t true. It couldn’t be. Everyone here was looking for someone to potentially build a life with, build a family with, build a future together.
Liv squeezed her arm. “Put your number on,” she said, then turned to the room. “Okay, kids. Here’s how this goes.”
While Liv explained the rules, Charity kept her eyes averted from him, – no easy feat since he filled the room with his presence.
She could actually feel him close to her, his natural heat drifting over to warm her chilled body, that damn fabulous smelling soap he always used slipping into her senses.
Hands shaking, she slid open the envelope and found her tag with the number 1 printed across it.
How she clipped it to the neckline of her dress with all the trembling in her fingers, she had no idea, but she managed to.
Liv guided the women each to a separate table and had them sit.
Her body as stiff as a yard of freshly sanded wood, Charity eased down into the chair and pulled it close to the table edge.
Placing her hands in her lap so no one would see them, she dragged in a breath and said a silent prayer, her drawl loud in her head.
Lord Jesus and all the Saints, please help me get through this. And if you could and wouldn’t mind doin’ so, please have this end before Kolby O’Brian gets to me. Thank you. Amen.
While she was praying, Liv lined up the men according to their numbers, 6-10, and said, “When I say go, sit across the table and start. When I say switch, each guy moves to the table on his right. Everyone ready?”
Charity was the only one who didn’t answer.
“And...go.”
The guy who plopped himself in front of Charity was sweating, his forehead beaded and his upper lip wet.
The notion he was dreading this even more than she was, somehow, strangely, calmed her.
Charity never wanted to see anyone in distress, even a stranger who looked like he’d rather be anywhere but sitting across from her.
She took a breath and plastered a smile on her face, then held out her hand.
“Hi. I’m Charity.”
“D-Dave. Hey.”
Not wincing when she pulled her now soaked hand back was a monumental feat.
She leaned in a little and said, “First one is the hardest, I think.”
He nodded, swallowed, then swiped a napkin across his lips.
Bless his heart, CarlieRae whispered in her ear. That was all it took for Charity’s anxiety to quell.
“So, what do you do for a living, Dave?” she asked with a smile.
Nine minutes later, most of his nerves gone once he began talking about his job as a tax accountant, Liv called, “Switch.”
“It was nice meeting you,” Dave said as he rose, this time with a natural smile on his now-dry face. “Really nice. Thanks.”
Charity couldn’t help smiling back at him.
“Hey,” the next guy said as he sat.
“Hey, back. I’m Charity.”
“Kyle, and the pleasure is all mine.”
And so it went for the next 40 minutes. Four guys, all in their thirties, all looking to settle down and get married.
Aside from Dave the sweating accountant, there was Kyle the bearded driving instructor – “believe me, teaching teenagers how to drive should come with some kind of combat pay." Mark, a dental hygienist who told Charity she had the healthiest teeth he’d seen all week. And Peter, “Call me Trey cuz my grandpa and my dad’s names are Peter, too,” a local grocery store manager working on his Master’s degree in business.
When Liv called to switch for the last time, Charity remembered who would sit across from her next. Her stomach muscles contracted, and she had to hide her hands under the table because they’d started shaking again.
She closed her eyes and when she opened them he was right across from her, a sheepish look on his face.
“Hi,” he said, his voice soft, his gaze drinking her in.
Just that word, that simple word, and her shaking hands quieted, her tummy settled, and her brain began to function logically once again.
How did he do that? What superpower did he possess that made all her anxiety flee, especially since it had all centered on him to begin with?
She didn’t say anything, simply returned his stare. He looked tired, but not worn out like he had previously. There were no sleep-deprived splotches under his eyes, his skin wasn’t sallow or pale, and he’d gotten a haircut.
The most surprising feature, though, was his attire.
Gone were the well-worn Ts and much-loved jeans, his daily uniform since she’d met him.
The Kolby sitting across from her wore a white cotton button-down shirt with a light blue sports jacket over it and actual trousers, not jeans.
She couldn’t see his feet, but she’d bet they weren’t in his classic Chucks.
In addition to the haircut, which if she was being honest, looked good on him despite her liking his longer hair better, he was clean shaven.
Charity didn’t have a memory of him with anything other than a two or three-day stubble gracing his cheeks and jaw.
He was panty wetting handsome with the scruff. Without it? Downright heart stopping.
The silence between them was awkward, but Charity truly didn’t know what to say.
She wanted to rail at him for what happened with Mandy, but knew this wasn’t the venue to do so.
At the same time, she wanted to leap across the table and jump into his arms and hug him with everything in her because she was so happy to see him.
What in the world was wrong with her? How could she be angry and happy at the same time?
Baby-girl, Rory’s voice told her, you know the answer to that ‘cuz you’re just like your Mama. Hot and cold in the same sentence, fierce and lovin’ in the same breath.
Kolby cleared his throat, a corner of his mouth pinched between his teeth.
“I think we’re supposed to introduce ourselves,” he said, a slight wobble in his voice. “Talk and get to know one another.”
“I know everything I need to know about you,” she said, flinching at the anger in her hushed voice. Dropping her gaze, she shook her head to clear it.
Kolby ignored her statement. “I’m Kolby. Thirty-six, only child, and I’m a professional photographer.”
Charity rolled her eyes, crossed her arms over her chest, and stared down at the table.
“Pretty much all my weekends are booked with work commitments, so it’s tough to find someone who has the same schedule to do stuff with.”
When she didn’t respond, he kept going.
“I like all kinds of music, but country is my favorite, even tunes about bar fights, lonely cowboys, cheating exes, and Daisy Dukes.”
A tiny grin wanted to worm across her mouth as he repeated her previous words, but she tamped it down.