28 Dates Read online

  Ummm. Hm. I don’t know what to say to that except that I’d like my hand back. He really is rather sweaty. I tug on my hand harder, but his hands tighten. Alarm bells ding.

  “You’re very beautiful,” he says again, and that cute look in his eyes I first noticed changes to something else. Something weird, like that part in the horror movie where you just know something bad is about to happen. His eyes are the creepy background music. “And you’re very petite. I bet you have cute toes.”

  “Excuse me?” I jerk my hand, but he holds on. I can make a scene, and I should. There are people at the tables nearby, and one woman glances at me. Like she knows I’m about to be in trouble.

  The fact that she’s paying attention helps, but before I can tug my hand away again, Brett leans forward. “I’d like to see them.”

  “Them?” He can’t be meaning…

  “Your toes,” he says. He licks his lips, and oh my God what a freaking creep.

  I yank my hand from his. I have to pull so hard to remove it from his grasp, the table shakes, knocking over the salt and pepper shakers. “I think I should go.”

  “I think I’d like to see them.” It’s like I haven’t spoken. His eyes are glazed over as if he’s already imagining something. “In the bathroom. Will you show me? I bet they’ll taste delicious.”

  I might puke if I stay.

  “Oh my God. No.” I reach for my coat and scarf. Screw my food. This is officially beyond a normal lunch date, and I’m out of here. “Hell no.” I stand on that pronouncement, bumping the table, I move with such speed. And as I turn, the woman who had glanced at me shoots me wide eyes.

  I turn back to Brett, who’s also standing, coat draped over his arm. “That’s okay, we can go somewhere else.”

  “No. You’re making me uncomfortable. Don’t follow me, and don’t message me again. This isn’t okay.”

  I turn and flee. I don’t even look back to see if he’s following, but oh my goodness. What in the world just happened? My hands are shaking like leaves as I dig my keys out of my purse, and by the time I reach my car, my body is trembling.

  Oh my God. If this is what online dating is like, no thank you very much. I’m not prepared for this at all. Toes? Bathrooms? The whole thing is so far outside my wheelhouse I’m too rattled to return home. What if he follows me? What if when he said “bathroom,” he meant my bathroom? I don’t know if he left the restaurant, but Brett is definitely a few clues short of getting the hint.

  I won’t return home. Not yet. Trey’s in meetings all day, and I don’t even want to go to his place. If this creep follows me, I’m not leading him to my building, either. I take a couple moments to breathe, settle my nerves, and evaluate my options. In truth, there’s only one safe place for me to go, so once I’m certain I can drive safely, I throw my car into gear and get the heck out of there.

  * * *

  —

  You’re not home.

  At least let me know you’re alive.

  I scowl at my phone and the texts from Trey. He’s worried about me and with good reason.

  At the first stoplight, despite it being illegal and after double-checking to ensure I wasn’t being followed, I’d typed out a quick text.

  OMG. DATE FROM HELL. There are psychos out there who seem normal!!!!

  I haven’t answered a text from him since. The man deserves to suffer as much as I currently am.

  Overdramatic?

  I still doubt it.

  I’ve been one hundred percent regretting agreeing to test this stupid app since approximately four minutes after I met my first date. A quick little lunch date, which I figure is a good time. You can eat, chat, go back to your life.

  How completely wrong I am at judging men I meet online.

  I take a sip of a fruity red wine given to me courtesy of Teagan, Corbin’s new wife and my newest bestie, still shaking.

  “Seriously, Caitlin. You’re freaking me out. At least tell me he didn’t hurt you.”

  “No. Of course not. I would have gone to the cops.”

  “Then tell me what happened. If he really is creepy, Trey should probably know and kick him off somehow.”

  I haven’t even thought of that. I’ll let Trey know about this when I’m calm enough. He should at least know there are men like this on the app. Surely he has some sort of protection or security in place to deal with freaky stuff, like the ability to suspend their accounts or remove them completely from the platform.

  I hold up one finger. “First, he lives with his mom.”

  Across from me, the cute little blonde nods, arching her brows. “Uh-huh.”

  “Which isn’t horrible despite him claiming to be twenty-six. But two, his banking experience consists of having bank accounts.”

  A strange sound escapes her pursed lips. “Okay.”

  And none of these are automatic no’s from me, especially since I’ve decided to use these dates to find not necessarily a long-term relationship, but more along the lines of someone whose company I enjoy as much as Jonas’s—mostly in bed. Financial status isn’t really my main goal despite Trey’s purpose for the app.

  “However,” I said. “Hold on.” I drink more of my wine and refill the half-full glass. It’s my second in an hour, and I need food in me, considering I fled the restaurant before we even ordered. “I mean, he told me those things before we ordered, Teagan. And then…” Oh God.

  “What?” She’s trying not to laugh. Her pretty blue eyes are sparkling, and yeah, my friend thinks I’m crazy. But I’m not crazy enough to spend time with someone on the express train to the loony bin. Crazy and wacko shall never meet.

  “He leaned across the table, took my hand, and it was gross because his were all sweaty, and then he whispered I’m beautiful.”

  “Aww. That’s sweet.”

  “And said he was thinking about how my toes tasted.”

  “What?” Had she been drinking, her wine would be in my lap. “Ew.” Her face scrunches, and gone is the hilarity in her blue eyes. “Disgusting!”

  “And when I tried to pull my hand back and calmly say this wouldn’t work out, he held it harder and asked me if he could taste them…in the bathroom!”

  Oh God. Just the memory. Who does this? Who propositions to lick a woman’s toes in a public restroom? As if the restroom is the main problem. Have your kink and enjoy it. Toes aren’t my thing. They’re sweaty and stinky and ticklish and icky. I’m panicking again, blood and gross fear and adrenaline rushing through me. If this is what this app could bring me over the next month, I am O-U-T, out.

  “That’s the kind of thing you throw in after you’ve already had sex a few times, right? Or you slide it in there when you already have the girl in the mood. But this guy…it was freaky as hell, Teagan.”

  She alternates between making a gagging sound and laughing, which comes out sounding like she’s trying not to puke.

  I completely understand. Been there, girlfriend. I’ve resisted the urge at least a dozen times.

  “I got out of there, Teagan. I mean, I just ran, terrified he was following me, and I live so close to where we were eating I didn’t want to risk going home.” Okay. So maybe I’m being a bit overdramatic. “But for real…that guy is off his rocker.”

  Her lips press down, and she’s fighting a laugh. Okay. Overdramatic it is. Still. Creepy fucker. “I can see why that’d send you running to us, hours away, and avoiding Trey’s texts. Totally makes sense now.”

  “Toe licking in a public bathroom, Teagan. And I’ve been wearing boots with wool socks all day.” My voice is low and serious.

  She makes that gagging sound again. “Say no more. Please, for the love of God, let’s never talk about this again.”

  I take another drink of wine and push off the barstool. I’ve been coming to Corbin’s coastal house since I was nineteen years old. It’s been in his family for generations, and when his grandma passed away, she left it for him in her will. It’s more of a home than the house I grew up
in, and I have no qualms about helping myself to food in the fridge or snacks in the pantry.

  Teagan expects it from me by now, and she’s only been with Corbin since last August.

  After grabbing out a few different blocks of cheeses, I head to the pantry, loading down my arms with multiple boxes of crackers.

  Teagan grins at me and points to the dishwasher. “Your favorite knife is in there, but it’s clean.”

  This is why best friends rock. They know you have a favorite knife and keep it clean just in case you make an emergency, post–horrible blind date visit.

  At least that’s what I tell myself as I grab the knife and slide the cutting board on the counter in my direction. I begin slicing cheeses, Gouda, Havarti, and my favorite—Merlot BellaVitano. “Where’s the guy you’re chained to forever?”

  “You and your fear of marriage. I swear, I’m almost hoping this app thing works out for you and you’re swept unexpectedly off your feet like I was.”

  I point the deadly knife in her direction. “That’s not even funny.”

  She laughs again and reaches for the wine bottle, refilling our glasses without me even needing to ask. This, and the knife…it’s why I love her so much. For so many years it was just Corbin, Trey, and I, and then Teagan rear-ended Corbin on the worst morning of her life, and three weeks later she was so in love with him, she still can’t see straight.

  And giving that kind of control to someone? No thank you very much. Not for me, but more power to them for being so gosh-darn happy all the time.

  She snags a chunk of the BellaVitano and chews, making a moaning sound as she chases it with wine. “To answer your question, Corbin’s in town all day pitching to a few local stores to see if he can get more of them to carry his furniture.”

  I almost slice my finger off. “Seriously? That’s amazing!”

  “Yeah. He’s been working so hard at building up some inventory. I’ve been on pins and needles waiting for him to get back, so I’m glad you showed up to distract me. But in all seriousness, I think if you’re going to do these blind dates, maybe you should meet them somewhere else, somewhere you feel safe and know people in case anything else scary happens.”

  Somewhere safe where I know people?

  There’s only one possible location. But with the way Jonas reacted to my using the dating app, is that even the best place? I haven’t even returned since he verbally backhanded me.

  “You’re probably right,” I concede and pop a chunk of cheese into my mouth. “I’ll think about it.”

  “And keep an open mind—and heart, Caitlin. Who knows, maybe you really will find someone.”

  That I highly doubt. Still, my sweet friend has a smile on her face that makes her eyes sparkle. Who am I to dim her shine? “We’ll see.”

  Chapter 6

  Caitlin

  I toss my phone to the coffee table in front of me and shove my fingers through my hair. Strips of red curls fall down, and I push them back, gathering my hair on the top of my head before dropping all of it again. It’s too early to be working, but it’s the cost of having lawyers on the East Coast.

  “Trey,” I call out. He’s in my kitchen, fixing himself eggs for our regular Monday morning breakfast meeting. The benefits of working at home definitely include holding weekly meetings in my pajamas and my boss coming to me. “The lawyers have the contracts ready.”

  It’s a six-figure deal for a sports app he designed. Not quite gambling, more fantasy-style sports with money involved, but you can play for any sport, and you put money in whenever you want, either for a set of weekend games, or nightly depending on the sport.

  The coolest part is that it’s only for professional women’s sports. And it totally got me hooked on women’s football. I never even knew there was such a thing, but the owners of other similar apps wanted one solely devoted to women’s sports.

  If people are betting money on them, the odds of watching them increase, thereby increasing their popularity. I can see the string of thought, and I myself haven’t missed a women’s football game since I started watching.

  “Good.” From the muffled tone, I can tell his mouth is shoved full of eggs and toast. Why he insists on cooking my food, I’ll never know, but I’d rather have him come to me at seven in the morning than trudge up the ten flights in an elevator to his penthouse. “Are they overnighting them?”

  “Mm-hmm. Should be here tomorrow.”

  I push my feet off the coffee table and sit up, reaching for my coffee. On my phone screen is a list of notifications from some of the men who contacted me over the weekend. I’m trying to do what I promised both Trey and Teagan, but that first date really threw me for a loop. Are there that many creepy men in the world? Or do they live behind their screens, waiting for a normal girl to scare the pants off of?

  One of them started sending me messages Thursday evening, and we’ve sent several back and forth. His face is hidden in his profile picture. He has his back to the screen, short black hair that’s almost in need of a haircut. He’s wearing a white thermal shirt, and from the view, it looks like he’s standing on the coast at sunset. Could be Photoshopped, but the vibrant-colored coast as the backdrop to his muscular shoulders is kind of sexy, too. And yet his face is hidden. Isn’t the point of the profile picture to show how attractive you are to gain immediate attention?

  I flip back to my own profile photo and snort. My hair is cute, the front section is braided around my temple down to the side, where it’s gathered with the rest in a ponytail and sits right on my shoulder. It’s a selfie I took last summer from Corbin’s back deck, and while my makeup and hair are on point, I’m also wearing my pajama shirt. One I wear too often out of the house to truly call it a pajama shirt, but there you have it. Besides, I get the most compliments on the threadbare T-shirt featuring Yoda from Stars Wars. He’s giving two thumbs-up and there’s a conversation bubble that says, “Yoda loves this chick.”

  Yeah…not exactly my best first impression, but it says a lot about me. I’m sweet and playful, down to earth, and a huge Star Wars fan.

  Which is probably why even though this guy Michael has his face shaded, his opening line still makes me giggle.

  What kind of car does a Jedi drive? A toy-Yoda.

  It was perfect and cheesy, and yet it’s like this particular guy knew I needed something so basic after Creepy-Toe-Licking Brett.

  Perhaps that’s why I swiped right and kept it saved and spent hours trying to think of the perfect witty response.

  Instead, all I came up with was an equally lame joke.

  Why did the movies come out 4, 5, 6, 1, 2, 3…in charge of scheduling Yoda was.

  But then I quit playing around and sent him a simple Hey, your pic is really cool. Are you a beach kind of guy or do you prefer the city?

  His response: Depends on my mood and who I’m with, but I live in the city.

  Since then, we’ve gone back and forth a few times. I’m pretty sure I told him more about me than he did. Isn’t a guy who’s interested in me supposed to be a good thing? Still, the fact he’s dodged some pretty basic questions already makes me question continuing further discussion.

  What can I say? Meeting a guy who said he wanted to lick my toes in a public bathroom has made me ultracautious.

  Like when I asked him what he did for a living, his response was I work late nights. Which could be anything from a bartender to a semi-truck driver to a pimp or a drug dealer. I mean, help a girl out. If I was seriously trying to use online dating to find my soulmate, I’d be frustrated. It appears some men aren’t any better at communicating through a keyboard than they are in person.

  Still, something about the way this guy banters with me when I give my answers appeals to me. He seems playful yet mysterious. It could be an attractive thing…or deadly.

  “How’s the app working for you?” Trey asks. He plops down on the love seat next to my couch and kicks his feet up onto my coffee table. The guy is a self-made multimillionaire, an
d it always cracks me up how he dresses like he’s a freshman in college and he didn’t learn how to do laundry before leaving home. Today he’s wearing sweatpants that are frayed at the hems around his ankles, bare feet because he kicked off his Adidas slides as soon as he stepped into my apartment. His black T-shirt is worn and stretched around the V-neck collar. He looks a mess, and yet I know his mind is always working, and even though it’s only seven in the morning, he’s already been up for well over an hour, either running around the city park paths or working out in the building’s exercise room.

  “Besides the creep who offered to lick my toes?”

  When he called over the weekend, I told him I’d tell him this morning. I didn’t want to spend more time thinking about it than I had to. Plus, I really wanted to see the look on his face.

  It’s priceless and totally worth the wait. I grin around the edge of my mug.

  His face scrunches like his eggs are churning in his stomach. “Excuse me?”

  “You heard me. It was gross, Trey. And then he grabbed my hand and asked if he could see them in the bathroom.”

  All grossness evaporates, and his face turns to steel. “What’s his screen name?” He’s already yanking out his phone and arching his brows at me. “And when was this again?”

  “Thursday.” I barely mumble the word. The guy’s protectiveness of me gets a bit unbearable sometimes. Would Trey act like this if I wasn’t his best friend? “It’s not like you can do anything. The guy has a weird toe fetish. I mean, sure, I wouldn’t have liked to learn about it over coffee, but it’s not like he did anything wrong.”

  “Did nothing wrong? Did you just tell me he grabbed you? That’s not okay, Caty-bug.”

  Sometimes it’s like they forget I was the one attacked. They saved me. I healed from it. I’ve been able to open up to men since then, and I don’t think my attack in a dorm stairwell has anything to do with my reason for not wanting to fall in love. I’ve just seen repeatedly how it doesn’t work. My parents are the prime example. They married for love, which quickly turned to regret and then bitterness, and in the midst of ruining each other, they raised me as the forgotten third wheel. Who wants to make a lifelong commitment and have it end that way?