Page 26 of When the Time Is Right
I really wasn’t worried about who he’d set me up with. He wasn’t going to win. However, I was getting tacos out of the deal, so I cleaned myself up, and for the most part, I was optimistic about the whole thing.
Was Hudson going to make me a love connection? Hell fucking no.
Was Hudson going to win my Chevelle? Again, not a chance.
Were my cats going to live a life in the lap of luxury? You’re damn right. I would inadvertently get to see how some of my extra, extra bells and whistles looked in my design.
So I had plenty to be positive about. Plus, as bratty as I was, I knew how to be a good sport.
Knowing I’d need at least one strong margarita, I called a Lyft to take me to Mejor Mexicano, where Hud had arranged for my date to take place. My mouth watered the whole ride. To be honest, my palms were a little sweaty too. I wasn’t nervous per se, but what if Hudson had found someone quasi-decent for me?
I’d have to cross that bridge when I got to it—and then set the bitch on fire. How had I found myself—yet again—pacifying another person by going out with someone I knew I’d never end up with?
“Thanks,” I called to the driver while walking to the restaurant’s door, straightening my tank top and wiping the corners of my mouth. There was no way I was getting into a relationship, but being the optimist I was, I reminded myself that maybe I’d get lucky and still have fun. Hopefully, Chase, my blind date, would be pleasant to talk to, easy on the eyes, and—if all went well—a good kisser too.
Maybe I was more of an opportunist than an optimist. Fuck if I knew.
At the very least, I was getting a great dinner, so the smile on my face as I walked in was genuine. The familiar scents of Mexican food hitting my nose made my stomach growl, and then I saw who I assumed was my date at the bar, where Hudson had told me he’d be. Plus, he was the only guy at the bar, so I didn’t feel too weird approaching him. The odds were in my favor.
“Chase?”
He glanced over his shoulder, smiled, and then stood. “Alexis?”
I held my hand out to shake his in greeting. His was soft and smooth, and his grip was a tad weak. But I pushed that out of my mind as I stared at his face. He looked so familiar. Brown hair. Blue eyes. Tall, probably over six-three, his head an easy foot higher than mine.
“Nice to meet you,” I told him.
“You too. I just ordered a drink while I was waiting. I thought I was early.”
Chase’s style was clean cut and strait laced, but there was something about him that was throwing me off a bit—purely on first impression. I couldn’t put my red-tipped finger on it yet. Maggie and I had gone for manis and pedis that week in the name of first dates and due dates. So I peeked around him to see what he was having: Stella Artois in a gold-rimmed chalice.
“Can I get you a drink? Or if you’re hungry, we can get a table and order.”
“A table would be great,” I answered as my tummy rumbled again.
“Sure. I’ll be right back.”
Quickly, while he went to the front to get a server, I pulled my phone out and sent Hudson a quick text. It was unlikely that he’d answer since he was on a date too, but my mind was racing, trying to place Chase.Me: Where do I know this guy from?Seconds later, while Chase was still waiting to be assisted, Hudson replied.Hudson: I don’t think you do. He’s not from Atlanta. He moved here a few years ago. He’s a good guy though. Why? Are you okay?Me: I’m fine. Just thought I recognized him from somewhere.Hudson: Nah, I doubt it. I don’t think he gets out that much.“They have a table ready for us,” Chase said when he returned for me and his goblet of fancy beer.
I offered him a smile and let him usher me in the direction where we’d be seated.
After ordering a margarita on the rocks roughly the size of my head, I couldn’t help but subtly watch him over my menu. There was no real reason for me to be looking at it anyway. I knew what I was getting, but he was intently reading his, so I pretended to do the same.
When the waiter returned, I ordered my steak tacos with extra meat and extra queso to pour on top, and then I listened to Chase place his.
“Is the rice cooked with chicken or vegetable stock?” He was either vegan or allergic to chicken, which I’d never heard of, so my money was on the former.
