Page 45 of Dating Mr. Right A Collection
“We’ll enter you in a dating contest.” She sighs thoughtfully, her eyes narrowing a bit as she taps her chin with her free hand. “But I have other ideas for you.”
“Fess up. Are you trying to enlist me into your stable again?”
She swats my arm affectionately. “Of course. I’ve only been trying to get you in my stable for ages. You know that. Smart, single, sweet as anything, clever, hot vet who does free spay and neuter clinics for the city’s rescues? You are going to be in demand.”
Since she’s a premiere matchmaker, Evie’s broached the subject before. I’ve been reluctant though. Maybe I’ve been nursing my wounds since my ex took off with barely a goodbye kiss. Or maybe a part of me figures if I can put myself through vet school, open a successful practice, and make it in Manhattan, I ought to be able to find a woman without a little assistance. “Honestly, I figured I’d meet someone the old-fashioned way, like how I met Sandy. We bumped into each other at a coffee shop. She nearly spilled her hot chocolate on me.”
“Ah, the old rom-com meet-cute.”
“Well, yeah. I suppose it was. So I assumed I’d meet someone new in a similar fashion.”
“And how’s that working out for you?”
I scratch my jaw, considering her question. “Badly.”
“You don’t say?”
“Do I detect a note of mockery?”
“No. I simply agree that it’s as hard as differential calculus to hope to meet someone in person in a random, swoony, just-like-the-movies way.”
“I’ve been on dates. Mostly setups from friends.”
“And?”
I wince, shaking my head. “Dreadful. I’d rather bathe in molasses than go out with another oh, Tonya knows so-and-so and so-and-so knows so-and-so. And what it truly amounts to is this—your one single friend was pressured by his girlfriend or fiancée to set up her one single friend, and it doesn’t matter if you have anything in common.”
She nods sympathetically as she strokes Cletus’s head. “That is indeed the problem with friends setting up friends simply by virtue of their relationship status. I, however, have a long list of lovely single ladies, and I only connect people I think—no, I’m sure—will go together like gin and tonic.”
“I do like a good gin and tonic.”
She smiles impishly. “I know. All my clients are vetted and interested in the real deal. And I know you’re interested in that too.”
“How do you know?” I’m curious why she says that, but truth be told, she nailed it on the head.
“That’s what you wanted with Sandy. You’re not somebody who goes out and plays the field, Herb.”
She’s right on that count. “That’s true.”
She stares at me, determination etched in her blue eyes. “So, what’s it going to be, Mister Meow?”
I groan. “No. That nickname is unacceptable.”
“I promise I won’t call you that again if you’ll let me match you.”
“So it’s coercion now, eh?” The woman is relentless with her cheer and optimism.
“Call it coercion, or call it kismet. Whatever you call it, I have the perfect woman for you.”
I raise a skeptical brow. “What if she’s boring?”
She shakes her head. “Not a chance.”
I toss out another concern. “What if she’s shallow?”
“She’s bright and thoughtful.”
And one more hurdle. “What if she, I dunno, smells?”
Evie leans in closer and taps my nose with her finger. “She smells pretty, you silly man.”
Then the deal-breaker. “What if she doesn’t like dogs?”
“Give me some credit. As if I’d set you up with someone who doesn’t like dogs. The woman I have in mind is lovely. She’s been looking to adopt just the right three-legged dog.”
And my heart melts a little bit. Wait, wait. I can’t. I can’t fall for her that quickly, I don’t even know her. “I suppose one date can’t hurt. But I don’t want to do dinner.”
“Dinner is off the table.”
“I don’t want to do a wine tasting.”
“Just say no to the vino.”
“I don’t want to do a beer tasting, and I don’t want to do something that’s like super hipster-y, like a mayonnaise tasting or pickle tasting.”
“Got it. You probably don’t want to do a carrot tasting either, then. Do you?”
“Do people really have carrot tastings?”
“Have you been to Brooklyn? They have everything these days.”
“True that.”
“You want to do something totally unconventional. Something that will let you know if you have chemistry.”
That’s the thing. I’ve done the whole typical three dates thing a handful of times ever since Sandy left, and I don’t want to get on that merry-go-round again. “I just want to get on the merry-go-round once for one date, and I’ll know after one date.”
“Then it needs to be one spectacular date. Do you still like bizarre, oddball, quirky modern art?”
“Damn, you have a good memory.”
“I have a memory for matches. Would you like to meet a smart, sarcastic, tech-savvy art lover who likes to discover all the interesting things about New York and who loves puzzles?”
