Secondhand Purses (17 page)

I thought that was pretty damned good, if I said so myself. I took a swig from my wine bottle and hit ‘publish’ before I could back out.

Eek.

I walked away from the tablet. If I thought about it too much longer, I’d delete the profile and put something a lot more fluffy and crap. But anyone who was going to get me had to know what they were getting into. I was no one’s princess.

Ding.

What? I walked over and looked at my tablet.

Bitch, you must have your head up in your ass if you think that is going to get you laid. May want to be a little ‘nicer’ to the men if you want any. IMHO.

Holy crap, seriously?

Clearly, you are not for me. Use a vacuum to suck your pea sized brain out of your ass and move on to someone who will be very unfortunate to find you.

I tapped the ‘send’ button a
lot
harder than necessary. Ugh. I hated people so much sometimes.

Ding.

Oh crap, now what.

Hi, BakerBabe. I live in Carver, MA. I like that you speak your mind, it’s not usually something you see on these sites. I’d like to have the chance to meet you. Are you available Tomorrow night?

Damn. These men must be desperate.

Yea, I can make that work. Where and when, LvrBoi69?

Seriously? That handle. I was dying.

He quickly replied and I confirmed that I’d received it and signed off. Apparently I was officially on the Onset dating market. What the hell had I gotten myself into?

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE

I dressed somewhat casually for the date, which spoke volumes for my mindset going in. I really just wasn’t that into it. But I had to do it. I had to prove that I could move on from Nick, finally, even if it took over ten years to do so. Maybe joining a dating site was a bit of an impulsive decision, but oh well, too late to overthink it now.

I got to the restaurant before, crap, what was his name… I looked at my phone… Jim. I got to the restaurant before Jim did. I looked around for someone matching his profile photo. Tall, dark and tattooed, my kind of man.

Nothing like Nick. Well, he was definitely tall. And his Italian ancestry was clearly dark. I had no idea if he had any tattoos. Mmmmm. The thought of Nick with tattoos made me consider reconsidering my stance against us dating. No, stop it, Alex. Nick was not going to be your person, he was too dangerous. No Nick for you. I could see my brain bitch slapping my heart.

A guy walked in the restaurant by himself. I looked at my phone, nope, there no way that he was Jim. First of all, Jim was six fee three inches tall. This guy was maybe five foot five. He had dark hair, but that was where the similarities ended.

His eyes scanned the room and I hand the sinking feeling that this was my date for the evening. I slunk down in my seat a little bit, hoping to shrink down and maybe disappear from his sight.

He looked past me and I exhaled a sigh of relief, until his eyes zoomed back to me. He looked at his phone for a moment, then back to me and he smiled.

Crap.

I fixed a fake smile on my face, one that I hoped would look sincere, like I actually wanted him to be my date. My heart sunk a little bit more with every step he took closer to my table. Yes.
My
table. Not ours. ‘Ours’ would indicate some sort of relationship. A relationship with shorty was clearly never going to happen.

“Alex?”

Cringe.

“Uh, yeah. You must be Jim. Nice to…” My voice trailed off as he shook my hand and leaned in for a way too wet kiss on the cheek. Shudder.

How could I get away with wiping my cheek off without coming across as rude? I picked up my napkin but realized I didn’t have any food in front of me, so I couldn’t pretend to be wiping my face.

It was times like this I wished I had a good girlfriend I could text and beg to get me out of this. You know, to make up some sort of pretend emergency? No friend, no pretend emergency, just two hours of small talk knowing this was going nowhere.

“It’s so nice to meet you in person, Alex. I’ve really enjoyed our conversations online.”

What the hell was this dude smoking? We exchanged two emails. Just two. I was pretty sure that did not constitute a conversation.

“Nice to meet you, too.” I sounded dull and unconvincing, even to myself. I was obviously not pulling an Oscar nomination worthy performance tonight, that was pretty clear.

“It is really refreshing to meet a woman who matches her profile description. You wouldn’t believe the number of ladies who think it is a good idea to lie about their physical description in a pathetic effort to get a date with me.”

Oh. My. God. Was this dude for real? I started looking around to see if I could find the hidden camera, because there was no way in hell that this was real.

“Okay.” I really didn’t know what else to say. This dude had managed to render me speechless. Which apparently, he took as a positive sign, because he sat back, resting his arm on the back of his chair, looking all sorts of proud of himself.

“So, uh, Jim. What do you do?” I was making small talk. I was in hell and making small talk. I didn’t have time for this shit. I should be at home, creating amazing confections that would make me world renowned. I should
not
be making small talk with this self-impressed louse.

He brightened and straightened in his seat.

“I work in an office supporting the executive team of a marketing firm in Plymouth.”

Translation, Jim was a secretary. Not that I had any problem with that, but his profile said that he was a member of the executive team of a Fortune 500. Obviously, he had applied some marketing voodoo to his dating profile.

“I also work out for about three hours every night, looking to compete in my first bodybuilding competition in three months. I am pushing hard towards my goal.”

Looking at his arms I was pretty sure he was lifting nothing more strenuous than ten pound weights. So much for already having two titles.

“You mentioned that you have tattoos?” Please, please, please have at least one tattoo.

“Oh, that must have been a mistake. I meant that I loved the song ‘Tattoos on This Town’. I have a serious phobia about needles.”

You had to be kidding me. I was freaking done with this loser.

“…don’t you think?” Jim looked at me expectantly. I wasn’t paying attention. I had no idea what I was being asked.

“Mmmm.” That was my best noncommittal sound that could be taken any way that he wanted.

Apparently that was good enough for him, because he stated nodding and smiling. I must have confirmed whatever point it was he was trying to make.

“So, Alex, you seem like a really cool broad. What’s your end game?”

Did he just call me a broad? And end game? What the hell?

“End game?”

“You know, deal breaker in this relationship.”

Oh,
hell
no. This was not a relationship. I pinched the bridge of my nose and attempted to take several deep cleansing breaths before answering in an ‘old Alex’ manner. Deep breaths. In and out.

“Well?”

“Small dicks.” Crap, it came out anyway. Oh well, I said it, now I had to own it. I sat up a little taller and gave him the bitchiest look I had. I had opened the door to Old Alex in my brain, and she came leaping out, happy to finally make her grand entrance.

“Wha-what?” He gulped. Oh, man. I nailed it. This dude was hung like a thimble. He had a nubbin. This was on.

“You wanted to know my deal breaker? A small dick. I have needs, too, and I will not put my needs on hold for some poor dude who can’t get the job done.” I leaned forward as I spoke to him, accentuating each syllable of my statement.

“What’s your definition of ‘small’?” His eyes were losing their confidence. Good.

“Well, that’s easy. When you buy condoms, do you buy the extra-large ones, or the regulars?”

“Regulars.” His voice came out as a squeak.

“Aww, sweetie. Then that means you are definitely
small
.” My voice took on a condescending lilt. I leaned back in my chair, batted my eyes a little and took a long sip from my drink.

Jim opened and closed his mouth like a fish, unable to form a single syllable. Poor guy, I
almost
felt bad for him. Almost. Not quite.

Right about that point in time our meals were delivered to the table and we set to eating what was a really delicious meal. The date was a complete wash, but at least I got a free meal out of it. I grinned to myself as I stabbed another piece of steak.

A very long half hour later, Jim was walking me out to my car. How was it I hadn’t managed to shake this guy yet? He was worse than a tick.

He tried to hold my hand, but I kept moving it just out of range.

We stood by my car. I unlocked it and opened the door. He put his hand on the frame of the car, blocking me from getting in. I glared at him.

“Alex, I had a really great time with you tonight, I do hope that you will allow me to take you out again.” What was this guy’s deal? How was it that he had no clue that this date was
not
a success?

He leaned forward for a kiss. Ick. A full shudder went through my body. I ducked away from the kiss and under his arm, leaving him kissing the air like a fish out of water.

“Thanks for dinner, John.”

“It’s Jim.”

“Yeah, that. I’ve got to go, long day tomorrow and all.” I closed the door, forcing him to jump back to avoid getting his fingers shut in my car. I took that opportunity to drive away from him, as fast as I could without hitting pedestrians.

When I got to the house, I ran inside, stripping naked and getting into the shower immediately, scrubbing my skin to get the gross off from that date. Ugh. That guy was clueless. That was my first and last internet date. Ever.

I crawled into bed, and pulled my tablet onto my lap. Exhaustion from the long days I’d been working through, and the stress of having to try to be polite while on that date caught up to me. I struggled to keep my eyes open while looking at the inventory that was scheduled to be delivered in three weeks. I wasn’t ready to open, but this was a deadline. I had no choice, I had to pick a name, set a menu and finalize everything. No turning back now.

***

The next morning I was back in the bakery by seven o’clock in the morning, with paint rollers, painting tape and plastic tarps. I had just about finished taping off the areas that I would be painting that day when I heard a knocking on the door. Strange. No deliveries were expected for another week.

I got up off the ground and went to open the door. I was met with the smell of fresh roasted coffee. I groaned in appreciation. Looking up my eyes met blue eyes and crazy red hair. It was that chick from the café.

“Ashley, what are you doing here?” I was really surprised to see her here, especially considering I was a little bit rude when I left her at the coffee shop the other day. Okay, a lot bit rude.

“You mentioned that you were going to be doing a lot of painting and stuff in here, and I didn’t know if you had anyone to help you. So here I am.” She shrugged and smiled at me, holding out a coffee.

Ugh, this was one of those moments when I knew what I should do, but I was battling my pride. The coffee made me groan with need. Pride lost. I wanted coffee. Truth be told the help wouldn’t hurt, either.

I held open the door and gestured her inside.

“C’mon in.”

She walked in, handing me the coffee as she passed by. I took a long sip of the hot liquid, feeling it warm me too my toes.

“Ahhhhhh.” I rolled my eyes in appreciation as the dark roasted goodness injected pure caffeine into my bloodstream.

I heard Ashley chuckling quietly as she looked around.

“So, what’s the game plan, here?”

“Doing chalkboard paint over there for the menu and specials, pink polka dot wallpaper over there, and painting those shelves baby pink.”

“You don’t strike me as a baby pink type.”

I laughed.

“Not normally, that’s for sure. But Nonna gave me this hideous apron that I ended up loving, so it’s kind of for her.

“Okay, that makes a lot more sense now.” She nodded as she looked around, a smile growing on her face.

“I love it.”

We both picked up rollers and got started on the chalkboard paint, which required a ridiculous number of coats to be dark enough to use as a chalkboard. In between coats we painted the shelves and talked.

I found out she had grown up here. She moved away for a bit but had moved back recently to be near her family. She was dating this guy, Craig, and she really liked him a lot. She was obviously some sort of a neat freak, based on how she was being extra careful with the paint.

I found myself relaxing with her, and enjoying her company despite my original opinion about her. A chick willing to come and help me out without expecting anything in return but friendship couldn’t be that bad. Maybe she wasn’t just after me for my pastries.

“So, what are you going to call your bakery?”

“Ugh, no idea. I’m down to five ideas, and I can’t pick. I mean, they are mostly good, not all awesome. But the thing is, I only get one shot at this you know? How do pick a name? If it sucks, I’m stuck with it forever and that might kill my business.” I flopped backwards on the floor.

“Dramatic much?”

What? I looked at her. Did she really just say that?

“Seriously, Alex. When you aren’t making such a strong effort to be a bad ass, you almost seem like you are anxious and nervous like the rest of us mere mortals.”

I wanted to muster up enough energy to give her the trademarked look, but I just didn’t have it in me. Besides, I kind of found myself really liking her. Like, maybe a possible
real
friend liking her.

I exhaled. I hated when people were right. I only really liked it when I was right.

“So, Obi Wan, what do you suggest I do?”

Ashley chewed her lip a bit before smiling and bouncing up and down.

“I’ve got it! Oh my gosh, it’s
perfect
!”

“Are you willing to share this perfect idea?”

“This bakery is the lifelong dream of Nonna, right? And then you?” I nodded in agreement.

“And this town absolutely
loved
Nonna. You have probably figured that out by now, right?” I rolled my eyes and nodded again at her, mentally encouraging her to get on with it.