Adventures in Online Dating Page 3

  She shrugged, but her only other response was to run her tongue over her lips again, and he wondered if she had any idea how sexy the motion was. Probably not. Nothing about her said she was the kind of woman who spent much time examining her own sex appeal. She had it in spades, but it was natural, not practiced—a fact that only made her hotter.

  “See something tasty?” When she blinked and sat up straighter, he waved the muffin at her. “I can get you one. No one needs to know but the two of us.”

  “No. It’s not that.”

  With the way she seemed to relax, he wondered if it was actually the muffin she was tempted by—or him. But she’d blown him off in the past, and whether or not she’d really meant it, she’d called him a damn man-child just last week. Was she seriously looking at him right now like she wanted to see what he tasted like?

  Because the thought was clearly a crazy one, Marshall shook it off. “What’s the score thing you mentioned? If a guy has red flags, how does he still get a date?”

  Apparently, she needed the change in conversation as much as he did, because she responded like he’d thrown her a verbal lifeline. “I devised a little test to see if a guy matched me well enough to potentially date. Anyone who is interested in getting twenty minutes has to answer the questions.” She met his gaze evenly, unwavering. It was the kind of look that screamed challenge, but he wasn’t really sure what exactly she was challenging him to do.

  “Don’t dating sites have stuff like that already?”

  “Generic ones. Mine works better since it’s tailored to me.” Her entire body gave a little shiver, and she turned back to her tablet as if that were the end of the conversation.

  Yet she hadn’t told him to leave, and absentee-David still had a few minutes left in his date time. Marshall planned on using them—especially since the challenge was pretty fucking obvious now. “Can I take the test?” She raised one perfectly arched brow at him. “Just to pass the rest of my break. I’m curious.”

  Alexa sighed and tapped at her screen. “Fine. Ten questions, each has five answers. Be as honest as possible.”

  Then she handed him the screen, picked up her mug of coffee in both hands, and took a slow sip.

  Highest education level?

  That was easy enough. He marked off his bachelor’s degree.

  When was your last charitable donation?

  Just last week, he’d agreed to provide free coffee to the local high school drama department for their two-day repeat run-through of the upcoming musical. He checked the appropriate box.

  Question after question—easy as pouring a cup of joe. He’d confirmed one thing about Alexa in all this—she cared a whole lot about the things in life that were easy to quantify. As much as he’d known that, the test drove it home—if a number couldn’t be assigned to it, it didn’t matter in her calculations of datability. It wasn’t a way he thought he could live, but clearly it worked for her. No matter how appealing he found her, maybe it was for the best she blew him off. He handed back the tablet. “How’d I do?”

  She ran through his answers, her forehead crinkling the farther she went. That was a whole new kind of adorable. She took a long minute before answering, almost like she had to find the right words and then force them out. Or she was forcing herself to keep whatever it was she wanted to say inside, because this was one of the only times he’d seen her pause before answering him. “Fine. You did fine.”

  “So when do I get my date?” He didn’t wait for an answer, simply stood and strode back behind the counter. Granted, he was curious how she scored the damn thing, but honestly, he’d been more interested in what she found important. No matter where he looked with Alexa, it all came back to numbers and math. Most women he knew ran on intuition and emotion—and a type of logic he didn’t dismiss but also didn’t pretend to understand.

  But if this was who she really was deep in her core—who was the lady who came in here with her kids and grinned like her smile would light up the world?

  Chapter Three

  Her last date of day two was due any minute, and Alexa was ready to get it over with. She’d expected this process to be a little wearying, but she was exhausted and still had supper and homework and bedtimes to manage. Plus, getting some extra work done at home to make up for the time she’d spent with the guys.

  Freelancing had its benefits, but it didn’t mean she could slack off completely, and she’d traded taking an hour break every afternoon for three hours of dating. No matter how she looked at it, that was going to start taking a toll on her productivity. She needed to find her needle in a haystack sooner rather than later.

  Too bad she knew all too well how big a pile of hay really was.

  Making matters worse, it seemed as though today was going to be a wash. All that work, for nothing. Because it had been work in a way she hadn’t anticipated. Smiling, small talk, more smiling. And while none of the dates had been as disgusting as Pierce, they hadn’t exactly made her want to see more of them, either. If only she could find a more grown-up version of the Marshall who’d sat down to chat with her yesterday. He’d… No. That was not an option, so there was no point in exploring it.

  The bell over the door chimed, and she looked up to find her last Tuesday hopeful coming through the door. Mike. Stockbroker. Forty-nine. Divorced. One son in college. Like her, he wore a suit. Unlike her, he hadn’t tried to soften the business look at all. If anything, he appeared harried, as if the date were an intrusion into all the other things he’d rather be doing.

  You’re projecting. This sort of step is probably as necessary an evil to him as it is to you.

  She forced the smile back on her face, but he didn’t even glance her way while waiting in line for his coffee. Instead, his eyes and fingers were glued to his phone. She tried to stay positive. Very dedicated to his work. That could be a good thing.

  When he grabbed his cup and turned, she made sure the smile was in place and waved. He sat down an instant later. “I’m going to have to keep this brief. It’s the middle of the workday.”

  Briefer than the twenty minutes she’d set aside for him? O…kay. “I’m aware. But you insisted on a date as soon as possible, and the lunch hour slots booked up before you made a choice.”

  “You could have rescheduled one of them.” He took a giant gulp of his coffee.

  Alexa blinked, slowly. He didn’t seem to be kidding. “Yes, or you could have had your choice of times next week.”

  “I don’t wait for women like that. Especially at your age, you shouldn’t expect a man to be so patient.”

  Usually, Alexa tried her best to maintain a pleasant smile, or even a not-so-pleasant one, but Mike managed to erase what was left of hers in seconds. She was tired and in no mood to pretend meeting with him was anything but a mistake. “I’m sorry, but clearly this isn’t going to be a good match. If you have already determined by my age that I’m not worth waiting a week for—in order to better fit your schedule, then perhaps your time would be best spent at the office until you find a woman more willing to bend to your whims.”

  “What?” He glared at her as if she’d suggested he take a long walk off a short pier.

  She shrugged and gave a gentle shake of her head. As proud as she was of her ability to figure people out quickly, she hated when an initial negative assessment proved as spot-on as hers had when he walked through the door. “Clearly, you don’t think I’m worth your time, and you really don’t seem to want to be here. Feel free to get back to your workday.”

  He slammed his to-go cup down on the table hard enough that the bottom of the paper cup crinkled and coffee splashed out the top, landing on her tablet and fingers. She winced and snatched her hand away. He shoved to his feet and loomed over her, his hands planted firmly on the table. “Are you kidding me?”

  Alexa yanked a napkin from under her tablet and wiped the burning coffee off her hand. How the hell had he gulped it when it was that hot? “You said you needed to make it brief. I’m he
lping with that. And all I offered was the chance to meet. We met. I’m not interested. Therefore, it doesn’t make sense to waste any more of your time pretending I might be.”

  “So that’s the plan? Get men to take time off to come out. Jump at the chance to meet you, and then you pull this shit?” He pushed away from the table, the remains of his cup tipping over.

  Alexa jumped out of the way of the spilled coffee and clutched her tablet to her chest like a shield. Never in her life had she been afraid of a man, but this guy…

  What if we’d gone on a real date instead? Been alone?

  She couldn’t think like that. The current situation was dire enough. He was moving toward her, and she’d stupidly exited the table opposite the spill, leaving her squarely in a corner. She was trapped. Heart pounding, she reached for her jumbo mug, prepared to throw it at his head if necessary.

  “I believe the lady said your time here is done.”

  “Mind your own damn business,” Mike growled.

  Marshall wasn’t excessively tall or huge, but he had more than enough strength in him to grab Mike by the arm and spin him bodily around. “This place is my business, and so are my customers—including the woman standing behind you who was kind enough to ask you to leave politely. I don’t really feel like being nice, so you have thirty seconds to get your ass out the damn door before you get the opportunity to have an up-close-and-personal introduction to my not-nice side. Do we have an understanding?”

  Jerking his arm from Marshall’s grip, Mike knocked the crumpled paper cup to the floor.

  Marshall stood there, doing nothing more than glaring at him for a solid fifteen seconds—Alexa knew, because she counted.

  Then Mike scowled and stalked to the door. “Fucking punk.”

  Only once he was gone did Marshall turn to her. “Are you okay?”

  While she’d never dealt with a guy like Mike, she’d also never had someone come to her aid like Marshall just had. It was appealing in a way she supposed only younger guys could be. So many of them seemed to have discovered the perfect storm of bravado and physicality. From her experience, the combination was a statistical improbability among men her own age.

  “My—” She bit back the ridiculously instinctive hero part, coughed, and said, “My hand is a little singed but…” She glanced in the direction Mike had gone and shivered. She didn’t really want to hang around, but the idea of leaving alone right after he’d walked out seemed incredibly foolish. “Do you think you could—”

  He nodded. “Whatever you need, but let’s get that hand under some cold water first.”

  …

  “I’m really not accustomed to other people taking care of me,” Alexa argued as Marshall swept her past the register, depositing her belongings behind the counter, and into the kitchen where the dishes from that morning’s baking still sat in the sink, waiting for Bobby to come in and take care of cleanup.

  “And I’m not accustomed to letting my customers leave with second-degree burns because some asshole splashed coffee all over them.” He twisted on the tap, and after adjusting the temperature, urged her hand under the cool water. “Did he get you anywhere else?”

  She shook her head, dark brown waves swishing around her face. “A little on my clothes, but not enough to burn me at all, and it should wash out.” She sucked in a breath, and it shuddered as she blew it out. “Thank you for what you did out there.”

  “It’s no problem.”

  “No. Really.” She laid her dry hand on his arm and let it linger. In all the time she’d been coming here, they’d rarely had cause to touch, and now, the gentle slide of her fingers had the heat of a sensual caress. “Thank you. That could have gotten ugly. I have next to zero experience with people behaving like he did, and I honestly wasn’t sure what to do.”

  “And really, it’s no problem. Anyone with half a conscience would have stepped in to defuse something like that.” But her words threw him. What little information he’d gleaned over the past twenty-odd months said she’d been single for somewhere in the vicinity of five years. Longer than he’d been running the Bean Counter—and he’d noticed her coming in daily within the first few months of opening. How the hell had she managed to stay safely away from the asshats of the world for half a decade? Especially if she’d been online dating? That had to be some sort of miracle. “I take it your ex wasn’t the angry sort.”

  She laughed, and this time the sound had a hint of actual humor to it. Maybe if he’d asked the same question at a different time, he would have gotten a real smile and everything. “Not at all. Christian is very much the blissful sort. He’s an adventurer, which was fun and exciting at first, but the married-with-children adventure wore on him after a while. I wish for the boys’ sake he was around more, but he’s happier off chasing his muse, and I’m happier with the way things are now. He comes around every now and then, but the boys and I make sure he knows we’re all doing great so he doesn’t feel obligated to stay. He gets his adventures, and we keep our nice, steady lives.”

  “And dating? I know this craziness is new, but have you tried”—was there a non-insulting way to word this?—“I don’t know, dating like a normal person?”

  Her hand had been under the water this whole time, and she chose that moment to pull away. “I think I’m good.”

  Damn it. He failed at diplomacy. “I’m sorry.”

  As she took the towel he offered, she shook her head. “I’m not upset, Marshall.” A long moment to dry every millimeter of skin on her hands, and then she passed the towel back. Those pauses were starting to feel heavy, weighed down with meaning and things held fiercely inside to keep her from blurting them out. “I have actually tried all the normal things. I’ve met men through friends, through work, not to mention standard online dating. I’ve even tried hitting the bar on the weekend with Peyton—which was a huge disaster that was never repeated. The problem is me. I’m just not so good at normal, I guess. I overanalyze, and that causes everything to stall before even reaching go.”

  “And this was your best alternative?”

  “Maybe not, but I’m no longer analyzing days’ worth of conversation.” The words weren’t pouring out by accident this time, but they weren’t being held back, either. This was Alexa the way other people probably knew her. Simply honest and open. “It’s not perfect, but it is efficient. The men get their time, I make a decision, and we all move on.”

  “It just seems risky.”

  “It’s twenty minutes of risk in a public place, during the day.” She straightened the white blouse that clung to her skin, sighing at the coffee splatters marring the front. “The truth is, I’d be in a lot more danger if I were dating the normal way. I consider myself lucky that Mike showed his true colors so quickly.”

  “Lucky?” Was she kidding?

  “And also lucky that you were here.” She tipped her head at his feet. “Crazy purple shoes and piles of dirty dishes or not, you’re definitely one of the good guys.”

  He ignored the jab about the state of the kitchen. “All the good guys wear crazy something. It’s how you tell us from the assholes—we aren’t afraid to advertise.” This time when she laughed, it was the genuine article. She smiled with her whole face, bright white teeth showing and everything. Score one for the good guys. “As a crazy-purple-shoe-wearing good guy, I’m going to have to insist on walking you to your car, though. Just in case the crazy bad guy lingered.”

  At that, the smile faded, but she nodded. “Probably for the best.”

  He steered her back toward the front counter while mentally reminding himself to suggest Bobby come in morning and evening rather than just at night. It probably wasn’t a good idea leaving the dishes all day. While Marshall doubted there had been enough interaction for the guy he’d kicked out to start stalking Alexa, safe was way better than sorry. “And crazy bad guy doesn’t have your phone number or address, right?”

  “No, he doesn’t. Not even my full name. I have kids. Even if
I weren’t smart enough to look out for myself, I look out for them.” She slid her arms into her suit jacket and picked up her other things from the space beneath the register.

  “Can’t be all that many Alexas in the area, though. Do you—”

  “Alexa is my middle name. Mom and I are both Karens. My parents realized how confusing that was by the time I was three. I’ve been Alexa ever since, but if he tries looking for me—which I doubt—that should make me a little bit harder to find.”

  They wove out the door just as a mass of teenagers flowed in. Shit. He was going to have to be quick. Luckily, she’d parked right behind the café. “Well, Karen Alexa, it looks like your car is safe and sound.” He still didn’t like leaving her on her own, but he had to get back, and anything more he could offer would be invasive. She’d made it clear they didn’t have that kind of relationship. Acquaintances, not friends, no matter how much or how often he wanted to test that boundary. “If anything looks off on your drive home, call the Bean Counter, and I’ll come help. You have our number, right?”

  “I don’t, but Siri can find it.” She slid into the driver’s seat and started the engine. “I’m sure everything will be fine, though. There is about a ninety-seven percent chance Mike is already back in his office, turning his irritation on someone else. A guy like him has more targets on a daily basis than he knows what to do with.”

  “Yeah, and if I had a three percent chance of winning the lottery, I’d play every damned week. So, call if there’s anything weird.” He shut the door and watched as she backed out of her spot. No one followed her from the lot, and that would have to be enough to quiet his paranoia.

  Marshall jogged back to the Bean Counter, steeling himself for the onslaught of teenagers.

  Karen Alexa. Even as buttoned up as she is, she’s so not a Karen…

  Chapter Four

  He was so close to her. So damned close. His breath ruffled tendrils of her hair, and she could feel the heat of his body seeping into the skin of her back. As he held her hand under the water, he stepped forward, pressing against her. The entire length of him was hard, from his thigh between her legs to his chest against her spine. When was the last time she’d felt a body like that?