I can’t get Dan Engel out of my head.
Even as I’m smoothing the new dark burgundy lipstick across my mouth and brushing mascara over my lashes.
Even as I’m driving across town for a date with another man—something I was so incredibly excited about until the company picnic. Until meeting Dan face-to-face, which could have been one of the most humbling days of my life.
Well. That, and the one time in college, when Becky made me apologize to this guy she was dating when I started calling him Roid instead of by his name. But in my defense, he looked like he took steroids and he acted like he took steroids, so obviously it seemed like a great nickname.
And if it weren’t for that damn potato salad, Dan and I might be on a date right now, instead of me preparing for yet another faceless internet connection.
Sighing, I pull into the parking lot of a classy Italian restaurant tucked away in our downtown area and somewhere I’ve never been; I’ve only heard how fantastic it is. So, naturally I was thrilled when GreatDane51 suggested it, but still morose after the one-sided sparks that flew this past weekend.
Morose.
God, what the hell am I saying?
I park, flip the lighted mirror down to take one last look at myself, exit my car, run a hand down the length of my dress to smooth it down, and before I know it, I’m standing in the bar of the restaurant. Scanning for my date. Sitting at the bar, I only see…
Dan?
My stomach does this little flip-flop thing that I’ve read about but has never actually happened to me. Unless it happened the other day at the picnic and I just hadn’t noticed, so busy was I wanting to stuff a cork in Becky’s bossy mouth. Nonetheless, I lay a hand on the flat of my stomach and hold my breath, waiting for him to notice me, too.
And waiting.
And waiting until…
He does.
Dan looks left, then right, then back at me and…
Narrows his eyes?
The butterflies in my stomach immediately stop their flapping, and determined, I stride forward, prepared to change his mood from irritated to happy to see me. Yes. That’s what I’ll do.
I halt in my tracks.
I can’t do that. I can’t go over and flirt when I’m meeting someone else. I might be a lot of things—sassy, sarcastic, and loud—but tacky and rude isn’t one of them. Okay, fine. Sometimes I’m rude. And one time I did wear this hideously tacky dress, but luckily Becky made me go change, so I don’t think that counts.
I alter my course and, instead of joining Dan like I want to, I stride towards the opposite side of the bar where I can wait for my date. Sitting myself down, I order myself a glass of cold Riesling and wait.
And wait.
And wait some more.
Ten minutes have gone by, and GreatDane51 is officially late. I pick up my phone but have no new email notifications, the only way GreatDane51 and I have been communicating, via the eSoulMates website.
Biting my lip, I take a furtive look over at Dan and see that he too is checking his phone. Sipping from my glass, I continue watching as he taps out a message, stabs another couple buttons furiously then shoves the phone in his back pocket.
My phone dings.
My phone dings and my heart drops right… into… my… stomach.
“Dan?”
He turns towards the sound of my voice. I stand beside him, holding my wine, my purse tucked under my arm. I give a little wave and a small, nervous smile. How do I know it’s a nervous smile? Because I’m fucking nervous!
“Janine Richardson. What a surprise.” His voice is neutral, giving nothing away, but he isn’t fooling me with this feigned indifference. His mouth might not be grinning, but his eyes are. Those kind, dark brown eyes. And he dressed up for Nina. For me. He looks so handsome.
My lady bits cheer.
“I just got your message.”
“My what? I didn’t send you a message.” He furrows his brows and looks down at his empty hand, where his phone was a moment earlier. “I never…” He drags his words, his head popping up. He gets it.
He catches on quick, this clever, clever man. “Nina?”
I nod. “Yeah. Yes.” I try so very hard to hide the silly smile taking over my entire face, but I can’t. I can’t because I don’t want to. My hand even touches my lips—the dark burgundy lipstick I picked out with him in mind. “Trust me, this is as much a surprise to me as it is to you.”
Dan says nothing, only stares, dumbfounded.
“Are you… mad? Disappointed?” God, please say no. Please, please say no.
“No.” He stands, his chest only a whisper from mine. How did I get so close to his chair? When did I inch myself forward? “I’m not mad.” Those brown eyes of his take in my emerald dress, study my mouth, then crinkle at the corner. “And I’m definitely not disappointed.”
“I feel like I need to text Becky,” I babble without thinking. “This is crazy. She will die.” I slap my hand across my mouth to shut myself up. “Sorry. I can’t believe I said that. Why would I bring her up? It’s just—”
“She’s your best friend and you tell her everything, obviously.” Dan’s hand finds the small of my back as we follow the hostess to our table, an intimate spot in the back corner of the restaurant. So perfect. Dan halts as he’s about to pull out my dinner chair. “Wait. Is this potato salad Becky we’re talking about?”
I giggle. “Is that what you call her?”
“She ruined my lunch! Which, by the way, did make me sick.” He pulls the chair out and I fall into it, laughing. “I was up all night praying to the porcelain gods. Cursing you out the entire time, by the way.”
“Oh, I’ll bet. You were so pissed at me.”
“I was. But then you sent me that gallon-sized tub of Costco potato salad as an apology, and I knew I wasn’t going to be able to resist you for long. That was awesome.”
We both laugh, and then I can’t help but ask, “If you wanted to ask me out, then why haven’t you?”
“I was going to this week, trust me. At that picnic I wasn’t expecting you to be you. I was expecting…” He stops abruptly. “Not you.”
“You can’t just say that and not give me more information. I’ll tell you if you tell me.”
He leans back in his chair, crosses his arms, and smirks. “I was expecting a dried up, bitter, middle-aged frump.”
My mouth falls open, and I drop the bread I’d been about to butter with a loud laugh. “What! Dried up frump!” I take a few deep breaths to compose myself, a tear slipping out of my eye. “Alright, truth for a truth. Are you ready?”
He nods.
“Okay. I thought Dan Engel was an old—and when I say old, I’m talking in his seventies—white-haired, golfing, creepy old dude. Who was lonely and married five times and liked to flirt with young girls.”
“What!” Dan’s eyes damn near bug out of his gorgeous face. “Old dude? Me! What made you—you know what, never mind. I don’t even want to know.”
“You’re right, you probably don’t,” I agree, picking up my water glass and taking a sip. I set it down and lean back in my chair. “Alright, tell me this—what did you think tonight when you saw me at the bar? Truthfully.”
Dan’s eyes rake me over across the table, taking in my long wavy hair, my dark lips, my cleavage. They dart back up and our gazes lock. “I… was disappointed to be here meeting someone else when I saw you. Really fucking disappointed.”
Did I mention this guy is perfect? I didn’t? Well, he is. In fact, if he demanded the check when the waiter walked by and wanted to skip dinner, head to his place—I’d follow him in a heartbeat.
But he doesn’t. Instead, he says, “What about you? What did you think when you saw me?”
“Well, my first reaction was to think back to our last work call. How I was such a…”
“Bitch?” he supplies.
“Yeah. But the funny thing is, I don’t think I’d do it over if I could. In a weird way, those phone calls feel like…” My voice trails off.
“Foreplay?”
“Oddly enough, yes.” I glance down at my dinner plate, bite my lip, and then look up into Dan’s brown eyes. “I just had this really strange feeling when I saw you tonight—call it intuition—and couldn’t stop watching you. As soon as my date was late, I knew. I knew you were him. And I was nervous and excited and…” I realize I’m babbling and blush down to my toes. “So, yeah.”
Dan reaches for my hand across the table. “You’re everything I was hoping Nina would be.”
So perfect…
We laugh, and laugh, and laugh, and our conversation flows. It just flows like it was meant to be. We talk about everything: his six-year old daughter Lindsey, his company, our hobbies. My penchant for getting Becky into trouble. The history of our friendship.
Even our strip tease class at the gym.
He runs his thumb back and forth over my palm as I tell him about our college days and our trip to the sex store and some of the crazy bad dates I’ve been on recently. He laughs at those and doesn’t act like a jealous lunatic. (Bonus points!) We talk about the new land development he’s working on and how I landed a career in a male-dominated industry.
We talk about there being an us.
Finally, I sneak away to the bathroom and text my best friend, fingers unsteady as I excitedly tap away at the keys with breathless enthusiasm.
Me: Becky, it’s DAN. GreatDane51 is DAN!
Becky: Seriously?! No. Way! I FREAKING KNEW IT!
Me: What do you mean, you freaking knew it? How the hell did you know??
Becky: Dan/Dane, the unbridled passion between you two, and it’s just something that would happen to you.
Me: First off, don’t ever say “unbridled passion” again. Secondly, you are ridiculous. And if you knew it then why didn’t you say so!?!?!
Becky: Well, I mean I didn’t KNOW for sure. But I suspected it. Wait. Are you still on your date?
Me: Yes?
Becky: WHY ARE YOU TEXTING ME??? And also, how is it?
Me: Becky, he’s the one. I can feel it. He’s so wonderful. Funny, handsome. Omg. He held my hand through dinner. I’ve got to go. I’ll text you on my way home. I LOVE YOU!!!!
Becky: Good luck! Xoxoxoxo
Dan is waiting when I come out of the bathroom, his hand going around my waist as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. Before I can stop myself or think about what I’m doing, I lean up and our lips meet.
Finally.
I lean towards him and he pulls me in.
It.
Is.
Magical.
Date No. 5: GreatDate51 aka Dan Engel
Overall Impression: Handsome. Funny. Sexy. Feels like I’ve known him my whole life.
Cons: He’s Dan from Engel Elite. My former nemesis.
Verdict: Nemesis be damned. Dan is the one.