The Trouble with Frogs Page 5

  After six colossal disasters, she was calling it. Time of death: February 12th, 8:05 A.M.

  When she arrived home late the night before, she'd phoned Olivia. The way Jory saw it, Olivia had two choices: give Jory the password to disable her account, or die.

  It took an hour and a half of rehashing every miserable date she'd had in the last twelve days to convince Olivia. There were no decent, unattached guys left in the whole city.

  "For the record, Jory," Olivia had said right before they hung up, "I'm not sorry. And I don't mean that in a I-don't-care-about-you-or-your-feelings kind of way. You hadn't dated anyone in a very long time. As far as I could tell, you wouldn't have dated anyone even now if I hadn't forced you." She paused briefly, almost like she was deciding if she should continue. "I'm your friend and I love you. But Mr. Perfect isn't gonna just drop in your lap if you keep yourself holed up in the bookstore. Sometimes you have to kiss a few frogs before you find your prince."

  A pretty sentiment, to be sure, but this wasn't a fairy tale. It was her life.

  And Jory had seen enough frogs to last a lifetime… like a freaking plague of Egypt.

  Andy waved at her from the bar and pointed to the corner chair when she stepped in the coffee shop. Within seconds he was setting her mug on the coffee table and settling into the overstuffed chair beside her. "Hey, I saw you coming around the corner, so I went ahead and made your coffee."

  "Oh." She began to stand. "I'll go pay."

  "It's okay," he said, holding up a hand to stop her. "It's on me."

  He had a peculiar glint in his eyes, kind of a mixture of concern and sadness. Jory eased back in her seat, studying him.

  "Thank you." She could hear the exhaustion in her own voice. So quiet and… resigned. Like every ounce of her had received notice of the surrender and was settling into the acceptance phase of grief for her dead love life.

  "You look tired, Jory." Andy cocked his head to the side as though assessing her. You…" His voice faded out, hesitating. Almost uncertain. "How did it go?" He squinted.

  She lifted her mug to her lips. The heart drawn into the foam was very nearly perfect this time. It was a shame to ruin it. Jory sipped it anyway and set the cup back on the table.

  "With Blake?"

  "Blake. Yeah. Your old-fashioned date." The way the word old-fashioned rolled off his tongue sounded like it'd left a bad taste in his mouth, and he folded his arms across his chest and wouldn't meet her eyes.

  "You sure you want to hear this?" she asked.

  If his body language was any indication, the answer was a resounding NO. All the other days he had been smiling and ready to laugh at the slightest provocation. For some reason, this date appeared to have bothered him.

  "What can I say? I have a morbid sense of curiosity." His gaze finally found her face. He gritted his teeth in a forced, lop-sided grin.

  Jory let the silence fill the space between them for a long moment while she decided whether or not she should tell him.

  He leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees, then covered his face with his hands. "You're killing me, woman!"

  A laugh, born of Jory's deep-seated tension, bubbled to the surface. She leaned her head back and giggled like a kid on Christmas. Andy peeked at her through his fingers. He probably thought she was going nuts. Maybe she was… who knows?

  "Okay, okay… I won't keep you in suspense any longer!" Tittering another few seconds, she struggled to control herself. "If I don't laugh, I'll cry."

  "That good, huh?" Andy dropped his hands and brightened. "This I gotta hear." Leaning back in his chair again, he relaxed. An almost perfect smile warmed his face.

  The date started out great. Blake picked me up right on time and we decided to walk to the restaurant he had chosen. It was only about a block and the weather was beautiful. We talked about graphic design and photography, told stories about the teachers in our old high school. He graduated three years before me, so I hadn't known him before, but we knew a lot of the same people.

  He took me to Le Desirée, that French restaurant on Bixby. I hadn't been there before, but I'd heard good things. Just a little rich for my taste, I guess. We had a reservation, so we were seated right away. As the maitre d' offered us the menus, Blake waved them away.

  "We know what we want."

  News to me.

  Blake winked at me, as if we were sharing some intimate secret. The maitre d' signaled our waiter who hurried to our table.

  "Good evening, monsieur, mademoiselle. You are ready to order?"

  I loved his accent. There are two accents on men that make my knees weak. French is one of them.

  You can imagine my reaction when Blake prattled off in French what we would have for dinner, winked at me again, and smiled like a cat with a mouthful of canary. He was so pleased with himself.

  I was duly impressed.

  Except for one thing.

  "What exactly will I be eating?"

  "It's a surprise." He reached for my hand. "You'll love it. Remember the friend I mentioned? The one you look like?"

  I nodded.

  "Danielle Giles. It's the same thing she ordered every time we'd been here." He caressed the back of my hand with his thumb slowly.

  Ding-ding. That was the warning bell going off in my head.

  "All her favorites…" his voice trailed off. He looked at our hands on the table, watching his own thumb move in slow circles over my skin.

  Ohhh-kay.

  "She's actually… funny story, she's my ex-girlfriend. We dated for three years. I mean, it ended amicably."

  I tried to change the subject. I really did. I asked him where he learned to speak French so well and if he had been to France… or Canada… or French Indochina, French Ghana. The French section of Epcot?

  No. He and Danielle had taken a French course together just for the purpose of ordering at that restaurant. Danielle was a language genius. She picked it up twice as fast as he did. They had discussed the possibility of a honeymoon in Paris someday. But that trip was on the back burner now.

  Yes. He said those words.

  "I'd love to visit Italy someday," I said. "See the Ancient Roman landmarks, float the canals of Venice, wine-tasting in Tuscany."

  "Italy? Danielle is half Italian."

  I'm not going to bore you with the details of the rest of that conversation, but suffice it to say, I know Danielle's favorite color, her all-time favorite movie, where she gets her hair done — Blake offered to get me an appointment there next week if I wanted to try a new look — I know more about Danielle than I do about my own sister-in-law, and she and I were roommates my freshman year of college.

  I've never been so glad for a waiter to bring my food. When he set the plate in front of me, however, my excitement dwindled.

  Rapidly.

  Blake was staring at me in anticipation. Waiting for me to take the first taste.

  Escargot. Snails.

  I know people eat it and it's considered a delicacy.

  I'm not one of those people.

  "Go ahead," Blake said, encouraging me to dig in. "I always loved to see Danielle take that first bite. She made the cutest little face."

  I don't think he realized how messed up that was. That he would say that to me. I felt bad for him. You know how it is when you're watching a sitcom and one of the characters is saying something that is completely inappropriate, and you know they're going to be so embarrassed when they realize what they've said, and you don't want to watch, but it's like a train wreck, so you just can't look away?

  Yeah, it was like that.

  After dinner, as if that wasn't enough for one night, we did a walking tour of the Botanical Garden. Another of Danielle's favorite things. That's where Blake would have proposed, you know. He would have set up a candlelight dinner in the gazebo and had a beautiful princess cut diamond ring waiting on the bottom of her champagne glass.

  It is a beautiful place. Blake bought me a bouquet of tiger lilies from
a street vendor just outside the Garden. They were lovely.

  It's not his fault I'm allergic to Danielle's favorite flowers.

  I spent the rest of the night sneezing and sniffling.

  The final event of the evening was a movie at the Little Retropolitan Theater, where they show the classic black and white movies. They had a foreign movie showing. I have no idea what it was about. Danielle's favorite movie. Entirely in French.

  There was a tear or a scratch in the screen right where the subtitles would have been.

  Every once in awhile Blake would laugh, elbow me, and point at the screen. He thought I would get the joke. Danielle would have gotten the joke.

  On the way out of the theater, he held my hand. We stopped at an after-hours café for a piece of French Silk pie.

  Then he brought me back here, where I had left my car. He wanted to see that I made it home safely, but I assured him I would be fine.

  "I had a great night," Blake said as I dug through my purse for my car keys.

  I smiled without looking at him. "I hadn't been to the Botanical Garden in a long time. Thank you."

  I finally located my keys, so Blake handed me my tiger lilies. I could feel the tickle in my nose right away. I sniffed, trying to hold it back.

  "Well, good night," he said.

  My eyes were watering, so I glanced at him and nodded. I didn't have time to react, no amount of control could stop it. Just as he closed in for a kiss… I sneezed.

  Violently.

  My head jerked forward with the force of my sneeze and caught the bridge of his nose.

  Immediately, he covered his face with both hands. I was apologizing profusely, but he just waved me off, shaking his head. After a few seconds he looked at me and, I guess, tried to smile, still covering his nose and mouth. With his other hand, he reached for my car door and opened it for me, bent over and planted a kiss right on my mouth.

  I didn't even have a warning.

  I sat down, closed the door, buckled up, waved at him, and started the car. I was halfway home before I realized the moisture on my face wasn't just the effect of the flowers. At a stoplight I turned on my dome light and looked in the visor mirror.

  Blood. All over my face. And it wasn't mine.

  Looking down at my sweater, I noticed it was covered with blood too. My white sweater.

  "I had to throw it away." Jory sighed and finished the last of her coffee.

  "After all that… he still kissed you?" Andy asked.

  "I think you may have missed the point of that last part," she said, allowing a half-smile to play on her lips. "He wasn't kissing me. He was kissing Danielle. I mean, the guy called later to see if I made it home. I didn't answer, so he left a message on my voicemail. He called me Danielle."

  Andy didn't seem convinced. "That guy was a nut job."

  "Well, I'm done. I decided this morning. Olivia tried to tell me some jazz about kissing a lot of frogs before I find a prince. But I think half a dozen are more than enough. Personally, I'd rather eat escargot."

  Leaning forward on his knees again, Andy smiled mischievously. "So… I know what you're probably gonna say… but I feel a little responsible, at least partly, for your decision. You know, since I picked Corey and all.

  "It's not your fault, Andy. Look at my record in picking? I was O for five myself."

  He held up his hand and shook his head slightly. "No. There was another guy in there I thought looked perfect for you, and I didn't pick him on purpose."

  That got her attention. "What? On purpose? Why? Why would you do that?"

  "Don't be mad. Corey looked decent, and it was between the two of them, really. I just made the wrong call. And I'm sorry."

  Now she was curious. How was this other guy so perfect for her? And why would Andy deliberately steer her away from him?

  "Anyway, the last name was Carter, I think. I'm not saying you should go out with him. I just feel bad that I didn't pick him the first time. Might've saved you some agony." He glanced at the clock on the wall. "I'm gonna have to get back to work before Reese has me drawn and quartered. Do you want a scone or anything?"

  "No, thanks. I need to go too."

  They said their goodbyes and Jory stepped out onto the sidewalk. After a quick glance through the window at Andy, she tapped the app on her phone. With a few slides of her thumb she located her connection requests. What exactly was Andy's idea of perfect?

  Well, hello, Mr. Carter.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  IT WAS RAINING AGAIN. A bad omen. Jory re-read the email for the seventh time.

  Jory,

  I was hoping you'd contact me. This online dating thing is a bit overwhelming. I can meet you at the coffee shop on Redding Avenue at six if that works for you. My sister will be with me at first. She is heading back to school on Sunday, so she'll be meeting her friends for a last night out. Looking forward to seeing you.

  Drew Carter

  Shelly looked over her shoulder. "You sure about this, honey? You've been through a lot the last couple of weeks."

  Jory wasn't sure. That was the problem. But how else was she supposed to feel on a blind date? Especially after half a dozen of the same, ending in complete disaster. At least they were meeting at a coffee shop on the other side of town tonight. She wasn't so sure she wanted to chance running into Andy.

  A last minute mirror check and a deep breath confirmed she was as ready as she would ever be.

  "I'll see you in the morning, Shelly."

  "Yeah… if he's not some psycho," Shelly said, then added half-under her breath, "Like that clown." A spontaneous shiver made her shoulders tremble.

  Jory chuckled to herself and headed out the door. It was a twenty minute drive to the coffee shop on Redding. She checked the time on her phone. That should leave her with ten minutes to spare.

  ONLY A HANDFUL OF PEOPLE sat in the coffee shop when Jory arrived. None of them spared her more than a fleeting glance as she walked through the door — no one who appeared to be waiting for a date.

  The barista came out of the kitchen, tying her apron strings as she greeted Jory. "Can I get you anything?" she asked.

  "I'm waiting for someone," Jory said. "I'll wait and order when he gets here."

  The blonde shrugged. "Okay, just let me know when you're ready."

  She disappeared back into the kitchen.

  Jory found a seat and settled in to wait for Drew and his sister.

  A few minutes passed by and the jingle of the bell on the door drew her attention. A pair of girls chattering away bounced in, bringing in a chorus of giggles with them. Jory picked up a magazine from the coffee table and started leafing through.

  The door opened again and an older couple entered the café. Jory checked the time on her phone. It was still a little early. No reason to be concerned.

  Her stomach was churning with nervous energy. Strange. One would think after six first dates in a row, she wouldn't feel that way anymore. A quick trip to the restroom was in order.

  As she walked down the short hallway to the bathroom, she heard the door bell chime again, but she fought the urge to check it out.

  When she returned, she scanned the seating area for new faces.

  "Hey!" the familiar voice made her heart catch in her throat. Andy. What was he doing there? He met her halfway. "How's it going?"

  "Good." She hoped her surprise and confusion didn't register on her face. Glancing past Andy, she noticed Andy's girlfriend was smiling at her. Jory forced herself to return it. This didn't bode well for her state of mind on this date. Seeing Andy with his girlfriend would mess with her head the rest of the night.

  "This is Chloe," Andy said. He reached behind him and put his arm around her, pulling her forward and closer to Jory.

  "Hi, Chloe. I'm Jory." She hoped her voice didn't sound as threatening as she felt.

  "I know," Chloe said, offering her hand. "I've heard all about you." Suddenly her smile made sense. Andy had been regaling Chloe with the tales
of Jory's dates. Chloe was amused.

  "I see." Jory shot a look at Andy for confirmation. He was wearing his almost perfect grin. "Well, it was nice to meet you." She moved to step around them. There was no way she was waiting around here now. Obviously her continued dating saga had been nothing more than entertainment for the two of them. No wonder Andy had insisted she not give up. Her love life was better than a Shakespearean comedy.

  "What's going on?" Andy asked. His voice held a hint of his amusement.

  "I'm going home."

  He stopped abruptly. "What?"

  Jory spun around to face them, fully expecting to see them laughing at her. Instead, Andy's expression was concerned. Disappointed even. "I'm leaving. Going home. This was a horrible idea. And frankly, I don't know what I was thinking to fall for it again."

  "Fall for what?" His eyebrows knit together in genuine confusion.

  "Listen, Andy. I know you're enjoying this." She tossed a look past him at Chloe. "You and Chloe both. But I've had enough. I'm going to take a dating break. If that means we won't be spending our mornings together anymore, I guess that's just what happens."

  "Wait. What?"

  "You may as well know. I'm here to meet the guy you said would be perfect for me. I fell for it. Again. But I just realized I don't have to go on this date. I'm going home."

  Chloe tapped his arm. He kept his eyes on Jory.

  "Drew, you better tell her," Chloe whispered.

  Andy glanced at Chloe, then back to Jory, staring like he was waiting for her to realize—

  What had Chloe just said?

  "Drew?" Jory's voice trembled. She wasn't sure she could trust her ears.

  Andy held out his hand; his eyebrows rose in uncertainty. "Drew Carter. Andrew Carter."

  Jory grabbed the nearest chair and sat down hard. Andy lowered himself into the seat next to her.

  "Don't be mad, okay?" he begged. "I know it looks bad." He looked helplessly to Chloe, who stood beside them.

  "You… It was you?" The words just weren't coming the way they should. Jory's mind felt scrambled. She had wanted it to be Andy. From the very beginning, she had hoped it would be him. But now that it was, she wasn't sure how to process the information.