Almost Matched (Almost Bad Boys) (7 page)

I scribble on my notepad, ‘Let’s grab something to eat’ and show it to Ali.

She gives me two thumbs up.
 

Esther continues to complain in my ear in her strong French accent. I assure her that her latest match, which she is very unhappy with for God knows what reason, does in fact have a Master’s Degree in Economics, and that we
always
verify all the information provided by our members. So no, his education isn’t something he just made up. I tell her that our program will search through the profiles once again and we might find a good match this or next week, since we have new gentlemen signing up daily. She’s my personal client—oh, fucking joy—and so I go through all the profiles matched to hers, choosing the best possible ones.
 

When Esther finally lets me go, I holler to Ali, “I don’t know what to do with Esther. She’s way too picky.”

Ali walks into my office, purse in hand, shaking her head. “We might need to put her on the ‘A List’.

The ‘A List’ means the ‘Arduous List’. It’s our name for the members of a very particular taste that are extremely difficult to match. It’s as if, deep inside, they don’t really want to meet anyone who could sweep them off their feet, but rather prefer to be demanding and endlessly catered to.
 

“Yeah, I was thinking the same thing,” I say, bringing my cell phone up to my ear to listen to the voicemail from a few minutes earlier.

Ali drops down in the chair, legs stretched out. “Hurry up. I’m so hungry.”

“Oh, my.” I grin at the voicemail on my phone.
 

“What is it?” Ali perks up.
 

“Colin called. Hold on.” I raise my hand to stop her so I can listen to the end of his message.

Ali watches me as if trying to read my expression.
 

“Well?” she asks, anxiously, when I put the phone down and don’t comment.
 

“
Well
, he said he saw my number in his missed calls list and was sorry he wasn’t there to pick up.”
 

“That’s it?” Ali seems disappointed.
 

“He wants to take me out to dinner. So it worked quite nicely—just like Caroline suggested.”

“What did she tell you?”

“Not to call after that one time. She said he would see the missed call from me and if he’s really interested, he will call.”

“That girl is a genius.” Ali mocks.
 

I snort. “She was right though. I’ll call him back from the restaurant. This way we can just get together for a drink. More casual and less time invested in case he turns out not to be what I expect.”

“Good plan,” Ali agrees. “I have a feeling that he might be a keeper.”

I sigh. “Yeah, you said that about Rich too.” My voice carries an accusatory note, and I inwardly chastise myself. It’s not Ali’s fault that Rich turned out to be a liar and a cheat.
 

“I know, and I’m sorry. He’s a total douchebag.”
 

We decide on Rudolfo’s—a tiny Italian restaurant in downtown Bellevue, just a few minutes’ drive from our office. It’s the smallest restaurant that I’ve ever known, so we are taking our chances on grabbing a table without reservation during dinnertime. We get lucky and spot one empty table in the corner. It’s getting dark outside, and the heavy rain that had started about six days earlier continues its assault on the city.

“I hate this weather.” I pout, opening the menu.
 

“Yeah. Me too,” Ali murmurs, studying hers.
 

“Honestly, this kind of weather is only good for one thing—indoor sex.” I try to decide between linguini Alfredo and chicken lasagna.
 

“As opposed to an outdoor sex?” Ali asks, impassively.

“I doubt anyone in this boring city ever has outdoor sex. Speaking hypothetically, have you ever seen anyone doing it on Alki Beach or on the beach at Golden Gardens?”
 

Ali gives me a dubious look. “Well, for starters that would qualify as an illegal activity. Secondly—Seattle men in general would view such an idea as absurd. It’s just not done here. Even if you had a very private balcony or a terrace, I bet it would be close to impossible to find a guy who would actually enjoy something as crazy as outdoor sex. And I’m not talking about bums or teenagers, obviously.”

“Obviously,” I agree. “And you’ve got that right. This city is boring. Let’s move to L.A. or New York. You know, we could totally open another location somewhere else and have someone manage the Seattle office.”

“Maybe. If we find a solid person and train them to cover the Seattle market, it shouldn’t be too hard to run both locations.”
 

“I’m telling you—more and more of our clients are like that Esther woman: they don’t effing know what they really want. Their own insecurities prevent them from opening up to others.”
 

“She’s a nutcase. We can’t meet her needs. She doesn’t even know herself what those needs are.”

A twenty-two-year-old waiter, Giuseppe, walks over to our table. There is a sincere smile on his face. “Ali! Natalie! How wonderful to see you,” he exclaims. He’s not a super-big guy or particularly gorgeous. But his tight-across-chest-and-shoulders black t-shirt can’t disguise the fact that he has a lean, firm body. And there is something electrifying and undeniably sexy about him.
 

He pours water into our glasses from a huge glass pitcher. “I missed you, ladies. It’s been too long.” Giuseppe means he missed Ali.
 

Ali and Giuseppe have a past—a very steamy past. It ended a few months ago, after he wanted to spend more time with her and kept inviting her to his family gatherings. Ali wasn’t ready to settle down and didn’t care much for his loud, obnoxiously curious relatives. They parted ways in a civilized manner and remained something close to friends.
 

“Good to see you too, darling.” Ali stands up and hugs him. She lingers more than she normally would.
 

I notice that his grin disappears, replaced by a longing expression. It vanishes as soon as Ali pulls away.
 

He clears his throat and says, “I will give you a minute to decide, unless you’re ready.”

“Oh, we are ready.”
 
I chuckle. “To order, I mean.”
 

His eyebrows shoot up, and his eyes twinkle with delight. “That I don’t doubt.” He chortles.

We order, and Giuseppe walks toward the kitchen. I can’t help but keep my eyes glued to his small, very tight butt.
 

“Too bad you’ve dated him,” I say to Ali, trying to keep a sudden yearning out of my voice.
 

She drinks her water and gurgles something that sounds like a ‘why’ into her glass, her eyes going large.
 

“Because he’s a total babe. I wouldn’t mind exploring that yumminess,” I comment matter-of-factly.
 

Ali nonchalantly shrugs. But when she says, “Go for it. I don’t mind, you know that,” I don’t hear enough conviction put into that statement.
 

“Oh, you dummy. It would be really awkward. No way am I doing a guy that you had a
thing
with before. You know the rules.”

She blows a raspberry. “That
thing
is so over. And hell with the rules. If you like him—”

“Nah,” I interrupt. “It was my hoo-ha speaking and not my brain.”

She grins. “Davenport, you need to get laid. Tonight.”

“I
always
need to get laid.” I grin right back at her.
 

“Hey, weren’t you supposed to call the radio station guy back?”
 

“Oh, crapiola. I almost forgot. Well, I don’t want to be rude and call now—”

She makes a dismissive gesture and a ‘pfftt’ sound. “Please. Prudish is hardly your nature. Call him, quick.”
 

I take my cell phone out and dial. Waiting for Colin to pick up is unnerving. I’m about to hang up when I hear his slightly raspy voice, “Hello?”

“Hey, Colin,” I make sure to speak rather blasé, as if my heart isn’t racing at a hundred miles an hour.
 

“Natalie.” Oh, Lord, he actually sounds totally pleased and surprised. Okay, score one for
moi
.
 

“So, yeah… good to hear your voice.” That’s a completely honest statement on my part. “What’s going on with you?”

“You wouldn’t believe it.” No, I couldn’t believe that just a few words into a conversation, and the guy makes me feel so welcome, so… well, as if we knew each other and talked all the time. Wow. “I was just thinking about you. I was afraid you wouldn’t call me, and so I was actually getting up the nerve to call
you
.”
 

“Really? Do you have my number? Oh, wait. You saw it in your missed calls list, right?”

“Erm… well. Yeah, I did.” He laughs. “But I already swiped it from the radio ad contract.” He sounds guilty.
 

“Oh, no worries.” It’s my time to laugh. “Sneaky though.” I wink at Ali.

“Yeah, I know. What are you doing? Do you want to grab something to eat?”
 

“I’m having dinner with Ali. How about a drink later?” I say in, what I hope is a cheerful, but not too eager, tone.
 

“Sure. What time works for you?” He doesn’t seem disappointed. Phew, good.
 

“In two hours or so. We are still in Bellevue, and I need to drive back home to Seattle. Do you have a place in mind?” I let him decide.
 

“Let’s see… do you know Motto Bar and Grill downtown?”

“Heard of it, but never been.”

“I think you might like it. Cool place, good people, awesome beer.”

“Sounds fine.” I shrug.
 

“That’s actually their motto. You know?
Motto
Bar and Grill? And that’s written on the wall above the bar,” he explains.

I giggle. “No way.”

“I’m serious. So okay, where should I pick you up?”

“Well…” I stall. “I’ll drive myself. Or rather I’ll take a taxi from home, since I don’t drive after drinking.”
 

There is a brief silence. Brief, but I notice it, because suddenly the temperature seems to drop twenty degrees around me. He recovers quickly. “That’s a remarkable rule. I actually subscribe to it too.”

“But you suggested that you would pick me up. So you weren’t planning on drinking that
awesome beer
they advertise?”

“I was planning to pick you up in a taxi. I never drink and drive.” Colin sounds… withdrawn? Definitely serious, cold even. But there is something more in his voice. It stops me for a moment, but I decide not to dwell on that right now.
 

I motion to Ali to give me her cell phone.

“That’s good to know,” I say, inclining my head, as if he could actually see me. I type the ‘Motto Bar and Grill’ into Google on Ali’s phone to grab the address.
 

“I’m looking forward to seeing you tonight.” There is a change in his voice again. It gets a bit velvety. Or is that my imagination? Maybe my vagina switched places with my ears again.
That
is very possible.
 

Ali and I finish our dinner, and I get up to leave. She decides to hang out a bit longer.
 

I smirk at her and say, “You’re so not over him.”

“Oh, yes. I am. At least in the sense that you’re implying,” she whispers in my ear while giving me a hug.
 

“Then what are you doing?” I ask, looking into her eyes.
 

She glances away, a small smile playing on her lips. When she looks back at me, she tries to grin but fails. Her face is sad instead.
 

“What’s wrong? Ali?” I sit back down.
 

Ali sits too. She bites her lip. “Brian met someone. He says it’s serious, so we… you know, we can’t continue our little
relationship
.”

“Your sex-buddy Brian?” I whisper, glancing around. The restaurant is very small, and I don’t want to risk other patrons overhearing us. But a guy at the table right next to us glances up and presses his lips together, trying to contain a grin. Oh, great.
 

“Yep. The same one.”

“You seem upset. Ali, that was supposed to be a practical thing based on sex. A fun and exciting thing with set rules and strong boundaries, right? That’s what you always tell me.” I sit back down, feeling my brows knit together in concern.
 

She puffs out her cheeks and exhales. “Yeah, it is. It was. I just wasn’t ready to let him go. I’m not emotionally involved—”

“A-ha, I see you’re not,” I interrupt.
 

“Nat, it’s not that. It really isn’t.”

“Then what’s going on?”

Ali takes a deep breath and exhales with force. She glances around, and then back at me. “Look, nothing emotional. At least not like a love thing. No, not with Brian. I just… I don’t want to deal with this mess. It was comfortable; I like him and trust him. To find someone like Brian is really hard.”