The Date (Single Wide Female in Love #1) (12 page)

“It’s ridiculous to use funny names for body parts. They are what they are. Why can’t we just call them by their name?”
 

“That’s nonsense. It breaks the spell. Romance, even erotic romance, is about fantasy. No woman wants an anatomy lesson in the middle of her smut binge.”
 

“Oh, don’t use that word.” An older woman scrunched up her nose. “That’s so impolite.”
 

“It is what it is.” The younger woman shrugged. Then she looked up at me with a half-smile. “You must be Samantha.”
 

“I am.” I smiled in return. “Sorry to interrupt.”
 

“Oh please do. I don’t think the great anatomy debate can go on much longer without all of us losing our minds. Here, sit next to me.” She gestured to an empty easy chair.

As I sat, I assessed the group. There were six people, not counting myself—three women and three men. One of the men looked to be in his late teens, another might have been in his forties, and a third’s white hair indicated that he might be sixty or more. The three women looked to be about five to ten years apart in age. I was sure I’d get some good advice from people with such a variety of life experience.
 

“Samantha, since you’re new we should probably let you talk first. This group gets off on a tangent and it could be hours before we bring up another topic.”
 

“Thanks.” I smiled at them. “I should tell you right off the bat that I’m not really a romance writer. However, there’s an aspect of my book that is romantic. I’m having a hard time with this part, because, to be honest, I’ve never been in love—not the kind of love that I want to write about. I thought maybe you all could give me some advice on how to write this part of my book without having the personal experience.”
 

All six of the people stared at me with some variation of amusement.

That was not the reaction that I’d expected. I started to wonder if I was in the wrong group.
 

The woman beside me placed her hand lightly on mine and smiled patiently. “Hon, you know that romance isn’t real, right?”
 

“Excuse me?” I laughed a little.

None of their expressions changed.
 

“Samantha, what we write is fantasy.” The man with white hair locked eyes with me. “It’s not meant to be taken seriously. If I wrote about real romance, no one would read my books. No one wants to hear about the arguments or the day-to-day struggle of trying to make a relationship work. I mean, what love comes down to is a chemical misfiring of the brain that doesn’t last.”

Chapter 28

The man’s words hit me hard. What hit me harder was that everyone in the group seemed to agree with him. The entire meeting of romance writers had nothing to do with romance and everything to do with how to sell people on a fantasy that none of them believed could ever be true.

I was more than a little disappointed.
 

“So none of you have been in love?”
 

“Oh sure, I’ve been in love.” The youngest woman smiled. “I’m in love at least once a month.”
 

“I thought I was in love, but it turned out that he was in love with my best friend.” The woman beside me volunteered the information.
 

“I’m sorry that happened.” I frowned.

This was not the inspiration I’d expected. In fact, I was tempted to tell my readers the truth—that no one had ever been in love.
 

“I was in love.” The youngest man of the group spoke quietly. “It was amazing. But it didn’t work out.”
 

“Why not?” I met his eyes.
 

“Because she wasn’t ready to settle down. We were too young, she said. Now she’s married, with a baby on the way.”
 

“You
thought
you were in love.” The older man corrected him.
 

“So you don’t believe that true love exists?” I looked around at each of them.
 

“Let’s put it this way—if it exists, not everyone gets to experience it. That’s what romance novels are for.” The woman beside me smiled. “I hope we helped.”
 

“Thanks.”
 

I sat and listened for the remainder of the meeting, but it was hard for me to stay focused. I felt as if I was a kid again, discovering that Santa Claus wasn’t real. I was a little annoyed that they all made their income selling something that they didn’t even believe in. But I didn’t really blame them either. It was clear that they’d learned from their own personal experiences.

After the meeting, I headed to my date with Spence. It still troubled me to think that I might have been looking for—hoping for—something that didn’t even exist.

Maybe that was why Ben’s way of looking at things was starting to make more sense to me. He wasn’t waiting. He wanted to invest in a woman that he thought would make a good partner. He didn’t care about being in love.

Maybe I needed to take a lesson from Ben.

Still, there was this deep desire in the pit of my stomach that I felt would never be fulfilled by just any man. It had to be the right person. Maybe I needed to be more open about who that right person might be.

I decided that I’d be a little more free with Spence on our date. Maybe if I gave passion a chance, I’d be able to find it.
 

The allure of live music could be heard as I walked up to board the ferryboat. My mind spun with anticipation. Maybe Spence was still not quite who I had in mind, but he had planned an amazing date.
 

“Ready?” He offered me his arm.

I slid my arm through his and we walked up a small metal ramp to the deck of the ship. There were other couples milling about the deck, but most were down below listening to the band.

As the ferry launched, I felt the rocking of the water beneath my feet. It was liberating to be disconnected from solid ground. I grabbed on to the railing and looked out across the water. Spence took the opportunity to drape his arm around my shoulders.

I braced myself. I knew that different types of people had different ways of showing their affection. Spence had only one way—with his hands. He leaned in close under the guise of looking at the moonlight.
 

I said, “It’s beautiful.”
 

“Not as beautiful as you in that dress.” Spence pulled me closer.

A light breeze off the water teased at my hair. He took the ruffle of tendrils as an invitation to nuzzle my neck. I tilted my head away enough to avoid his teeth.
 

“Spence, it’s a nice night. Let’s walk around the deck.” I pulled away from him and began to walk.

Spence followed right after me.
 

“The boat’s only out for so long. I figured we could add to it rocking.”
 

I cringed at the crass words, but reminded myself that I was going to try to let passion happen between us.
 

“You’re so funny, Spence.” I leaned up and tentatively kissed him.

I had to admit that it felt strange to kiss him. It felt amazing in many ways, but it felt strange. I actually felt as if I was cheating. On whom, I wasn’t sure. Blue? Ben? Myself?
 

I didn’t have much time to think about it, as Spence had taken my kiss as a signal to let his hands roam the sensitive areas of my body.

When I felt a jolt of desire rush through me followed by a wave of mind-numbing need, I drew back sharply. I felt like I was getting a little out of control.
 

“Spence, wait.” I pushed his hand away from the hem of the skirt of my dress. “That’s a little fast for me.”
 

“Oh, right, we should eat first.” He grabbed my hand and whisked me into the dining room.

I was relieved to share the meal with him, as it meant he wouldn’t have his hands on me. I was also a little confused by the reaction of my body. Even though I wasn’t sure if I even liked Spence, my body had been more than willing to participate in some kind of passionate something with him. If I hadn’t stopped him—if I’d let myself go with the flow—I was sure it would have led to places I didn’t expect to go on a boat in the middle of a river.

As soon as our meal was over, he led me out to a more private area on the deck.
 

“So, Spence, what are your dreams of the future?”
 

“The only thing I’m dreaming about is your skirt around your—”
 

“Wait, wait!” He already had me pinned back against the railing.

I remembered what Max had said about respect.

“What? We already had dinner.” Spence looked annoyed.
 

“I’m sorry, Spence, but I’m just not going at your speed.”
 

“Lighten up. It’s the way of the world now, doll. Just relax and enjoy it. It’s nothing to take so seriously.”
 

“I do take it seriously.” I met Spence’s eyes. “I’m not interested in any flings.”
 

“I guess we’re not on the same page then. I live my life with passion. I don’t want relationships. I want fun, and as much fun as I can get.”
 

“If that’s your idea of fun, that’s great. My idea is a little different.”

 
“Knitting?”
 

“Getting to know a person. Connecting with them. Building a sense of trust and interest.” I shrugged. “It’s not something everyone enjoys.”
 

“That’s for sure. I wish you had told me that before we got on the boat.” He frowned. “What a waste.”
 

I was more than a little insulted by his words, but I did my best not to take it personally.
 

“Well, don’t let me stop your fun. I’m sure you can find someone to share it with.”
 

“Great.” Spence winked at me and then walked off.

The boat had just made its turn to start back toward the dock. I sighed and looked up at the stars. At least the journey was beautiful, even if the experience hadn’t been what I’d hoped for.

Chapter 29

After my disappointing date with Spence, I decided to become a recluse for a bit. I needed a little time to sit and really think about what I wanted.

For so long my main focus had been falling in love, but I hadn’t really thought about the consequences of that. Once I found the man that I’d be with for the rest of my life, that would be it. There would be no more dating around. Over time, I’d be planning for marriage, possibly children, buying a house—the list was endless.

I did want all of those things, but had I been rushing something I wasn’t ready for?

A part of me wished that I could be more like Spence and follow passion rather than emotion. But I couldn’t imagine ever really enjoying that. I was sure that I needed to be with someone that I truly cared about and felt intense passion for.

I lay awake that night thinking about whether I could ever feel that way with Ben. I really wanted to.

The next evening was my date with Blue.

Blue, just the thought of whom had made a spectacle out of me in meditation class. Blue, who seemed to know every intimate detail about me, except for the fact that I didn’t like being stood up. My heart raced when thoughts of him filled my mind.

I considered not going. It would serve him right to be stood up. But I knew that I wouldn’t be able to resist.

For the longest time Max had been my one great love. Now I had Blue, who kept insisting he felt the same way. I wasn’t willing to miss out on the chance to find out.

It was difficult for me to sleep and it was difficult for me to climb out of bed the next day. By the time I got around to making breakfast my mind was blurry with emotion.

I decided to give Max a call.
 

“How’d it go last night?”
 

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”
 

“Yes I would, actually.”
 

I smiled a little. Max sounded just a tad jealous. It reminded me that he was the one I truly wanted to be with. But I stifled that desire quickly. Max wasn’t an option for me.
 

“I tried to enjoy myself.”
 

“Enjoy yourself?”
 

“Yes. You know—relax, have fun, be a little bit more like you.”
 

“Oh, God.”

“Don’t worry. I didn’t succeed. Spence and I will not be going out again. But the stars were beautiful.”

“I’m glad.”
 

“About what?”
 

“That you stayed true to yourself.”
 

“You sound like a Hallmark ad.”
 

“You know I’m right. So what are you doing today?”
 

I paused. I hadn’t spoken much about my date with Blue to Max. But now I needed him to be my backup yet again.
 

“I have a date.”
 

“With who?”
 

“Blue.”
 

“Oh? When?”
 

“At six. So I might need some moral support when he doesn’t show up again.”

“That’s not exactly the positive attitude I’m used to.”
 

I frowned. “I don’t know, Max. I’m starting to wonder if it isn’t all a fantasy. I guess I’ll find out tonight.”

“I’ll be there.”
 

“Thanks, Max.” I was relieved to know that he would be there for me if Blue stood me up.
 

I didn’t spend a lot of time getting ready. I threw on a comfortable sundress. I applied a smattering of make-up. I kept reminding myself not to get my hopes up. All my non-fuss paid off when, at five after six, I sat all alone at a table at Shannon’s.

It was like déjà vu.

The minutes ticked by, one by one, like a sickening march to my heartbreak. I felt the stares from other people around the restaurant. I saw two of the waitresses whispering to one another. It could have been about anything, but of course, I thought it was about me.

I sank down in my chair. I expected tears to come, but they didn’t. I was too hurt to even summon them.