The Dating Proposal(8)
“Well, presuming I find anyone to date. But that’s where you all come in.” I gesture to the three of them. “I want you to set me up with any single guys you know.”
And that’s when my friends lose their ever-loving minds. We’re talking cheers, hoots, hollers, and squeals that threaten to wake up Lena.
Turns out, there is little a pack of happily paired-off women love more than setting up the single friend.
Erin claps. “Yay! I have been counting the days on my calendar until you were finally ready to start dating again. And maybe to bang again.”
“I’ll toast to a good banging,” Hayden adds.
Julia pipes up. “Call me crazy, but I’m going to toast to you falling in love.”
A part of me wants to raise a glass right along with her. To say wistfully, Wouldn’t that be something? Because, really, that would have been everything I wanted once upon a time. I was born a romantic, and bred a romantic.
But I’m not one anymore.
No thanks.
No can do.
Getting left at the altar has a way of torching all your fairy-tale dreams.
I threw them in a bonfire last year, watched them burn to the ground and the ashes blow away in the wind.
I might have moved on. I might have held my head high. But I am not interested in love. No falling, no swooning. Not in any way, shape, or form. Been there, done that, and if I hadn’t returned them, I’d have the KitchenAid mixers to prove it.
I am, however, quite interested in having some clever conversations, a few interesting dates, and a good time. I don’t even mean in bed. I’m not looking to get laid. I just want to have fun.
“Love isn’t in the cards. All I want is to spend some time testing the waters, seeing what’s out there, instead of seeing the sad end of my WebFlix queue,” I say.
Julia sighs. “It is sad when you get to the end of a binge and WebFlix doesn’t even know what to serve you next.”
“It’s the saddest.”
Erin leans in conspiratorially. “I already have someone in mind. One of my massage clients at my spa. He works in advertising, and he’s a cyclist. He’s on the Lemonhead team or something. He comes in once a week. He has a perfect body. Not an ounce of fat on him.”
“I can scope out any of the non-alcoholic hotties at my bar,” Julia offers, and I nod my approval, since bartenders meet lots of men. “There are some guys who work at a tech firm nearby who come in for Thursday darts. One of them is quite funny. His name is Nathaniel, so I’ll work on him.”
“I’ll keep my eyes peeled for any attorneys,” Hayden offers.
Then, a voice pipes in, small but strong, from the other side of the kitchen. “What about the FedEx guy at your office?”
Hayden whips her head around. “Lena! What are you doing up?”
Lena smiles innocently. “Well, you always say he is cute . . .”
Hayden scuttles her back to bed, this time shutting the door all the way, and returns to the table.
“So tell us about the FedEx guy,” Erin says with a sly grin.
“All the ladies think he’s a catch. He has blond hair, brown eyes, and these crazy toned arms,” Hayden says, her eyes going a little dreamy.
Reality smacks me with a big old bag of worry-filled bricks. “Wait. Am I even a catch?” I point at myself, and a new dose of fear shimmies down my spine. “What if no one wants to date me? Oh God, I’m an idiot. I’m about to put myself back on the market, and I might get zero takers.”
Hayden squeezes my knee. “Enough with that nonsense. Have you looked at yourself in the mirror lately? You’re a babe, McKenna. You’re tall and thin, and you have great skin.”
Erin flicks my hair. “And you have this lush chestnut hair—which is even hotter than your blonde hair—and crazy, wild bluish-hazel eyes.”
Reflexively, I raise a hand, fingering a lock of my hair. I’m a natural blonde, but a month ago, I went darker, eager for a change. Maybe that was the start of my emergence from hibernation. A brand-new color, one that I never thought I could rock.
“The hair change is bold, and you pulled it off,” Hayden adds then adopts an over-the-top jealous voice. “And now you’re one of those blue-eyed brunettes, which makes you even more rare.”
“Oh please,” I say, but inside I’m loving the compliments. Correction: I’m loving the love from my inner circle.
A hand curls on my shoulder.
“You are McKenna Bell.” It’s Julia. She’s one year younger than I am, and has always been my biggest champion. “You are going to do this. Watch out, men of San Francisco—we have a hot, big-hearted, funny-as-fuck, smart-as-a-whip, and completely awesome woman on the market.”
Later that night, I post the video on the Fashion Hound Instagram account.
When I wake up, it’s gone viral.
Color me surprised.
5
McKenna
The closed sign saddens me. I sigh heavily, shoulders slumping, when I reach Gadgets, Gizmos, and Geeks the next day a few minutes before five. I was really hoping to get this hard drive fixed, and the store is supposed to be open till six.
“Crud muffins,” I mutter, resigning myself to return tomorrow.