The Dating Experiment (The Experiment, #2)(22)

“Yep. But, I did it. I found him his dream…man? Woman?” I paused. “What’s the correct way to refer to them?”

She frowned. “I think it’s him when they’re, you know, themselves, and her when they’re…well, dressed up.”

Where was the real-life Chandler Bing when you needed them?

“Makes sense.” I nodded again. “Why are you here late?”

“Late appointments. I’m about to leave. Why are you here?”

“Warren canceled our second date. He’s stuck at work out of town.” I shrugged a shoulder. “And since Dom is on his second date with Rachael, I figured I could come in and get some stuff done since I’m useless at working from home.”

Peyt jerked her head in agreement. “It’s hard. But, hey. At least you have, what? Two? Three hours here before he’ll get back?”

“Enough time to eat and do what I gotta do.”

“You want me to stay and hang out with you for a while?”

“It’s okay. We’ll just end up streaming Friends on Netflix which would make my trip here counterproductive.” I grinned. “But, thanks.”

“Okay. In that case, I’m going home to run a hot bath and order pizza since I didn’t eat yet.” On that, she leaned over the desk and swiped a slice out of my box. “Thanks, love you, bye.” She shoved the slice in her mouth before she’d even opened the office door.

I glared at her back, but I couldn’t help smiling.

Hey—I felt like crap, but tonight, I’d made someone happy. And that was what my job was about.

Making people happy.

Even if I struggled to find happiness myself sometimes.

***

“Chloe!”

My name was a faint cry thanks to the headphones in my ears. I pulled one out and looked up, jumping when I saw it was Dom.

“Jesus, Dom. What are you doing here?” I asked, pressing my hand to my chest.

“I was going to ask you the same question. It’s nine o’clock on a Saturday night. Are you working?”

I nodded. “I had nothing else to do, so I thought I’d get some work done.”

He rubbed his hand across his forehead. “I have questions.”

“I have leftover pizza,” I offered.

“Leftover pizza? Can’t have that.” He pulled my client chair out so he could sit down and reached for the closed box.

“Don’t get too excited,” I said, pulling out the other earbud and pausing Shawn Mendes. “There are only two slices left.”

“Pizza is pizza,” he said, folding one slice in half and shoving it into his mouth like a savage. “Eye ‘oo ‘orkin’? ‘At abou’ date?”

I assumed that meant, “Why are you working? What about your date?” in the highly challenging language of English.

“Warren had to cancel yesterday. Got caught up with some work stuff out of town, so we took a raincheck.” I shrugged the same way I had when I’d told Peyton. “Why are you here? Aren’t you supposed to be on your date? Or are we living parallel lives where we both get canceled on?”

Dom laughed, shaking his head. “Nah, I’ve already been on it.”

I blinked at him for a minute. “You said it was nine.”

“We had dinner. Who eats dinner at nine at night?”

I waved my hand at him finishing my pizza.

“No. Not dinner. This is a snack.” He held up the folded slice as if to emphasize his point. “I already had dinner. A snack, Chloe. A very tasty snack.”

“All right, I get it. It’s a snack. But that doesn’t explain why you’re here.”

“Do you want a play-by-play of the whole night?”

Couldn’t think of anything worse, if I was honest. “Not particularly. I just think you’re back early.”

“We got done with our first date about this time.”

I rolled my eyes. “First dates are a different story.” I finished the last of my sangria and threw the cup into the trashcan. “They’re supposed to be shorter. You’re getting to know each other. Second dates should just be… longer. I don’t know. Eat dinner and then go dancing—”

“I don’t dance,” Dom said firmly.

“Lies. I’ve seen you do the Macarena.”

“Only because I lost a bet to Peyton when I was fifteen. She deliberately requests that song at all our family get-togethers.”

It was true. I couldn’t remember the details of the bet, but I remember him being stupidly confident that he wouldn’t have to do the Macarena at every party ever, and that he’d be able to revel in smugness as he made his sister do it.

“Okay, but that’s still funny.” I fought a smile.

“I don’t dance by choice,” he corrected himself. “Is that good enough?”

“It’ll do. Still, you could have gone for a walk, grabbed a coffee, a cocktail to walk through the square with…”

Dom sighed and put down the last slice of pizza. “What are you getting at?”

“Nothing!”

“You fish any harder and you’re gonna reel in a goddamn shark,” he grumbled.

“I’m just saying that you’re home early from your date.” I held out my hands. “If something went wrong, you may as well tell me. You’re going to have to eventually.”