The Magnolia Chronicles: Adventures in Modern Dating(5)

"You're a sports girl, aren't you, Margene?" he asked, sliding his copy of the receipt into his wallet with care.

That he recalled this detail but not my name was amazing.

"A bit, yeah," I hedged. I didn't want to agree to anything.

"There's a bar around the corner." Bahhhh. His old-school Boston townie accent flared to life with that comment. "Good spot to catch the game."

Of course, I wanted to catch the game but there was no justification for spending another minute with this guy. With my luck, he'd get the wrong idea and stick his tongue down my throat. Couldn't have that.

"I wish I could." I stood and shrugged on my raincoat. "My dog has been home alone all day. I have to get back and take him out for a walk."

"You have a dog? What kind?"

I swallowed a sigh. My dog was in my dating app photo with me. Truly, he was everywhere. My holiday cards, my Instagram, my lock screen, my key chain. Everywhere. "A Boston Terrier," I said, moving toward the door. "He has some health problems and requires medication at a certain time, so I really should go. It was great meeting you."

He grabbed my shoulder—despite my obvious movement away from him—and pulled me into a one-armed hug. "Yeah, you're not too bad."

Not too bad. I couldn't tell whether he meant that as some sort of sarcastic endearment or he was being transparent about his assessment of me. "Mmhmm," I murmured, shaking out of his hold. My mother wasn't going to hear the end of it for swiping on this guy. "Thanks for, um—thanks."

We paused outside the restaurant, me pretend-busy with finding my keys and him tapping out a message on his phone. I smiled up at him, feigning some exaggerated frazzle as I rooted around in my bag. My fingers were folded around my keys but I wanted him to leave first. We couldn't walk together in painful, awkward silence until one of us reached our destination. Couldn't do it. I needed to be free of this man and I'd do whatever I had to do to make my escape.

"Okay, yeah," he murmured, flashing the peace sign. "I'm out."

He took two backward steps in the direction I meant to go. Forcing down a groan, I waved at him. "Have a good night."

Walking five minutes out of my way to get back to my truck was worth it. A few extra steps never hurt and it gave me a chance to burn off a bit of frustration. I ducked into a corner market and bought a black cherry seltzer for the thirty-minute drive from downtown Boston to my aunt's house in Beverly.

I'd lived there for several years but it was still Aunt Francesca's house. There was some whomp-whomp associated with being thirty-four and subletting from your aunt. It didn't matter that she'd moved to New Mexico or that I'd renovated the place from top to bottom. It wasn't mine.

It was quiet here in the suburbs and I liked it. I got my fill of the city during the day and I liked coming home to my quiet neighborhood. The driveway helped too. Parking in Boston was on par with an Amazing Race challenge, and there was nothing more comforting than a dedicated spot.

Slowing as I approached the stone bungalow, I noticed a string of box vans and pickup trucks on the opposite side of the street. People streamed in and out of the old Cape-style home, and every interior light was illuminated.

The house had been vacant for almost a year and neglected for several decades before that. It needed a ton of work. I knew because I lived across the street, but I'd also tried to convince my architect friend Riley to take it on as a pet project. He declined. He was busy working on multimillion-dollar mansions and centuries-old brownstones and didn't have time for a cookie-cutter Cape with wood paneling. Not that I blamed him. If given the choice between a high-budget roof garden in Beacon Hill and a tiny backyard redesign in Marshfield, I was taking the roof garden and I wasn't even going to complain about parking.

Now it looked like a team of flippers were fixing up the Cape. With any luck, they weren't tearing it down to the ground. More and more, house flippers razed houses rather than working with the original structures. They'd rip it all down, build on the old foundation, and leave the character and charm at the curb.

One of the men waved from the sidewalk. It was late, and though it was March and spring should've been springing, the temperature hovered around freezing. But he seemed immune to this cold snap in his jeans and hoodie. I lifted my hand in response before turning into my driveway.

I didn't have the energy for neighborly chatter tonight. Once the weekend rolled around, I'd bake some Portuguese sweet bread and introduce myself. With any luck, they'd spill the beans on their plans for the Cape.





Chapter Two





Dating App Guy 1: Hi, sweetie.

Magnolia: Hello.

Dating App Guy 1: Tell me something.

Magnolia: Okay…anything in particular?

Dating App Guy 1: What do you do for fun?

Magnolia: I'm all about the Sox, the Pats, the Celts, the Bs. I like gardening and beer. I like the idea of traveling but I don't do much of it.

Magnolia: What about you?

Dating App Guy 1: I like blowing my load all over your face.

Magnolia: Excuse you what?

Dating App Guy 1: Your face makes me think about blow jobs.

Magnolia: Oh, really?

Dating App Guy 1: You can't be cute like that and think I won't want to cum all over your face.