Page 38 of Satisfaction Guaranteed

“Listen, I hate to say this because I feel like this date has been going really well. But you’re, like, totally out of your mind if you think Will from Love Everlasting was good for Melissa,” Connor says with a scoff, sounding beyond offended at such an opinion. He peers at Alana with a comical amount of seriousness behind his eyes as they walk down the winding sidewalks leading through the park. “Chandler was clearly the better fit.”

Alana chokes on her ice cream cone, licking across the vanilla that smears over her lips. “Oh, whatever. He was a possessive maniac with way too much ego for a man of his stature. You can be 5’5 or narcissistic. You cannot be both.”

Connor snorts. “Oh, don’t do my man like that! Will was tall, sure, but he was passive. Melissa wanted a man that can take charge.” He shakes his head, smiling, and snakes an arm around Alana’s waist as a couple with a dog approaches, gently switching sides so she’s closer to the grass. His locs are illuminated by the street lamps lining the pathways, their warm light haloed around him. Being in close proximity like this meant she could take in the handsome features she wasn’t able to notice on his dating profile. Like the black dots that decorate the width of his nose, or how thick his eyelashes are.

“What is it?” he asks when he catches her eye.

“Oh, nothing,” Alana muses, and licks her ice cream. “Just wondering how a man with such a good side profile can be so wrong about reality dating shows. A little bit of a red flag. You were already on thin ice showing up in a muscle tank.”

He mocks a gasp. “Damn, you’re strict around here. I’ll pull out the suit next time, I promise.” He laughs, and Alana laughs with him.

Their date at Carl’s had gone well. So well that a worker had to notify them they were closing, having gotten lost in conversations about nothing at all. They’d stood outside for a few awkward minutes, all lingering movements and none-too-subtle glances, as each waited for the other to suggest the next steps. It was Connor who had offered the park, with promises of a secret spot with views of the sunset.

He takes her hand to lead her off the sidewalk and up a grassy hill away from the main traffic of the park.

“Are you sure about this?” Alana asks.

Connor winks at her. “Trust me.”

Every late-night crime TV show would beg her to reconsider, but she didn’t die at the hands of an internet stranger the first time, so perhaps the universe will spare making an example out of her this time, too. They trudge up through the grass, and soon, make it to a spacious hilltop.

“I, uh, hope this isn’t too much. Kind of wanted to keep it a surprise and see how you were feeling after ice cream before bringing you.” Connor rubs the back of his neck. “Told you, best view ever, right?”

“This is…” Alana trails off, chest tight.

The grass is lined with blankets, pillows, and an array of flowers and prepackaged snacks. The sun has only just begun to set over their small town, and with it comes the distant sound of cicadas and the flickering illumination of fireflies. No one has ever done anything like this for her before. When had anyone ever brought her flowers on the first date? It’s silly, how her heart patters at the gesture.

“This is so sweet, Connor. It’s beautiful.”

“Okay, good,” he says, his shoulders sagging in relief. “Not going to lie. I’m a little rusty when it comes to romantic stuff. But I’m trying.” He guides Alana to the nest of pillows and blankets, where they both get comfortable. He grabs his phone from his pocket and opens a streaming app. Alana laughs when she sees what show he selects. “They have all the old seasons on here. We’re going to watch them so you can realize how wrong you were about my boy. My short king.”

The two of them lie on their stomachs, pressed shoulder to shoulder. For the second time that night, Alana finds herself falling easily beside him, keen to sink into the warm density of his fur. As the show starts, a smile etches itself into her features.

Maybe romance isn’t as far out of view as she initially thought.

* * *

“That was fun. I regret to inform you that my opinion on Chandler remains, though,” Alana says from her place in front of her apartment door, lips twitching. Her bouquet of thoughtfully selected peonies is in one hand, while her keys linger in the other.

Connor leans against the wall, muscular arms crossed over his chest. His grin widens, and his dark green eyes shine with a sense of joviality. “We are all entitled to our wrong opinions,” he quips. When Alana rolls her eyes at him, the bull laughs in deep, rolling waves. And as that laughter settles, a silence falls in its place.

He’s lingering. His dating profile had been transparent about his preferences. A man who is open to the idea of a relationship but is simultaneously holding the door for a hookup. Normally, it would be nothing for Alana to offer a polite thank you before rushing inside and locking the door behind her. On the off chance she was walked home, it was never with a date that she’d consider letting into her apartment. Tonight, she hesitates. She contemplates.

This is what she wanted. To step out of her comfort zone. To try something new, to have fun, casual sex without heavy expectations. She chews the inside of her cheek. When she looks at Connor, she finds herself longing for something. For a low southern drawl and warm brown eyes that have an infuriating power of seeing through all the intricate details of her. It’s foolish to keep doing this. The whole point of this date was to get her mind right and subsequently get over what she knew was an unattainable desire.

Alana pushes away any thoughts of rumbly laughter or big, calloused hands. She ignores the images of long canines that nick her skin, of words of praise that still keep her up some nights.

“Do you want to come inside?” The question leaves her before she can stop it, and a light finds a path into Connor’s eyes. He grins, bringing a hand forward to tuck beneath Alana’s chin.

“Thought you’d never ask.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

CYRUS

Cyrus comes to terms with the fact that whatever ailment Alana had infected him with isn’t going to go away anytime soon. In fact, the harder he tries to cure it, the worse it gets.

It’d be one thing to mess with him for a few days. One thing to fall victim to the occasional daydream or shower with Alana in mind while he takes himself in hand to work out his frustrations. But now, it’s getting in the way of his work. His job.