Page 383 of The Doctors Will See You Now

I occasionally dated. And sometimes, if I’d really enjoyed the guy’s company, one date would turn into more. But for the most part, the train tracks I was following were more like a monorail.

Prior to Nick Raines, the time of death of my last casual date was over six months ago. His name was Barry, and he owned three commercial car washes throughout LA and Malibu. We weren’t a match made in franchise heaven.

So, I guess, really, Nick’s inexperience was a remarkable mirror image of my own. I just thought I knew how to play the game. Not to mention, it was pretty fucking adorable that he was willing to openly discuss the barren qualities of his past. Most men would be grunting about what a sex god they were as they chatted up some other woman at the bar and forgot all about me.

Nick was humble. Grounded. Between his career and his daughter, he looked like he had his shit together. Color me impressed. And intrigued.

Nick: I get it if you’ve blocked my number at this point. But I’m really sorry, Charlotte. I think you’re funny and fun and quite possibly have the best laugh I’ve ever heard.

He liked my laugh? Liked it?

Good God, if I called my mother right now, she’d tell me to marry this one.

Me: Apology accepted and appreciated. So, besides being surprised and flattered, what else are you?

Nick: Wondering. If you’ll have lunch with me.

Me: I have a meeting with a client at 3, but other than that, I’m fairly flexible with my schedule.

Nick: How about noon?

Me: Is this, like, a date?

A once-burned woman confirms. Remember that.

Nick: That depends.

Me: On what?

Nick: Fleetwood Mac’s Sex Pants. ;) I’m kidding. This is definitely a date.

A date with Nick? Yes, please!

I couldn’t stop myself from fist-pumping the air.

Me: Hahahaha Okay. How about I meet you at your office at noon, and you can wine and dine me at the cute little deli up the street from your office?

Nick: Please tell me you’re talking about Mitch’s…

Me: Of course. It’s only the best goddamn deli in the city.

Nick: Okay. Mitch’s, “the best goddamn deli in the city”? Now you’re speaking my love language. It’s a date.

My heart fluttered.

Me: Perfect. See you then.

One tap of my index finger to the screen and I hit send. Unfortunately, as the message disappeared and the screen cleared to home, time glared in my direction. Shit. It was half past nine, and I hadn’t even put a dent into today’s to-do list.

You better work, bitch.

After barreling through half of Monday’s work responsibilities, and micromanaging the other half to my assistant, Laura, I managed to slip out of the office a little later than I’d planned, but still in enough time to arrive at Nick’s office only ten minutes after twelve.

When I stepped through the doors of his waiting room, two things stood out. Though, to be fair, one was decidedly more of a sore thumb than the other. Nick’s perky receptionist, Jenna, was very familiar and showed no signs of sore thumbs at all.

But the two men holding cameras and filming footage of reception…well, they were all swollen up.

What the fuck? Was there some kind of emergency?