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CHAPTER EIGHT
AFTER SHE SAT down at the table, latte cup warming her hands, Marsie noticed her date had the most beautiful eyes. They were big and round and dark. He had the same nice smile from his profile picture. And nicely shaped fingernails.
“Thanks for meeting me for coffee over on this side of town,” her date, Trevor, said. “I’ve got to be at work in a couple hours. I’ll need the caffeine.”
“You’re an emergency room doctor, right?” Trevor—BigPappi82 in his profile—had scored a 90 upon first pass, which was off the charts. She had known, theoretically, that someone could score so highly in their profile, without needing an email conversation boost, but hadn’t expected it to happen. Judging by his profile alone, he was worth driving across town for.
“Right. Got the scrubs in the car. They’re not really date worthy.”
“No, they’re not,” she agreed. “But I always like watching those hospital shows on TV, so it would’ve been okay.”
He was wearing a white button-down and slacks, all of which looked nice on him. But she’d bet the traditional blue scrubs looked nice on him, too. In his pictures, his dark skin had made all the colors of his clothes pop. He probably looked nice in most things.
Then she chuckled, and he looked curiously at her. “I’m not laughing at you, but at a similarity. On the past couple dates I’ve been on, I’ve felt out of place in my work clothes. So I have date outfits hanging in my office now.”
“You do research, right? What are your work clothes like?”
She took a sip of her latte and lowered her mug. “Nothing special. Not a uniform, like you have, but I like to wear suits while at work. Which makes me the most formal-looking person at happy hour.”
“I’ll bet you look nice.” He smiled at her, and she waited for butterflies. Or a tingle. Or the desire to lean into his space. Something like she felt when she was with Jason.
On the computer screen, Trevor was perfect. There was no way Jason could score 90 in her algorithm. Not that she would ever score Jason. He was her friend, not a prospective date.
She and Trevor fell into an easy conversation, talking about work and years in schooling and travel and the books they’d read until his phone buzzed. He started, then reached, flipped his phone over on the table so they could see the time.
“Sorry about that,” he said, swiping the alarm off. “I set an alarm for when I needed to leave for work. You know, in case this date went so well that we lost track of time. I’m always hopeful.” He looked a little embarrassed to have been caught being optimistic.
“It’s cute. And it’s something I would do.” She crumpled her napkin and pushed back from the table, pausing before reaching for her cup and saucer.
Not once did warmth at how cute the alarm was flood her. It was like looking at something overwhelming happen to someone else on television.
“Should we see each other again?” he asked as they walked to the bussing station. “I mean, I know I’d like a second date.”
“Yeah,” she said. “That would be nice.”
They hugged at the door to the coffee shop. It was nice. A bit like hugging Beck, but nice.
“I’ll text you about setting up another date. Won’t be until my shift is over and I’ve had a good nap, but I won’t forget. We seem compatible.”
Compatible was not an exciting word, and it fell flat on her ears, but she didn’t have an argument against it. They did seem compatible, which was better than anyone else she’d been on a date with so far. “Sure. Have a good shift. I wish you peace and quiet.”
“Durham on a Sunday night is a toss-up, but I appreciate the thoughts.”
With a wave, he walked off to his car. She watched him go.
Compatible. Not sexy, but good enough for a second date, right? Though she’d hoped for more. Trevor was so perfect.
On paper.
* * *
JASON SLID INTO one of the chairs lined up auditorium-style in the building’s largest conference room. It didn’t fit all the company’s employees, which meant it was always interesting to see who came to the live this-is-the-company report and who watched it on WebEx. He’d been with the company long enough to know that it wasn’t the same crowd every time—and that it wasn’t just the new people who showed up, thinking they had to be seen in person.
