Chapter 3

CHAPTER 3

T his is a disaster.

Cassie sat across from her fourth date in as many days. On Thursday she met with Jim, the thirty-five-year-old car salesman. Thirty-five her ass. If the guy had been under fifty she'd lick the urinal in the men's bathroom at the bus stop. Age hadn't been the only thing ol' Jim had fibbed about. Throughout the night she'd discovered his entire profile was one big lie to lure women.

Strike one.

Friday she'd been hopeful when her date with Kevin had been going well. He seemed nice, interesting, honest . Over a few drinks, they'd chatted about their jobs, hobbies, and families. Everything seemed to be clicking into place. The guy had been pretty cute. They even agreed on politics. Definite husband material. Unfortunately, he also owned three cats that he loved so much he carried around pictures in his wallet. Cute, but she had severe allergies to felines.

Strike two.

Last night had been the disaster that was Bryce the Blowhard. Seriously, the guy had Grade A Tool written all over him. She noticed it the minute they sat down and his stupid mouth refused to close for twenty minutes. Ooooh, he was a doctor saving lives every damn day. The guy was a podiatrist. How much foot cancer did the world have? She would guess she uttered no more than five sentences the whole night.

Strike three.

Which brought her to tonight. Here she was again, waiting on date four and hoping she hadn't struck out. How had she let Charlie set her up with multiple dating sites? Oh right, she was desperate. Darn Gran, the silly old bat. Cassie loved her, but what the hell?

It still boggled her mind that her grandmother put such an archaic addendum in her will. Gran had been a little old fashioned in her thinking, but this? It wasn't 1950. Women could own land, open credit cards in their name, and live in fricking houses all by themselves without needing a husband.

"'Nother hot date?"

A very dirty martini slid into view. Cassie lifted her gaze to see Del smiling down at her, his short, light brown hair mussed as if he couldn't be bothered to run a brush through it after a long night of…whatever it was he did. She didn't want to think about it too hard. Dark stubble lined his jaw, just long enough to be classified as sexy, not scraggly. Light blue eyes sparkled with amusement. Laughing at her? Probably.

Jackass.

"Go away, Del."

"Uh-uh, you forgot something." He nodded to the drink.

Knowing her date would arrive any moment, she rushed through the stupid phrase she had to repeat every time he brought her a drink. Only a week to go paying up the stupid bet. Seven days never seemed so far away. She could just go elsewhere for her dates, but she liked being somewhere familiar, somewhere safe. Most of the guys she'd been meeting were coming over from bigger cities like Denver.

The corner of Del's lips curved into a smug grin. "I do love hearing you call me a god."

"Yeah, well don't get used to it. The bet is over in a week." She took a sip of her drink and sighed.

"Good?"

Narrowing her gaze at his haughty grin she pointed a finger at him. "Don't play humble. You know it is. The phrase is ridiculous, but it's true. You do make the best drinks around."

"Sometimes a guy just likes hearing he's the best a woman's had."

He gave her that infuriating wink she found both annoying and sexy. Ugh, why did the Jackson DNA have to hold such attractive genes? Del annoyed her to the ends of the earth, but she couldn't deny the guy was one fine piece of man candy. Even as a kid he'd been too cute for his own good. Only two years behind her and Charlie, she remembered how Del had all the teachers eating out of the palm of his hand.

Late on an assignment? Del just gave his best puppy dog eyes and got an extension. Failed a test? A small sob story, a little sucking up, and he'd get a re-test. The guy had always skated through life with a wink and a grin.

She opened her mouth to blast him, but the door to the distillery opened. Lando—yes that was his actual name—stepped through the open door. The guy looked shorter than he claimed in his profile, but at least his face matched his picture. When he glanced about the room, Cassie raised her arm to wave. He smiled, waving back, and headed her way.

As he approached the table, Del crossed his arms over his chest, brow rising. "Seriously? Number four? What the hell is going on Cassie?"

Pasting a smile on her face, she spoke through clenched teeth. "None of your business. And don't scare this guy off like you did last night."

"You mean Bryce the Tool?"

Oh crap, he had been a tool. "Yes. Just get us drinks and leave us alone."

"Whatever you want. Far be it from me to try and protect you from a jackass."

At the unexpected bite in his tone, she glanced at him. Okay, yeah, Bryce had been a jerk, and she'd admit—to herself and never out loud—it had been nice to have Del stand up for her, but she didn't need a hero. She needed a husband. And she'd never get one if she couldn't get through a first date.

"Del, I…" Unable to explain her insane predicament, she faltered. "Just be nice."

"I will if he will."

Dear God, she was dealing with a child.

Lando arrived at the table grinning from ear to ear. "Wow. You're hot."

"Um, thanks."

"I should have said beautiful, right?" He smacked a hand against his forehead. "Sorry, you're beautiful, too. I'm just not used to people actually looking like their profile pic."

Del glanced at her, raising one dark eyebrow. "Profile pic?"

She ignored Del and smiled at Lando. "You look exactly like your picture."

"Yeah." He shrugged with a sheepish grin. "I may have fudged on the height an inch or two."

Or five, but that didn't matter. Being on the short side herself, she never cared if a man matched her height or rose above. Who wanted a crick in the neck anyway?

"Why don't you sit down and have a drink?"

Lando took a seat across from her, a goofy grin on his face. The guy seemed sweet, if a little socially awkward.

"What can I get for you, sir?"

Lando glanced up at Del, who towered over the guy, sitting or standing. "I'll have a club soda with lime."

Martini halfway to her lips, Cassie paused. "Don't you want something stronger?"

"Oh no. I don't drink."

Confused, she placed her glass back on the table. "Then why did you agree to meet at a bar?"

"Because you wanted to."

Oh. Well, that was...sweet. She guessed.

"We can go somewhere else if this makes you uncomfortable."

He waved a hand in the air, the goofy grin still on his face. "Oh no, it's not a problem or anything. I just can't handle my booze. One sip and I'm throwing up chunks in the bathroom."

There was an image she'd rather not have. "If you're sure?"

He motioned to her drink, which didn't seem as appealing anymore.

"I'll be right back with that club soda." Del smiled at Lando and headed back to the bar, but not before giving Cassie a wink and obnoxious thumbs up.

An hour later, she'd finished her martini and would sell her prized Prada shoes for another. Lando was a nice guy, but they were not compatible in any way. Too bad she couldn't seem to get that through to him. Her cheeks hurt from the forced smile she'd been holding the last hour. When he finally left the table for a short bathroom break, she caught Del's eye and waved him over.

He sauntered toward the table like he had all the time in the world. He might, but she didn't.

"Problem, Sassy?"

Ignoring the cursed nickname, she glared. "Yes, actually. I need another drink, make it a double, and I need you to get me out of this."

"Scare off your date? But I thought you wanted me to just be nice ."

Why did the entire male species have to be a pain in her ass lately? Were there no decent men left?

"I don't want you to haul him out on his ass or anything. He's an…okay guy. We just don't click."

Del crossed his arms. "Then tell him that."

"I tried." She dropped her head into her hands. "He said every woman says that at first. He claimed it takes a while to get used to him."

"Maybe it does. Why don't you give him a chance?"

Lifting her head, she glanced to make sure her date was still in the bathroom. "He just spent the last forty-five minutes explaining why Star Wars is the best movie ever."

"Hey." Del lifted a hand to point at her. "Star Wars is awesome."

"I agree, it's a good movie, but he takes it a little more seriously than a normal person."

Del laughed. "He's a bit of a geek. No problem. Geeks are in now."

"His real name is Steven. He changed it to Lando when he turned eighteen."

Cocking his head to the side, Del's brow rose. "Oh…that's—"

"Weird, right?"

Del shrugged. "Maybe he's just a big fan?"

"According to Lando , he's the number one fan in the galaxy." Wondering why life suddenly had the urge to kick her while she was down, she grabbed Del's arm. "He wants to have a Star Wars-themed wedding with an actual Jedi Master performing the ceremony. I can't get married as Princess Leia!"

Shoulders shaking, obviously trying to hold back laughter, Del grinned. "But you'd look so good in those cinnamon buns."

"I'm serious, Del. He's a nice guy, but he won't take a gentle no, and I don't want to hurt his feelings by being mean. So get me a drink and figure out a way to scare him off. Nicely," she added, not wanting to upset the poor guy. He might be oblivious, but he wasn't a jerk.

"Don't worry, Cassie." Del patted her hand, removing the death grip she had on his wrist. "I'll make it seem like it's his idea to leave."

"Thank you."

Del disappeared back behind the bar. She watched as he pulled down the vodka to make her drink. His hands worked, flipping the shaker, catching it, digging into the ice, pouring the liquor with the finesse only years of working could achieve. Beautiful to watch, like a dance. The play of skill in his hands entrapped her, the flex of muscle as he shook the shaker with vigor.

A tingle warmed low in her belly, a flush rising over her body. Watching Del was almost like—

"I'm back."

What? Oh right, her date. She mentally berated herself. Yes, Del was good looking and watching him make a drink was almost an art form, but she was on a date. One she hoped Del would interrupt and ruin soon. That didn't give her the right to ogle him like some sex-starved maniac. He was her best friend's little brother. There was so much wrong with that, she didn't even know where to begin.

"Man, they must crank the AC in that bathroom. It was colder than Hoth."

She forced a smile as Lando chuckled at his own joke. Wanting to give it one more try, she asked, "So, Lando. What else do you enjoy? Besides Star Wars."

He blinked, as if no one had ever asked him that question. "Oh, well, I'm not a Star Trek guy, but have you seen Battlestar Galactica?"

Holding in her groan, she shook her head. "Actually, I'm not into sci-fi. I'm more of a horror kind of girl."

"Oh," he shuddered. "I don't like that death and serial killer stuff."

Lots of people died in Star Wars. "I guess we aren't that compatible then."

"No, no, no." He shook his head, practically lunging across the table. "I think we totally click."

Really? Was he on the same date as her?

"Yeah," he continued, reaching out to grasp her hand in his sweaty palm. "I think if you just give it a chance, you'd like sci-fi."

Seriously?

"You just need someone to explain the plot and stuff to you. Sometimes it's hard for girls to understand all the technicalities of space and stuff."

Whoa! He did not just suggest she watch shows while he mansplained to her, did he? She understood plenty. Hell, she was salutatorian of her graduating class. Space-themed entertainment didn't confuse her; she just preferred frights and blood.

"Lando, I don't think this is going to work."

His grip on her hand tightened. "No, it can. You just have to give it a chance."

How? They barely had anything in common. She knew she needed a husband, but she wasn't this desperate.

"I don't think—"

"Here's that drink you ordered."

She glanced up as Del placed a fresh martini in front of her. "Oh, thank you very much." Motioning to Lando with a slight tilt of her head, she pleaded with her eyes for Del to get her out of this.

A sly smile curled his lips. He winked once before bending down to whisper in a not-quiet-at-all voice. "Also, I talked to Dr. Brooks and he said you can come in tomorrow and he'll prescribe you some antibiotics for that, um, rash situation." His gaze trailed down pointedly to her crotch.

"Rash?" Lando pulled his hand out of hers so fast her head spun.

Face burning, she narrowed her eyes, staring at Del.

"Oh, the doctor said that, did he?" she asked between clenched teeth.

"Yup. Oh, and he said the sores should heal up in a week or so but don't engage in any bedroom activity until the oozing stops."

Her friendship with Charlie was over, because she was going to kill her best friend's little brother.

"Um, I, ah just remembered a thing I have to do." Lando jumped up from the table, tripping over his chair in his haste to get away. "Thanks for the night… I'll call you."

The man practically ran for the door. Once he left, she turned to Del who doubled over, hand over his mouth to hold in his laughter.

"An STD? Seriously, Del? That's the best you could come up with?"

"Hey," he held up his hand. "You told me to make it his idea. What makes a person run faster than the threat of syphilis?"

"You're an asshole, Delta Jackson. And I'm not paying for this drink." She tipped back her martini, enjoying a very healthy gulp.

"On the house," he replied, taking a seat in the recently vacated chair across from her. "If you tell me why you've been Dana-Dates-A-Lot lately. Do you really need a husband that bad?"

She knew if she explained her situation to Del he wouldn't understand. She barely did. But still, the two martinis and four failed dates short-wired her brain and she found herself opening her mouth and spewing out explanations.

"Yes, I do. My grandmother put a stupid stipulation in her will that I needed to be married to gain ownership of the house or it goes to my deadbeat cousin who's already married to an equally useless pile of crap, and I only have six months to do it. So yes, Del. I need a fricking husband."

He leaned back in his chair, the picture of relaxation. "You got money. Why don't you just buy a new house?"

True. She had a sizable inheritance from both her parents' passing. In truth, she didn't need to work, but lazing about all day had never been her thing.

"That's not the point. Of course, I could go out and buy any house I wanted, but it wouldn't be Gran's house. It wouldn't be my house."

He eyed her like she was losing it. "It's just a house, Cassie."

He would think that.

"It's my home." She waved a hand in the air. "Nevermind. I wouldn't expect you to understand."

"Understand what?"

"The sentimentality."

An image rose of her and her parents at Christmas time. They were all in Gran's living room. The tree sparkled, lights and ornaments glowing against the green needles. Soft, white flakes as big as quarters falling just outside the window. She'd been five and it had been their first—and one of the few—Christmases they'd all been together. A magical memory she held in her heart that, to this day, she couldn't remember if it was real or the fantastical yearnings of a young girl.

"The house means something to me, Del. It's more than four walls and a roof. It's family, love, a sense of…purpose." She shook her head. "You don't get it."

Darkness flashed in his eyes, a harsh clench set his jaw. "You don't know me as well as you think, Cassandra." With that he stood, the chair scraping loudly against the wooden floor. "Enjoy the rest of your evening."

Then he turned and left.

A cold, sinking rumble churned in her gut. If she didn't know better she'd think she upset Del. But that was ridiculous. Del never got upset. He was the fun-time guy, the party man. He didn't have feelings. Stupid, everyone had feelings. Had she hurt his somehow?

Guilt-ridden, but not entirely sure why, she ate the olive from her drink, tossing enough cash to cover the tab—the last martini included—because she felt bad for some unknown reason.

Four dates and not a single possibility. This was going to be harder than she thought.