5. False Sense of Confidence

5

FALSE SENSE OF CONFIDENCE

K elsey opened the door to a newer pub on the island later that night.

She knew most of the businesses around here, but plenty changed ownership.

Though her father had his finger in more pies than most, he didn't own many food establishments on the island.

She looked around and didn't see Van so decided to just wait a second more before she went to the hostess's table.

"Hey."

She turned and saw him opening the door behind her.

"Hi," she said. "I just got here and didn't see you."

He held two fingers up to the hostess and she nodded back and put them at the table to the right and by the wall.

"I come here a lot," he said.

"I wouldn't have guessed by the comfort level you felt coming in or the way the hostess smiled and then dropped it the minute she realized we were together."

He smirked quickly and then turned when the waitress came over. "I'll have the IPA on tap," he said.

"The same," Kelsey said. When he lifted an eyebrow at her, she asked, "What? Don't I look like the beer-drinking type to you?"

"I'm not sure what you look like to me or what I think."

She laughed. "Good. I like to keep people guessing."

"I bet you're a pro at that," he said.

"Maybe," she said. "I've got to tell you, I didn't think you'd reach out to me at all let alone this soon, though I was hoping."

"I had nothing else better to do tonight," he said.

She smiled. "Gee, thanks. It was between having a drink with an incompetent dog owner or channel surfing? Glad to know I won that one."

"There you go," he said. "Not much of a hard choice if you ask me."

His eyes were taking her in. She'd made sure to put a bit more effort into her appearance since the last time he saw her looking like a lunatic chasing a four-month-old eight-pound puppy down the road waving her arms and yelling.

"I'll take it," she said.

Their drinks were brought back and the server asked if they wanted any appetizers.

"Sure," Van said.

The server put the menu down and then walked away. "Not very friendly, is she?"

He shrugged. "She seems new to me, but I haven't been here that long either."

"You're new to the island but not this establishment?" she asked.

"Sort of. I've been on the island now for about two months, give or take a week. Been coming here the entire time. It's not far from my place and I can get a quiet drink and food."

"I've never been here before," she said. "But I know most places on the island. I do work for a lot of them."

He lifted his eyebrow at her. "You know what I do, what about you?"

"Since you asked so kindly," she said tongue in cheek. She lifted her beer and took a sip, then wrinkled her nose.

"What's wrong with it?"

"Nothing," she said, "I'm not a big beer drinker."

"Then why did you get it?" he asked.

"I didn't know what their wine selection was going to be and didn't want to order a scotch."

No reason to have a big amount on the tab.

She'd planned on paying her share but didn't want to put him on the spot either.

She'd learned from her last years of shitty online dating to let the man make the first move. It'd tell her a lot about how he reacted to things.

"Get what you want," he said. "No reason to choke something down you don't like." When the server came back to get their appetizer order, she got nachos and Van ordered wings. "Do you or don't you want a scotch?"

She liked he didn't just do it for her but rather asked, "I'd like two fingers straight with a glass of water."

"There," he said. "I don't picture you the type that is afraid to speak your mind. Not sure why you didn't just now. Unless you think I can't afford it."

She laughed. "I don't ever want to be that person that goes on a date and orders the lobster dinner with a side of wagyu beef."

He laughed. "If it's what you like, then do it."

"I would if the guy didn't get so pissy about me paying for my half. If I say I'm doing it right away or paying for the dinner, then they are the ones to load it on. I've had men load it on before while I keep it in the middle then at the end want it split. There is no winning if you ask me."

He snorted. "No big meals here," he said. "Drinks and some frozen appetizers."

"Yet you come here often so either you don't have high food expectations, which stinks, or you don't know how to cook."

"I can cook," he said. "I normally come here for a beer and might get a snack. Having a lonely beer at home isn't much fun. Though maybe I should look into this pen pal thing you're talking about."

She liked his dry sense of humor. He wasn't doing a lot of laughing or smiling. More like grunting and snorting.

Before getting Frankie she didn't realize how adorable those noises were.

Even coming from the sexy guy across from her, it wasn't a turn off.

"Well," she said. "I've been on this island most of my life. One thing you will learn is that there are slim pickings when it comes to finding eligible bachelors."

"Since I'm not looking for one, I should be fine," he said.

Her scotch was brought back and she took a sip. She didn't expect anything better than middle of the line stuff and this was far from that too.

It was still better than the beer...something she didn't develop much of a taste for but would choke it down to be polite.

"Not a lot of single women either. They don't come to the island because they know there aren't a lot of men."

"I didn't come here looking to get hitched," he said grunting.

"Good thing for that," she said. "Might take you a while to find someone."

"So that is why you ask strangers out on a date in the middle of the street? Because you've gone through all the other single men on the island?"

She started to cough on her sip of scotch. "No," she said. "This goes back to the pen pal thing."

"First," he said. "You didn't tell me what you do. Or is it top secret or something?"

"Hardly that," she said. "I'm pretty well known in these parts. I'm a CPA and I own a firm with my mother."

Her mother had been planning to sell the firm in Boston and she'd talked her into keeping it. If her mother could run them both, then so could she.

But for now she was based out of the island and slowly sliding into the clients her mother oversaw for when the day came her mother wanted to retire.

It wouldn't be anytime soon. She knew that. Her mother wasn't even sixty and was going strong.

"Didn't see that coming," he said.

"Oh really?" she said. "What did you think I did for a living?"

"I couldn't tell you but didn't think it was someone who sat at a desk and looked at numbers all day long."

"That's me," she said. "Out there to change the world about their thoughts on bean counters. Just like I didn't expect you to be someone who sat with a headset on all day long. I'd put you more in line with law enforcement rather than someone that dispatched it."

"Considering I did that for years, I'd say you're a good judge of character."

"Yay me, on guessing that. We'll move on to that in a bit. Something tells me maybe you aren't ready to say why you went from that to this. So pen pals. I get on these stupid dating sites and I'm pretty selective, I'll have you know."

"Are you?"

She let out a big sigh. "I know, picking up strangers on the street. But you see, online people have this false sense of confidence. I can tell right away when all they want to do is keep chatting and not meet in person they are hiding something."

"Most likely," he said.

"I don't mind exchanging a few chats online to see if we have anything in common. I'm not an idiot and know most people alter their profile pictures too. I want to meet the person. I want to know if there is an attraction face-to-face. Which, by the way, there is here."

"Winning," he said, taking a sip of his beer.

"Yes, I am. But it's not just that. I want to see their mannerisms. Can they not make eye contact? Do they have to think hard to answer something, which tells me they might be lying? I'm not sure what happened to ever getting to know someone in person. If I want a pen pal I'll go to writeaprisoner.com."

He all but spit out the sip of beer he was drinking when she said that. "I wouldn't advise that," he said drily.

"Too much?" she asked. "Fine. I wouldn't actually do that, but I've thought it. I even told the last guy a few months ago that it was nice being his pen pal, but his time was up. He kept saying we'd meet and I said forget it."

"Sounds like he was hiding something," he said.

"Yeah. He was probably five foot one, two hundred pounds, had buckteeth and lived in his mother's basement. Might have a chainsaw or two hanging on the wall next to a deer head."

"That wouldn't be your type at all," he said.

"Nope," she said. "I'm not always out for looks, but I do want to be attracted to someone. I want to know their personality. If someone is into hunting, they could be a great person, but it's not my thing and don't want to think about the animals that way. Then I'll start to look at my steak differently. I'm not ready to give up meat. My brother is too good of a chef for me to eliminate a whole food group."

"Guess you don't cook either?" he asked.

"I can, but why bother? I can go see my brother like I do several times a week and he makes me a meal to go. It's always massive and is my one big meal of the day. The rest of the time I snack. My mother says I eat like a college kid."

"Doesn't seem to be affecting your health any," he said, his eyes looking her over.

"Nope. I get plenty of exercise running down the street chasing my puppy like a mad woman."

"It was a sight," he said. "I have to admit I thought I might have been imagining it."

"I wish it was your imagination, but it did bring us here. Oh, here comes my nachos."

Their food was put down in front of them. "Would you like another drink?" the server asked.

"I'm good," she said. She still had half of hers left and then she'd drink water.

"I'll finish this other beer off first," he said.

The server nodded and walked away. "You know what I do. I've lived on this island most of my life and I have a four-month-old puppy. You're new here. Where are you from? I'm always curious what brings people to this island."

He put a few wings on a plate in front of him, then reached over for some nachos on hers.

Good, they were mixing and matching and that was her hope so she did the same as he did.

"I'm from Wichita."

"Wow," she said. "I've never known anyone actually from Kansas. You don't have an accent."

"Neither do you," he said.

"I try not to," she said. "I'm dying to know what made someone in law enforcement move from Kansas to little old Amore Island." She leaned in close. "Or are you an FBI agent undercover and can't tell me that?"

"If I was I wouldn't be able to tell you," he said.

She frowned. "True. Okay. Tell me what you want. I'll know if you're lying or not. If I don't know tonight, I'll figure it out. I'm good at researching people. Fair warning."