Chapter 10

CHAPTER TEN

BLAKE

After talking to Kyle, I head upstairs to my room to write down some notes. Ever since getting this assignment, I've been curious about the kind of people who use matchmakers. If you believe what you see on television, it's easy to assume that every single person is attractive, successful in business, and the victim of bad luck in their previous dating experiences.

This afternoon I met another man who's going to take part in Trina Rockwell's new matchmaking adventure. He told me that in his relatively recent past, he left his girlfriend for another woman. Ironically, the other woman left him for another man.

Some might say he got what he deserved, but I'm guessing it's probably more complicated than that. Nothing in the dating world is as cut and dried as it seems on the surface. There are always mitigating circumstances and details that people on the outside looking in don't see.

While I'm here, I hope to be able to bring you a variety of stories so that you can find something relatable. The truth is, I'm not sure we need matchmakers as much as we need to use our common sense. But I should know more after my first mixer, so stay tuned.

I fire off an email to Gillian to let her know I've accepted my fate. Even though I'd much rather be covering a basketball game, my curiosity has gotten the better of me, and I commit to do my typically stellar work on this assignment.

I'm not sure what the dress code is tonight, but I decide to put my best foot forward. By the time I'm ready to go downstairs, I'm wearing a slim cut pair of grey pants and a black button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up. The black loafers say that I'm cool but don't take myself too seriously. My mom would say that I look dapper, and I wouldn't disagree.

Looking in the mirror I run a hand over my slight scruff and decide it makes me look like a tough guy. I think back to last night talking to Molly. I might not be lumberjack rugged, but I have an edge.

On my way downstairs, I pass the same family I saw earlier in the day. They're wearing snowsuits this time, full-on with matching Santa Claus hats. I smile as we pass in the hall. "Looks like you guys are having a full day."

Ben, whose smile is bigger than you'd think possible on such a little face, says, "We went snowmobiling! It was so cool!"

"Based on your glowing recommendation," I tell him, "I'll make sure to give it a try."

Getting into the elevator, I realize I'm kind of apprehensive—like a steer looking for a buyer at the county fair. It's one thing to go out for a night on the town where no one knows your status. It's quite another to go to a cocktail party where everyone is there hoping to find love. And even though that's not why I'm going, I still feel vulnerable.

I briefly glance at my watch and see that it's a few minutes after five. I didn't want to show up early and look too eager, and I certainly don't want to arrive so late that I draw everyone's attention as I walk into the room.

When I walk into the lobby, I see that it's been roped off and there's a sign declaring a private event is taking place. Thank goodness there's no banner announcing the kind of gathering. I walk through a break in the rope in time to hear Trina announce, "There are no rules this evening. This is a meet and greet with no expectations. Just do your best to talk to as many people as you can. We'll start more formal activities tomorrow night."

As I don't know anybody here, I look around the room for Kyle. I figure he'll be an interesting story for Chicagoans to follow. Making my way toward him, I discover that he looks like he just buried his dog. Sidling up next to him, I suggest, "You should smile. You know the old saying that you attract more flies with honey."

"Blake, right?" he asks.

"That's me. What do you say we walk around and introduce ourselves?"

"I don't know," he says nervously. "I'm not sure I'm ready for this."

"What's to be ready for?" I ask. "All we're doing is saying hi to people." I look around the room and discover everyone has put forth a real effort to look their best. "I bet they're as anxious as we are."

"Are you nervous?" he asks.

"I'm not exactly comfortable," I tell him truthfully.

Kyle slowly stands up straighter. With each inch he looks more in control. Once his shoulders are fully squared, he says, "Let's do this."

The first couple of women we walk up to look like models from a runway show. They're both remarkably tall and beautiful. If I were on my own, I might not have had the courage to approach them. Yet they're here at Trina's event, so they must be interested in meeting men .

"Hi there, I'm Blake," I introduce myself before pointing toward my partner in crime. "This is Kyle."

"Krista," the blonde says with a coy smile. Then she gestures toward the brunette next to her. "This is Marley."

"Cool name," Kyle says to Marley. He moves closer to her side and asks, "Can I get you a drink?"

As they walk away, I focus on Krista. "So, what do you do, Krista?"

Her previous confidence seems to waver as she answers, "I'm a kindergarten teacher."

"Lucky kids," I say more flirtatiously than I was planning. Then I tell her, "I'm writing a novel."

"Really?"

"It'll be my first so I'm not a big deal author yet." Even though I'm lying about why I'm here I don't want to come across as a jerk.

"I used to want to write romance novels." A faint pink blush overtakes her face.

"But not anymore?"

One slim shoulder lifts. "It's scary, you know? I mean, I don't want people to judge me based on what I write."

"Are you planning on writing smut?" I ask with a grin.

Her eyes pop open so wide she looks like a startled fish. "Not necessarily. I mean, maybe if the story called for …"

"You know what I think, Krista?" Her head moves from side to side, so I tell her, "I think you need to keep everyone out of your head while you're writing. You can't worry about the critics and the naysayers. You've gotta just let your story out the way it wants to come out."

"Is that what you do?" she asks.

I think about the hundreds of articles I've written and tell her, "Pretty much."

She smiles prettily. "Thanks, Blake. That's good advice."

Before we can continue what's turning out to be a very pleasant exchange, I see Molly walk into the room. She's wearing a sleeveless red cocktail dress that's both quite festive and very sexy. She also looks like she's about to cut and run.

"I hope we can chat later," I tell Krista before asking, "Will you excuse me? I just saw somebody I know."

Krista smiles nervously. "Sure, I'll see you in a while."

I turn toward Molly and notice that she's looking around the room awkwardly. Approaching her from the side where she doesn't see me coming, I say, "Hey."

She nearly jumps out of her skin. In fact, if this were a dark alley instead of a hotel great room, I'd half expect her to follow the action with a karate chop to my neck. As soon as she recognizes me, she says, "Oh, it's you." She does not sound thrilled.

"Yes, it is. Blake Walsh."

Her face remains un-emotive, so I add, "Single, non-lumberjack, at your service."

Her icy blue eyes dart around the room like she'd rather be anywhere else than talking to me. "Have you met any nice women?" she finally asks.

"I met a kindergarten teacher who seemed pretty sweet."

Her eyes narrow as she asks, "What do you do for a living, Blake?"

I need to be consistent with my lies so that no one suspects why I'm really here, so I tell her the same thing I told Kyle. "I'm a barista."

She looks at me dubiously and her lip curls in what appears to be pure hatred. "You had an urgent call last night regarding making coffee?"

It takes me a beat to realize she's referring to the excuse I gave her for not having supper with her last night. "No," I say. "I'm also a struggling author and I had a meeting with my agent."

"On a Friday night?" Yeah, she's not buying it.

"I haven't sold anything yet so I'm not exactly his top priority. He fits me in wherever he can."

"What's your book about? "

Before I can stop myself, I tell her, "Alien robots taking over the Earth."

"Excuse me?"

I guess she was expecting something more normal. "It's a dystopian love story, really."

"An alien robot dystopian love story … Don't give up your day job, Blake."

Even though I'm not really writing a novel, that kind of hurts. "Hey, the storyline worked in that movie Rebel Earth ."

"You're stealing the plot from a movie?" I'm not sure how I ever thought Molly might be interested in me because she's currently being downright rude.

"I'm just taking inspiration from it," I tell her before commenting on her appearance at the mixer. "I thought you were staying at the lodge for work."

"I am." She sounds uncomfortable. "But Trina had a last-minute cancellation, so she asked me if I'd like to come tonight."

"So you're not here for the full two weeks?"

"I'm at the lodge for two weeks but I'm not sure I'll be joining in on all of the singles' events." Then she asks, "Why are you doing this?" She asks this in such a way as though she's enquiring why I'm attending the circus in my underwear.

My eyes briefly drop to my feet before returning to her gaze. "Because I'm single, I guess." Liar.

She crosses her arms in a defiant pose. "And you can't find anyone to date on your own?"

She might mean that as a compliment, like she thinks I'm so hot I shouldn't have any trouble finding dates, yet there's an underlying judgment that makes me wonder. "I could ask the same of you," I tell her.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means you're a beautiful woman. One might suppose you have an easy time finding dates." Although, it might be her personality that's the problem .

"I'm not big into swiping my way to love," she says. "And that's kind of the culture we live in, especially in Chicago."

"I get that," I tell her. "It was actually worse in Los Angeles."

"I can't even imagine what that's like. I couldn't compete with a bunch of skinny starlets."

I smile at her appreciatively, thoroughly enjoying the sight of her soft curves. "I once heard someone say that nobody wants a bone but a dog."

The comment catches her by surprise, and she releases a short bark of laughter. "I like that. Do you mind if I borrow it?"

"Not at all," I tell her.

Just as I start to think we're getting along like a house on fire, she looks behind me and declares, "Oh, hell no. Not him."

I turn around and see that she's looking at Kyle. Then I notice Kyle's expression when he sees Molly. I'm about to ask Molly how she knows him, but my fear for her physical health takes precedence. Her skin turns so red I'm afraid she's about to spontaneously combust. I ask, "Are you okay?"

"I'm … well … no … not good."

"Can I get you some water or something?"

"I'm thinking more along the lines of a double gin with a tequila chaser." Before I can offer to retrieve that for her, she adds, "Maybe with a nice tranquilizer garnish …" I'm about to tell her I'd be happy to fetch that for her—sans the tranquilizer, because where in the world would I find that?—but before I can, she turns and practically runs out of the room.