Page 9 of Accidental Blind Date

We are not expected to tell each other anything about our pasts.

He’s paying for the date, no exceptions.

“I guess that means you’re going to have to put that card away,” he says, and I physically feel myself blush. “I guess so.”

“This looks good,” he says, dunking a chip in one of the salsas. I’m not sure which. The bartender had said something about one being mild, one being medium, and one being hot, but I was too busy mentally marking all the emergency exits and trying to keep my legs crossed to remember which is which. “Aren’t you going to have any?”

I look at him.

There’s a kindness in those blue eyes, even if he does look like an undercover assassin, and even a hint of curiosity.

Then I look down at the food and my stomach rumbles. I haven’t had anything but water today.

The last thing I wanted was for the zipper on my dress to snap.

“I was waiting for you,” I say with a smile. “I didn’t want to be rude.” I dunk a chip into the same salsa as he did, and the flavor explodes in my mouth.

“You don’t strike me as someone who could ever be rude,” he says and I stop, looking up at him and chewing slower.

“Clearly you haven’t talked to me before I have coffee in the morning.”

With that, Jax chuckles. It’s playful and gritty and it makes me smile. I reach for my drink and take a long sip, enjoying the berries, juniper and fizz.

“I’m not going to lie,” he says. “I was nervous tonight.”

“You?” I ask, covering my mouth to hide the fact it is full of chips. “Why would you be nervous?”

“Because I haven’t been on a date in…a long time. Is that too much information?”

I shake my head. But I also zero a skeptical look in on his perfectly chiseled face. “I have a hard time believing that.”

“It’s true. I don’t get out much. I go to work, I go home. That’s about it.”

“And the gym,” I add and then blush.

He smiles, those icy blue eyes of his dancing with some kind of mischief. “How did you know?”

Because your forearms are bigger than my ex’s thighs. For real– you don’t get muscles like that from eating kale.

“Just a lucky guess.”

He nods and takes a sip of his whiskey and for a split second I can see resemblance to the profile picture.

Definitely the same guy.

“Do I look like my photos?” he asks as if the man is a freaking mind reader.

“You meanphoto?” I ask, an emphasis on the singularity of it. “You look…”Better? Unrealistic? Photoshopped?“Like I got reverse cat-fished.”

He narrows his eyes to process that. “So…my profile picture was ugly?”

A high-pitched laugh bubbles out of my throat, loud enough to momentarily snag the attention of our fellow diners. But Jax doesn’t seem to mind. Instead, he goes on.