Page 4 of Knot Your Bridezilla (High Fructose Corn Syrup Verse #2)

AVRIL

The Thirsty Pearl was everything I needed for my little date.

I’d actually gone on my first date with Dylan here—we never did end up coming back, after Dylan complained about the way that they had undercooked his steak.

Thinking back, that was definitely his fault.

If he wanted his steak tougher than old boots, he shouldn’t have ordered a medium rare.

What I liked about going to The Pearl was that the booths were a royal sapphire velvet, and not vinyl or cracked leather that would stick to the back of my thighs if I wore a short skirt.

It was also usually quiet enough that I was able to talk without screaming over the music.

Personally, I feel like the music shouldn’t be blasting to get my heart pumping—being with my date should do that.

Throw in the fact that The Thirsty Pearl was also a bar that served my favorite drinks meant that a good cocktail wouldn’t be far off if the night went to shit.

Stepping inside, I locked eyes with the bartender.

Oh, damn.

He was new. He was definitely new. I would have remembered a man like that.

His eyes were so blue that they were piercing straight into my soul, knocking me off my feet and crashing with me onto the shore of a Caribbean island—on white sand under the shade of palm trees, rolling around with all those defined muscles pressed right against me.

He was tall. His hair was chocolatey-brown, and flowed in waves that I wanted to sink my hands into. I bet his hair would feel like silk beneath my fingertips if we kissed.

Whoa. Hey now.

I was here for Mark, not the sexy bartender.

Besides, I didn’t want to be cringy and hit on someone at their workplace. I bet people hit on the poor guy all the time, when he was just trying to pour drinks and live his life without getting objectified.

But on the other hand, his eyes were so blue that they had to be illegal.

After one delicious moment, I tore my gaze away from him. He was gorgeous. He was so very gorgeous. The thick, sultry scent of amber and cinnamon wafting from him made it just as clear that this man was off limits.

He was an alpha.

His scent was all over the Thirsty Pearl, like a warm hug on a crisp fall day. Smokey, with the perfect touch of spice. Like a sensuous temptation, beckoning me closer.

I had to keep my distance, because if I didn’t, I would definitely try to lean closer and inhale him.

The bar was already so heavy with his scent that I could practically taste him on the tip of my tongue.

There was no choice; I had to stay away.

Sniffing the staff like a deranged basset hound was a surefire way to get me kicked out and banned.

Oh, shit.

He was walking towards me.

I forced myself to keep my cool. Like—this was his job. I was just a customer. Customer? What’s a restaurant customer called? Anyway, this was literally his job. It didn’t mean anything.

“Hey,” Sexy bartender said, his voice a sensual purr.

Oh. My. God.

Even his voice was giving me butterflies, so deep, dark and luxurious.

If his eyes weren’t enough to make my panties drop, his voice would do it… but then he had to go and ruin it by talking more.

“My name is David. I’ll be your server tonight.”

Yes. You can be the one to service me.

Wait, no. No, he couldn’t. Because this was just his job. Get it together, Avril.

“Yes,” my voice was only a tad bit high and squeaky. I’d take that as a win. “Table for two.” I held up two fingers in a peace sign, as if I wasn’t sure if the guy could count and needed the visual assistance.

Did I… imagine the flash of disappointment in his eyes when I said that I wasn’t going to be alone? No, I didn’t… Did I? I wasn’t just projecting my horniness onto the guy? Nah, it was probably nothing.

Sexy David led me over to a booth, placing two menus down. “Can I get you anything to drink?”

“Can I get a grapefruit spritzer?” I willed myself not to look him up or down, or to turn beet red. I was keeping it cool.

He smiled at me. The look in his eyes was probably not a promise that he would love to bring me more than just my calorie-efficient adult beverage… that he would love to give me whatever I needed…

I had to mentally slap myself.

I was here for a reason. For my date. Who was not here yet.

Okay, so Mark was late. He wasn’t so late that I needed to take it as a sign that he’d stood me up, but he was still late.

For the first date. Not the best first impression.

Would Mark think that it was okay to show up late for our wedding too?

Hold all of my family in suspense as he lollygagged, and I waited to see if he would show up at the altar?

David interrupted my spiraling with my drink, beautifully garnished with a wedge of grapefruit and fragrant mint. He delivered it with a flirty little wink before he returned to the bar.

I took a sip, letting the bubbles caress my tongue, as the cool rush of alcohol soothed away my anxiety.

The sweet burn of vodka paired with tangy grapefruit drowned it all away…

all the worries darting through my mind, about the seating charts, floral arrangements…

finding a suitable groom… For now, the only thing that existed was me and this glass of citrus perfection.

The creak of the front door opening jolted me out of my thoughts—there was my missing date. Only seventeen minutes late… maybe it wasn’t the end of the world.

My date, Mark, looked just like his picture, though in person he seemed a bit shorter. In high heels, I would definitely be taller than him.

Like tonight… how I’d gone with my favorite pair of strappy stiletto sandals. Maybe I’d just stay sitting for now, until I got a better sense of the guy. Instead of getting up, I waved him over.

Mark smiled warmly as his eyes flicked up and down my outfit—I’d gone with something simple, my red sundress with a sweetheart neckline, and chandelier earrings. The look was the perfect combination of classy and sexy without looking like I was trying too hard.

I didn’t even need to try that hard, if digging through three boxes to find where I’d actually packed away my outfits didn’t count.

Mark took the seat across from me, and then immediately shot an impatient look at Sexy Bartender-David.

Without making eye contact, David put down the glass he was polishing, and meandered over with our menus.

Not gonna lie, I was a little tense that Mark was going to say something rude in front of the hot bartender, which would be unbearably embarrassing.

Even if I wasn’t the one saying the rude things, I had agreed to go out with the guy.

So, it would be like his decision kinda rubbed off on me somehow.

Even though I would never be rude to my waiter, I’d be somewhat associated, as someone who was mistakenly attracted to rude assholes.

But no, our orders went off without a hitch. Mark got a burger, and I got a chicken salad, and Sexy David slipped away to give our orders to the chef.

Okay, so that wasn’t so bad. Maybe my date was just hangry?

Mark had a cocky grin on his face as he leaned closer to me. “So what do you bring to the table?”

“What?” For one second, my gaze flicked to the booth table as if it held some clues as to what things I was supposed to bring.

Wait, no. That was stupid. It wasn’t like I was supposed to bring like, forks and knives to a restaurant. Was I supposed to pack them in my little clutch bag when I was finished dining? Wipe them down and place them next to my little portable salt shaker from home?

No, eating out didn’t work like that.

So… why was Mark expecting me to bring something? Was this his first time dating? Did no one ever explain to him how this was supposed to work?

His cocky grin faltered somewhat. “What do you bring to the table, like what do you bring into a relationship?”

Oh.

Uh, I was the kinda person who could be counted on to arrive for a date on time, for starters. Not that I was going to say that.

What a weird question. Was this a job interview or a date?

I shrugged, like Mark hadn’t been vaguely insulting, asking me how I would bring value to the relationship.

“Okay.” So he thought it was normal to just demand that I prove myself to him. On a first date? This was stupid. “No one’s ever asked me that before. Could you tell me what kind of things you contribute?”

“Well,” Mark actually sat up straighter.

“As a high-value man, I am a provider. Since I work in marketing automation and data, I have a salary that is a lot more substantial and reliable than the average guy you’d meet on these dating sites.

Recently, I’ve invested in my stock portfolio.

I’m looking at a growth index fund with the potential for a higher return than the broad market index. ”

Mark was still talking. I couldn’t stop myself from zoning out.

I twirled a strand of hair around one finger, staring over my shoulder into the kitchen.

Hopefully, I looked like I was interested in dinner, and not scanning the room for David, as if catching sight of him could save me from this date somehow.

“Wow,” I said at the right time to make it look like I was paying attention—I’m not sure if I needed to bother. Mark seemed to be doing a fine job handling the entire conversation without any input from me at all.

It took every ounce of my focus to force my eyes from glazing over and pretend to care about Mark talking about how important his money made him.

God, I could barely keep it together during one date. How could this relationship have a shred of hope of going anywhere? Consumer discretionary, blah blah blah, health care sectors… Did he really think that this was a good way to get to know someone?

The conversation didn’t get any better when he changed the topic from finance either.

“I’m the kind of man with a high-value mindset.” Mark nodded. “It’s all about the kind of people I surround myself with.”

At least I had dinner to distract me. David had dropped it off, giving me one curious look as if he was checking if I was okay.

In fact, I was not okay.

I speared my lettuce leaves, chewing each one thoroughly. Anything really to divert attention away from this mess. Eventually, thankfully, Mark seemed to slow down from all the talking. He even managed to finish his meal, by kinda chewing and talking with his mouth full.

Great, no one was talking. There was no food. The bill was squared away. This was it—my chance to get away.

I grabbed my purse, getting to my feet. “This was lovely.” It really wasn’t. Not by any stretch of the imagination. “It was nice to meet you.”

“We should do this again sometime,” Mark agreed.

No. That wasn’t going to happen.

I nodded, as if I wasn’t making a mental note to block his number the moment I was out the door.

Honestly… I think I might rather roll around on glass shards and drink an entire gallon of expired milk than spend another minute listening to Mark talk.

But… at least I had to have gotten the bad date out of the way.

Mark waved, strolling away from me with a smirk on his face, like he actually thought that the evening had gone well.

Did he even realize that I never ever answered the question?

Mark didn’t even get to find out what sort of things I bring to these metaphorical tables.

Maybe the only part of the date that went well was the fact that Mark had forgotten to follow up with that, because I wasn’t any closer to figuring out an answer to this bringing-things table nonsense, anyway.

There was no way that all my dates would end up like this… if online dating was this terrible, there’s no way that so many people would keep putting up with it.

Things had to get better… right?