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4

Liam

I looked down at the clipboard that held the sign-in sheet. I was really excited about the turnout, even having to add a couple tables to make sure we could accommodate everyone, but there was one snafu I hadn’t anticipated.

“Shit,” I muttered under my breath, gnawing on my bottom lip.

“What’s the matter?” Dad asked. He’d insisted on coming all the way from North Salter to help out for opening night, even though he’d had to get a room at The Scarlet Hotel. My new apartment wasn’t set up for guests yet. Hell, I was still crashing on my couch, but I was getting there.

“I have an odd number of attendees. I don’t know why I assumed it would be even so I could have two people at every table. Do you think I should leave one table solo or end up with three people at one table? That could be interesting.”

Dad chuckled, shaking his head at me. “You’re missing another very obvious solution.”

“What’s that?” I asked, looking up at him.

He speared me a look. “Oh, I dunno. Maybe… you could sit in? ”

I sputtered, though I wasn’t sure why I was so shocked. It wouldn’t be the first time my dad had tried to set me up on a date. Only this time, it appeared I’d done it to myself.

I cupped my hand to my ear. “Sorry, I couldn’t hear you over your tie?”

“Har-har,” he said, deadpan. “You wish you looked this good.” He straightened out his garish tie then plucked the clipboard out of my hand and penciled my name into the remaining slot.

“Hey!” I couldn’t grab the pencil fast enough.

“You’d better hurry and get changed. Wouldn’t look good to have the staff slacking on the job,” he teased, nudging me toward the back. It was a good thing I had a change of clothes in my bag.

I could’ve erased my name and gone with one of my own suggestions. I was the boss, after all, and I’d always been independent enough not to let myself be pressured into doing anything I didn’t want to do. Which must’ve meant… I wanted to do this. The realization was a bit shocking, honestly. I was too busy to date, trying to get my business off the ground, but also, the thought of going home and watching Lonely Alpha while everyone else had a chance at finding love was just depressing.

Not that I thought I would find love tonight, but the chances were better here than at home.

I quickly switched out my dark green Grounded polo shirt for a gray button-down and ran my fingers through my hair. I probably smelled like coffee after working all day, but any date who didn’t like the smell of coffee wasn’t right for me anyway.

As soon as I came hustling out from the back, Dad raised his voice over the crowd and called, “Could I please ask everyone to find a seat at one of the tables, and we’ll get this party started. ”

And it kind of was a party. Everyone was mingling, trying the free coffee and baked treats. There was a lot of laughing and smiling, flirting and blushing. If even a few of these people came back as paying customers, I would count the night a success.

I settled into a chair at the end of the row and watched as other people did the same. A young woman sat across from me and offered her hand. “Hey, I’m Miranda,” she said.

“Hi, I’m Liam. Nice to meet you.”

It was immediately clear that we weren’t compatible as a couple, mostly because I was gay and so was she, though she seemed like a nice person. We had a fun few minutes before my dad rang a little brass bell, halting conversation.

“Could everyone with a green napkin in front of you please stand up and rotate in a clockwise direction,” he instructed, circling his finger in the air.

There was a little bit of chaos as everyone tried to figure out who was moving and where, but they got the hang of it. I stayed where I was and watched in absolute wonder as a man headed my way with a teetering plate of goodies. He was wearing a sage-green button-up and jeans that were so tight, I might’ve wondered if they were painted on. He couldn’t even look up from his plate, hand braced over the top, the tip of his tongue sticking out in concentration, until he was seated, but then I got my first real look at him and my stomach swooped.

He was beyond gorgeous, with the richest brown eyes I’d ever seen, like molasses, with flecks of lighter honey and amber. He was probably around my age, late 20s, and while he sure had a sweet tooth, his trim body showed no signs of his overindulgence.

I wasn’t the only one doing a little scan. His gaze flitted over my features, taking an intimate path down my body as far as he could go before reaching the edge of the table. I wasn’t one to believe in love at first sight, but lust? Oh, hell yeah. We had some serious chemistry.

After we’d stared at each other for an awkwardly long time, I cleared my throat, reminding myself that we were on a time limit. “Wow, looks like you really like those butter tarts,” I observed, laughing.

“Like?” He scoffed. “No. I want to have dozens of babies with these butter tarts.”

I laughed, secretly pleased that it was my recipe he loved, that my hands had touched the pastry that would pass between his lips. “Well, I’m glad you found true love this evening. I hope everyone is so lucky.”

“It’s true. No one else can compare to my sweetheart,” he said, trailing his thumb along the tart’s rim in a nearly scandalous way. “I really should just go home to be alone with my tarts.” Then he licked a crumb off his thumb, and it was the most erotic thing I’d ever seen. My cock sat up and took notice.

I must’ve made a noise, a gasp or groan, because mischief snuck into his gaze, his full lips ticking up in a smirk as he bit the tip of his thumb, then closed his mouth around it and gave a little suck, cheeks hollowing.

At the worst possible moment, the bell rang, signalling the end of our date, and disappointment surged through me. That couldn’t have been three minutes!

“But—” I began to protest as half the crowd stood up and began to move about the room.

A muscle ticked in his jaw as my next date came to stand beside him, impatiently waiting for him to vacate his seat. Part of me hoped he would stay stubbornly where he was, but after a long moment, he flashed me a rueful smile. “Looks like my time is up. It was a pleasure.” He stood reluctantly and gave a little bow. And then he plucked one of the tarts off the top of his stack and set it on my plate. “You’re worth a tart,” he whispered with a wink.

My heart fluttered as I watched him walk away. Why was that somehow the sweetest compliment I’d ever received?

“Hey, what’s up? My name’s Ryan,” the new date said. He was an older man maybe in his 40s wearing a brown plaid short-sleeved shirt and clip-on tie, and it wasn’t until this very moment that I realized I hadn’t asked Mr. Sexy Butter Tart for his name.

“Um, yeah,” I said, beyond distracted. Would it be rude if I got up from the table to go ask my last date’s name? Probably, and I needed to be polite to these people if they were going to be my customers. I forced myself to smile. “Nice to meet you, I’m Li—”

“Hey, sorry to interrupt,” my sexy last date said, looking not a bit sorry at all as he leaned in over my shoulder. His molasses eyes were inches from mine, and I could’ve sworn he smelled like coffee too as his warmth washed over me. A match made in heaven. “I’m Jared, by the way.” He held his hand out for me to take.

I sighed in relief as I placed my hand in his, relishing the warm softness of his palm. “Liam,” I said.

When neither of us showed any sign of letting go, the guy—what was his name again? Ryan?—cleared his throat. “Do you mind?” he asked, glaring at Jared. “You had your three minutes, and now you’re stealing mine.”

“Oh, am I?” Jared said with zero remorse. “I’m sorry about that. So, soooo sorry,” he drawled out, trying his best to prolong the moment, his thumb stroking over the back of my hand.

I giggled before I could stifle it—seriously, who was I right now? I was not a giggler!

Ryan’s lips thinned, not the least bit amused. “Shove off, would you? ”

But then the bell rang again, and Ryan huffed, pushing his chair back from the table and moving on. Jared gave me a sheepish look. “Sorry if you were into him. My mom always used to say I’m incorrigible.”

“No, it’s okay. I wasn’t. Into him, I mean. I didn’t mind the interruption.”

But of course, as with each ring of the bell, a new date had appeared at my table. Whose idea was this speed-dating thing, anyway? Three minutes wasn’t enough time for a full conversation! How was I supposed to know if what I felt was real without knowing about his family or what he did for a living?

Jared backed away for the second time. “I’d better go before someone eats my tarts. I left them unattended. Maybe I’ll find you after?” He looked so damn hopeful, and my stomach gave another one of those rollercoaster dips.

“Yes, definitely.”

Suddenly, it didn’t matter that I was too busy to date. I would make time.

LONELY ALPHA IS NOT LONELY ENOUGH IMO

BJz4days: Dude, that chat name is way too long.

RimJobbins: Like the line of omegas waiting to suck Schuster’s dick, you mean? Toooo loooong.

Dripdrip69: Word. Hes gotta narrow it down alrdy

BottomsUp: Yeah right, Drip, like you wouldn’t love to be the meat in a Schuster sandwich, no matter how many slices of bread there are.

Dripdrip69: I mean……… *shrug emoji *

BJz4days: I’m pretty sure Schuster would be the meat. Just sayin’.

CreamyJoe: Maybe he’s just taking his time, making sure he’ll pick Mr. Right.

MuffinTop: Orrrr—hear me out—maybe he’s already found Mr. Right but the show producers are just playing into the drama, making it look like he’s screwing all of them? *cough* fake as hell *cough*

RimJobbins: Go home muffin. Read the room. Only tru stans here