Page 4 of The Disasters of Dating (Love Connections #6)

POPPY

Trust your gut, Pisces—it knows when to walk away… or when you’ve found just what you need. You’re still in alignment, even if the day feels more slapstick than starlit.

Cheese and crackers! Could my day get any more craptastic? It just keeps going from bad to worse. And now I am forced to have dinner with a complete stranger whom I tried to have arrested. Classic!

I should go home and go to bed until this day’s horoscope is over and done with.

“I’ve still got about twenty minutes until my lunch. Do you want to hang out in the terminal?” Yeah, because that is every person’s dream of a good time.

Joe’s nostrils flare. It’s not something security recommends—that people ‘hang out’ in the terminal.

But what other options do we have? If he leaves the airport, he won’t get back in.

And I can’t go out until my shift is over.

I’ve already had ‘words’ with security today.

I don’t need any more face time with them today. Or ever.

“Uh, I guess?” The non-thief stammers. He seems like he might reconsider my offer. Heck, I’m reconsidering my offer. I can’t imagine he’s not.

I glance at him from beneath my lashes as I fiddle with my phone.

The guy is aesthetically aggressive. Now that I’m looking at him—and not as a shoplifter—I think I recognize him.

I think he’s been into the shop a few times.

Okay. I know he has. He’s the kind of guy that is hard to miss.

And maybe if I’d been watching his hands more than his face, I might have seen that he never even touched the gum.

“Stupid,” I mumble to myself. But he just looked so nervous and guilty.

Why did he look that way if he hadn’t taken anything?

“Maybe we should exchange numbers, and I’ll text you when I’m on break and ready to go.

That way, you’re not stuck hanging around in front of my shop. ”

He nods and pulls a phone out of his pocket. Taps it a few times and then hands it over to me. “Why don’t you type in your contact info and then text yourself from it. Then you’ll have my number.”

I grit my teeth. That won’t tell me what his name is.

Am I supposed to label him as Airport Guy?

Or Not-thief? I mean, I’d know who he was, but it feels disrespectful.

Especially after what I just put him through.

I type in my name and put (airport) next to it.

I can’t imagine he has many other Poppys in his contacts.

But what do I know? Then I press the texting app, send myself a text, and hand the phone back to him.

He smiles at me. “Thanks, Poppy.”

I bite the side of my cheek to stop from smiling at the sound of my name on his lips. Oh, man. I’m sounding like my cousin, Lucy. Everything is a meet cute or date to her.

He tucks the phone into his pocket, and hefts up his backpack before grabbing his suitcase handle.

“Do you want me to keep those behind the counter so you don’t have to drag them around with you?

” My brow creases, and I rub at my amethyst pendant.

Like, he’s going to trust me with his belongings after I acted like a crazy person.

But I feel like I have to offer. Man, what exactly is penance for an almost arrest?

He stares at me for a second before wheeling the suitcase toward me and dropping his backpack off his shoulder. “Thanks. I’d really appreciate that.”

I smile, and my body calms. Thank goodness for my amethyst. “No problem.” I grab them both and haul them around the checkout desk. “I’ll text you when I’m ready.” I clear my throat. “Uh, what’s your name, by the way? I don’t think you want to be known as Airport Guy in my contacts.”

He chuckles, and I swear my knees go weak. Weak! What the heck? “It’s Keaton.” He pauses and looks like he is going to say something, but then he shuts his mouth. Suspicious? Perhaps.

But suspicious or not, I’m glad to have a name to go with the number. “Great, Keaton. I’ll text you in a bit. Go have fun. ”

He makes a face.

I chuckle. I think it’s my first one today. Wow, that’s sad and completely unusual for me. “Or as much fun as one can have when confined to an airport terminal.”

“People have made whole movies in airport terminals. So there must be something here to do.”

I grin. “It wasn’t the Salt Lake City airport, I’m sure.”

“True. It was probably LAX or JFK or something.” He lifts a hand in a sort of wave and walks away from me. Why do I feel disappointed?

“Miss Ashcombe,” a deep voice draws me out of my staring. “I’m afraid you’ll have to go to security after your shift and file a report.” Joe, the security guard, looks disappointed at me. Join the club, buddy. Join the club.

“Yeah, okay.” I glance in the direction Keaton went, but he is nowhere to be seen among the crowds. Not that I want to see him. Or maybe I do. Who knows?

Joe tips his head to the side. “I’m pretty sure you’re going to be written up for this one.”

My mouth drops open. “You can’t be serious.”

He nods. “You didn’t have the right or authority to detain him.

Much less touch his backpack. And I’m not even going to get into the problems with you recording him without his permission.

You could have put us in a terrible legal situation.

Not to mention the chaos you created. And you know how much the security office dislikes that.

Bad things happen in chaos.” He slows down his speech on the last sentence and raises his eyebrows at me.

Sheesh, he acts like I caused the airport to shut down or something.

What did he want me to do? Let the guy get away with it—or rather not get away with it, in this case.

I grimace. But for every mistaken accusation, there are four or five that are not.

Shoplifting costs the store money. And I don’t like that.

Especially when I see it and can stop it.

“I’m sure they’ll just reprimand me. I can’t imagine they will write me up.

I mean, I’ve never been written up. They love me in security. ”

He raises a brow. “I didn’t hear the details, but there was a lot of chatter about something that happened with you and the employee parking lot.”

I purse my lips. That good deed just keeps on giving, doesn’t it? “Fine,” I say through clenched teeth. “I’ll stop by after my shift. Maybe by then, everyone will have chilled out. But for now, I have a customer.” I move around Joe—the downer—Moody. Hey, maybe his name isn’t a coincidence…

As he strides out of the shop, I ring up the customer and then grab my phone to send a text to my cousins group. The chat name, Cheaper Than Therapy , feels on point today.

So, I’m going to dinner with a guy I met in The Wandering Reader. I may have tried to have him assisted for shoplifting. But the good news (for him at least) is he hadn’t stolen anything.

That should say arrested! I almost had him arrested for shoplifting.

Dani

I have so many questions! Also, this definitely sounds like a bookworthy meet cute. Keep us posted on how it goes.

Dani is a romantasy author. In fact, her debut novel—which I’m selling signed copies of in The Wandering Reader—went crazy viral.

She’s supposed to be writing the sequel, but I think she’s struggling.

It must be a lot of pressure to top or at least match her previous success.

And it probably doesn’t help that her sister, Avery, owns her publishing house.

I think Dani feels a responsibility to have another huge success as much for Avery as for herself.

Chloe-Bear

I can’t wait to hear the story of how you went from handcuffing the guy to meeting him for dinner!

Avery

Uhhh, shoplifter or not, that sounds like a questionable date, Pops.

I frown. She’s not wrong. I mean, I know Keaton didn’t steal from my shop. But do I know he hasn’t stolen from other shops? He may have been planning to, but I jumped the gun and accused him before he pocketed anything.

But I’m not a complete idiot. I’ll be careful. I mean, what could happen to me at the airport? It’s probably the most secure place in Utah. Besides, this is a one-time thing. An apology for falsely accusing him—or prematurely accusing him? The jury’s still out on his trustworthiness.

My phone vibrates, and I look to see that my sister, Sadie, has chimed in.

Shadie

Way to be protective of your goods! Also, look at you getting a date after you got him arrested. That’s my cute Pops!! Can’t wait to hear how it goes!!

Sadie has been Shadie in my contacts since my very first phone. It’s the name I’ve called her since I was two.

Berries

That is hilarious, but please make sure it’s a very public place just to be sure…

Berries is what I call my cousin, Lucy. When we were younger, she wanted to be called Carrots.

(She’s a redhead who wanted to be called Carrots?

Go figure.) But I told her that her hair resembled a strawberry more than a carrot, and so I started to call her Berries.

It stuck, and that’s what I’ve called her since.

I push thoughts of Keaton, Joe, and the whole security department out of my mind as I ring up some corn nuts, gummy bears, and a neck pillow.

I smile at the lady standing in front of me with her credit card at the ready.

I pull one of Dani’s books out from the stacked mini display (not completely authorized) and hold it up.

“Have you read the new romantasy by Danielle Baldwin? It’s a huge bestseller and I’m lucky to have signed copies for sale.

” I say it in a British accent. I can’t say that my accent is flawless.

It’s probably not even good. But sometimes it’s the only way I can get through the day.

I mean, who doesn’t like to speak with an accent from time to time?

The lady smiles like I might be a bit cray-cray but shakes her head. “Fantasy isn’t really my thing. But thanks.” Her words say, “Thanks,” but her face says, “Stop talking and give me my total.”

I oblige her.