Total pages in book: 138
Estimated words: 129131 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 646(@200wpm)___ 517(@250wpm)___ 430(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 129131 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 646(@200wpm)___ 517(@250wpm)___ 430(@300wpm)
R: Okay, so basics aside, I’ve got some important questions for you. These are the real make-it-or-break-it deals, so think carefully about your answers. You ready?
Me: I don’t think so, but hit me.
R: What’s your stance on the great hot dog dilemma? Sandwich or not?
M: IMHO, not. You don’t put chili or ketchup on a sandwich. But I’m willing to reach out to my sandwich-believing brethren and enjoy a good hotdog for the deliciousness it is.
R: Disagree. By your standard, chili burgers or cheeseburgers with ketchup aren’t sandwiches, but they most definitely are. Agree to disagree, as long as we can eat them all. Calzones?
M: Pies, like a Hostess fruit pie when we were kids. But I can see the sandwich angle if it’s the right size. What’s your stance on tacos?
R: Tacos are that line in the sand for me. ‘Sand’ like sandwiches . . . get it? LOL But for real, if you don’t like tacos, then I’m going to have to wish you a good day and recommend that you seek professional culinary and psychological help. Whether they’re classified as sandwiches or not doesn’t matter as long as they get in my belly.
I laugh. This girl is amazing.
M: You seem a little food obsessed. Should I be worried? LOL But I’ll agree that tacos are outside the lines of any classification scale. Soft chicken tacos, some good nachos, and churros for dessert? That’s a meal that’ll leave me warm and happy inside and out.
R: Maybe we can make that happen sometime?
I double-blink, realizing what she’s asking. She’s delicately tippy-toeing into a ‘can we meet’ scenario. Nerves and excitement shoot through me in equal measure, which is surprising given that not too long ago, I wasn’t even thinking of dating. Still, even with work and BlindDate plans looming, I type out the truth.
M: I think I’d like that.
I’m tempted to ask about her looks, to steer this conversation toward a real meet-up, but part of me wants to wait a bit since that’s the whole idea River and I built BlindDate on—depth over superficiality. Though now that it’s real, it’s harder to stick to than I thought it’d be. I make a note of that for possible app improvement too as my mind wanders . . .
Is she cute and curled up on a couch with a kitten, or a gamer babe texting me between rounds of Call of Duty? Or maybe she’s shy, the computer geek who’s a Sys Admin who works out of her house?
None of them seem quite right, but before I can ask a question that’d give me a better visual, Rachel messages me.
R: Oopsie! My alarm reminded me that I have to be somewhere at noon, and if I’m not out the door in ten minutes, I’ll be late. I’m not even dressed yet!
M: Not dressed?
R: Not like that. I’m still in my pajamas. I’ll let you imagine that until we talk again, though I’ll give you a hint. My PJs involve knee socks. Suuuper sexy, right?
Two images fight for prominence in my mind. In one, Rachel is adorable in knee socks and a long shirt that hits the tops of her thighs. In the other, she’s got on wool socks pulled up high, baggy flannel pants, and an oversized T-shirt. Both imaginary Rachels quirk a brow at me, saying, ‘Whatcha think?’
M: I think I have a new fascination with knee socks. Can we talk later tonight?
It’s the first time I’m putting it on the line. She messaged me first and then she gave me a second chance when I auto-replied. I only hope I’ve done enough to earn another conversation with her because this one has been the highlight of my day. Hell, who am I kidding? It’s been the highlight of my week, or maybe month.
R: Talk to you tonight, Mark.
M: Have a good day.
R: (Smile emoji, sunshine emoji)
Rachel logs off, and I plug my phone in to charge. Standing up, I feel the smile on my face, realizing I’ve been talking to Rachel for nearly three hours. I stretch my arms overheard but stop, having to adjust myself.
Wow. I never thought talking about calzones and tacos would have me half-hard in my pants, but I am. Maybe it’s the thought of Rachel in her pajamas . . . that must be it.
“Knee socks,” I murmur to myself. “Who knew?”
I feel another twitch in my jeans. If I’m not careful, I’m going to be pitching a tent while I make lunch. All over someone I haven’t even met yet. Thanks, BlindDate! I think, giving myself a pat on the back for a job well done as I pull out some chicken and greens to make a salad.
Chapter 5
Riley
One of the things I love most about being ‘Riley Sunshine’ is that I have the chance and the time to help out. I can ‘spread the Sunshine’, as I like to put it. Sometimes, I volunteer at an animal shelter, which makes Raffy so jealous when I get home that he’ll literally turn his back on me, and I have to apologize by squeezing shots of canned whipped cream straight into his mouth. Sometimes, I go to the hospital where I get to play games with the kids in the children’s ward.