A Miracle for the Reserved Flyboy (Love in Sweet Bloom #11)

Chapter 4

CASANOVA

Well, this was not how he imagined his evening beginning...

Gary had never been so utterly shocked or bewildered at how things were going. Sure, he was quiet, rarely argued, and was a ‘worker bee’ keeping his head down. He always hated to stir the pot or ruffle feathers, but he was ready to start squawking like a chicken that had been stepped on when Krista practically vaulted him toward Susan – and ran.

He thought there had been an attraction there.

He was convinced that she was interested in him as well, that maybe she looked at him the same way, but obviously he was so wrong. Not only did Krista literally leave him to the wolves. The wolf before him, Susan, was sitting opposite the table, licking her chops like a canine about to devour him.

“You sure are handsome,” Susan practically purred. “Guess I’m a lucky girl that Krista ran into you first.”

“Let’s discuss that,” Gary interjected quickly, grabbing a menu and opening it almost like a first line of defense from the woman in front of him. Were all women so forward like her? It had been a very long time since since he’d gotten up the nerve to ask a woman out, much less follow through. The last time he had been so nervous and scared, he’d texted and said he had a flat tire… and never contacted her again.

The self-loathing that followed was pretty terrible. He felt like a heel, a wimp, and a charlatan. It wasn’t that he didn’t like girls, they just made him feel completely nervous compared to some of the other smooth and more confident guys. He just felt like he brought less to the table than some of them.

As a kid growing up, he was the ‘big kid’ that others picked on and laughed at during the summer at the swimming pool. He had what his mother loved to call a ‘ cute little roly-poly ’ above the waist of his jeans for years until he entered the Academy. Acne, braces, a cowlick that wouldn’t stop, you name it, and he dealt with it. In fact, his prom date that he’d asked out stood him up… and it was his next-door neighbor. Do you know how humiliating that is to have your mother arrange a prom date for you – and they still bailed?

Was he nervous?

Oh yes… he was waaay out there, alone, and mentally seeding a field of freakouts, waving the glowing batons, bringing the ultimate nervous breakdown in for a landing.

Did I mention the field was awfully fertile? he thought, panicking.

Susan was saying something to him, and his ears were roaring with his pulse, feeling that cloying, suffocating sensation of a panic attack coming on. Tugging on his sweater, he wished that he was wearing a T-shirt or there were fans in the diner to circulate the air.

I want to be where the people aren’t…

See them, see them passing?

Panic attacks?

I’ve got plenty!

No worries, I’ve got one moooore…

See them walk…

Watch me run!

All day, every day,

Even in Afghanistannnn…

He sang in his head, mocking The Little Mermaid song, and sighed heavily, his shoulders slumping in defeat. Mermaid? Ha! It’s actually ‘ Man -Afraid’ and mispronounced by sooo many.

The one woman he felt drawn too, felt like he could actually hold a conversation with her, had arranged… this. To his horror, he felt something move on his lap and looked down to see a sock almost directly between his legs, precariously close.

Someday we’ll see, just maybe?

I’m gonna hurrrrl, he mentally finished his song as he cleared his throat, smiled politely at the woman, and pushed her foot away.

“No, thank you.”

“Oh honey, I wasn’t asking,” Susan smiled warmly. “I was offering.”

“Let’s talk about how you know Krista,” he deftly offered, side-stepping the whole conversation completely.

An hour later, Gary was scrubbing at the smudge of odd pecan-colored lipstick Susan had left on his cheek when she’d tried to kiss him, a kiss he had dodged just in time. The aftertaste alone was enough to make him gag as he spat into the grass by the town square, ignoring the disgusted looks of a few passersby.

“Thank God I’ll never see her again. Heaven help her; she doesn’t need a man… that woman needs an army and a full prescription for antibiotics just to be on the safe side. Sheesh,” he muttered, still horrified.

Susan had been so forward, practically spelling out her intentions, while Gary wanted nothing less. He didn’t kiss on the first date, he barely even dated, and he’d spent the whole evening thinking about a particular brunette—Krista, not Susan. Did Krista even realize what kind of disaster she’d set him up with? He felt like Hansel, shoved into the Witch’s oven, narrowly avoiding getting swallowed whole.

He pulled out his phone and dialed Krista, too rattled to settle for texting. No way was he ready for date number two, let alone three, if she actually had more of these setups lined up for him this week. One was enough to haunt his dreams for weeks.

“Hello?” came her soft voice, but something about her tone made him pause. It wasn’t the same lively, energized Krista he’d spoken to yesterday. She usually had a spark that set him on edge in the best way, or a softness that turned his spine to jelly. But tonight, she sounded fragile, almost defeated.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, concerned.

“Nothing,” she replied with a forced brightness.

“I can hear it in your voice.”

“I was watching a sad show.”

“What show?”

“ A Charlie Brown Christmas .”

“That’s not exactly sad… are you crying?” he asked, shocked, as he heard her sniffle through the phone.

“Don’t be silly. I never cry.”

“Krista, what’s really going on?”

“Oh, you know,” she said with a mock sigh, launching into an absurd list. “I stubbed my toe. Got a paper cut. Dented my car. Ran over a beaver. My pet orangutan escaped. Godzilla stole my lunch money. My dog ate my homework…”

He chuckled, despite himself. “So… none of my business?”

“Right. No orangutans in Sweet Bloom – and no beavers.”

“Gotcha. Fresh out of Godzilla’s too?”

“Yep.”

“I’m sorry, though. For whatever it really is.”

She was quiet a moment before asking stiffly, “So… how was your date?”

The unexpected question threw him off. Did she care about the answer? The thought of Krista feeling down—someone so full of life—unsettled him deeply. If anyone should always be smiling, it was her.

“About that…” he began cautiously, not wanting to pile onto whatever she was dealing with. “It was… fine,” he said, mentally kicking himself. “She was nice enough, but, uh, not my type.”

“Oh?” Her voice softened, curious. “Do you even have a type?”

Oh yeah , he thought, instantly picturing her: brunette with a light that shines from within, green eyes warm as the sun, a smile so radiant it could launch ships, and curls he could lose his hands in.

“Nope,” he lied, nervous. “But she’s definitely not it.”

“Really?” she pressed. “How do you know?”

Because she nearly impaled me with her shoe, and I wanted to scream for backup at three separate points. The sentence, ‘I need an adult!’ was almost yelped just to see if someone would come to my aid… but I was afraid it would be Susan who did – so I stayed quiet, he thought. Out loud, he dodged, “I could just tell.”

“Oh. Well… that’s why I set up three dates, remember? Three chances for true love.”

“Krista, you really don’t have to?—”

“You don’t want to go?” she cut in, sounding hurt.

He backpedaled, fast. “I didn’t say that! I just think… maybe after tomorrow’s date, we could talk. You know, face to face. About all this.”

“Oh, that’s a great idea! I can make a ‘T’ chart!”

“A what?”

“A ‘T’ chart!” she said brightly. “One column for ‘likes’ and one for ‘dislikes.’ It’ll help us track what works and what doesn’t, so we can see where your strengths and weaknesses for relationships lie.”

He could only laugh, feeling a blend of exasperation and undeniable charm tugging at him. "Guess I'll give it a try," he said with a hint of mischief. "Coffee and 'T'... in a fashion."

Krista chuckled, a sound that was finally starting to resemble the lively woman he adored. His heart unclenched, and a warmth crept over him as he realized he’d lifted her spirits. In a strange twist of fate, he wondered if he could get to know her better while surviving these dreadful blind dates she was so keen on setting up for him.

“Good," he said with a grin. "Maybe after each one, we could meet up and do a little post-date breakdown.”

“That’s actually a great idea," she mused, amusement slipping into her voice. "As long as we keep things casual.”

He raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “What do you mean by ‘casual’?”

“Well, if you meet the love of your life on one of these dates,” she explained, her tone light, “you wouldn’t want her to get the wrong idea about you being seen with me all over town. Some women can be… a bit possessive. Or, you know, firm believers in monogamy.”

He chuckled, “I thought everyone was?”

“You’d be surprised. Some people just want to keep things… light.”

“Casual dating,” he murmured, more to himself. “I’m not a dip-your-toes-in-the-water type. I’m the rock-for-someone-special kind of guy. Someone steady, loyal. I believe in monogamy.”

“Now that’s rare,” she replied, and he could hear a tinge of admiration in her voice.

“And what about you?” he asked, captivated by the thoughtful shift in her tone. “What are you looking for?”

She paused, and when she spoke, her voice had softened, dreamy, and distant. “Someone I can talk to. Really talk to. Someone who’ll listen to my deepest hopes and dreams. I want someone I can laugh with… someone who’d hold me when I cry. And I’d love to grow old with someone like that, side-by-side at ninety, still hand in hand in some creaky nursing home arguing over a spicy game of checkers or who gets to use the red bingo dauber.”

“That…” He hesitated, struck by the beauty of her words. “That sounds perfect.”

“You don’t think it’s silly?” she asked, almost shyly.

“Never,” he replied, the honesty in his voice thick and real.

She let out a quiet sigh as if releasing a held breath. “Most people would laugh and say I’d have to actually make it to ninety for something like that to happen.”

“If you don’t,” he replied gently, “it’d be like the sky losing its brightest star.”

A soft intake of breath echoed through the phone. She whispered, almost reverently, “That’s the sweetest thing anyone has ever said to me. Thank you.”

He grinned, punching a victorious fist into the air, though he kept his voice composed. “You’re welcome. Now, you try to rest. No more Charlie Brown if it gets you teary. I’m headed to Cajun’s to grab a shower,” he added with a shudder at the thought of The Susan Encounter.

The lingering memory made his skin crawl.

Krista laughed a melodic sound that washed over him like sunlight. “How about meeting me at the outdoor rink tomorrow? I’ll introduce you to Margie before you head over to the Cozy Cup. You can take your time, enjoy the ice, then warm up with coffee, and we’ll plot and jot down notes.”

He chuckled, “Plotting and jotting—my favorite things.”

“You’re hilarious, Gary,” she said warmly. “If you tell me you’re into scented highlighters and sticky notes, I might just skip the matchmaking and keep you for myself.”

He raised a brow, voice softening as he held his breath. His entire being tensed, full of hope, and wanting to scream out ‘please, take me!’ instead he managed to keep his cool and spoke.

“Is that all it takes?”

A peal of laughter burst from her, bright and infectious. “See? Hysterical. I’ll see you tomorrow at seven.”

“Looking forward to it,” he replied, his grin broadening as he clicked ending the call and feeling lighter than he had in days.