The Blind Date by Landish, Lauren (suggested reading .txt) 📕

nap. Only half-asleep because if I make a move toward the kitchen or crinkle a food wrapper, he’d be at my feet, begging for a bite, in less than a blink.

I finish the video quickly, posting it to my page with all the appropriate hashtags, including Joroast Cosmetics.

Now that that’s done, there’s no more stalling from nerves or rushing around with excitement. I have just enough time to grab yellow sandals from the back of my closet and slip them on my feet. No socks today, and no Docs, which feels weird, but dressing up for Mark seems like the right thing to do.

I’m also hoping that without my identifiable markers, maybe he won’t recognize me right off the bat and I can explain my work and the fake name. Of course, there’s always the chance that even if I went into the date in full ‘Riley Sunshine’ mode, he still might not know who I am. But I can’t count on that.

Not when it’s this important.

I take a few laps around the apartment, on wood floors and rugs, to be sure I haven’t forgotten how to walk in these things. It’s been at least a year since I’ve worn heels.

Nothing would be more embarrassing than falling on my butt just as Mark and I meet because I’ve forgotten how to walk in heels. I remember falling at the home last week—in my boots, mind you—and make a few more trips from the kitchen down the hallway, using it as a runway. “Okay, I think I’m ready,” I tell Raffy.

Raffy assures me that I’m going to be fine, that Mark’s not going to be a one-eyed Phantom of the Opera, and that even if he is, I’ve got a big boy who’ll give me kisses at home. Or at least that’s how I’m choosing to read his yawn and repositioning to lie on his back with his belly exposed. His head is on my pillow, keeping it warm for me.

I give myself one last lookover in the full-length mirror in my bedroom. Hair, blonde and curled. Makeup, on point, literally photo-ready. Blue dress, like I said I’d wear. Yellow heels, yellow nails, and a tiny gold sun necklace at my throat. I’m still me, Riley, just not the full-throttle Riley Sunshine.

I figure that Mark will be in a suit, coming from the office. Knowing that helped guide my dress choice in that it’s demure but still has enough of a V-cut in the bodice that it’s sexy too. As Eli likes to joke, I could go to the church picnic, but probably not Sunday services. I don’t think Eli has ever been to either, so I’m not sure how he’d know.

That reminds me, I’m supposed to let Eli or Arielle know where I’m going when I go out on a date. Safety first. Arielle has still been swamped at work all week, so I send Eli a quick message . . .

Riley: First date with app guy, Mark. Meeting in public at Alex Lighthouse at five thirty. I’ll text when I’m home.

Eli: So I should expect your text in the morning? Don’t do anything or anyone I wouldn’t do.

Riley: <eye roll emoji, kiss emoji>

Eli’s instruction leaves me more than enough room to do anything I would want to because I’m not half as crazy as he is.

I grab my purse and look back at my apartment, just in case we do ‘happen’ to end up here. I’m pleased as always with what I find. Sure, it’s not the biggest. It’s just a one-bedroom place. But it’s in a nice complex in a good part of town, within walking distance of a nice supermarket, and best of all, I don’t have to break the budget on a monthly basis for it.

“Wish me luck, Raffy. Don’t wait up!” I sing-song as I pull the door closed behind me, checking the lock. As I head to my little yellow Volkswagen bug, with sunshine hubcaps, of course, my brain replays my messages with Mark over and over. I’m looking for red flags I might’ve missed, but I mostly end up smiling as I remember funny things he’s said.

There’s something about Mark that tells me he’s one of a kind and that where we don’t match, we compliment. We fill gaps, as someone once said. I’ve got gaps, he’s got gaps, and together, we’ve filled gaps.

Now let’s see if we want to fill those gaps that haven’t been filled properly in a long time.

Riley Ann! I yell at myself. But truthfully, I don’t feel embarrassed or ashamed about my naughty thoughts. After last night, I might have to hold myself back from Mark if he’s half as amazing as I think he is.

I cross my fingers that it’s the case, and I start my car and head to the bookstore, hope blooming the whole way there.

* * *

Driving toward the bookstore, I try to be present in the moment. Briar Rose is a beautiful town with crape myrtle trees blooming in pinks and whites in the medians, families playing in the park as I pass, and people walking the sidewalks.

It’s not small, though. We have a bustling downtown and rail system that’ll get you anywhere in town easily.

The sun is shining, there’s not a cloud in the blue sky, and I’m on my way to meet Mark.

It doesn’t get any better than this right here, enjoying the moment and on the precipice of something possibly great.

Stopping at the Iron Bridge, I decide to skip the radio today and instead tap my phone quickly. “Play audiobook Baby Daddy.”

“Playing audiobook file,” my phone replies, and I have to grin. Voice control’s a lot easier than tapping at a screen while I drive, that’s for sure. Safer, too. Although my insurance agent would probably have a heart attack if he knew I was driving along while listening to a romance audiobook.

But I’ve been reading and listening to a lot of romance lately. At first, it was just to live