Taking Stock: A Later in Life Romance, page 6
He got out of the car and was opening my door before I had my seat belt unbuckled. His hand outstretched to help me out and I took it willingly. I could get used to this treatment. As we walked up to the restaurant, he leaned in close to me.
“Now, if one of your dates happens to place his hand on the small of your back, like so…” I felt his hand pressed against my back with the lightest of touches. “This means he is subtly marking you as his possession for any onlookers.”
I looked up at him, shocked.
“It’s a universal signal to all other males in the area that this woman is taken.”
“Are you serious?”
“Yes. If a man does this on your first date, take that as a sign that he is into you. It does not mean that you have given yourself to him, by any means, but it is a signal that he, at least, is warning others to back off.”
“Good to know.” I assumed that once he pointed out the move, he would remove his hand. But he didn’t. He kept it firmly there until we sat down. He was keeping the act up for my benefit, I knew, but it still felt nice.
“Now, there are some men who will hold out the chair for you, and some won’t because it’s something only wealthy snobs practice. If you dig a guy and he doesn’t pull out the chair, you can cut him some slack.”
“I see,” I said, noting the fact he hadn’t pulled out my seat.
The waiter brought us our menus and filled two glasses with water.
“Your next lesson: Don’t let a man order on your behalf,” he cautioned. “A woman should have her own say in the food she eats.”
“Right.” I had seen several movies where the man had ordered for the woman. I had always thought it was rude. It was nice to get confirmation.
“And for God’s sake, don’t order a salad. Guys like a woman who actually eats food.”
“Good. Because this Bolognese lasagna sounds amazing.”
He smiled at me and I couldn’t deny that, so far, this whole dating thing wasn’t so bad.
After we ordered, we stuffed ourselves on the breadbasket. Pretty soon, our first glass of wine was nearly gone. So far, so good.
“Small talk on a date is probably the hardest part of the night,” Rob said, leaning back in his chair. “It’s difficult to know what to talk about. Safe topics are employment, recreational activities, and food. Stay away from politics and religion. That’s a whole can of worms you don’t want to open on a first date.”
I nodded emphatically. “Agreed.” Those were two areas I knew little about. Well, not enough about to take part in a heated debate anyway. “Okay then,” I asked, nearly finishing my wine, “tell me about your job.”
Rob groaned. “I have to go first? Fine.” He let out a breath. “I graduated college with a degree in political science, of all things. I followed candidates around as they campaigned, reported back the news to the papers, but after a while, I got disenfranchised by the whole thing. You really got to see the dark side of American politicians working that close to them.” He shook his head. “I couldn’t stomach it anymore, but at that point, I had been playing a journalist for so long I really didn’t know what else to do. I worked for a few local papers in the Midwest, then one in the South, just a traveling nomad, really. I go where the work is.” He seemed so bored by the freedom his job allowed.
“But you get to travel!” I said in awe. “You’ve gotten to see way more of our country than I have. Hell, I barely left my own state.”
“Yet,” he said, reaching for his glass and downing the last sip. He signaled for the waiter to bring more. “These dates will get you traveling. Maine, Vermont…”
“Ugh, don’t remind me.”
“I thought you wanted to travel?”
The conversation paused as the waiter filled the glasses.
“I want to travel, yes, but I’m also terrified by it at the same time. I realize that makes no sense. I don’t drive often, so driving in a new state where I don’t know where I’m going petrifies me. I’m an introvert. New places…meeting new people.” I shivered. “It gives me major anxiety.”
Rob sat up in his chair. “You don’t have to worry about getting lost with me. I’ll be driving you to your dates. You just need to relax, be yourself, and fall madly in love with one of the eligible bachelors.” His grin was infectious.
“Easy-peasy.” I laughed at the ludicrousness of the plan, but then my face grew serious. “What if it doesn’t work? What if all the guys are awful? What if none of them provide the story you’re seeking?”
Rob’s face turned into a sad smile. “Well, I guess if that’s the case, then I’ll need to tell the editor the truth. That I failed. That love doesn’t exist in small-town America. Then, I’ll have to quit my job, become a bum, and hope I get enough panhandling to survive.”
I frowned. “I’m being serious.”
Rob laughed. “So was I.”
At that moment, the waiter brought out our main dishes. We both got the lasagna. He hadn’t really looked at the menu at all earlier. His eyes seemed too focused on me, which was rather unnerving. I knew he was doing it only to showcase what a real date might feel like, but at the same time, I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to do or say, so I mostly looked back at him.
We took a few tentative bites before Rob spoke again.
“Look, if we don’t get a match, then we don’t get a match. There’s a story to be written even in the disappointment of not finding love. Not the story my editor wants, mind you, but a story could be written, regardless. Try not to stress about that. Just go out, have fun, and see if any of these guys make you feel comfortable, and we can go from there.”
I nodded once, wanting to say that he made me feel comfortable, but also knowing that wasn’t part of the plan.
“So, have you met all these men I’m going to be dating?”
Rob wiped a little sauce from his mouth and held his fork out at me. “It’s a bad form to talk about other guys when you’re on a date.” He winked at me. “We can talk about the candidates later. For now, we need to order our dessert. We have somewhere to be at seven thirty.”
“There’s more?” I whispered.
“Of course there’s more. So, this is important to note. If a guy offers to take you out after dinner, that means he’s into you. If, after the date is over, he suggests going out for coffee or something, that is a solid indication that he wants to spend more time with you. If he ends the date after dinner, or worse, before you even order drinks, you won’t be hearing from him again.”
I nodded, but it felt as though I should be taking notes.
After a dessert of the most delicious chocolate pudding-like thing I’d ever tasted, he promptly paid the bill before I could even volunteer to at least split it.
“When a man offers to pay, let him,” Rob said, tucking his wallet back into his back pocket. “He’s not paying for your dinner in hopes of a repayment in sexual favors later. At least, I hope he isn’t. Some men are dicks, which is why you should never go home with a guy on the first date.”
I laughed. “Yeah, well, I’m not gonna let that happen, so no worries there.” Although I wasn’t a virgin, it had been fifteen years since I’d been with a man. Hell, that was probably long enough to make me a virgin again. But the idea of going out with a guy and having sex with him in the same night was enough to make me want to call the whole thing off. “That’s not an expected part of this deal, is it? They aren’t expecting me to sleep with them, too, are they?”
“No. Absolutely not,” Rob said. “One date. In a very public place. That’s all I’m asking.” Something in Rob’s face shifted. A look of defeat seemed to paralyze him as he stared down absently at his empty dessert plate. “This is never going to work. This article…What was I thinking? Did I really think I was going to be able to pull this off? It’s insanity. One date won’t be enough to generate the article my editor wants. I mean, what can you really accomplish in one date? Nothing. It’s going to take months, years, to develop the sort of relationship I promised my editors I’d discovered.” His hands dug into the sides of his hair. “What have I done? What have I subjected you to?”
His face looked ashen, almost as though he were ashamed of himself. The need to put his mind at ease rushed through me. I reached out my hand across the table and took one of his. He looked up at me in surprise.
“The only thing you have subjected me to is breaking me out of my shell for a moment. Your crazy idea to help two people fall in love, even if it is for the sake of your own career, is, at its core, a noble one. From what little I know of you I sense you genuinely believe that real love is possible. Your desire to want to write about that doesn’t make you a bad person. People find love in much stranger ways than this. All you are doing is giving me a kick in the ass to at least be open to the idea of a connection.” I paused. “No, it’s more than that. You’re giving me a chance to find something I never thought I would be able to have. Maybe this whole thing will be a bust and I will end up sad and depressed, but that’s no different from where I was before. At least this is a change from the norm, and for that, I am grateful.” I gave his hand a final squeeze before taking it back. “You are opening my eyes to a world I thought was closed off for me. Love connection or not, I am ready to see whatever the universe has in store.”
Rob seemed to ponder my words for a moment before he nodded firmly once.
“Okay then.” His eyes appeared to sparkle. “I guess this means we start part two of Dating 101.”
I giggled as he took my hand and led me out of the restaurant. Although I was still completely terrified by what this whole experiment would produce, I couldn’t deny there was a small sense of excitement. There were plenty of details that would still need to be worked out, but for now, I decided to let myself go. I allowed Rob to take the lead and show me a world I’d never been invited to participate in before. I was ready.
CHAPTER 9
When we drove back into town, I felt my heart dip a little. Is he taking me home? Has something changed since we left dinner? Have I screwed up the fake date somehow? It was silly, but I didn’t want the night to be over. I was having a surprisingly good time.
We turned onto my road and I thought for sure I’d start to cry, but then he didn’t turn into the lot. He drove past my apartment building and went a few blocks farther, turning onto Main Street. He parked near the coffee shop. Guess the night wasn’t over after all.
He turned to me with a twinkle in his eye. “I’ve been looking forward to this part of the night,” he said.
I smiled. He must be a coffee lover too. I’d have to get a decaf, though, or I’d be up all night. He opened my car door and we walked toward the shop, but instead of going in, he led me right past it.
“Oh, we’re not getting coffee?” I asked.
“Not yet. We need to work up our appetites first.”
That comment confused me. “Rob, I know you aren’t from around here, so I’ll let you know there’s really nothing to do on this strip. Especially at night. I mean, there’s only the coffee place, a second-hand thrift store, and a…oh no.” A dance studio. They taught old farts and little girls how to cha-cha and dosi-do. He isn’t taking me there, is he?
A wicked grin spread across his face confirmed that yes, yes, he was.
“No,” I said. “No. See, I don’t dance,” I began to sputter.
That only seemed to make him smile broader.
“That’s why we’re taking a class. They teach you how.”
My feet tried to slow, but his hand was at the ready at the small of my back, applying additional pressure to urge me forward.
“I don’t want to cha-cha, though.”
Rob made a face. “Cha-cha? Really? What kind of man do you take me for? We are learning something far more fun. The Salsa.” He wiggled his eyebrows up and down as my face grew even more pale.
I gulped. Like actually gulped. All I knew about the Salsa was what I’d seen on those dance shows. Lightning fast footwork, whirlwind spins, and partners who looked like they wanted to tear each other’s clothes off and get busy right there on the dance floor. In fact, my dad used to joke that the Salsa was just sex while dancing. I flushed.
“Do you know how to do Salsa?” I gasped as we reached the brightly lit door.
“Not a clue.”
His answer brought me great comfort. I wouldn’t be the only idiot stepping on toes. In theory.
When we got inside, I noticed Finn Allen was waiting at the counter. His parents owned the coffee shop before they passed. I was glad it stayed in the family. They were good people. Finn was looking at the display on the wall that showed all the times and classes offered. I would never have taken Finn to be the sort to dance. He was a perpetual bachelor who never grew up. What the hell did he want to take lessons for? Maybe they were a gift for his sister? Or maybe he’d met someone…My gossip brain started whirling, wondering who it might be, but then I panicked and realized I didn’t really want to be seen in here either. What would people say if they saw me with a stranger at a dance studio! Probably the same things I was thinking about discovering Finn looking at brochures.
Rob went up to the counter to wait behind Finn while I snuck into the small waiting area and picked up a magazine and held over my face, trying my best to hide.
“Here ya go, Finn. Sorry to keep you waiting, but these are hot off the printer.” CeCe’s voice boomed. CeCe was the owner and sole instructor. She had one of those voices you’d be able to hear over a rock concert.
“Thanks, CeCe. See you soon,” Finn said.
I heard the door open and close. I waited a few more moments to make sure he was really gone before I lowered the magazine. When I did, I instantly regretted it.
“Penny, are you going to be dancing with me tonight?” CeCe’s face beamed at me from across the shop. CeCe was a professional dancer in her youth and despite putting on one hundred pounds since then, could still dance circles around anyone who waltzed into her studio. The fact she was in her late 60s never ceased to amaze me. That woman was a firecracker.
“She is,” Rob answered for me. “We made a reservation for tonight.”
CeCe smiled at him then gave me a knowing wink.
“Of course.” CeCe walked over to her entrance door, switched the sign from open to closed, drew the store blinds, and locked the door.
I gave Rob a confused glance.
“I want to give you two my full attention tonight,” CeCe said when she came back to the counter.
Rob shifted nervously. “I’m Rob. I’m a reporter for the Sunset Journal. I’m doing an article on small towns and I’ve been fortunate enough to have Penny to escort me to local places of interest. She told me any visit to Bucksville would not be complete without a stop here,” Rob said, seeming to pick up on my subliminal messages of what sort of gossip this might stir up.
I blinked at how easy the lie came from his lips. I mean, it was almost true, but not quite. His story sounded way better than the truth about his desperate need to find an in-love couple. I also noted that it took out the heat of any potential romantic connection she might have inferred.
“Oh,” CeCe said, as though she were disappointed. The report back to her friends about our night was still shareable, but not as eyebrow-wagging worthy. “Well, I’m honored she thought of us. She’s been a native of this town since birth.”
I nodded, not sure if I should be proud of that fact or ashamed.
“If you want to know about anything in this town, she’s your girl,” CeCe added.
“That’s what I heard when I arrived in town. The locals all said, ‘talk to Penny.’ I sought her out, asking to help lead me around town. I’m thrilled she’s agreed. The article will be better off for it.” Rob smiled like a proud parent.
“I’m not familiar with The Sunset Journal,” CeCe pried. “Is that a New Hampshire paper?”
“No. It’s actually an online periodical, so my offices are wherever my fingertips are, though we have actual offices in New York and New Jersey.”
CeCe frowned a little, as though dissatisfied with this answer.
“Well, I suppose we should get started then?” CeCe took off the oversized shawl she was wearing to reveal a long-sleeved orange leotard. A bright, sheer skirt that was short in the front and long in the back, with pops of bright colors trailed behind her as she walked us to the back of the dance studio.
In all the years I’d lived here, I’d never actually stepped foot inside the studio. I’d been to the waiting area a few times to drop off local sales flyers for her to put on her bulletin board, but never to dance.
There were a few chairs along a back wall, tan hardwood floors that had been coated with so many layers of polyurethane I wasn’t sure they could still technically be called hardwood floors. The space was surrounded by three walls of floor-to-ceiling mirrors. The right side of the room held a long wooden bar like you see ballet dancers use. Next to the chairs sat a small table that held a CD player.
“Now, did you just want the history of the place or did you actually want to try some steps?” CeCe asked, practically gliding to a stop as her skirt swirled around her in an elegant swish.
“History,” I said.
“Steps,” Rob said at the same time as me.
I glared at him. He clearly wanted to move, while I wanted to run and hide in a dark corner.
“How about a little of both then.” She smiled, showing off her white teeth against bright red lipstick. CeCe was one of the only people in our small town who always dressed to the nines. She wore elegant earrings and thin silver bracelets around her wrists. When she was out and about, she always had some sort of long, flowing skirt in bright colors. Her hair and makeup were always on point. Her very essence evoked the energy of a person living her life to the fullest. I used to think she was foolish acting the way she did. Now I wondered if she was onto something.
