Love at Blind Date Complete Series: Books 1-4 Read online

  “Monty from down the street?” I asked.

  “Yeah. I promised him I’d be there. Made a reservation and ordered a special dessert and everything.”

  “These things happen.” I turned on the TV and stared intently at the screen.

  “But the poor alpha. Being stood up on V Day is the worst.”

  “You know what’s worse? Calling it V Day. I’d say the guy dodged a bullet ‘cause if my date referred to it as that, I’d make an excuse and leave.”

  Richard pushed my feet off the couch and sat beside me. “Monty says the guy’s really sweet and hasn’t been on a date in ages.” He checked his watch. “The reservation’s for seven at L’Amour and it’s after five now.”

  I shoved him out of the way as he was blocking my view. “I’m so glad you’re able to tell time, Richard, but why are you rambling on about this?” But as soon as the words were out of my mouth, a warning bell jangled in my head. “Oh, no! No. No. No!”

  “I haven’t asked you anything yet.”

  “You want me to go in your place. No freaking way.”

  He got on his knees. “Please, Jesse. Monty’s really fond of the guy, and I can’t do this to him.”

  I had to admit I had a soft spot for Monty and his husband Marty but didn’t see why I had to save the day. “To Monty or the alpha? I’m sure they’ll understand.”

  “It’s my treat. Order anything on the menu. And there’s a special surprise for dessert.”

  I groaned and shoved a cushion over my head. I was a functioning adult and perfectly capable of resisting Richard’s pleas. But if I didn’t agree, he’d never stop bugging me. He knew my weak spots and was expecting me to cave. But I was made of stronger stuff. “All I want is to order takeout and sleep.”

  “Instead you’ll have a delicious meal and go to bed later. For me. Please, Jesse.” His face reminded me of a puppy begging for a treat. Those big brown eyes and trembling lips. No wonder so many alphas fell at his feet willing to do anything he asked.

  Fuck! My night’s ruined. “Fine! But I’m going to order the most expensive thing on the menu.”

  He kissed me on the forehead. “You’re a star! I owe you.”

  But as he dashed out the door, keys in his mouth and tripping over his own feet, I yelled, “Details.” He’d told me the time and place but not the guy’s name.

  He mumbled something I couldn’t understand and tossed me his credit card.

  “Message me his name.” Not only did I have to go on someone else’s blind date, but I had to shower and get dressed. And leave the house. So much for a nice quiet evening.

  3

  Dean

  L’Amour didn’t mess around when it came to Valentine's Day. I walked in and was immediately greeted by the maître d’, who introduced himself as Cupid and offered me either a place at the bar to wait for my companion or to see me to our table, and while the idea of a nice Merlot after the week I’d had at work sounded magnificent, I owed it to Monty and to my date not to be sound asleep before the guy arrived and a nice glass of wine could easily result in that very thing.

  “This way, sir,” he led me through the dining room which, just as I’d have assumed, was filled with couples, many of whom were holding hands.

  Very much not the place for a first date—not a blind first date, anyways. Maybe if it had been a long-time crush I’d finally worked up the nerve to ask out—maybe? But I hadn’t had one of those in years—not since high school—and I’d never worked up the courage in that case.

  No, dating for me had always been You are nice enough so eh, let’s see if it can be a thing and sometimes they lasted a date or a dozen, one even most of a year, but they were never the one.

  “Will this do, sir?” He spread his arm in the direction of a cozy rounded booth for two, three tops, in the back corner. “The reservation said you were celebrating something special.”

  Oh Monty. Getting ahead of things again, I see.

  “It is perfect, thank you.” I slid in as he set down the special menus for the evening, and a quick glance told me there would be no way around having a little heart on my plate come eating time.

  “I will seat your guest as soon as he arrives. Would you like the waiter to wait until he appears?”

  “When he gets here is fine.” Maybe I’d be lucky and he’d skip out. Then I could enjoy my meal and go home without any of the stress of a first date. Alone, surrounded by couples in love.

  Why did I agree to this again?

  The busboy came and filled both mine and my guest’s water. He still had five minutes until our date officially began so chances were great that he was going to be drinking tepid water by the time he got there, but the poor busboy looked incredibly frazzled with the amount of work he was juggling, I dared not say anything other than a polite, “Thank you,” as he raced on to the next table.

  I took a long sip of the cool drink as I perused the menu. This was the longest I’d sat and done nothing since I was first given the lead for our new client. It was kind of nice. Sure, there was still a ton waiting for me in the office on Monday, and possibly tomorrow depending on how willing I was to let it wait, but it could wait until Monday and that was a load off of my shoulders to be sure.

  “Sir,” a man I assumed was a waiter drew me from my thoughts and my menu, “do you still want to wait for your guest or would you like to order something?” Technically, he was asking a simple question, but his meaning was clear. I’m working my most profitable day of the year and you are ordering nothing—please fix that.

  “How about an order of the bacon-wrapped scallops and maybe you could pick the second appetizer? It all sounds amazing.”

  That set him at ease, at least his posture suggested it did as he leaned in slightly, his shoulders less tense, and his smile less forced. “Personally, I would skip the scallops and order the Taste D’Amour for two, it has the scallops along with a bit of all the chef’s favorites,” he leaned in and faux whispered, “in the shapes of hearts, of course.”

  “Sounds delightful.”

  He headed back to the kitchen, returning quickly with a bottle of wine, which had been pre-ordered by “A Mr. Monty, sir.” He left it there to breathe, whatever that meant, and I began people watching. There was so much love in the room I felt so completely out of place. Had I made the right choice, putting my career above all else? I was the youngest VP in the firm, so maybe. Then again, what had it gotten me so far, but money I couldn’t even enjoy spending because I was always working and coming home most evenings with a headache. If it weren’t for Monty taking me under his wing years earlier, I’d have been completely burnt out already.

  Maybe Monty was right and this would be good for me. The blind date was a doctor, so in theory he’d understand my work ethic. Sure, I didn’t save lives, but I had a feeling we both put in similarly long hours. And would it hurt me to try? Maybe I could have more than just a good job and a cat to greet me at the door. Maybe I could have someone to share a meal and time to time a bed with.

  Maybe one day in the future, it could even turn into more. After work evened out, of course.

  And just when I decided to give Doctor Richard a solid chance, the maître d’ caught my eye as he walked in my direction, and behind him was not Richard the doctor. No, it was Jesse Henderson, my past walking behind, presumably to meet his mate or beau or someone not me.

  He hadn’t changed one bit, and at the same time was completely different. He still had those green eyes that could steal your breath away and I pictured those long lean muscles that I’d spent far too many hours drooling over, but he was no longer a boy—no, the Jesse coming to me was all man.

  Why had I never gotten the courage to ask him out? We were kids, and the chances of it amounting to anything were nonexistent, but seeing him even for this flash of a few seconds brought all of those memories of our time together back then. Would it be creepy if I leaned over and inhaled deeply as he walked by, trying to allow that glorious scent o
f his amber and pine envelop me? It absolutely would be, but seeing him took the ability to be rational away from me and I would have done exactly that had “Cupid” not stopped in front of my table, Jesse beside him, his jaw dropped open as if he were a deer caught in headlights.

  4

  Jesse

  I should have worn a tie.

  I’d fallen asleep on the couch and woke up at 6:30. I was half inclined to go back to sleep and forget about my agreement with Richard. But my stomach rumbled, reminding me I’d hardly eaten since breakfast. With luck, I could order, throw the food down, mumble my apologies about needing to grade papers, and be home before nine.

  But walking behind the maître d’ I felt distinctly out of place. I’d driven past the restaurant many times but dining here wasn’t an option on my teacher’s salary. And Richard wasn’t earning much more than I was. Best if I order the cheapest item on the menu.

  The phone was clutched in my hand, waiting for my housemate to text me the guy’s name. I’d have to wing it. How much worse can this get? But the maître d’ moved and I caught sight of the alpha, sitting in one of those round booths, illuminated under the chandelier above and the flickering candles on the table.

  As my mouth gaped, the phone vibrated. My eyes took in the one word displayed on the screen. I gasped, “Dean.” Air caught in my throat and my vision blurred while a tingling raced up and down my spine.

  He half stood, appeared to freeze, and then slowly lowered himself. Blood drained from his face. “Jesse!”

  “You!” I was instantly hauled back to my high school years. I was a football jock and spent any free time I had training during the season. My world revolved around sports, and when I wasn’t on the football field, I was thinking about it, imagining the college scholarship I’d win before going pro.

  But every weekday after I’d showered and was heading home, I’d walk past the auditorium and the kids in the orchestra were just finishing rehearsal. And one of those guys was Dean.

  We were high school clichéd opposites. Sports jock and music geek. And yet according to the way things were ‘supposed to be’—which meant ordered, boring, and don’t-rock-the-boat normal—we weren’t.

  I was the omega and he was the alpha. We went against the traditional norms, and for me, it was no big deal, but while Dean was taller than I was, he was a slighter build. And though he never came out and said it, I sensed there were those who judged him for following his heart and making music instead of engaging in a more aggressive alpha hobby.

  But he lived a few blocks away from me and we often walked home at the same time, and when I needed it, he helped me with my math homework.

  He was gorgeous even in the awkward teenage years, and I wanted to get to know him better. Go to the movies, just hang out. But I never got up the courage and he never asked.

  And now I was staring at a face I hadn’t seen in over fifteen years.

  The maître d’s gaze flicked between me and the alpha while I gripped the table, my white knuckles standing out against the dark wood. “Will you be staying, sir?” he asked.

  As I stared into those gray eyes, my stomach grumbled again and the maître d’ pressed his lips together as if he were hiding a smile. Dean inclined his head, and I muttered, “I need a drink.”

  The maître d’ was one step ahead of me, ushering me into the booth with one hand and filling my wine glass with the other.

  I downed a huge mouthful, wishing time would freeze and give me time to think and to work out what to say. But it didn’t. It ticked over, one excruciating second at a time, leaving me sitting with mouth open wide.

  “Is seeing me that bad?” Dean asked. He rubbed a hand over his eyes. “And why are you here? Is this a joke? I was supposed to be meeting someone…’ he checked his phone, “…called Richard. Haven’t changed your name, have you?”

  I took another sip of wine before answering. “I was doing my housemate—the Richard in question—a favor.”

  “Do tell. I get that going on a blind date is one step away from hell, but are people hiring stand-ins these days?” His voice had a hint of sarcasm or was that hurt that seeped through the delectable huskiness?

  “No. Ummm no.”

  “Glad to hear it.”

  I took another sip of wine as I gathered my courage. “He’s a doctor and he had to work. Begged me…” Not the best choice of words. I cleared my throat. “Asked me to take his place. Didn’t want you alone on V… I mean Valentine’s Day.” Damn! That didn’t come out right.

  “Ouch!”

  Fuck! “What I’m trying to say is he heard you were a great guy and he really wants to meet you. But it couldn’t happen tonight and he hopes you both can find another time to get together and...” I took a breath.

  “Whoa! Jesse, slow down. You’re not trying to make a touchdown.”

  There was an awkward silence. Is he referring to football or…?

  Without saying a word, we both reached for the bottle of wine and his fingers brushed over the back of my hand. I yelped and pulled away except it came out more of a mew than a howl. I peered at the floor hoping the universe would take pity on a pathetic omega by swallowing me.

  Courses came and went and I ate. I think. I shoved food in my mouth and chewed, so technically that was eating. We made awkward small talk but while part of me wished I was anywhere else, I was raking my eyes over his chest, shoulders, and that hint of stubble on his jaw.

  His scent was the same and yet different. It had matured and also mellowed. It was more certain of what it was. No longer afraid to show itself. Or maybe my thinking was horseshit and he’d shoved on too much cologne.

  But as I was wondering if I should ask for the check, dessert arrived. It was some gooey pink concoction with cream, chocolate hearts, strawberries, and sparklers. Sparklers!

  From the corner of my eye, I noticed every other couple in the restaurant oohing and ahhing over their dessert. Selfies were being taken and, I assumed, uploaded to social media as alphas and omegas spoon-fed one another and kissed. Dean followed my gaze.

  “Should we?” he asked.

  My heart sped up and hammered against my chest so hard I winced. “What? Kiss?”

  He dug a spoon into the dessert and I held my breath, expecting him to slip it between my lips.

  “No. Eat.” I leaned forward as he mumbled something which sounded like, “But kissing would be nice.”

  “Oh right.” My face burned. God I’m an idiot. I pulled up my housemate’s contact details and shoved the phone in Dean’s face. “This is Richard’s number. He asked you to call but I’m to let you know he’s really busy.”

  He made no attempt to add it to his contacts. “There is a number I’d like but it’s not this one.”

  “Huh?”

  He inspected the tablecloth and then glanced back at me. “Yours, Jesse.”

  5

  Dean

  “Mine?” His face pinkened. I did that, just by asking for his number.

  What a role reversal. Back in high school he’d always been the confident one. Sure, I had my music. First chair violin, even in a small school, was no small feat. But that was where my confidence ended.

  Jesse, though? He ruled the football field, the social scene, and anything else he put his mind to. I’d had to tell him far more often than not that his biggest obstacle in math was not skill or ability, but fear. I always found it odd that the omega who beat the odds to become star quarterback could have all those huge alphas all but attacking him on the field with no worries whatsoever, but throw a letter into a math problem and boom—he froze.

  “If that would be alright with you.” I’d come to this date expecting the worst. Richard, as great as he sounded, I assumed would have a major flaw. Maybe he would scent of sour milk, or be a player, or pick his nose...I hadn’t let my imagination get that far, but my gut told me a date with him wasn’t what I wanted or needed.

  Turned out my gut was right. I didn’t want Richard. He cou
ld be the most amazing perfect omega in the entire world and he would pale in comparison to the man beside me—gods, whomever designed this curved booth deserved an award or something. I could see his face, feel the heat of his body, and take in his scent all at once. Perfection.

  “Ummm yeah, that would be nice.”

  The room fell silent before he could give it to me, the lights dimming slightly as the sound of a cello began to slowly fill the room. My head turned to where the sound originated, and there was an alpha on his knees with not one, but two omegas in front of him, two ring boxes in his hand.

  It wasn’t until the clapping and awws began that I noticed how close Jesse and I had gotten, our thighs now touching. It was everything I had ever wanted, only now that I had it, it was nowhere near enough. My hand brushed his knee and snapped away as I felt a shiver run through him, only to be placed back on it when his hand took mine.

  How was this happening? So many years later, there we were exactly how I had dreamed it all those years ago. No, that wasn’t true, in my dirty teen mind, I always pictured him naked by now, but then again I only allowed my mind to wander this far when I was alone and my cock was in hand. I shook that from my thoughts, not wanting to have my dress pants any more tented than they already were.

  “So romantic,” he whispered, and I agreed, only where as he was talking about the double proposal, I was talking about our dinner.

  The music stopped and the lights rose slightly, but the spell wasn’t broken. We sat there, like that, barely touching as we talked about my crazy job and his career as a teacher—a math teacher at that. He said that teaching something that was hard for him made him a better teacher because he knew what things kids got held up on. I loved seeing how animated he got when he spoke about his job.

  I’d been like that too, once. When I was young and green and fresh out of school. That had long dissipated as I moved up the ladder and everything became about success.