The Reluctant Beauty(2)

The maître de hovered nearby. Peg figured he’d throw her out for sure if she backtracked her steps.

Standing there, all six foot tall now, diners began to turn and gawk. She clutched her clipboard a tad tighter and forced a smile. “Haven’t you ever seen the Jolly Green Giant’s daughter? Sprout couldn’t make it tonight, so I’m it.”

That got a few laughs, which put her slightly at ease.

Tell a joke and crack them up, before they lash out. That’s how she survived through school. And life till now.

The curly-haired man eating his pale green soup stared at her, his spoon halfway to his mouth. Behind his thick-rimmed glasses, his wide eyes blinked, reminding her of an owl.

Penguin, caterpillar, and an owl. This place was a regular zoo. Or the beginning of a bar joke…

She slid into the seat opposite his. “Hi. Name’s Peg. You must be my date.”

Still, he blinked.

“Not a big talker?” She shrugged. “Fine by me. Now.” She leaned closer, saying, “Here’s the deal. My folks, brother, and his preggers wife are coming next week to stay with me. I know, I know. I couldn’t stop them. Bullheaded when they want me to do something. Marriage? Hah! They’ve been harping on it for the last year now. It’s gotten worse since with my birthday around the corner and they think I should be wed and popping out babies in exactly one point eight years. Pop,” she shook her head, “sweet, kind, but a little obsessed with the numbers thing. He’s an economics professor.”

He still hadn’t moved his hand. She reached over and directed his hand to the table and the spoon back to his soup bowl.

“So,”—she stopped herself from saying Owl Eyes—“you game? Pretend you know me, pretend we date, and make it seem like we’re a couple. A day. Two tops. What do you say?”

Again, she witnessed the blank look.

An older woman appeared and stood at her elbow. “Who are you, may I ask?”

Peg looked at her, noticed the lady was well dressed with beautifully applied makeup, and her hair professionally colored champagne blonde. “Um…his date….potential date, that is?”

“A hooker?!” The woman’s voice rose. The other diners turned to watch.

The guy finally spoke. “Mother. You followed me?”

Heat slipped into the tops of Peg’s cheeks. She looked from him to the older, scowling woman, and then back to him again. Rising quickly, she said, “Look, lady, no offense, but you can have him all to yourself. My bad! No harm, no foul, okay?” Peg scampered away.

In the background, she heard the mother scold him and, contrite, he apologized. For all that was pure and holy, thank goodness that wasn’t the one Peg had been looking for. Phew! Close call.

With most eyes on her, Peg wove through tables of the many curious diners. One lone man held up his hand and waved her into the empty seat at his table.

“You? You’re my date?”

“If you want me to be, honey.”

She groaned out loud. This was not her night. Maybe the guy had gotten cold feet and didn’t show up. She glanced around for any man seated by himself at the surrounding tables. None. Floss guy had left. Owl eyes and Mommy Dearest were in a heated whispered exchange.

Beyond the diners, she glanced at the bar. There was one guy—really cute, too—at the end, looking out once in a while. Could that be him? Some woman came up to him. Like a plane going down in flames, her hopes died.

“Let me buy you a drink? What’ll you have? Gin and tonic? Marguerite? Slow screw up against the wall at sunrise?”

Peg blinked at the last one. “What a line, bub.”

He laughed. “It’s a drink.” By the way his dark hair was perfectly styled (better than hers, in fact), his teeth chemically whitened (because no one could naturally have teeth that white), and the beautiful tanned skin, perfectly sculpted features, Peg sensed the line was a fishing expedition.

“I don’t pick up guys in bars.” There, she set him straight.

“I’m having dinner. So technically, you wouldn’t be picking me up in a bar.”

“Same difference.” She sighed. Peg had less than a week to find someone. There had been no takers until tonight. Dating Material, the dating site she’d joined in a moment of weakness and at Rico’s insistence, hadn’t coughed up any decent candidates. She tried messaging Justanormalguy. He responded within minutes. Not a good sign. But, what else did she have going for her?

Looking down at her clipboard, she scratched out the user name. Back to square one. What could be so hard with getting one measly date?

“We could have fun, honey,” the guy across from her coaxed.