The Bookworm's Guide to Dating

twenty-eight.
How much more time were they going to waste on a relationship that was going nowhere?
That was the thing we should have all been betting on.
“Right,” I said slowly. “I’m trying not to judge you for that, but you’re really rather pathetic.”
“Says the woman who can’t have a date without getting spaghetti sauce on her white dress,” my brother shot back. “Hold on.” His voice became slightly muffled. “Yes, I said white… I don’t know, Josh, ask her yourself.”
Great.
“What? Jesus, okay, but it’s your funeral.”
“I’m still here,” I said, pulling onto my street.
There was a rustle and then, “Are you still at the store? Or are you at home? Your matchmaker wants a debrief.”
“I’m about to get home. And tell my matchmaker that if he’s coming over, expect me in pajamas, and I expect wine. I’m traumatized he thought someone who has never read the Harry Potter books has any right to trash my boy.”
“You’re so fucking weird.”
I laughed as Colt hung up. Perfect timing, I thought as I pulled into my driveway. I didn’t have to worry about disconnecting the call and messing around with my phone while I went inside.
I grabbed my things from the passenger side seat, including my shoes, and walked barefoot to my front door. After locking the car, I let myself into the house, dumped the shoes and my purse, and went straight for the stairs.
I was going to have to work some stain-removal magic on this dress the second it came off.
I hadn’t worn it in more than a year, but I was reminded how cute and versatile it was. One of those rare dresses you could dress up or down and it looked adorable either way.
If nothing else good came out of tonight, at least I had that.
I quickly changed into some sweatpants and a tank top that proclaimed me to be ‘bookish’ and took my dress into the kitchen. I ran cold water on the inside of the dress and scrubbed to loosen the stain, then flipped it over and scrubbed with both laundry detergent and white vinegar separately.
It smelled freaking awful.
I repeated the process until the stain was gone, holding it up to the light periodically to check it. When it looked as though it had disappeared, I pulled some regular, store-bought stain remover out of the cabinet under the sink and applied it.
Three knocks sounded at my door, and I yelled a, “Come in!” over my shoulder at Josh.
At least I hoped it was Josh.
“You know, you really shouldn’t leave your front door unlocked when it’s late,” was how Josh announced himself to me as he joined me in the kitchen.
I glanced at the clock. “It’s barely eight-thirty. Hardly late, unless you’re the other side of seventy.”
“Seventy? That’s generous. I know people the other side of thirty who call that bedtime.”
I rolled my eyes. “Did you bring wine?”
He stepped into my line of view and held up two bottles. “I thought this seemed adequate, especially given that I’m apologizing for a Harry Potter hater and not the fact he bailed on you when you used the bathroom.”
“Ugh, don’t remind me.” I checked the stain on my dress. “I just need to throw this in the washing machine. Wine glasses are in the cabinet by the fridge.”
He nodded to indicate he’d heard me. I took my dress to the utility room and shoved it in the washer alongside the few other white items I had. I threw some stain remover in there just for good measure and set the machine going, before I padded my way back into the kitchen.
Where Josh was nowhere to be found.
“Josh?”
“Back porch!”
If he didn’t have my wine…
I’d steal his.
Thankfully, he did have it.
“I locked your front door for you,” he said as I settled down on the sofa next to him. “You’re welcome.”
I rolled my eyes again and took the glass of wine, pleasantly surprised to find that it was already chilled. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” he repeated.
“All right, Maui, calm down.”
“Maui?”
“From Moana?”
“What’s Moana?”
I blinked at him. “The Disney movie?”
“Believe it or not, Kinsley, I don’t watch Disney movies in my spare time. I’m more of a sport guy than a princess one. Not that there’s anything wrong anyone who does watch them,” he finished hurriedly.
Snorting, I said, “Don’t worry, Joshua. Nobody is going to think you’re homophobic because you don’t watch Cinderella or Tangled in your spare time.”
Never mind that they were actually aimed at seven-year-old girls.
“I don’t know. Have you been on the internet lately? There are people who’d get offended if you said you didn’t like bananas.”
“Why wouldn’t you like bananas? Personally, unless they rise up and try to take over the forest, I think we should live and let live.”
His gaze, firmly on mine, didn’t waver, even as he shook his head and fought a smile. “You’re something else, you know that?”
“I think that’s a compliment,” I said dryly, lifting my glass to sip.
Mm, he’d bought Sauvignon. The good stuff, too.
“It was really that bad? The date?”
I shrugged and looked out at my yard. It wasn’t quite cold enough yet for a jacket, but it wouldn’t last much longer before I’d feel a chill and have to go inside. That also meant it wasn’t completely dark yet, and it was one of the things I loved about living in Montana.
Granted, winter could be grim, but summer was lovely and bright.
“I just didn’t click with him,” I said after a moment of reflection. “Pretty much straight away, I knew it wasn’t going to work. I don’t know why. As soon as we sat down and he opened his mouth, I figured out why.”
Josh choked back a small laugh. “Sometimes it happens like that. Getting along online and in person are two different things.”
“You can say that again.”
“What went wrong?”
“I really don’t know. He was just… God, he was so full of himself. Like he was God’s fucking gift to women, and I should bow down at his feet and lick his dirty little