MisTaken (Miss Match #1.5) (2 page)

Now that she’d met Blake in person, she remembered that things that seemed too good to be true usually were. Because even though the person she’d met was rich, savvy, and attractive, he was not a catch. He was a nightmare.

As Andy would well have known. “Just wait until you hear.” Jay leaned back into the mismatched throw pillows Lacy had stitched out of thrift-shop dresses. Despite her irritation, Jay quickly felt comfy in Lacy’s bohemian-styled apartment. She was perfectly happy with her own IKEA and fair-trade stuff, but it was fun to let her eyes roam over all the goofy little knickknacks and art pieces her neighbor matched together.

“You’ve got my attention,” Lacy said, matching a pair of fuzzy socks from her laundry basket then pinning her eyes on Jay. “Please, tell all.”

Andy reentered the living room then with a bottle, a few mason jars, and a box of crackers balanced in the crook of her arm. Jaylene had eaten a meal on that jerk’s dime, but she was going to polish off the box of crackers, too, just on principle. Wine poured, Andy took a tentative seat on an armchair across from the couch.

It would almost be worth it to let the woman suffer. But Jaylene couldn’t hold in her wrath any longer. She leveled her glare at Andy. “Blake. Donovan.” She let the two words settle, enjoying Andy’s squirm. The two didn’t know each other well. They’d only met because of a piece of mail delivered to the wrong address, but Jay figured that since she was Lacy’s sister, she had to be cool.

After her date with Blake Donovan, she wasn’t so sure.

“Well, that name says everything,” Lacy said, scowling at her sister. “What were you thinking, Andy?” Her sister’s eyes darted away.

Jay continued the interrogation. “Did you actually imagine we’d hit it off, or was this your idea of a sick joke? Have I inadvertently offended you in some way?”

At least Andy had the grace to look ashamed. “No, I thought maybe you two would have a nice time.”

Lacy chortled. “You obviously don’t know Jay very well.”

Andy sat straighter on her perch. “Admittedly, I don’t know much about Jaylene. But she passed the initial screening points. They’re both into exercise.” She turned to Jay. “You seem to be driven. So is he. You thought his picture was attractive.” Her eyes fell to her hands where she fiddled with the hem of her T-shirt. “He likes Asians.…”

The picture snapped into focus. “Are you suggesting that you set me up on a date with a guy who likes Asians simply because I’m the only Korean you know? That is so racist. And actually explains a lot.”

“I’m not racist!” Andy’s head snapped up. “I just thought this would be an easy match. He should have been quite taken with you. I don’t like this job, and the quicker I can leave with a bonus, the better.”

Jaylene couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Could this day possibly get any weirder? “You’re planning to stay at this until you marry the guy off? You can’t possibly think you’ll find someone for him. You must be kidding me.” That called for a refill.

“I wish I was kidding.” Andy grabbed for a notebook and pen off of the coffee table and slid into the corner of the sofa. “So if it went that badly, I’m afraid I’m going to need to know every last detail. Top me up, too, will you?”

Andy did look sort of pained. That was good. Because, job or not, Jay was going to describe her awful evening so Andy knew just how much she owed her. This ought to be good for a couple of more wine nights, and maybe even some cat-sitting while she was at her ex-roommate’s wedding next month.

Pleased with the thought, Jaylene settled back into the cushions and began. “I got to the restaurant early. Because there was still a good half hour before our reservation, I thought I’d sit at the bar and grade some papers over a drink while I waited. It was a hot day, as you know, so I ordered a Sam Adams.”

“Always a good choice.” Lacy grinned. “Sorry, go on.”

“I was halfway through yet another tedious and mundane essay about how
Catcher in the Rye
changed this student’s life when this gorgeous man sits down next to me. I recognized him from the pictures right away. I hold out my hand for a shake—he doesn’t take it.”

“I’m sure he didn’t notice,” Andy offered.

“Oh, he noticed, all right. He stared at my hand and said ‘Jamie?’ in this curt tone that said he didn’t approve of my name.”

Andy waved her hand dismissively. “He seems to have a thing about names fitting the way a person looks or acts. He calls me Drea. Best just to ignore it.”

“Well, it isn’t my name, now is it? I told him he could call me Jay.” Because to hell with a guy deciding what a woman should be called. Maybe she needed to invite Andy to her monthly Femme Power group meeting. Anyway. “His gaze went from my hand—still just hanging there, mind you—to the beer. And I think that must have been the moment he decided I was gay.”

Her story was interrupted by a guffaw from Lacy. “You? With the trail of broken-hearted men you’ve left in your wake? That’s rich. Andy’s boss is an idiot. I suppose he thinks only lesbians drink beer?”

“Bingo.” Jay touched her nose. “He actually said something similar to that later on, but we’re still at the bar right now, me holding my hand out like an idiot, thinking he
has
to take it at some point because who does that? Well,
he
does that. He actually turned around and started walking to the table without ever acknowledging my unshook shake.”

“Unshook Shake sounds like a song title.” Lacy grabbed her acoustic guitar and started strumming softly. “I’ll credit you, though.”

“I wait a second before following him, because I have to grab the papers I was working on and stick them back in my briefcase. I get over to the table and he’s sitting in the shady spot. I try to scoot my chair so the sun isn’t shining directly in my eyes, but he says, get this, ‘
I prefer you sit across from me.
’” She took another swig of wine and shook her head. She still couldn’t believe she’d actually followed his instructions instead of insisting on another table, or better yet, leaving. But she’d been taken completely off-guard, and just sort of went with it.

Also, the man was attractive. Beautiful men were definitely her weakness. Such a contradiction to the foundation of her being.

She shook her head—if her thoughts spiraled into all the stupid things she’d done for beautiful men and the bitterness she had at herself regarding that fault of hers, she’d never get her story finished. “So the server drops off a glass of wine and an iced tea. That’s when I realize he’d ordered drinks for the both of us while I was putting papers away. And that he had taken the liberty of ordering me
tea
while he’s drinking something fancy enough to require the waiter to watch him sniff, swirl, and sip.”

Andy scribbled something on her notepad. “I’m sure he was probably trying to impress you. Blake’s social skills aren’t super developed.”

“It wasn’t impressive. It was a total dick move. If he was trying to impress me, he’d have ordered me a glass, too, so I could admire his taste.” She took a swallow of her wine, hoping to calm her growing irritation. It didn’t help. “Why are you defending him? You weren’t there. And ‘not super developed’ is a kind way to describe his social challenges.”

“I’m not defending him.” Andy shifted her eyes as if just realizing that she had indeed been defending her boss. “I just think there are two sides to every story.”

Not this story.
Jay stared at Andy until the other girl dropped her eyes. She popped a cracker in her mouth, chewed, and swallowed the whole thing.

Lacy prodded her on. “So did you call him on it?”

Jay followed her cracker with a swallow of wine. “What do you think? I mean, I’m at a freaking loss here. Do I tell him that I feel he was being rude, or do I allow him to play the manly card and order me around a little?”

“My guess is, your feminist ass wanted to call him out, but you didn’t want to reflect badly on my big, dumb sister. Am I right?”

Jay touched her nose again with the
bingo
sign. “Pretty much nailed it.”

Lacy plucked a few victorious strings and laughed. “Did he order your food for you, too?”

“Um,
yes.
He very thoughtfully chose a large garden salad with grilled chicken for me. Oil and vinegar on the side. He himself enjoyed a prime rib and a lobster tail. Medium
well.
Like an asshole. You’re gonna spend that much money on a piece of meat and then have them cook all the flavor out?” Jaylene’s eyes flashed.

Andy looked up from her scribbling. “Some people just don’t like bloody meat, Jay. And look at you. You’re teeny tiny. He probably figured you lived on vegetables.” She lowered her eyes. “Besides, some women would think that a man taking care of her is sweet.”

Archaic was more like it. “Andy,
seriously.
What is this about? Do you have a thing for this guy?”

“No! I told you—I have a decent amount of investment in him getting future dates.”

“It seems the lady doth protest too much.” Jay smirked.

Lacy grinned. “I know, right?”

Andy’s jaw dropped. “Lacy! You know how I feel about the asshat.”

Her sister shrugged.

“So you admit he’s an asshat.” Jay found a certain amount of satisfaction with that, at least.

“Like I said, his social skills need finesse. But there’s someone for everyone. Even the asshats. I just have to find someone to take this one.” Andy ran a hand through her long auburn curls. “So, could you please just tell me what happened next?”

A part of Jay wanted to argue with Andy, not just because she doubted that there was a match for Blake Donovan, but because she also questioned whether there might really be a match for
her.

But that was a mess of a conversation that she didn’t want to start. Not when she had to work at seven in the morning. “Fine.” After another sip of wine, she continued on with the telling of her horrid date. “I was beside myself trying to come up with conversation with the man. We have practically no shared interests. He works out in a gym, by the way. No rough-terrain running. Which is lame, but anyhoo.” She watched as Andy noted that. “So I turned to the one and only thing any red-blooded Bostonian can discuss in the summer—I asked him what he thought about the Sox’s chances for the Series this year.”

“Totes what I would have done!” Lacy contributed from the corner where she did appear to be writing an actual song based on Jay’s date.

“He smirked. He
smirked
at me.”

“Hmm.” Andy didn’t seem surprised by this.

Jaylene sat forward in her seat. “And he said, ‘I just bet you’re a fan.’ Naturally, that pissed me off. Maybe even more than him not understanding that to keep this teeny tiny bod, as you call it, I require more than rabbit food for the miles I run a day. So I was like ‘What does that mean?’ with my sweetest smile. And he said, ‘It’s pretty obvious I’m not your type.’”

“Well, he’s right. You aren’t. I’m sorry, Jay.” Andy capped off the drinks, emptying the bottle.

“Andrea Dawson,
I
am not
his
type. And I haven’t the slightest clue why you thought that I might be, but I can tell you that he was convinced from the get-go that
he
wasn’t
my
type because of his false assumption that I am into women. I am loud and proud about my feelings on equal pay for equal work. I protested in the streets for marriage equality. But for some rich asshole to tell
me
what
my
sexual preferences are—that’s just such a typical chauvinistic viewpoint.”

“Blake, um, sort of prides himself on his intuition. No one has the heart to tell him he is wrong in everything but business. He just gets so … childlike and excited when he thinks he’s nailed someone. It’s cute,” Andy said, a half smile on her face.

“Well, I didn’t find it cute at all. So I’m a girl who drinks beer and enjoys sports. Why can’t that just be something that a blue-collar girl, born and raised in Massachusetts, might enjoy? Oh, no, this patriarchal alpha male immediately assumes that instead of being someone who could challenge and equal him, I must be someone who wishes to be him. Like a penis somehow equals success.”

Jaylene was running out of breath, and could tell she was losing her audience. Perhaps she’d used variations on this speech a few too many times while convincing Lacy to sign petitions, attend sit-ins, or pledge in charity pub-crawls.

“The point being, you two”—she pinned first one then the other with her eyes—“is that I wasn’t expecting Blake Donovan to be a feminist ally. But I was definitely not expecting him to be the ultimate male pig. And yet he was.”

“Are you saying that just because he thought you were a dyke?” Lacy called from her armchair. She’d obviously gotten comfortable enough with the story that she was laying sideways, head across one arm of the chair, knees bent across the other, as she worked on her song.

“That and he congratulated me for having such a feminine profession. Then he told me
his
wife would not have a job but would stay home and cook and clean.”

Lacy paused mid-strum. “Is this seriously what your boss plans for his marriage, Andy?”

Andy pulled a pillow down from the couch to brace behind her back. “I know it’s a bit … old-fashioned. He’s going to have to make some compromises before he settles down. Everyone does. At least he knows what he’s looking for in a woman. Do you?” She fixed her eyes first on Jaylene then on her sister.

“Well,” Lacy said, sitting up, “I’m not looking for anything in a woman, and as Jaylene has unequivocally stated, neither is she.”

“In a man, I mean. Do either of you know what you want?” Andy paused as if letting the question settle in the air. “Does what you want actually exist?”

“It did.” Lacy’s words echoed across the room.

Jay exchanged a glance with Andy who was very obviously berating herself for the comment. It was the reason Jay had stayed away from Lacy. It was too easy to say something that would remind her of her dead fiancé.

“I’m sorry, Lace,” Andy offered softly. “I didn’t mean—I just didn’t mean it like that.”