“Can you believe those chicks at the club last night?” Joe, one of Charlie’s roommates, said.

“There should be a weight limit on girls dancing in the cages,” Charlie said.

“And at Hooters.”

Charlie tossed a handful of chips in his mouth. “Unless their boobs are what tips them over the scale,” he said through the crunching.

I sat there for a moment, not believing what I’d just heard. “Seriously?”

Eyes still locked on the screen, Charlie kissed my cheek. “Don’t worry, baby. You’re not even close to that weight.”

I injected my words with sarcasm. “Yes, that’s what I’m worried about. Not that my boyfriend is a chauvinistic pig.”

“When did you get so serious about everything?” he asked.

I shoved the magazine I’d been looking at into my purse and sighed. “Good-bye, Charlie. You and I aren’t going to work out.”

Charlie’s gaze actually left the screen this time. “Come on, baby. It will work if you just loosen up.”

“Well, this is who I am.”

“No, you used to be cool.”

“No, you don’t really know me.” I’d never been very good at the break-up part, but I didn’t wan to end on a completely horrible note. “So, good luck with everything and all that. It was fun while it lasted.”

“I don’t need this!” he shouted. “Just go!” He then proceeded to act like he was dumping me, even though I’d already ended the relationship.

So I packed up my practically glass slippers and hit the road.

Cinderella was the first fairy tale I remember—the one I was most obsessed with because of the gowns and magic and pretty shoes. Yes, her home life was less than ideal—and considering the talking mice and birds, she probably needed serious therapy. But she gave me the most unrealistic expectations of all. Falling in love at first sight, becoming a princess with everything she’d ever need at her disposal, and a relationship that ended happily ever after, with never an argument or bad day in sight.

And worst of all, she made me think all I needed in life was a man to come and whisk me away.

Time Wasted: Four months, but honestly, two of those were pretty fun.

Lessons Learned:

You have to actually talk to the person to get to know him.

You need to know how to work as well as play. It’s about balance, not having some guy come in and show you how to have fun. Or tell you what an uptight workaholic you are.

Make sure he at least has aspirations or ambitions of some kind.

Never date a guy who thinks you’re more an object than a human being capable of using a brain.

No sports fanatics.

NEVER give your number out at a dance club.

Chapter Seven

I punched the elevator button repeatedly, like that would make it come to pick me up faster. If I wasn’t wearing five-inch heels, I might’ve even considered running down the stairs. I hated being late, the stress when you had to rush to get somewhere. Which was why I was never late. Really, I wasn’t even that late. I’d probably get to the restaurant about ten minutes after my date did, but still, it drove me crazy. I didn’t even have Karl’s number to let him know.

The elevator finally arrived.

On the way down, I sent a text to Stephanie, stating I was running a few minutes behind for my date, hoping she’d pass on the information to Karl.

I stepped out of the elevator and hurried across the parking garage toward my car. When I went to put my phone in my purse, I dropped my keys. I bent to pick them up and the contents of my unzipped purse poured onto the ground.

“Argh!” Squatting down to get the items was no small feat, considering the binding black ruched skirt I was wearing. The things I do for fashion.

I was gathering the last of it when a tube of lip gloss was thrust in front of my face. I looked up and saw Jake. I took the lip gloss from him, tossed it in my purse, and stood.

“You look nice,” he said. “Hot date?”

My skirt had inched up, exposing much more of my legs than I meant to. I tugged it back down. “I don’t know about hot, but I’ve got a date. It’s something my friend set up.”

“Let me guess.” Jake counted the list off on his fingers. “He doesn’t live in the building, doesn’t work at your favorite restaurant… What are your other requirements?”

I was sure he was mocking me, but I went ahead and rattled off more of the list, just so he’d see it wasn’t something I took lightly. “No oral surgeons—I’ll just generalize and say dentists of any kind. No lawyers. No liars. No dance-club guys, workaholics, or slackers.”

He arched an eyebrow. “That’s it?”

It almost sounded like a challenge. I met his gaze and raised an eyebrow of my own. “Pretty much. Until I find something else to add, which I’m sure I will.” I double-checked I’d zipped my purse, then slid it over my shoulder. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m running late. I’m sure I’ll see you around. You do seem to be everywhere.”

He flashed his signature drool-worthy grin. “Well, you didn’t say ‘no stalkers’ in your list, so I’m thinking of going with that.”

I shook my head, though I couldn’t help but smile. My heart was also doing a fluttering thing it shouldn’t be doing. “Good night, Jake.”

“Good night, Darby.”

…

Conversations on blind dates are a crapshoot. You start off with general, boring getting-to-know-you questions. Then you make a few stabs in the dark, testing the waters, trying to figure out the other person’s likes and dislikes before finding anything you can really talk about. Since Anthony and Stephanie had set us up, they were the common thread for Karl and me, making our mutual friends the safe topic.

“How long have you known Anthony?” I asked after our food arrived. I’ll give it to Steph—Karl was good-looking. Blond, with lean muscles, and the guy knew how to dress, too. Perhaps a night out with this guy would end up being just what I needed. Maybe Karl would even be my first venture into low-risk semi-dating. With mutual friends, it might even be convenient.

Of course my mind chose that moment to go to when Jake had said something similar about living in the same building, and I made a joke about being called convenient.

Karl took a sip of water. “We met in college. Lived right next to each other, then we moved in together.”

“Sounds like a great love story.”

Karl stared across the table at me. His blond eyebrows puckered when he drew them together, and he gazed at me blankly with his pale blue eyes.

“You know, because a lot of relationships start like…” His expression didn’t soften, so I abandoned my pathetic attempt at a joke. Maybe no one got my humor, and I should just stop trying to use it. “And you two were roommates for a while?”

“Right. For three years.”

“Steph and I have been best friends for a long time. Before she moved to Longmont, I didn’t really have girl friends. She and I instantly hit it off and started spending all our free time together. Until Anthony. If he wasn’t such a good guy, I’d never let him marry her.”

Karl swallowed his bite of chicken. “From what I’ve observed, she and Anthony have excellent communication. That’s one of the best signs of a good relationship.”

“I don’t believe that,” I said, shaking my head. “You see, the key to a relationship isn’t communication…”

I got the confused, eyebrow-puckered look again. “It isn’t?”

“Nope. It’s knowing that men and women will never be able to communicate effectively with each other. I’ve decided that communication is just what therapists preach, because they know that no one can do it. That way, they can keep getting paid.”

Karl set down his fork. “So if I told you I was a marriage counselor…?”

I laughed. “Funny.”

Karl remained stone-faced, not a hint of humor showing on his features.

A lump settled in my stomach. “You’re not kidding, are you?”

“No. But apparently I only preach communication so I can keep getting paid.”

Check please.

…

I’d insisted on paying for our dinner. After all, I had slammed the guy’s profession. He’d resisted at first, but I finally won out. Then I told him I’d see him at the wedding, while wishing I’d never have to see him again. I should’ve known going out with a groomsman before the wedding was a bad idea.

Since I hadn’t gotten my mail in a few days, I popped into the lobby. I tucked the few envelopes under my arm and attempted to call Steph. When I got her voice mail, I said, “I pretty much wrecked that date, so I hope you don’t start second-guessing your decision to make me your maid of honor. I think I better give up on blind dates before someone else gets hurt. Call me later if you get a chance.”

I made my way across the lobby and pushed the elevator button.

The doors slid open and Jake stepped out. He wore a crisp, white button-down shirt, the top buttons undone, the sleeves pushed up. “Hey. I thought you had a date.” He narrowed his eyes. “Or was that just to get rid of me?”

I ran a hand through my hair and sighed. “I did have one. It didn’t go so well.”

He jerked a thumb toward the door. “I’m headed out to a gallery a few streets over. I’d love some company.”

“Thanks, but I think I’ll just go upstairs.”

“And watch a movie with your cat?” He grinned, obviously thinking he was hilarious.

I smacked him with my mail. Dang guy and his sexy sense of humor. “I don’t have a cat, thank you very much.” Yet.

Jake laughed, then reached out and put his hand on my hip. My heart jumped into my throat—it made it so hard to think clearly when he did that. “Come out with me, then. You’re all dressed up, and it’s Friday. Don’t you want to try to redeem the night?”