Page 31 of The Accidental Dating Experiment

Yeah, no shit, brain. Tell me something I don’t know. But I can handle a little attraction.

Surely, I can.

She gestures to the charcuterie board approvingly as I sit. “Look at you. Breaking out the cheese plate. You really are getting into this whole Love Doctor thing.” She reaches for a slice of Camembert and pops it past her lips.

Her pretty, glossy lips. Now, I can’t stop staring at her as she eats cheese.

This is my life—I talk to her like a client, or I think of her like she’s the object of my dirty fantasies. I’ve got to find the middle ground.

“The cheese good?” I ask, trying to talk normally. Grunting, “Cheese good,” is not an impressive conversational achievement.

“It’s better,” she says.

The meaning isn’t lost on me. She’s saying, so far, this evening with me is better than her last date. That’s a relief, and it eases my nerves at last. Time to focus solely on her. That’s why I developed my plan after all—to help her navigate the wilds of dating. “Then, what do you say we make it past the cheese plate portion? ExtraDate. Combo date. Extend-a-date?”

She rolls her eyes, but a smile teases her lips. “Fine. You win. Let’s order the main course and get to the extend-a-date.”

“It’s a plan.” I shouldn’t feel so victorious at lasting past the cheese plate.

But I do.

Fuck Mister Cheese Douche. I’m a better date than he is.

After we order, Juliet meets my gaze, all businesslike and eager. “Ready to help me find some small-town men?”

Ha. If she only knew. “First, want some rosé?” It’s all part of my plan.

She tilts her head, her lips curving up in welcome curiosity. “That’s my favorite. Did you know that?”

“You mentioned it once. A year ago. You were talking about a date with some dude named Grady,” I recount, managing to keep the sarcasm out of my voice. What a feat.

“The blacksmith,” she says, and I don’t roll my eyes at that either. I’m seriously fucking impressing myself now.

That was the first clue Grady was a bad boy—he claimed he was a blacksmith when he actually worked as a metal collector. But he makes a good lead-in to my pitch.

“His only redeeming quality was his taste in rosé,” I say, quoting her back to her.

“You remember what I said.” She sounds surprised, maybe even delighted.

“I remember lots of things.” I hold her gaze as I pour us both a glass.

She reaches for one and lifts it. “I’ll drink to that, then,” she says, and I think she’s talking about memories, but I can’t be sure.

Only, tonight isn’t about the memories of us in Darling Springs. It’s about new ones she’ll make here.

After she takes a sip, she lets out a moan of culinary enjoyment. “Mmm. So good I could kiss the bottle.”

A wave of heat rolls down my spine at that unexpectedly filthy image. Juliet kissing a bottle of rosé. I didn’t know that was a turn-on till now. But I add it to the long list of things she does that arouse me, then return to my goal. “I’ve solved your dating dilemma,” I announce.

“You have? I thought the dilemma was, um, already solved? I’m going to date with my mom. Try small-town men as my new dating reset.”

I suppress the growl that builds in my chest, quieting the slumbering dragon. No need for jealousy again because I’ve got a better plan. With my chin up and my confidence on, I tell her, “I’m going to be your dating coach.”

She tilts her head quizzically. “What does that mean? That you’ll help me sort through the matches like we talked about?”

Yes and no. Herein lies the brilliance. “Yes. And then I’ll be your dates. All of them.”

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