Blind Date (Dating Series Book 7) Read online

  Blind Date

  Monica Murphy

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Epilogue

  Want a free book? Sign Up!

  Acknowledgements

  Also by Monica Murphy

  About the Author

  One

  Amelia

  Silver Bells…

  I frown as I climb out of my car, automatically disapproving of the traditional Christmas music blasting from the unseen speakers.

  Silver Bells…

  Slamming the car door, I huff out a long, aggravated breath as my boots crunch across the gravel parking lot.

  It’s Christmas time in the city…

  God, I despise Christmas music. It doesn’t help that they start playing it in October. That they start showing holiday commercials earlier and earlier every year. But with the season brings brisk business, and since I work at my family’s fine jewelry store, that means we’re extra busy for the last three months of the year.

  This also means I have to deal with listening to a lot of Christmas music during those three months.

  My parents live for the holiday season. My father and my older brother, Palmer, make marketing plans years in advance. My mother enjoys decorating the store and creating special boutique shopping hours for our VIP customers. Palmer also loves nothing more than to come striding into the store every morning in one of his expensive, custom suits, acting like a big shot. As if he owns the place. Someday, he will. So will I. Our parents are splitting it between us, fifty-fifty, which not so secretly infuriates my brother.

  Me? I just show up every day and do my job, all while keeping my recent complaining to an absolute minimum and pray my mother doesn’t try to set me up with some bachelor who wanders into the store, desperate to find a gift for his mother/nanna/aunt/whatever. My prayers never work.

  Mother is always trying to set me up.

  Grumpiness has become my every day mood ever since I finally broke it off for good with my ex-boyfriend. He whose name shall never be mentioned. I refuse to say it out loud, or even think it. He caused a lot of trauma in my life over the years. He was gorgeous. Sweet—when I first got together with him. Possessive. Obsessive. Angry. We had outrageous fights and outrageous makeup sex. Seriously, when I was furious at him, he could make me come like no other.

  Weird, right? Twisted and fucked up, if I’m being honest.

  I’m beyond that now. I’d rather be alone than feeling on edge all the time. It’s taken me a while to get over him. Get over the extra-bitter taste he left in my mouth. My mood has been so foul lately, my parents try to come up with any reason to get me out of the store, even if only for a few hours.

  So today, they sent me on a mission. To Sullivan’s Christmas Tree Farm to find a tree for the store.

  Funny, that they send the grouchiest, anti-holiday person they know to pick out a Christmas tree. I’m tempted to choose a pink flocked tree just to make them angry.

  But I won’t. There is one thing I will never do on purpose, and that’s disappoint my parents. I do that enough accidentally as it is.

  Supposedly, customers were complaining about my unusually snappy responses. I tried to fake it when Dad came to me, his voice gentle as he explained it to me. And when I say fake it, I mean I acted extremely surprised when he revealed the customer complaint(s) to me. Like I had no idea I was so grumpy.

  Lies. All lies. I’ve reveled in my grumpiness for almost two months now. I guess I need to get over myself and paste on my best smile. Fake it till you make it!

  Ugh. Shoot me.

  My friend Candice—and the very, very near future Mrs. Charlie Sullivan—said she’d meet me here at her fiancé’s family tree farm, but I don’t see her anywhere. There are people milling about, mostly families with young children who are hyped up on the free candy canes that are available somewhere. They’ve all got them hanging out their mouths as they run around through the rows and rows of towering trees, and I’m worried they might trip over their own feet and jab the back of their throats with those things.

  Okay that’s a gruesome thought. One I need to shove firmly into the back of my brain.

  I make my way toward the red building in the near distance Candice told me to meet her at, smiling at all the people as I pass by them. It’s not even Thanksgiving yet, but we’re only a couple of days away so I guess we’re close enough. Candice and Charlie’s wedding is this Saturday. The Saturday after Thanksgiving. Candice admitted a while ago that Charlie wasn’t particularly happy about her choice of wedding date at first, since it’s smack at the beginning of his busiest season. But he agreed to it because he will do anything to make the woman he loves happy.

  And what makes Candice happy? Christmas. Friends. Family. Decorations everywhere and twinkling lights and holiday music and rows and rows of fresh green trees. Basically, she’s marrying her dream man, the Christmas tree farmer. I’m happy for her.

  Can’t help but wonder what that’s like, meeting the man of your actual dreams. The one who will drop everything to help you. Be with you. Who only wants to make you happy and doesn’t worry about what anyone else thinks. Who loves and cherishes you and doesn’t let his gaze linger too long on a pretty woman while he’s standing right next to you. Yeah, I have no idea what that’s like at all—

  “Whoa, watch out!”

  I run smack dab into a wall, AKA a man. As in, my entire body just smashes into him, my face pressing right into his firm chest for the briefest moment before I seemingly bounce off of him like I’m a rubber ball. A fleeting thought floats through my head as I almost stumble backwards and nearly fall.

  This guy. He smells really freaking good. Like pine and cotton and…campfire smoke?

  “Sorry about that. You okay?” He grabs my shoulders, his grip firm yet gentle and keeping me from falling to the ground.

  Slowly I tip my head back to find a very attractive man watching me. He’s wearing a dark green ball cap with the words Sullivan Tree Farm stitched in red across the front of it. He’s got a matching forest-green sweatshirt on and jeans, and he’s gripping me with hands that are covered by work gloves. His brows are lowered and his full lips are parted and I have another, weirder thought.

  What would it feel like to kiss those lips?

  I shake my head, knocking that wild idea out of my brain. “I’m fine.”

  “You sure about that?” When I frown, he continues. “It’s just, you said you’re fine and shook your head at the same time. I call that a mixed message.”

  That almost sounds like an insult. But when I study his face, his very friendly, cute face, I don’t see any derision or anger in his expression at all. He’s just stating himself plainly. No games.

  “You startled me, that’s all,” I say with the faintest smile.

  He returns it, and wow, that just upped his attractive factor by about a million. He has perfectly straight teeth, and his blue eyes light up, as if he’s extremely happy to see me.

  Even if he doesn’t know me.

  “Sorry,” he repeats as he tries to
let go of me. As in, his fingers are umm…sticking to my very expensive denim jacket. “Damn sap,” he mutters under his breath as he pries his fingers away.

  I glance at the spot he just touched on my right arm, seeing the sap stain he left behind. “That probably won’t come out, will it?”

  “It might, if you use rubbing alcohol. Make sure you pour it on a clean white washcloth first, before you try to rub it out.” He makes an uncomfortable face and starts to chuckle.

  Oh. I get it. Rub it out. Close to rub one out. Why do guys always have to take things to the sexual level?

  “Thank you for the tip,” I snap at him before I start walking, heading for that red building as fast as possible.

  “You’re welcome!” he calls after me. “Sorry about staining your jacket!”

  Ignoring his third apology, I increase my pace, needing to get away from him. He was cute. Nice. A little crude, but I’m also a bit of a prude right now, so there’s that. I shouldn’t take things so seriously. Not every man I come across is like my ex. I can’t just paint a wide swath and consider all men egotistical assholes.

  I know plenty of them are that way, but not all of them.

  By the time I’m entering the red building, I’m out of breath and completely overwhelmed by the burst of Christmas that is going on in this place.

  It’s a store filled to the very brim with holiday décor, and it is dazzling. No tacky, cheesy Christmas decorations in here. It’s all elegant. Tasteful. Sections of the store are divided into themes and when you first enter the store, the front display has a strong, traditional Christmas vibe. Santa Claus and Rudolph with red and green everywhere.

  I might be grumpy and feeling anti-holiday this season, but I can appreciate the beauty that surrounds me. My mother would love this place. I need to bring her here soon.

  “Amelia! There are you are!”

  I turn to find my friend Candice rushing toward me, a giant grin on her face. She pulls me into an enthusiastic embrace, and I hug her back, suddenly appreciating her sweet nature, the way she makes everyone feel as if they’re automatically loved. “This place is gorgeous,” I tell her when we pull away from each other.

  “Isn’t it amazing?” She gazes around the shop with wide-eyed wonder, like it’s the first time she’s ever seen it. “Charlie’s sister Victoria runs it. She does a fabulous job.” Candice leans in closer to me, her voice lowering. “She let me tag along last summer to a wholesale expo where they were showcasing all the upcoming holiday décor, and it was amazing. I was beside myself, helping her choose items for the store.”

  “I can only imagine,” I tell her with a genuine smile. Wow, can’t remember the last time I flashed one of those.

  “So!” Candice claps her hands together, her expression eager. “You need a tree for your jewelry store.”

  “Yes, we do. Do you already have something picked out for me?” I ask hopefully. Not really looking forward to walking through endless rows of trees searching for the perfect one.

  “After I spoke with your mother, I talked to Charlie about it and he had some of his employees gather up a few options for you. I told him what you were looking for, and I’m positive one of the trees he chose will work. Come on, let’s go out back.”

  I follow her through the store, my gaze busy, not sure where to look next. It keeps bouncing from beautiful item to beautiful item. The scent of cranberries mixed with spice drifts in the air, and there’s soft, jazzy holiday music playing in the background. Whereas outside is Christmas in your face, in the store it’s much more subtle. Downright soothing.

  We exit through a side door and she takes me to a spot where a few cut trees are leaning against a low, wooden fence. “He didn’t cut all of these specifically for me, did he?” I ask, worried that I killed too many trees for no good reason.

  “Not at all. These trees are going to one of the lots in Monterey, and we pulled these ones aside just for you. They were the best ones, according to Charlie.” Candice smiles. “He knows his trees.”

  “I’m sure he does,” I murmur as I contemplate my choices. They’re all beautiful. But there’s one that’s very tall and extra fluffy, and it snagged my heart from the moment I set eyes on it.

  “I want that one.” I point toward the fluffy one.

  “Really? That’s my favorite one too! Okay, I’ll let him know and they’ll deliver it to the store later this afternoon,” Candice says. “Does that work for your schedule? Will you still be at the store?”

  “Yes, I will,” I answer, trying to sound pleasant. As if there’s nowhere else I’d rather be.

  Truly? I’d prefer to be in bed, hidden under the covers, watching a sappy romantic movie on Netflix and letting myself cry yet again for my lost relationship. The lost years I devoted to it.

  Oh yes, and drowning my sorrows and depression in ice cream. Trying my best not to focus on the good memories I have with he who shall not be named.

  When you think about the good stuff, you forget about the bad. And I can’t do that.

  No matter how much I want to.

  Two

  Isaac

  “I think I pissed off a customer,” I say to my boss, Charlie Sullivan. He’s the oldest son of the Sullivan family, and the one who runs the tree farm. I’ve worked for him for three years, and while he can be a giant prick when he wants, he’s also a great boss. Fair. He’ll work you hard and always compliment you when you do a good job. The pay’s good too.

  This isn’t my life’s work, though. I’m only twenty-one. Got this job straight out of high school, been thinking about going to college and get a degree in something, but what? I don’t know.

  That’s my problem. I’m young and I have my whole life before me, according to my parents, but I can’t figure out what I want to do. I almost envy Charlie and his business. He had no choice from the time he was young. He’s a Sullivan, the oldest. He’s known since he was a kid that he would run this place someday.

  And here I am with no goals, no structure. I just…live. Day by day. Week by week.

  “What did you do?” Charlie asks with a grunt as he tosses a bound tree onto the back of the truck. That’s another thing I respect about our boss. He has no issues with working right along beside us. He gets his hands dirty, just like we do.

  “This very attractive woman was walking extra fast toward the store and she bumped right into me. Wasn’t even lookin’ where she was goin’.” I shake my head, hoping like hell I don’t make Charlie mad with this next confession. “I grabbed hold of her arms so she wouldn’t fall, and my sap-covered gloves stuck to her fancy denim jacket.”

  “She was wearing a fancy denim jacket?” Charlie appears to have no comprehension of what I’m talking about.

  I’m not wealthy by any means, but I’ve grown up in this area. I know money when I see it, and that woman looked like money. Classy. Gorgeous. Sleek black hair and dark brown eyes that glared at me when I said rub it out and then laughed.

  That look on her face had immediately made me feel like a jerk. I apologized to her multiple times, but I don’t think it mattered.

  I made her mad. Hell, I might’ve even disgusted her.

  “The jacket looked like it cost a lot of money,” I clarify. “And now I stained it with sap. I’m sure she was pissed.”

  “Did she act like she was pissed?” Charlie asks.

  Should I mention the rub it out comment? I decide not to. “A little irritated, yeah. She stormed off toward the store, like she was in a hurry.”

  “What she look like?” Charlie angles his head toward me, his gaze narrowed.

  “Almost tall as me. Fancy looking. Dark hair. Young. She reminded me of Miss Candice.” Charlie’s fiancé is only a couple years older than me, but I like calling her that. I think she likes it too. We’re friends, me and Candice. She’s nice. Kind. She’s softened my boss up since they got together, and now they’re going to get married.

  This Saturday, as a matter of fact. I’ll be there. They
’re closing the tree lot early—on the Saturday after Thanksgiving, I don’t know how she convinced Charlie to do it—and the wedding is happening here. Right beside the field of trees. I’m sure it’ll be awesome. And I can’t wait to watch, because I’ll be here as a guest.

  “Well, shit, that was probably her friend, Amelia,” Charlie says, shaking his head. “I’ll ask Candice if she complained about you.”

  I’m a little offended. “Why would she complain about me?”

  “Because you ruined her jacket with sap. You’re right about the fancy denim jacket. That thing probably cost a couple hundred dollars. Maybe more,” Charlie says, like it’s no big deal. “Her family owns a jewelry store. They do very well for themselves.”

  I’m sure he’s not wrong about the dollar amount, but damn. That’s a ridiculous amount of money for a denim jacket. “I told her how to get the sap out.”

  “Always helpful, aren’t you, Jonesie?” Charlie laughs and tosses the last tree on the pile of them that lined the back of the truck. “Maybe you can go deliver her tree to the store. See if she’s still mad at ya.”

  “Deliver her tree?” I frown.

  “Her parents own Lee Fine Jewelers in downtown Carmel. That’s why she’s here. To pick out a tree for their store,” Charlie explains. “What do you say? You can even offer to buy her a new jacket.”

  “But I don’t want to buy her a new one,” I mutter, making my boss laugh.

  “Come on, I was kidding. But I do need you to deliver that tree,” Charlie tells me, all traces of laughter gone. “After that, you can go on home.”