Cindi Madsen: Cinderella Screwed Me Over

I smiled. “I did. But not to my best friend who’s getting married in two months. That would just be cruel.” Honestly, I hoped she and Anthony were an exception. If anyone deserved happiness, Steph did.

“What about that saying?” Steph tapped a finger to her lips. “‘No man is an island.’”

“No man is an island because he’d never survive. Men are like overgrown babies. Women, on the other hand—well, without men, I think we’d be relatively problem-free. I could totally be an island.”

But the thought of being all alone, without anyone else, was pretty depressing. “I suppose I’d need my family and friends. I’m more like a peninsula.”

Steph sighed. “At least you admit you need me. I still think, though, that if you just found the right guy—”

“We’re not puzzle pieces, Steph. There’s no ‘you complete me’ guy out there, and the beauty of this day and age is I don’t need one.”

“So why are you dressed like that”—she waved a hand at me—“if you don’t have anyone to impress?”

My red dress hugged in all the right places and showed off my legs. “One, because I run my butt off so I can pull it off. And two, what am I supposed to do? Look like a slob because I don’t think relationships last forever? I’m not itching to run off and become a nun or something.”

Steph laughed. “Yeah, you’d be a great nun.”

Chad walked up to the table and shot me a big, toothy grin. “Darby. Hey.”

I returned his smile. “If it isn’t my favorite waiter. How are you today?”

“Good. We’re getting kind of slammed right now, so it’s crazy. But good.” He lifted his pad of paper. “What can I get for you ladies?”

I didn’t even bother with the menu anymore. I rattled off my order, then waited as Stephanie placed hers.

Steph watched Chad walk away. “What about him? He’s super cute and you two seem to have a vibe.”

“We don’t have a vibe. We have a I-come-here-all-the-time-so-we-say-hi thing. Besides, he’s way too young, not to mention I have a strict policy against dating people I run into all the time. No guy’s worth losing my favorite place to eat.”

Steph rolled her eyes. “You’re completely hopeless.”

“No, you’re the hopeless romantic. They call it that for a reason, you know.”

Steph’s phone rang and she hovered her finger over her earpiece. “Anthony’s probably calling to tell me what his mom said about the flowers. I’ll just be one minute.”

“I knew you’d never make it.” I dug through my purse until I found the envelope I was looking for and took it out. “I’ll be right back,” I whispered.

Making my way toward the back of the restaurant, I took in all the different kinds of people out on a Saturday night. One couple sat, smiling at each other but not saying anything, neither one eating much of his or her food.

On a date. Probably first or second.

The next table over, a woman in her late thirties to early forties had her arms folded across her chest, a scowl on her face. The guy across from her leaned in, looking frustrated and confused, saying, “I’m sorry, okay.”

Married and not speaking—well, she’s not speaking.

The kitchen would be a madhouse tonight, so I didn’t bother heading in that direction. Brent, the head chef and owner, had done me a huge favor last week, making a special plate for one of my clients. The list of items she couldn’t have had been lengthy, but he’d managed to pull off a delicious meal anyway. I’d written him a thank-you note because that’s the kind of girl I am.

The office in the back corner had a plastic in-box attached to the door. Brent had mentioned I could place notes or special requests in there if he was ever too busy to come out of the kitchen. I dropped my note inside, then headed back the way I’d come.

A large group of people walked toward me, taking up most of the walkway, and I flattened myself against the wall to let them through. After they passed, I stepped forward, my thoughts on getting back to my table, when the heel of my stiletto caught. To keep from falling, I had to leave the shoe behind.

“Whoa,” I muttered as I recovered from my almost-fall.

I turned around in search of my shoe and saw a guy bend over to retrieve it.

“I think you lost this,” he said, tugging it loose from the crack in the floor.

“Yeah, it kind of stuck in there and… Let’s just say it wasn’t my smoothest move.”

He stood up, a big smile on his face. His very handsome face. His bright blue eyes, killer smile, and short, dark hair made it hard to look away. So I didn’t bother trying.

“Well…” He held my black stiletto out to me. “Here you go.”

Oh, that’s right. I’m standing in the middle of a crowded restaurant, one foot four inches higher than the other.

“Thanks,” I said as I took the shoe. Balancing on my other foot, I bent my leg back and attempted to slide the shoe on. Stepping into this pair wasn’t an option. They took a little extra work—a finger on the back—to wedge in the heel.

He reached out and put a hand on my hip to steady me. It sent my heart racing, which just goes to show you how long it had been since my last physical contact with a guy.

The shoe finally slipped into place and I put my foot down. When he didn’t move his hand, I glanced at it, then back up at him.

“I didn’t want you to fall,” he said, one corner of his mouth lifting.

A deep stirring I hadn’t felt in a long time burned through my core. “I wouldn’t fall.”

“You see how I might worry, since you did trip just a minute ago.”

Between the grin he was flashing me and the heat radiating from his hand, my pulse was having trouble staying steady. I smiled back, pulling out the flirty grin that was rusty from lack of use. “I suppose I do have that against me. Although I choose to blame the faulty flooring and not my coordination.”

He took his hand off my hip and held it out to me. “I’m Jake.”

I placed my hand in his—firm shake. Bonus points. “Darby.”

“Interesting name.”

“Interesting is one word for it. For a long time, I thought my parents chose it to torture me. People used to tell me that because of my name, they thought I was a boy.”

Jake’s gaze ran down my dress, then lifted back to my face. “I doubt anyone makes that mistake now.”

My throat went dry, and with him staring at me like that, I got a little light-headed, too. “Yeah, well, the dress and the heels, they kind of put it all in perspective.”

“So did you need something?” Jake asked. “I saw you near the office. Complaints? Compliments? Just so you know, we prefer compliments. And I’ll remind you that I did help you out with your shoe problem. Although with the flooring issue, that’s probably going to be a wash.”

It took me a moment to shift gears. Was he saying…? I looked him over again. All the waiters wore white shirts and black slacks. Jake had on a red button-down shirt with a black tie and nice black pants. In fact, we matched.

“You work here?” I asked.

“I do a little of this, a little of that.” Jake scooted to the side as Mindy led an older couple down the walkway, bringing him even closer to me. I caught a whiff of his musky, masculine-smelling cologne. “Actually, I manage and own the place. Well, my buddy and I do.”

That pulled me out of my he-looks-and-smells-amazing daze. Sure you do, you big fat liar. “Funny, I’ve never seen you here before.”

“Oh, do you come here often?”

I narrowed my eyes at him.

“It’s not a line,” he said. “Unless it worked, then I’ll go with it.”

“You know, I’ve got to get back to my friend. Thanks for the help with the shoe and everything.” I turned to walk away.