Bad Date
Chapter One
Kay
“Go on a blind date, they said. It will be fun, they said.”
Kay sighed and slumped back into her chair. Nothing like sitting alone for over an hour at the very expensive and chic restaurant her date had insisted upon. She was way outclassed at Ange Bisou and had only agreed to meet there in the first place because she was trying to force herself to step out of her comfort zone.
Routines were her mojo.
In fact, she loved nothing more than following them to a tee.
Which was probably why she was still single.
Ugh.
Kay pull out her phone, as if glancing at it for the hundredth time in the last hour might make a call or text magically appear, as if looking at it might mean she hadn’t actually been stood up . . . for a date she hadn’t wanted to go on in the first place.
Frankly, she had a hard time thinking that any date could possibly be worth her having to change out of her daytime pajamas and into actual adult clothes.
Yes, her normal routine involved daytime pajamas.
She stared at her phone, irritated all over again, because right about now—eight forty-five—she should be finishing up her bath and changing into her sleep pajamas. Maybe with a glass of chardonnay and definitely with a cooking show streaming on Hulu.
Not that she could cook.
Nope. Kay could burn water.
But lack of cooking skills aside, she still enjoyed watching what those chefs could whip up.
Plus, one of her favorite chefs had worked at Ange Bisou. So, despite her having to get out of her pajamas and her routine being completely obliterated, she’d actually been looking forward to eating here tonight.
Until she’d found herself sitting at the table alone.
Kay wished she’d ordered something earlier, but it was too late. She was already an hour in and nursing her second glass of wine, though she had given into the urge to get busy with the bread basket ten minutes ago.
She should have ordered the beet salad.
That was Christie’s addition to the menu. And, yes, she considered herself on a first name basis with her fave celebrity chef, because watching every episode of a reality cooking competition meant they’d become friends, right?
Well now, that was a little slice of pathetic.
Sighing, she caught the waiter’s eye.
“Can I get you anything else?” he asked, his gaze deliberately on her face and not the empty chair or unused flatware on the other side of the table.
She shook her head. “Just the bill. Thank you.”
“Sure thing.”
Kay shoved another bit of bread into her mouth as she waited, watching as the patrons around her ate coq au vin and chocolate soufflé.
Oh, good God. They had chocolate soufflé.
Her eyes rolled to the ceiling and she forced herself to breathe. She wished she had the guts to say fuck it all and order dinner, to sit and enjoy it.
But she knew herself.