Need You Tonight. Roni Loren
receptionist at the local Perfect Match office. She offered to sneak us onto the list because the event wasn’t full. How could I pass it up? It was like fate tapping my shoulder. You want to scratch items off your list. This will accomplish that and maybe get you a date as a bonus. Two for the price of one.”
“Learning to cook is on my list. Dating is not. Dating is actually diametrically opposed to the whole spirit of the list.”
“Diametrically? Wow, someone’s getting As in her night classes.” Sam gave her a teasing smile and dropped the lip gloss into her handbasket. “And if I’m not mistaken, one of the items you have on that sacred to-do list of yours is to tackle being ‘boring in bed.’ How exactly do you plan to fix that one without actually coming into contact with the opposite sex?”
A guy perusing greeting cards across the aisle gave them a sideways glance and smirked. Tessa’s face heated. “Could you at least try to keep your voice down while discussing my sex life?”
“What sex life?” Sam replied, not bothering to lower her voice. “This is exactly why we’re going tonight. You need to loosen up. Be open to a world of infinite possibilities. And by possibilities, I mean hot men.”
“Ugh.” She should’ve never let Sam see her stupid list. It’d been something she’d written down in those first few weeks after she’d left Doug and her life in Atlanta. She’d landed in Dallas with no plan, no place to stay, no job. All she’d had was her suitcase and a head filled with all the critical things Doug had said to her over the course of their marriage and that final day in the kitchen.
He’d said she was nothing without him.
And as she’d sat in Sam’s guest room one night, trying to put together a resume to apply for jobs and feeling sorry for herself, she’d realized the bastard had been right on some level. Since she’d met Doug in high school, her entire existence had been centered on being who he wanted her to be. Being what everyone wanted her to be. For Doug, it was the doting girlfriend. For her classmates, it was the bubbly, popular cheerleader. For her foster parents, it was the girl who never broke the rules and went to church with them every Sunday.
She’d been a master chameleon without ever realizing it. It’d kept her from being moved to yet another home. It’d kept her safe from the vicious bullying in high school. It’d given her a way to secure a future with a man who would take care of her. She’d never be that little girl left alone and scared again.
Only the whole plan had been built out of Popsicle sticks. She’d counted on someone else for her happiness and security. A fatal mistake. How had she ever let herself be so stupid as to trust someone again? Her mother had said she’d always be there and look how that had turned out. Trust was for suckers.
As Tessa had stared at that blinking cursor, she’d made a decision. Never would she let herself depend on anyone else again. She would survive on her own. She’d done it for years as a kid. She could do it now. And she wouldn’t just make it through, she’d transform. Thrive. She’d vowed that by the end of the year, a resume of her life would no longer be a stark blank page. She would take those insults Doug had hurled at her and use them as fuel, not only to find a job but to tackle every facet of her life. She’d prove that she was more than the trophy wife she’d let herself become.
But that plan had not included dating. Sex, maybe. Eventually. She didn’t plan to enter the convent and abstain for the rest of her life. But dating and any emotional entanglements would only send her sliding backward. “Sam, I’m not ready to date. You know that.”
Sam sighed and linked her arm with Tessa’s, leading her to the register. “So come for the food and cooking lesson then. The whole point of these meet-ups is that it’s a no pressure environment. And we’re getting sangria and a fancy meal for free. How long has it been since you’ve had a chance to eat at a restaurant that doesn’t serve food wrapped in greasy paper?”
Tessa groaned. “Don’t remind me.”
One of the main reasons she was interested in cooking classes in the first place was because she missed the delicious meals Doug’s housekeeper used to prepare for them and all the gourmet restaurants she and Doug had gone to regularly. If she had to eat another bowl of canned soup, she might stab herself with the spoon. But she didn’t have the income to fund nice restaurants anymore. So if she wanted to eat something that wasn’t frozen or canned, she was going to have to learn how to cook it herself.
Sam swiped her credit card and took her bag from the cashier. “Exactly. Barcelona is one of the hottest restaurants around. This is your chance for a major treat. The only sacrifice is that you’ll have to make small talk with a stranger who happens to have a penis. Big deal.”
Tessa sighed, her ability to fight against Sam’s hopeful gaze crumbling. Sam had good intentions, even if they were misguided. And really, what was a little awkward small talk with someone Tessa would never see again when there was free sangria to be had? “You’re lucky I’m a sucker for tapas.”
Sam’s face broke into a grin, and she pulled out the lip gloss to give it to Tessa. “Gloss up, babe. Let’s go cook some shrimp and break some hearts.”
When Tessa walked through the doors of Barcelona, it was like walking through a portal to a world she wasn’t a native of anymore. Soft Spanish music played, the scent of exotic spices drifted through the air, and the saffron-colored walls flickered with the dancing light of candlelit tables. Every detail screamed trendy elegance and money. As did most of the guests sitting at the tables. She could almost see her old self sitting among them, glass in hand, diamonds sparkling at her throat, her husband sitting across from her telling her about the latest plan he was working on. Anyone looking at them would’ve been envious.
But seeing the image in her mind’s eye now showed a picture that was warped and tarnished. An illusion. The conversation would’ve been one-sided because Tessa had never understood Doug’s business speak. The diamond choker around her neck would’ve probably been a guilt gift he’d given her after one of his affairs. And the glass would’ve been filled with sparkling water instead of wine because Doug didn’t allow drinking for either of them in public.
She didn’t miss this world.
And she didn’t miss that woman.
“Hello, ladies, do you have a reservation?” the host asked.
Sam stepped forward. “We’re here for the cooking class.”
“Ah, yes,” he said, his smile welcoming. “Follow me. You’ll be in the banquet room.”
The host led them through the main dining area and then through a short hallway and another set of doors. The banquet room looked much like the other side of the restaurant, but the lights weren’t as low and there were tables set up around the perimeter with cooking equipment and little bowls of ingredients. In the center of the room, there were smaller, more intimate tables where they’d presumably eat their meal after learning how to prepare it. Pitchers of sangria gleamed ruby red on each table. A number of people were already sitting at the small tables, mingling and drinking. The tinkling sounds of nervous, first-date laughter mixed in with the music.
Tessa’s stomach did a flip, and she almost turned to leave. Sam put a hand on Tessa’s arm, as if reading her unspoken intention, and guided her forward. “Don’t chicken out now.”
A man with a clipboard near the entrance grinned brightly. “Welcome to the meet-up ladies. I’m Jim, your event liaison for the night. Names?”
“I’m Samantha Dunbar, and this is Tessa McAllen.”
Jim scanned the clipboard, nodding. “Ms. Dunbar, your perfect match is Cory Heath, table five. He’s already here if you’d like to head over and say hi. We’re letting everyone chat and enjoy their drinks for a few minutes before the class starts. Break the ice, you know?”
“Sure,”