I read the big bright red letters printed on the front of the business card. “Barney’s Bagels?”
He’s not kidding.
“That’s me! The king of bagels.” He gestured to the card. “Turn it over!”
I flipped the business card over to the other side. It had a frequent bagel bingeing program with ten small boxes, one for each visit. All ten boxes had an X stamped in the middle of them.
“Ha! What do you think of that?” He pointed to the card. “Didn’t I tell you that it pays to know people? You just got yourself a free bagel and you didn’t even have to butter me up. Christmas came early. You’re welcome!” He leaned back in his chair, proud.
I was about to leave, but then changed my mind, in the mood to call him on his bullshit. Men like Barney needed to be put in their place.
I pointed at him. “You said you were a chef.”
“I am a chef! Well, okay, a pastry chef, but it’s the same thing.”
“Pastry chefs bake cakes and pies and pastries, hence the words pastry chef. A bagel is not a pastry. It’s a bread. That makes you a baker.”
“Do you have a problem with me being a chef?”
“No, I have a problem with you saying you’re a chef when you’re not. You purposely withheld information on your dating profile, which is essentially lying. You called yourself a chef because it sounds better than baker.”
A couple of sips of my iced tea and I was out of there.
Barney stared at me, frowning. “I don’t know if I’m imagining this or not, but I seem to be getting a very negative vibe at our table.”
Nooooooo. You don’t say.
“What gives?” He gestured to me and then back to himself. “I mean, we have so much in common and it’s easy to talk to you.”
I choked on my iced tea.
He shrugged. “What’s your beef with me?”
I wiped my mouth and set down my napkin. “That! You’re obsessed with relating everything you talk about to food.”
“I’m a chef! Chefs talk about food!”
“But are you really a chef? Come on.”
“A pastry chef bakes,” he repeated. “Bagels are—”
“Baked. I know. And you said you were a restaurateur. Where did you get that from?”
“I am a restaurateur.”
“You own a bagel shop, Barney. You even said so yourself.”
“Potato, potahto—”
“I was very clear that I was looking for a man who was upfront with me. Did you even look at my dating profile? Or did you just look at the pictures?”
He considered the question and scratched his chin. “Here’s the thing . . . it’s like when I go to the movies, I rarely watch the trailers ahead of time because it spoils the experience since they always show the best parts. It’s the same thing with the online profiles. I would rather skip all the words and sentences and descriptions because people write whatever they want on those things anyway. I mean, I put long-term relationship, but I’m totally okay with something more casual, if you know what I mean.”
“At least you’re finally coming clean about your dishonesty. Is that what you want? Do you want me? Can you see us together?”
He leaned forward, like he thought I was asking seriously.
What a douchebag.
“Oh, yeah. I can picture us together. I’m very good at visualizing.”
“Well then . . . picture me walking out of here without you and never seeing you again. Can you picture that?”
“I prefer not to.”
“You don’t have any other choice.” I opened up my purse, pulled out a twenty-dollar bill and dropped it on the table. “Good luck, Barney.” I stood and walked toward the door.
“You forgot your free bagel!” I heard him call out as I cut between a few tables and practically sprinted toward my car in the parking lot.
“What a waste of time,” I mumbled to myself as I got in my car and put on the seatbelt.
I don’t like wasting time.
When I wanted something, I made a plan.
I went for it.
And I always got it.
I wanted love, but I wasn’t off to a good start.
Inside my car, I pulled my phone from my purse and immediately sent Dee a text, tapping the letters of each word a little harder than I probably should have.
Ruth: We need to talk!
Dee: Why are you texting me when you should be getting to know Barney?
Ruth: He’s a loser and that’s all I need to know. I just left the restaurant.
Dee: Seriously? I don’t think it was even thirty minutes.
Ruth: Twenty-five. On the bright side, I did get to enjoy one of my favorite meals, although I ate it a lot faster than I normally do. I hope I don’t get gassy.
Dee: Feel free to take your time coming home, just in case.
Ruth: I’m not coming home until after my tea with Judy, so relax your nostrils. I’ll see you this afternoon. We can regroup and plan my next move.
Dee: No planning will be necessary. You have 31 more men who sent you messages while you were gone. You just need to choose the next victim. I mean, choose the next person to go out with. We can go through your choices when you get back. I’ll be here and won’t leave until you’re satisfied. Trust me.
Ruth: I’ll think about it. How are the guys doing out back? Making progress?
Dee: The fountain has been installed and they are adding the water. It’s beautiful! It’s been fun watching Nick and Brandon work with their shirts off. Those sweaty muscles glistening in the sun. Almost as hypnotizing as your cleavage.
Ruth: Are they really working with their shirts off?
Dee: I guess you’ll find out when you get home, won’t you?
Ruth: Just tell me.
Dee: Nope. Gotta run. My boss doesn’t like it when I’m messing around on my phone.
I laughed and stuffed my phone back in my purse.
Dee had a talent for distracting me when I needed it most. I suddenly didn’t feel bad about the pathetic date with Barney. Maybe it was because I was thinking about two handsome, shirtless men working in my backyard.
Those sweaty muscles glistening in the sun.
Why did I have the urge to cut short my tea with Judy and get back home as soon as possible?
Chapter Nine
RUTH
Later that afternoon, I arrived back home and tossed my keys on the kitchen counter, glancing out the window to see the latest developments on the backyard project.
Okay, that wasn’t true.
I have no shame.
I was looking to see if there were any shirtless men out back.
Unfortunately, there were not.
Nick and Brandon were laying a path of stepping-stones on the ground that led to the foundation where the gazebo would eventually go.
They were both fully clothed.
I shook my head, disappointed that Dee had lied, but at the same time feeling a little pathetic that I longed to see half-naked men from the comfort of my own home.
“Hey!” Dee said from behind. “How was the tea with Judy?”
I turned around and nodded. “Very nice. I like her, but she kind of bummed me out at the same time. Remember I told you that all her friends had moved away, and that she had outlived her husband and her daughter?”