The Introvert's Guide to Speed Dating (The Introvert's Guide, #2) Read online

  I felt mildly guilty for the pizza I’d eaten for breakfast.

  Only mildly, though.

  I quickly wrote down some questions for Lily while she laid out some yoga mats, then rant through the interview. They were as basic as they could be—what got her into Zumba and Pilates, how she came to work here, what she did in her classes, what health benefits both workouts had, and finally, when all her classes were.

  With that done, I handed her some spare photo releases I had in my purse and asked if she’d hand them out to her Pilates class so Sydney could stop by quickly and snap a couple of photos. She agreed, and I left with a wave.

  Well, it was unexpected, but that was something else crossed off my list today. Granted it was something I’d never even had on my list, but still. Her interview wasn’t long and would fill in a small filler space.

  If I was honest, I had no idea how I was going to pull this all together. I just hoped that when it came to laying it out, it would work.

  “Hey, London!”

  I turned at the sound of Oliver’s voice. “Hi. What are you doing here? I didn’t know you worked Sundays.”

  “The girls are on Sundays. I just finished up with the under-twelves.” He smiled, his green-blue eyes twinkling. “Under eights are after lunch.”

  “Oh, my condolences.”

  “Save those for the under sixteens tomorrow night, would you?”

  “Duly noted.” Laughing, I put my notebook and pen inside my purse. “Uh, where’s the staff kitchen? I’m supposed to meet Seb there, but I forgot where he told me to go.”

  Oliver tilted his head in one direction. “I’m going there now. I’ll show you. Doesn’t Leo have basketball this afternoon?”

  “He does. I’m going to stop by and see him. Probably have Sydney take some photos while I’m there, if that’s okay.”

  “No problem. He took some in my class this morning. He’s good, eh?”

  “The best. Why he works for the paper and not himself is a mystery to everyone.” I shrugged. “He just gets it, you know?”

  “Some people do. Personally, I couldn’t take a photo of a fruit bowl without messing it up.”

  I laughed as he pushed open a door marked ‘Staff Kitchen.’

  Ah.

  Yeah.

  I probably could have found that.

  There were worse things in life that being escorted around by a hot British guy, though, so whatever.

  “Found this one wandering about the corridors,” Oliver said to Seb. “Did you lose her somewhere?”

  “Ha, ha, ha.” I nudged him out of my way and walked over to the table where Seb had laid out our lunch. “You’re a real comedian, aren’t you?”

  “I do try.” He grinned and pulled a Tupperware box from the fridge. The contents looked like the kind of lunch I sent Leo to school with, and I bit back a grin when I saw the prepacked cheese that Leo loved. “I’ll leave you to it.”

  “Nah, you’re fine,” Seb replied, waving his fork. “We’re taking a break for lunch. You can join us.”

  “Do you mind?”

  I shook my head, using a napkin to cover my mouth. “Go ahead.”

  “Thanks.” Oliver joined us at the table and cracked open his lunch box. “Don’t say a word,” he said to me, eyeing me. “We don’t all have girlfriends to batch make us pasta salads.”

  Seb grinned.

  “I wasn’t going to say anything,” I lied, reaching for my bottle of water. “I was just wondering if you were peeking through my kitchen window when I made my son’s lunch this morning.”

  Sebastian choked on a laugh.

  “Now who’s the funny one?” Oliver said wryly. “There’s nothing wrong with cheese snacks and a lunchable. Although they aren’t as good as the ones at home.”

  “I am amazed that you’re eating a lunchable.”

  “Why? They’re good. They’ve got lots of protein, there are no dishes to wash, and my elderly neighbor takes the pots off me once a week to use to start her seeds for her vegetable garden.”

  I blinked at him and watched as he peeled off the lid of the lunchable.

  Huh.

  His neighbor was onto something.

  I wasn’t a big gardener myself, but that wasn’t for lack of wanting to. I’d never had the space until I moved back here.

  I was going to remember that. Surely reusing that plastic was far better than recycling it straight away, right?

  Hmm. Was it too late to start sunflowers?

  “London?”

  I jerked back to reality at the sound of my name. “What?”

  They both shook their heads.

  “I was asking you how the speed dating was going,” Seb said, amused. “Any luck? Holley keeps going on about it.”

  “No,” I replied. “No luck yet, but I’ve had just about enough of it. Two minutes isn’t long enough to get to know someone, much less find out if they’re good with kids.”

  “That’s true. Although you won’t really know unless you see them with kids, will you?”

  I shrugged one shoulder. And that was the worst part, wasn’t it? I wanted to create a strong relationship that I thought would last before introducing Leo into the equation, but I also didn’t want to get feelings that were too strong before doing that in case they didn’t get along.

  It was quite the conundrum.

  I sighed. “My life would be so much easier if my ex had kept it in his pants.”

  They both laughed. “Do you think you’d still be together?” Oliver asked.

  “No,” I admitted. “We’re wildly different people. He likes the corporate mojo and I’m more of a free spirit. Also, Florida is way too hot for me. I prefer the cold.”

  “Same,” Oliver agreed. “But I’m British and allergic to anything higher than eighteen degrees. I start to melt.”

  “Eighteen degrees? That’s cold!”

  “Celsius,” Seb muttered. “He means Celsius, London.”

  Oh. “Oh. What’s that in Fahrenheit?”

  Seb clicked his tongue. “About sixty, sixty-five. Give or take a couple degrees.”

  “How can you do that in your head?”

  “Simple math.”

  “Oh, that’s it, then. It’s math,” I said dryly.

  Oliver laughed, shaking his head. “Not a fan of numbers?”

  “Watch enough shows designed to teach your kid how to count and you’ll feel the same as me.” I wiped my mouth with my napkin. “But no, math is not my strong point.”

  “Right.” Seb got up and took my empty plate. “I need to go and check on a couple of things in the gym with Dylan. Ollie, do you have time to run London down there before your class?”

  “I got it,” he replied with half a mouthful of food. “I need to talk about Leo for a second anyway.”

  Uh oh.

  That didn’t sound good.

  “Okay. See you in about fifteen,” Seb said. He left the room with a half-hearted wave after putting the dirty plates in the dishwasher.

  I turned to Oliver. “Is there a problem with Leo?”

  “No, quite the opposite actually.” He paused. “I’m sorry, did I scare you?”

  “Little bit.” I hid a laugh behind my hand. “What’s up?”

  “I want him to be in goal this weekend at the tournament, like I told you,” he said slowly. “But I also want to give him some one-on-one training to help him pinpoint a couple of his weaknesses and work on them.”

  “Oh.” I swallowed and looked down, toying with the edge of a clean napkin. “I don’t—I don’t think I can afford that, Oliver.”

  “Oh, no, no!” He held up his hands, drawing my attention back up. “I didn’t mean… here.”

  I frowned.

  “You have a back garden, right? He talks about his goal at home and how he practices. I taught him some of the solo drills.”

  “We have a pretty big yard, yeah.”

  “If you don’t mind, I’m happy to come over and do it at your place. For fre
e.”

  “Oh. Um, I guess. That would work. When did you want to come over? He’s still with his dad today, then he has practice tomorrow.”

  “What about Tuesday or Thursday? I don’t coach on Tuesdays, and I’m done at six-thirty on Thursdays.”

  “Whichever one is easiest for you.”

  “I can do both?”

  “I don’t want to impose on you.” I scrunched the napkin up into a ball and tossed it in the trash can as I got up from the table. “Only when you can.”

  “I can do both, London. It’s fine. He’s a good kid and very talented. I don’t mind.” He followed me out of the kitchen. “This way.”

  “Like I said, only when you can. I don’t mind, if you think it’ll help him.” I hesitated, chewing the inside of my lip. “I just feel bad about taking up your personal time and not paying you.”

  He laughed, shaking his head. “Personal time? What do you think I do? I share the same friend group you do, I have no family here, and I don’t have any pets. All I do is work. I don’t want your money. I genuinely want to help him.”

  “Okay, fine, but at least let me cook you dinner as a thank you.”

  “Homemade food instead of ready meals or take out? You won’t get me saying no to that.” He flashed me a dazzling smile and punched in a code on the elevator in front of us. The doors opened, and he gestured for me to go first with the sweep of his hand. “Ladies first.”

  “Thank you.” I stepped inside the silver box ahead of him. “How do you feel about lasagna?”

  “I’ve never turned that down in my life.” He hit the button marked ‘GYM’ and the elevator whirred to life. It started with a jolt, and I lost my balance, falling to the side into a very hard, very warm body.

  Oliver caught me.

  My hand was flat against his stomach, and I could feel all his muscles beneath my fingertips. My cheeks flamed red as the elevator shuddered again, this time to a stop. “Sorry,” I muttered.

  “Don’t worry. It’s my fault. I should have warned you. It’s a bit jarring, but you get used to it.”

  I extracted myself from his very strong arms and brushed off my shirt, clearing my throat. “Thank you. The last thing I need is a bump on the head.”

  “You’re welcome.” He smiled, his eyes sparkling. “The gym is right through there.”

  “Uh, thank you.” I returned his smile, nervously pushing my hair behind my ear. “I appreciate it.”

  “Anytime.” With a wink, Oliver pressed a button on the elevator panel, and the doors closed in front of him.

  CHAPTER EIGHT – OLIVER

  RULE EIGHT: TWO HOURS IS BETTER THAN TWO MINUTES.

  “Yeah! I got it!” Leo bounced on the balls of his feet. “Ollie!”

  “That was amazing, mate!” I clapped my hands together. “That’s your best save yet! You see what a difference your foot placement made? You could move in both directions much quicker than before.”

  He nodded emphatically, retrieving the football. “Can we try again?”

  “One more time,” London called from the back door. “Dinner is almost ready.”

  “One more go,” I confirmed. “I’m going to make it harder this time!”

  “Okay. I can do it!” Leo kicked the ball back to me.

  I stopped it with my foot and waited until he was ready and in position, then kicked it with a view of getting the top right corner of the goal. He moved like a little lightning bolt, stretching his arm out as far as he possibly could, and his fingertips brushed the ball.

  It wasn’t enough, and the ball hit the back of the net.

  “Oh, snickerdoodle!” Leo kicked the ground, tossing up a clump of dirt.

  “Hey, hey!” I slowly approached him, bending down on one knee in front of him. He was looking at the ground with his gloved hands hanging listlessly beside him, and I could almost feel the despair rolling off him. “Hey, buddy,” I said softly. “Don’t be sad, okay? It happens. You did amazing to get your fingers on that ball. That’s better than most kids your age would do.”

  He sniffed and looked up at me. His cheeks were flushed, and his little eyes shone with one too many tears for my liking. “But I really wanted to get that one.”

  “I know you did, and you almost did. It just means you’ll have to work a little harder next time to get it, doesn’t it?”

  “I guess. I just want to save them all.”

  “Ah, but that would be boring. How would anyone ever win a football game? We’d have endless penalty shootouts, and as an England fan, I can tell you that penalty shootouts are so painful to watch.”

  “Why?”

  “Because we usually lose them,” I admitted with a dry laugh. “So I definitely don’t want to watch an infinite round of pens.”

  He rubbed his nose and laughed a little bit. “It would suck if the other team saved all our goals.”

  “Exactly. As long as you do your best, that’s all that matters. You can’t win everything, but if you lose and you know that you tried your hardest, then it just means they were a little better on the day.” I tapped his nose, then opened my arms and drew him in for a hug. “Shall we go inside now? I can smell that lasagna your mum cooked.”

  He nodded against my shoulder. “I’m hungry.”

  “I bet you are. That was a lot of hard work you just put in there.” I got up and rested my hand on his shoulder, guiding him back towards the house.

  “Do you think she made garlic bread?”

  I made a big show of sniffing the air. “Smells like it.”

  “Yummy.”

  “Everything okay?” London asked, peering over her shoulder as she tossed a salad.

  “Yep!” Leo undid his gloves and pulled them off. “Did you make garlic bread, Momma?”

  “Would I dare serve you lasagna without it?” She winked at him, and he giggled. “Go and wash your hands, please. And your face. You look like you got in a fight with a mud monster.”

  “I did!” Leo grinned, his earlier upset apparently now gone, and ran off out of the room.

  London shook her head. “He’s crazy. Missing that last one really upset him, huh?”

  “You were watching?” I raised my eyebrows. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

  “Of course I was. There’s water in the fridge if you wanted to put some in the jug for the table.”

  Water. I could do that. It was about all I could do, but still. “He’s improving, even just tonight. I’m glad I did this.”

  London set plates out on the table. “He looks a bit more confident. That last one was hard, though.”

  “It was, but there will always be some that get past him. I have to admit that I’m surprised he got his fingers on it.” I put the jug full of ice water on a mat in the middle of the dining table. “He’ll be fine, though.”

  “Looks like you talked him through it.” She smiled at me and reached for the oven gloves.

  “I’ll get that.” I darted around and took them from her. “Where do you want this dish?”

  “Are you sure?”

  “London.”

  “On the board in the middle of the table,” she acquiesced, reaching for the bowl of garlic bread instead.

  I placed the dish down right as Leo came running back in at one hundred miles an hour.

  “Leo. What have I told you about running in the house?” London scolded him.

  “Don’t do it,” he muttered in response.

  “Exactly.”

  “Sorry.”

  “It’s okay. Please sit down at the table.”

  “Can I sit next to Ollie?”

  “You can sit wherever you’d like,” she replied, putting the bowl of salad down. “And you will be eating salad before you start filling up on garlic bread.”

  “Aww, Momma.”

  I grinned. “My mum used to say the same thing to me when we had a roast dinner every Sunday. I’d eat all the potatoes first, so I wasn’t allowed to have any on my plate until I’d eaten at least
half my vegetables.”

  Leo’s eyes widened. “Is that true?”

  I drew a cross over my heart. “One hundred percent.”

  London glanced over at me and dipped her head to hide a smile.

  Little did she know I was, in fact, telling the truth.

  “Oh. Do I have to eat the tomatoes?” Leo peered into the wooden salad bowl. “I don’t like them.”

  “I got cherry ones this time. I’d like you to try one, please,” London said with the practiced tone of a woman who’d had this conversation one thousand times before.

  “They’re yucky.”

  “So are video games, and I assume you’d like to play Mario after dinner, hm?”

  Leo’s face fell as he realized what she was saying. He reached into the bowl and plucked a small cherry tomato out between his finger and thumb, peering at it as if it was going to leap up and bite him.

  I leaned over and plucked one out of the bowl myself, then bit into it. “Mm, that’s good.”

  He frowned at me before he looked back to the tomato and did the same. He wrinkled his face up before he raised his eyebrows in surprise. “Oh, it’s yummy.”

  “There we go, then,” London said, slicing into her food. “So yes, you have to eat tomatoes.”

  Leo quite happily spooned salad onto his plate after that.

  London caught my eye. “Thank you,” she mouthed.

  I grinned and reached for another tomato, then popped it into my mouth.

  ***

  “Thank you,” London said, joining me on the back porch. She passed me a cup of steaming tea with a smile. “You didn’t have to do any of that tonight.”

  I took the cup gratefully. My thumbs were killing from playing Mario with Leo for half an hour without a break—I hadn’t gamed in years, but I’d enjoyed it so much I was considering buying myself something to play on. “Do what? Help convince a kid to eat tomatoes?”

  “The soccer practice. The tomatoes. The Mario.” She shook her head and sat on the sofa next to me. “I know you said you didn’t, but I’m sure you have much better things to do than amuse my kid all evening.”

  I put my tea on the table in front of us and looked out at the back garden. There were at least six footballs in various stages of inflation scattered across the grass, plus a basketball and freestanding hoop with a torn net.