“I was going to tell you. But I just couldn’t live with myself if I scared you off right away. Not someone—” He paused momentously, two fingers drawn to his lips. “—like you.”
Ah, there it was. The date had moved into stage 2: overly sentimental compliments wrapped in false humility.
Cassie shifted her jacket to her other arm. Right. Here it came. “Because of our energy.”
“Yes.” He bobbed his head like the baby Groot sitting on her desk at work. “It’s kinetic. The way I’ve been able to open up to you these past few weeks . . .”
Six days. Via e-mail. On topics as deep and moving as the Yorkshire terrier in his profile picture.
Cassie pinched her face into a quiet, patient smile, letting the man go on with his excuses.
She knew she appeared complacent standing beside the floor-to-ceiling glass of Ripley’s Aquarium of the Smokies, her gaze on him and yet attentive to her periphery. Echoes of excitement bounced around them as a massive blacktip reef shark slid across the wall. Children in dripping overcoats and galoshes stood on toes and pointed. Since the start of Thanksgiving break, the aquarium had been more crowded than ever.
But crowded was good. Crowded was ideal. The aquarium’s ample noontime distractions were key factors in why she always chose her best friend’s workplace to meet, greet, and ultimately sprint as fast as she could away from men. A restaurant? Facing your foe at a candlelit table for two? Fleeing from there mid-date would be the real challenge.
She slid her eyes to the glass, relieved to see Bree, her best friend, her quintessential partner in crime, kicking her fins their way. Parting a group of yellowtail fish, Bree halted directly behind her date.
His back touched the glass as he faced Cassie completely. “Why don’t we get out of here and find someplace quiet to talk? I know of a great little lunch place that just opened up on Newman—”
The sudden bang on the glass jolted him, halting his monologue. Startled, he turned around to find the scuba diver, all six foot two of her, shaking a gloved fist at him.
She banged again. Every face in the room turned from the glowing ultramarine tank to him.
“Do you know her?” Cassie raised an eyebrow as she took a step back.
“I’ve—I’ve never seen her before in my life.” He squinted, clearly trying to see beyond the long floating braid, mask, mouthpiece, and BCD vest to the woman underneath.
Bree banged a third time.
Then, at last, she began the incomprehensible—and, it should be noted, utterly meaningless—show of charades. To the innocent onlooker, it looked positively seething.
“You sure? Old girlfriend, perhaps? Did your wife take up diving?”
“No, I . . .” His eyes were glued to the glass, his neck reddening to match his thin polyester collar.
But Cassie was already melting into the crowd of onlookers, sharks, and spotted eagle rays. Her eyes never left his now babbling form as she moved backward like a chessboard knight, slipping around parents and kids and disappearing before he’d even realize she’d gone. At the private, staff-only door, she gave Bree a salute and slipped through it.
Married.
Both her smile and energy melted as she shut the door and leaned against it. For a brief moment she let the slime of the date slip off her, imagining it oozing down her mulberry velvet skirt and knee-high boots to the water drain in the middle of the floor.
Married.
To be honest, she’d really hoped for good things with this one. He was educated, good looking. His pictures avoided posing with toilets in the background. His interests followed the same strain as hers: running, cooking, festive gatherings with friends. He even claimed to volunteer with the residential kids at Wears Valley Ranch. She’d been particularly interested in talking with him about that one.
But what had happened? Where was she now? Back in her trusty panic room beside a rack of wetsuits, cleaning tanks, and a bucket of squeegees.
Cassie let herself indulge in one more minute of pity partying before kicking off the wall and heading for the exit door. Gold and persimmon maple leaves danced around her boots as she stepped around the backside of the building to her car. She dropped her purse into the passenger seat and, with the engine humming, sorted through her choices for the suddenly free hour. It didn’t take long before she shifted her car into Reverse.
Back to work it was.
Eight minutes and twenty-three seconds later, she pulled into her