Rate a Date by Monica Murphy Page 0,32

really.

He’s a complete stranger. I have no idea what I could be getting myself into here. And while it’s exciting to think about, it’s also kind of…

Scary. I can’t lie.

Seeing Mitch, spending time with him this weekend, means I will get to know him. I’m pretty sure I’ll be able to tell if he’s my kind of guy or not within the first ten minutes of being with him. Maybe sooner. We either connect or we don’t, right? Isn’t that how all of this works?

What’s pitiful is I’m questioning myself on how this works, like I don’t know. I sort of don’t know.

But maybe. Just maybe…

I’ll figure this dating thing out.

“Do you want another drink?” Sarah turns away from the server to face me with an expectant expression on her face.

“Sure,” I say with a nod, smiling up at the handsome waiter who’s gathering up our empty glasses. “I’ll take another one of these.” I wave my hand at the half-full drink still sitting in front of me.

Once he’s gone, I grab my glass and take another sip, making a face as the alcohol slides down my throat, warming my stomach. Whoever is at the bar tonight is making these cocktails extra strong, not that I’m complaining too much. I need liquid courage for my meeting with Mitch later tonight.

We’re almost done with dinner, and I’m starting to get nervous. We went to the most upscale restaurant at the hotel, where Alex had made a reservation for us. We sat at a round table smack dab in the center of the room, our every need taken care of by the attentive waitstaff. It’s like Alex pulled out all the stops for his future wife’s bachelorette weekend, and I know she’s feeling special. Heck, I’m feeling special, and it’s not even my weekend.

The food was delicious—and it was on the house. All of us talked and laughed, sharing stories about Caroline, focusing all of our attention on her. She basked in it, and the fun stuff isn’t even happening until tomorrow night, when the actual bachelorette party is scheduled to go down.

I can’t wait.

“Hey, I have a question,” Caroline says after the server dropped off our fresh drinks. “What’s going on with you tonight, Eleanor?”

I rest my hand against my chest, going for shocked. “What do you mean?”

“I hear you’re meeting your new ‘friend’.” Caroline smiles.

“Magic Mitch,” Kelsey adds, making them laugh.

Well, I don’t laugh. I glare at her, though my glare feels more comical than anything else. Giving into the giggles, I reach for my new drink and take a sip from the tiny straw. “Don’t call him that.”

“Why exactly are you calling him that?” Candice asks.

Kelsey tells her the entire story about thinking Mitch might be a stripper and how I confessed to her that I got Channing Tatum vibes from him. That’s when Kelsey came up with his new nickname. I sort of hate it.

But then again, I sort of secretly love it too.

“He promised he’s not a stripper,” I say once the laughter dies.

“That’s unfortunate,” Candice says, her gaze meeting mine. I’m sure I’m giving her a look because she throws her hands up. “What’s the big deal? This is just some Vegas fling. So what if he’s a stripper.”

“Would you have a fling with a stripper?” I ask her. Really, I’m asking the entire table.

They all appear uncomfortable by my question, which is exactly my point.

“That’s what I thought,” I say as they remain quiet. “He’s not a stripper. He’s an athletic trainer for professional athletes.”

“Really? Like, what athletes?” Stella asks.

“He’s not allowed to say. They made him sign an NDA.”

“Uh huh,” says Sarah.

I ignore her doubtful tone. “I believe him.”

“Are you sure you want to meet this guy on your own?” This is from Caroline, who looks genuinely concerned. “Maybe you should take one of us with you.”

I appreciate that they worry and only want the best for me. But I’m a big girl, and I’m meeting him in a very public place. I’ll be fine.

“He’s coming to the hotel to meet me later tonight.” I reach toward the floor and grab my purse, pulling my phone out of it. I need to text him and let him know I’m almost finished. “I’m not leaving the premises.”

“Maybe we should all go with you when you meet this guy for the first time,” Candice says. “What time is your planned rendezvous?”

I check the time on my phone. It’s almost ten. So late. I send him a