But with Hazel? She was like a magnet. He felt drawn to her, watching her face get angry with him. Seeing her eyes flash and her cheeks blush.
He was absolutely positive that the hurt he would feel if he fell for Hazel would slay him. Of course, he could be wrong. But too many people relied on him to grant their deepest wishes for him to start worrying about himself. And then there were all the people he employed. They needed these jobs.
He looked down at the pictures again, holding Hazel above the eligible bachelors. Wolf closed his eyes for a second to clear them of his own prejudices. There was a guy in the pile who would do great. Hazel and Greg would make a great couple. If they decided to have kids, they would be gorgeous.
He touched his tattoo again, thinking of his sister. Being eight years older made him part sibling, part parent. He’d met many teachers over the years, going to the open houses and looking at her desk or her art with her.
His eyes welled up when he thought of her trusting hand in his as she took him down the hallways.
“It’s a good desk, Wolfie. Wanna sit in it?”
He'd helped her with her favorite doll’s hair more times than he could count. She would wait for him and critique his technique to tease him. But her happiness when all the knots were out was worth sitting for hours.
At fourteen, she was held back a year, so she was in middle school but she was still a young girl in her mind, he’d had to intervene on her behalf. A group of boys had taken a liking to gather in the parking lot of the school for recess, and they had a knack for getting Faith alone to tease her.
At twenty-two, he had been far too old to fight middle school battles, but he tracked his sister to the pavement where the kids spent their free time to watch it go down after she had mentioned it to him the night before. There was a little patch of wildflowers next to the overgrown tennis courts where Faith went to sit. She would pick a few and pretend they were acting out scenes in her head. She did it at home all the time when he was working outside at his mother’s house.
The boys came at her in a clump of eight, looking like they might be friendly, but Wolf caught their energies. Malice. He wondered if Faith had even been able to understand what they said to her.
He exited his vehicle and trotted over to his sister. The boys didn’t even see him coming. Faith lit up when she saw him, getting to her feet and offering him the flowers she’d been playing with as a gift. She was so generous.
Her holding two crumpled wildflowers broke him. Her innocence and tender soul were too raw in this setting where she was obviously being preyed on.
He hugged his sister and took the flowers before he kissed the top of her head and sent her back to school. After he tucked the flowers in the pocket of his jeans, he faced her tormentors.
As it became obvious to the boys that this was going to end badly for them, he smiled.
When his sister was out of sight, he chuckled. “Hey, guys. Just want to make this clear.”
And he knew he was out of bounds right then. A twenty-two-year-old man threatening thirteen-year-old kids wasn’t cool at all. Not even a little bit. But it didn’t stop him.
“Faith is not your friend. And she's not a toy for you assholes to use.”
The boys were caught. Instinct made them want to listen to an elder, but they knew they should probably run.
“I’m going to remember each one of you. From this moment and for the rest of your goddamned lives. If I even see you near my sister again, I will beat the living shit out of you. I promise. Do you understand?”
Wolf stepped closer to the group of them.
Some apologized while some laughed nervously.
“I’m crazy. So you know. And I love her more than anything. I’ll go to jail in a hot minute just to teach any of you little bitches a lesson.”
There was no more nervous giggling as he looked from one to the next.
After that scene, he fully expected to get arrested. But Wolf never had to pay for defending his sister that day. Nor did those kids go near her again.
Of course, he made sure to drive by at recess time until she was promoted to high school.
But for Faith, he couldn’t be rational. Losing her four years later was more than he could take. He missed her every day. He even still had the flowers from that day long ago. They were saved in a Ziploc bag where they were dry. He kept them by his favorite picture of Faith with her friend. The earth wasn’t good enough for his sister. But he would have fought to make it what she needed if he were still lucky enough to have her.
He wiped a tear off of his cheek. This happened when he missed her. It probably always would.
Chance knocked on the office door, and Wolf focused on the pictures. He handed the Polaroid to his manager.
“All matched up?” Chance shuffled through the pictures until he got to Hazel and flipped it towards him. “Even this one?”
“It’s sorted. Run with it.” Wolf looked back down to his desk.
“Okay, brother,” Chance replied with a hint of disapproval.
Chapter 15
They will work this time
Hazel picked out a less formal outfit tonight. Jeans, a white blouse, and boots with her hair down. Claire was on her way over for some pre-drinking drinks, so Hazel got out two wine glasses.
“Hello, bonita!” Claire said as she let herself into Hazel’s apartment.
“Hello, future Mrs. Chance Dewdling!” Hazel met her with a glass of Merlot.
“This is just what Tuesday needs.” Claire was smiling, and Hazel guessed it was from her use of her future married name. She’d done it on purpose. She’d wanted Claire to know that she supported her.
Claire took a sip. “You’re casual,” she said, pointing to Hazel’s jeans.
“I think I’m going to be dating psychos and weirdos for the long haul, I’ve got to be able to run fast at a moment’s notice.” Hazel clinked her glass against Claire’s, and they made their way over to the couch.
They bitched about a few new rules implemented at work and talked about an upcoming function before they finished their pre-drinking drinks.
Claire seemed itchy to get going, even though they would be early, so Hazel put on her jacket and followed Claire out of the apartment.
Of course Scott was in the elevator.
“Ladies.” He grinned and moved to the back to allow them on. He was holding a full laundry basket.
“You’re doing a lot of laundry lately,” Hazel noted.
“I don’t have anyone to do it for me.” He shrugged.
He was hinting at the fact that he used to bring his laundry to her place and they would have “laundry sexathons.”
They used to try to bang out one good session during the wash cycle and two slow ones during the dryer cycle.
She knew she was blushing.
“Well, your dirty laundry smells like a pig took a dump in it.” Claire waved a hand in front of her face, and Hazel busted out laughing because it was so unexpected.
The elevator opened up to let the ladies off in the lobby, and Scott continued down to the laundry facilities looking far less cocky.
Claire had some advice. “Don’t let that fuck boy fluster you. All he cares about is who's petting his dick. And that shouldn’t be you anymore. Even if he wants it that way.”
They flagged down a taxi as Hazel recovered from her run-in with Scott. It was annoying how quickly he could get to her.
XOXOXOXO
When they were dropped off in front of the theater, they were clearly too early. After a text from Claire, Chance was at the front door, admitting them both to the building.
Hazel looked all around while Claire and Chance made out. Wolf walked across the lobby doing some sort of busy owner stuff, for sure, and they locked eyes. She felt a chill down her spine. His face did such pleasant things to her body. And it was as if he could tell. He looked her up and down and shook his head.
Was he disappointed? Maybe. But Hazel was sick of mixed
messages.
Claire pulled herself from Chance and took them both by the arm. “Let’s talk wedding venue. What do you think, Hazel? You’re the maid of honor.”
Hazel tried to avoid wondering if Wolf was looking at her. “It’s certainly pretty.”
Chance said, “I spoke to the owners and they said they often rent it out for weddings. If Wolf lets us, we just have to pay for a caterer.”
Hazel offered, “Well, that’s a great deal. Everyone loves to SAVE MONEY!” She leaned toward where she'd seen Wolf last and shouted the last part.
Claire laughed and patted Hazel on the arm. “It’s going to be okay, honey. Chance says that Wolf set up a great date for you tonight.”
“Did he? I hope tonight’s date isn’t related to the last date.” She gave Wolf a wide-eyed, accusing stare as he walked back into the lobby.
Wolf ignored her and approached Chance with a wide smile. He had little hints of a dimple. Jesus.
“Fine with me, brother. You know—anything you need.” Wolf actually stood right in front of Hazel, blocking her from the conversation.
She turned away and put her back to his as well. There was a crowd starting to form outside. It seemed like a million years ago she was on the other side of that situation.
Wolf put his arm around her, startling her. “Well, pain in the ass, I found the perfect guy for you.”
She turned and looked in his face, at his lips. God she wanted to kiss him so much.
“Did you now?”
She was sure in that second that he was going to say it was him. It was inevitable. As annoyed as she was at him, it was like her soul already knew his. They were puzzle pieces clicking into place. They would make the perfect picture.
She felt the loss of the people behind her—Chance and Claire had stepped away to look at another part of the venue.
She wet her lips.
He stuttered then. The confident act he'd put on not two minutes earlier was falling away. She felt him mess with her hair a little.
She angled her body toward his. Her left breast was pressed against his chest now.
His blue eyes were almost glazed over—as if being this close to her was a drug for him.
He took his arm off her shoulders and ran both hands through his hair. He didn’t bother to finish the conversation he’d started with her, just walked away like he had an appointment he’d forgotten about.
Hazel felt the rejection slice through her. How could she always be wrong about guys? She was about to leave when one of the Booty Camp employees approached her.
“Hazel? I’ve got your spot all set up over here. I know Mr. Saber is excited for you to meet your match. His name is Gregory Vander, and it’s going to be a great night for you. A hundred and ten percent guaranteed.”
So that’s how it was. Great. She would meet this Vander person and get him out of the way ASAP. Another date closer to her money back.
The Booty Camp staffer led her to one of the many tables set up in the lobby. The table had a white paper tablecloth and two place settings. There were a few LED candles, the staffer explaining that they weren’t allowed to have real flames in the venue.
Hazel pulled out her phone and started liking pictures of her friends on social media to pass the time.
This session was different because some customers were being pulled out of the group and seated at tables like Hazel. The rest were led into the theater seats to hear Chance’s spiel. Hazel waved to Claire, who followed the crowd to hear more from Chance.
A Booty Camp staffer came by with a decorated box and set it next to the LED candles. “Please put your cell in here so everyone can concentrate on the person in front of them.”
Hazel frowned with the reprimand, but followed the directions. Gregory Vander arrived late but with a big grin. He popped his cell phone in the box and extended a hand like he was normal.
He wasn’t bad looking—a little older than she would have liked, but okay.
He took off his ball cap and ran his hand through his hair so it would fall in its natural style. Which upon closer inspection could only be described as “Dutch little boy on a paint can.”
Hazel listened to the Booty Camp girl describe how they would pass out Sharpie markers for the daters, who weren’t to talk, but use the table paper to write their questions to each other. They were allowed to use charades-like body language to help their date understand any answers better, if they chose.
Hazel was handed a hot pink one and Vander was handed a bright blue one. Hazel rolled her eyes at the gender-specific colors. The world was moving past these kinds of things nowadays.
Gregory started right in.
Hey, call me Greg. Want to switch markers? Change it up? Fight the system?
Hazel smiled before taking the marker he offered her and handing him hers.
She responded in blue.
Thanks! I love blue. My name is Hazel.
Greg uncapped the pink marker.
You’re looking to have a nice date with a guy who isn’t creepy, I’m guessing.
Are you psychic? I'm looking to get my money back from this place. The fine print says I need to go on five dates.
She drew a frowny face.
Greg drew a matching frowny face.
I’m sorry to hear that. Do you want me to write your request on the owner’s face in this marker?
Hazel nodded.
That would be fun, but I’m sure you would rather find a nice person to go out with than go to jail.
Greg laughed.
True.
Hazel liked how his eyes sparkled when he was happy, but not enough to feel remotely attracted to the older man.
He wrote some more.
So are they not good at setting up dates?
Not for me. The first guy was escorted out for being offensive and granted a refund. You’re the second.
I’m sorry that was your experience. Wow. If you’re not into this they should give you your money back. It’s almost sexist that he got to leave and you have to stay. They're probably keeping you here as bait because you’re so pretty. Did you sign any photo releases? Because they might try and use you in their commercials.
Hazel lifted an eyebrow. Greg’s haircut was an issue. But hair could be styled. He was kind of nice.
She watched Wolf walk through the lobby, obviously checking on the dates. When he saw her, he gave her a nod. A self-righteous nod.
Hazel broke eye contact and responded to Greg.
What keeps you busy during the day?
Greg shook his head.
Enough about me. Tell me about you.
Hazel thought it was an odd response because he hadn’t said anything about himself, so how could it be too much already?
I’m a teacher. I love my job.
Greg visibly stiffened and then appeared to force himself to relax.
Nice. Where?
Garville Elementary.
Oh. I hear that’s a nice place.
It’s great. Wonderful staff, kids are cute.
The Booty Camp staff interrupted the quiet dates by clapping.
“Okay. We’re going to have the person who arrived last at each table come up here for a moment.” She gestured to a large table that was set up in the middle of the lobby. Obviously they'd been working on it during the date period. “That person is going to use these magazine clippings to make a collage they think their date will enjoy based on the information they've gathered during the interactive tablecloth exercise.”
Greg stood up and Hazel turned her head in his direction. Her face was crotch level—Greg was fairly tall.
Holy Crap.
He had on the tightest pants she’d ever seen. And not in a rock star way. In a "I bought these grape stranglers twenty years ago and they're turning my testicles into an impressive moose knuckle" way.
Hazel looked down at the table quickly.
Greg patted her shoulder. “I’ll be right back.”
His voice had a s
creechy quality that was akin to nails on a chalkboard. Which was an active job hazard for Hazel.
He walked to the center of the room, and sure enough, his pants were so tight that his ass was eating the seam hard. Hazel leaned forward, put an elbow on the table, and held her fist against her lips.
He couldn’t possibly be wearing those pants in public. They were a good two inches too short, as well.
Claire nipped out of the screen room of the theater and waved at Hazel. Her face dropped when she saw Hazel in her thinking pose. She hurried over and sat in Greg’s chair.
“What’s wrong?” Claire whispered.
“Oh my God. Do you see my date? Look over at that table of people. I bet you can tell by just looking at his back.” Hazel pointed her thumb in Greg's direction.
“Holy shit. I recognize that crack. And that Dutch boy haircut. That can’t be? Is that Victor Flushlaps?”
Claire got up and circled the table of adults gluing things to poster boards like she was gawking at a car accident before rushing back to Hazel’s table.
“That’s ol’ Flushlaps. Don’t you recognize him?” Claire slapped the table with her palm.
The last name sounded familiar. “A little. Do we know him? They said his name was Greg Vander.”
“I swear, you never pay attention to the school gossip.” Claire lowered her voice. “That’s Flushlaps for sure. He has six kids in our school. He’s the one we keep catching recording the young teachers instead of his kids at the assemblies. Remember?”
And then Hazel did. Why a married man with six kids would be at an expensive dating service was a mystery. She was always so busy with her kids at assemblies that she never really paid anyone any attention.