Crashing into Love Page 3

  The more I read it, the more I consider that maybe I couldn’t find a partner, because I wasn’t open to it. Maybe my future husband is right in front of me. I did make a promise to myself—and to you—that no matter what, I will continue to put myself out there and open my heart to love.

  Now that I’ve bored you with details from my day, I’m going to eat a lemon supreme cupcake and have a cosmopolitan.

  Until next time,

  Searching Sterling

  Five

  I didn’t skip work because of Baker—I promise. However, I did message Chari and tell her I was taking a sick day because I woke up with a sore throat. That’s not wrong, but I’m ninety percent sure the itchy throat is because of all the drinking I did last night while eating cupcakes and chatting with Wren. I even texted each of the Mike’s and set up dates for this week. Here’s to there being at least one gem in this bunch.

  In the middle of my texting session with the Mikes, I get a message from Baker.

  Baker Hayes: Wanted to check in on you. Missed you at the office today.

  Huh? I’m so confused as to why Baker is messaging me at ten o’clock asking me if I’m okay, couple that with the increase in my heart rate and I’m all giddy inside.

  Sutton: Thanks for asking. I’m all good. See you tomorrow.

  I sit there staring at my phone for a little while longer to see if he’s going to respond and all I see are the three little dots, indicating that he’s typing but nothing comes through. Tossing the phone on the couch, I huff a bit and go find my laptop. Time to write another blog post.

  TriMikes

  Capricorn, Cupcakes & Cocktails

  When it comes to dating—the double standard is alive and well. If a man is dating multiple women, playing the field, he’s heralded a hero. It’s totally different for women, though. If I were to put it out there that I was dating multiple men at the same time, I’d be called a whore and talked about as if I’m trash.

  Hello, Capitan Obvious. It’s exactly what I’m planning to do, but I promise you I’m far from a whore. I often hear the idiom “drive it like you stole it” and I’m going to apply that to dating.

  Online dating isn’t about falling in love or meeting Mister Forever. It’s about having fun and letting loose. At this age, I’m married to the job and twenty or so assholes who can’t even wipe their asses without me. Yep, I went there.

  Now back to what I had planned for this post. Considering all the guys have the same name, I need a way to keep track of them, which means nicknames. I’ve already decided on Pilot Mike. That one is easy, because, well—he’s a pilot. The others will come as I get to know them.

  I’m actually excited to go out with Pilot Mike. With his schedule. It will be nice to have someone to go out with and date when he’s in town. If he’s out of town, it will give me time to hang with the other guys and get to know them.

  Pilot Mike is supposed to be in from San Fran tomorrow, and we’ve already decided to meet at Harry Caray’s. It’s a fun a classic Chicago place that provides things to talk about with all the décor, so on the off chance we don’t have anything to chat about, I can point something out and ask questions.

  I bet you’re wondering what he looks like. Since I’m going to share his description of himself on the site.

  “I’m 6’2” of both brains and brawn. My blond hair and muscles are both real. No salon or crazy gym time for me. I prefer biking, hiking, and running to keep myself in shape. Fresh air is my friend since I spend so much time flying the friendly skies . . . and that air is anything but fresh. My nose is Italian, and my eyes are as dark as the chocolate you’re craving.”

  I won’t lie to you. I laughed my ass off at this. However, I figured in order to write it, he has to have a couple of things: (1) a sense of humor—I mean what man could write this without pissing himself; and (2) he probably has great friends who constantly give him shit about it. Because really, I will, and I’m going to meet him for the first time tomorrow.

  Time to send Birdy the deets. We all know she lives vicariously through me because kids aren’t as fun as being single at almost thirty in Chicago.

  Until next time,

  Stealing Sterling

  Six

  I’m a bit nervous for my first date. After a long, drawn out day at the office, then reading comments I expected but wasn’t ready for on my last blog post, I’m more than exhausted. People don’t like the idea of women taking control of their sexuality, and I can’t understand why—it’s not 1920—we can even vote now. It sucks, because I knew I’d be ridiculed for it, but I still accepted it and will move forward. The whole point of the blog is to be as transparent as possible. Haters aren’t as brash in person as they are when they’re playing keyboard warrior.

  Pushing the negativity aside, I stand by my decision to have some fun dating. I check my profile and decide to pause it for a bit. Between the Mikes and the number of messages I have in my inbox, it’s going to take me a while before I’m ready to vet anyone else. Plus, I already have three dates set up for the week.

  Pilot Mike’s home base is Chicago, which means he’ll be here consistently. That’s seriously helpful if we decide to give this a real shot. Due to a hectic schedule, he’s only in town for the night and has an early flight in the morning, which means I can almost guarantee we won’t be out super late. Even if he didn’t have to leave early, I wouldn’t be having sex on the first date. That’s not my style. Maybe on the second, but most likely on the fourth or fifth, because by then I usually know whether it’s going to go anywhere but south.

  Judging by his profile and our conversations, even if it’s not a love connection, at least we will have some fun.

  The last thing I do before heading out is to make sure my shoes actually match my dress. I got lucky with a blue shift dress and heels, but sometimes the shades of blue don’t match, and it drives me batty. The dress is conservative, with a bit of cleavage peeking out of the top. My arms are bare, so I grabbed a sweater in case the restaurant is chilly. Hanging it from my cross-body purse, I walk out as my car arrives.

  Sliding into the cab, I text Wren.

  Sutton: Off to meet Pilot Mike at Harry Caray’s.

  Wren: Enjoy. Text when you get home tonight.

  My heart rate spikes, and the nerves take over on the way to meet him. It’s not that I don’t date, it’s really that I haven’t dated in a while and I’ve never done online dating. What if he’s a serial killer in disguise? For the first time since I started this process, I acknowledge how horribly this could go.

  “Thank you,” I say to the driver and hop out at the curb. Looking around, I take a deep breath before heading into the iconic restaurant. Inside the steak house is night lighting, soft music, and good ambiance.

  “How many?” the hostess inquires, her smile bright.

  “Two. I’m meeting someone.” I glance left to right, checking to see if he’s here yet.

  She’s young and spunky. I watch her pop her gum, while she checks a couple of things on her tablet. “You’re welcome to wait at the bar if you like.”

  Returning her smile, I make my way to the bar to find an open seat. Briefly, I wonder if he is even going to show when I feel a tap on my shoulder.

  “I believe you’re waiting on me.” The voice is deep and smug, making me smirk as I turn to locate the source.

  I smile and my eyes connect to the clear blue eyes in front of me. Mike really is a handsome blond-haired man with a swimmer’s body. He’s dressed nicely in a pair of khakis and a crisp, white button down, rolled up to reveal beautiful forearms. They really are beautiful, and I’d love to have them wrapped around me.

  I know it’s been a while, but don’t go down that road yet. You just met him.

  “Mike Ryan, I assume.” I thank myself for saying the right name and not calling him Pilot Mike to his face.

  “That’s correct. I’m assuming you’re Sutton Sterling.” He steps around to stand right in front of me before
taking his place on the bar stool next to me. Hi cologne is harp and strong, his grin completely shit eating. So far, I’m liking him.

  “That I am,” I joke.

  He catches my gaze for a second before laughing with me. He then shakes my hand and dramatically places a kiss on the top, then locking eyes with me. I have to admit, I really like how forward he is, which shocks me. I feel my cheeks heat, a blush taking over as I pull my hand away.

  “Nice to meet you, Sutton,” he says.

  “You don’t know that yet,” I declare.

  He laughs a deep throaty laugh that sends vibrations into my core. “That’s true. I have a table waiting for us. Would you like to get a drink here first?” It’s evident his mother has drilled manners into him, and I think I like it.

  “I think I can wait.” I giggle as we make our way to the table. He keeps his hand at my lower back in a guiding motion, though it doesn’t feel quite like it did when Baker did it, but I try not to go there.

  “I understand why someone tall was a requirement,” Mike states with an amiable tone.

  I glance up at him and grin. He has a good three inches on me, even in my heels, which is unusual. It really is something that I feel is necessary for my height. I’m not a fan of dating someone who’s shorter than me because I want to feel like a woman when I’m wrapped in his arms. Add in the number of men who I’ve been out with and are my height or shorter and dealing with a bunch of Napoleons is my least favorite pastime.

  When we reach the table, he pulls my chair out for me—such a gentleman. Sliding into the chair next to me, our knees bump under the table. My knees are bare, where my dress rides up my thighs and goose bumps pop out all over my body.

  “Do you have a certain body type preference?” I know my question is intense and borders on rude, but I ask it anyway. There is no reason to continue this if he has a particular type, and I don’t fit the mold.

  Mike takes my question in stride, though. “Not at all. I like your body as it is.” He makes a show of checking me out and it makes me smile a little more.

  “Great answer,” I commend him.

  Once we order drinks, we get to talking about work. He has some great stories about his time in the air force and being a pilot. I try to make being an assistant interesting by telling him some of the funniest things that have happened at the office and we both laugh through the rest of the night, which flies by in the blink of an eye.

  Pilot Mike

  Capricorn, Cupcakes & Cocktails

  Oh. My. Lord! Last night was spectacular. I couldn’t imagine all the laughing we would do. We had a great time—at least I did, and I assume he did as well. Mike was a total gentleman the whole night. We met for drinks that turned into dinner. He would have picked me up, but first rule of being single in the city is don’t let someone new know where you live. Safety is paramount, and that means I meet my dates to not be a statistic.

  By the time I looked up, we had been there for almost three hours. Who knew we could talk about the weather, traveling, and what to do in Chicago for three hours straight. He’s not a native, but it appears he got here as fast as he could. Based on what he said, his schedule is a bit insane. He tends to fly two long legs and then a short one before heading home.

  He excused himself to go to the restroom, and when he came back strutting like a peacock, I realized he had the audacity to pay the bill without me knowing. Then he invited me to take a ride on his motorcycle around the city. My first thought was what the hell, why not?

  We toured the city under the lights, and I held on tight and leaned into him. My cheek pressed against his back and a quick ride turned into thirty minutes of cruising. When he dropped me at the corner, he planted his lips on mine, and gave me a sweet can’t-wait-to-see-you-again kiss.

  I think I’m going to celebrate a successful first date with a dark chocolate cupcake with ganache on top and a glass of my favorite red wine.

  Until next time,

  Searching Sterling

  Seven

  Finishing up the blog post, I decide to catch up with Wren about all the dirty details from my date with Pilot Mike.

  Sutton: Holy Shit! Guess What?

  Wren: You tripped and fell, showing your ass again?

  Sutton: No! Not this time . . . LOL

  Wren: Well . . .

  Sutton: Dinner + Drinks + Motorcycle Ride + Kissing = Date 2

  Wren: Really? That’s new for you.

  Sutton: I’m celebrating stepping out of my comfort zone and date number two with a glass of Riesling and a cupcake tonight.

  Wren: I’m totally jelly. It’s sweltering here and I’m running to baseball.

  Sutton: Kiss. Kiss.

  If I couldn’t fill Wren in on everything while she’s running amok, I will relax and process it all. I had so much fun with Mike, a seriously good time.

  I almost don’t want to meet the next Mike. Almost.

  For tonight’s date, I decide on a crimson blouse with gold accents and tapered trousers in a color that are so dark navy, they’re almost black. Finish the outfit off with some red peep toes and jewelry and I’m ready for a night of fun.

  CEO Mike made reservations at a high-end place downtown, which leads me to believe he’s a bit of a showoff. I’m more than happy to allow him to spend his money on me. It’s difficult for me not to compare him to Pilot Mike because we had so much fun and it was easy with him. Pretentiousness isn’t on my list of things I want in a husband, so I’m hopeful he is trying to make a good impression.

  There is a ton of traffic, so the ride to the super swanky steak house is slow. I’m glad I left a bit early. When we pull up, I thank the driver before stepping out one foot at a time, looking down at the curb. I step up on the curb, heading in to see what fate has brought me tonight.

  Control Freak Mike

  Capricorn, Cupcakes & Cocktails

  I should have known when he said he liked to be in control during our first conversation that this would not be the guy for me. It’s not that he’s a control freak that is causing me to be unsure about him, more that when I asked him to tell me a bit about himself, he attempted to quote Christian Grey.

  Our conversation went like this:

  Me: So, you’re telling me you’re a control freak?

  Mike: Not a freak. I just exude control in all things.

  Me: Seriously? You’re attempting to quote Christian Grey?

  Me: Does this mean you’ve read the series and seen the movies?

  Mike: Of course, I have. To be a well-rounded man, I need to know what women want. However, I’m much more intense than Christian.

  Me: Um. Oops.

  Mike: Is that a problem for you?

  Me: We shall see.

  This kind of garbage is frustrating. Either he read it so he could talk to women about it, or so he could get ideas and pretend to be a dominant. Either way, he’s not doing it well. A true alpha male doesn’t have to point out or say he’s a control freak. Everything he does exudes his power and masculinity. He takes care of those he cares about and loves in every way.

  Hindsight being what it is, I should have listened to my gut and canceled the date before it even began, but I went on the date with Mr. More Intense than Christian and now I’m going to refer to him as Control Freak Mike.

  First, he’s short. Look, this is a HUGE deal for me. Why, you’re probably asking yourself? Because he lied about something as simple as his height. Did he think I wouldn’t figure it out when I met him? What a bozo. And let’s not forget, I’m five-nine. This means I’m as tall as the average man. If you add heels, and tonight’s were bright red peep toes with three-inch heels, I’m right at six feet tall. All this means if he was six feet tall, like he said, then we’d be about the same height. Which we weren’t when I met him.

  So, I promptly sang “liar, liar, pants on fire” internally during most of the date and prayed he didn’t try to kiss me.

  Should I continue? I
t gets even better . . .

  He ordered dinner and drinks for me. Yep, he sure did. I had to look around and see if I had been transported to an alternate time.

  Now, I acknowledge that at least he actually listened when we were chatting beforehand, but oh my goodness. My face turned tomato red, and I was so angry. What makes a man think that any woman can’t order for herself? I’ve taken care of myself for all these years, which means I can decide what I’d like to eat and order it.

  The final straw was when he wanted to see me again and I told him I already had plans and he’s already texted me when and where to meet him. I am so annoyed.

  I’m sure I’ll have more to report when I don’t show up for his date this week. Until then, it’s time for a margarita and a cupcake.

  Until next time,

  Searching Sterling

  Eight

  I’m obligated to chat with Wren about this date because that’s what BFFs are for. Plus, I need some outside perspective after all that craziness. Since Lucy is teething, there is a ton of crying and baby holding going on, so she said to text her, and she’ll respond when she can.

  Sutton: WTF! This one is an absolute and total narcissistic control freak.

  Wren: Oh, does that mean he cleans?

  Sutton: Huh?

  Wren: I’d take a control freak who cleans.

  Sutton: LOL, Todd is good at other things. Don’t complain.