CHLOE BAKER'S LOST DATE

Chapter Two: We Connected Over Punny Eggs

"I'm glad you made it," I said ten minutes later, after we'd both gotten coffee and put in our orders. Friends with Eggs Benedict for me and I hope our paths croissant again for him. "I was about to give up."

"I'm sorry," Jack said, fiddling with his fork. Up close, he was different from his photo. Not in a bad way, but his face was broader, his hair shorter and he had ten pounds more of muscle. His eyes were definitely hazel, and there were a few flecks of early grey in his dark brown hair. This was common, though. In my experience, only about ten percent of people had profile pictures that accurately reflected what they looked like IRL. Mine, on the other hand, was devastatingly accurate, right down to the curl in my strawberry blonde hair that I could never get straight no matter how expensive the flat iron.

"What happened? Were the servers at work down?"

Jack gave me a crooked smile. "Do you mind trying something with me?" His voice was clear and deep over the restaurant clatter. Our original meeting time had been for ten. It was close to eleven now and the place was full, a line forming outside and trailing along the sidewalk.

"What's that?"

"Let's not talk about work. You know, all that usual conversation-what do you do? and where are you from?"

"Small talk?"

He pointed his fork at me. "Exactly. Small talk. Let's not do that."

"What should we talk about, then?"

"Hmm." He rested his hand on his chin. He was wearing a forest green checked shirt that made his eyes pop and had an almost beard. I liked the look of him. "I've put us in a box, haven't I?"

"I like boxes."

"You do? Why?"

"That would violate the whole we-can't-talk-about-work rule."

He smiled as Janie arrived with our food. As she put my eggs down, she mouthed, he's cute. I blushed and glanced at my plate. She put the rest of our things on the table and left us alone.

"She thinks I'm cute, huh?"

I met Jack's eyes with a challenge. "Guess so. You want to get her number?"

"Nope, I'm good." He reached for his croissant, which was flaky and too dark. "Your eggs look fantastic."

"Right?" I cut a bite and put it into my mouth. The sauce was thick, and the egg was cooked perfectly. "Thanks for the recommendation."

He bit into his croissant and made a face.

"Not good?"

"A bit stale." He reached toward my plate. "You don't mind, do you?"

"I probably should, but I don't. Take a whole muffin. It's so rich, I'll never finish all of it."

"Thank you." He moved the egg I hadn't touched onto his plate and tasted it. He closed his eyes in pleasure. "So good." He took another bite. "So, I know I put the rule in place, but am I allowed to try to guess what you do for a living?"

"Sure, go ahead."

"Something with boxes, so ... Amazon fulfiller?"

I felt a nervous flutter in my stomach, thinking about the vibrator shipment waiting for me at home. "Ha, no."

"Mover?"

"Wrong again." I doubted he'd be able to guess.

I work for BookBox, a curated book of the month club where I'm in charge of the rom-com selection. It wasn't a genre I read much before I took the job, and some days, the contrast between what I read, and the reality of my dating life was too stark. But I knew a book was good if I could still root for that happily-ever-after ending regardless of how many "Hey, babies" I'd received in my Insta DMs that day.