Enchanted, Inc. (Enchanted, Inc. #1)

Enchanted, Inc. (Enchanted, Inc. #1) Page 86

"It would be good to know what kinds of things you like doing. That might help me plan future dates."

I tried not to hyperventilate. He'd actually mentioned future dates. That implied he wanted to see more of me, and that he didn't think of me as a little sister.

Things were looking very, very good.

There was a commotion at the front of the restaurant and I tried to ignore it. It was probably just the fairies, up to their usual hijinks. As long as it didn't affect me, I wasn't going to worry about it. But then a man in a tuxedo rushed to our table, thrust a bouquet of red roses at me and began singing something that vaguely resembled an opera aria, sung off-key and with my name sprinkled liberally throughout.

It was Jeff, the Naked Frog Guy. He had incredibly bad timing. I wanted to crawl under the table. And cry. Or maybe sit under the table and cry. This was so not fair.

I chanced a glance at Keith, who was staring in shock at Jeff. After a while he turned to me. "Friend of yours?"

I wanted to play it cool and swear I'd never seen him before in my life, but I knew that wouldn't work. "My stalker," I admitted. "I thought I'd got rid of him."

"Apparently you didn't." He listened to Jeff's serenade for a while. "Stalker, huh?"

He was taking this pretty calmly, and my hopes rose.

"Yeah. I did him a favor once, and he's extremely grateful."

"What kind of favor?" There was a tinge of suspicion in his voice.

"She disenchanted me," Jeff said helpfully. I wondered if there was a way to reenchant him. He'd be less of a bother if all he could say was "ribbit," and the restaurant would call the cops if he took his clothes off. "I was cursed to spend eternity as a frog, until she freed me with a kiss."

Keith turned to look at me, one eyebrow raised as if asking for an explanation. "He was lost in the park, and um, well, naked, and I got help for him." In essence, Jeff and I had told the same story. My version just sounded saner, even if his was more accurate.

"Do you do that sort of thing often?" Keith asked.

"No, just that one time." Jeff launched into another aria, one I recognized from a pasta commercial, even if I didn't know what opera it was from. I wondered what all the Italian words he put around my name meant.

I glanced toward Ari's table and saw that they were all staring— as was every other patron in the restaurant. I caught Ari's eye and mouthed the word "Help," but she gave me an innocent look, as if to say, "You told me to leave you alone." I narrowed my eyes at her, and with an exaggerated sigh she waved a hand. In midphrase the aria stopped and Jeff said, "Ribbit."

Had she put the frog illusion back on him? I wished I could see what my date saw. If a tuxedoed man singing arias to your date was weird, that man suddenly disappearing and a frog taking his place would be beyond strange.

The restaurant manager—the real one this time—came to our table and said, "Miss, is this person bothering you?"

"Yes. Yes, he is." The manager and one of the waiters each took Jeff by an arm and dragged him away. I assumed that meant they didn't think he was a frog, or they would have removed him from the restaurant in a different way.

Our waiter then stopped by and asked, "Would you like to see the dessert tray?"

Without hesitation, Keith said, "No thanks. Just the check, please." My heart sank.

That was definitely a bad sign. When the waiter had gone, Keith turned to me and said, "I hope you don't mind if we call it a night. I have somewhere I have to be pretty early in the morning." In other words, I was being ditched. I couldn't blame him. In his shoes, I'd ditch me, too. But that didn't stop it from being a huge disappointment.

He paid in cash as soon as the waiter showed up with the check. Then he escorted me to the front door. "It was nice meeting you, Katie. It was an, um, well, interesting evening."

I winced. "Sorry about that." I wanted to say that sort of thing didn't happen to me often, but the problem was, it probably would, given my line of work. "Thanks for dinner, though."

"Yeah. Well, I'll call you." His tone made it the "you'll never hear from me again"

version of "call you." The fact that he quickly disappeared around the corner underscored that impression. I was left standing on the sidewalk, holding the giant bouquet of roses Jeff had given me. It looked like I'd graduated from little sister to freak. Either way, it meant there wouldn't be a second date. With a deep sigh of regret, I began walking home.