What are the chances?

Sheila Wilborne was supposed to meet Randall Welsh on a blind date that was set up by her grandmother of all people. This Randall was one of her grandmother’s old friend’s grandsons who just flew in from Europe. He was in town visiting family and was only here for a couple of weeks. 

That’s all the information Sheila was able to get out of her grandmother. She wasn’t the type to go on blind dates, however to appease her grandmother, she agreed anyway. So, now she was already at this fancy restaurant called Pattero’s Kitchen. She’s never been to this place because it was expensive, but she would pass by it on her way to work, thinking she’d never eat there until now. 

The hostess stood by the front entrance with a ready smile. “Good evening, Miss. Do you have a reservation with us, or are you just walking in to be seated?”

“Umm, yes. I have a reservation for the last name, Welsh,” Sheila said, eyeing the stacked menus by the table in front of her, then back to the woman. 

The hostess nodded as she looked at her computer, then smiled as she gestured for Sheila to follow her. 

Sheila walked past a few couples who were here as well having dinner. Some were old and well in their sixties, and there were some who looked as if they were on a date night away from the kids for the evening, which were all heartwarming to see. 

The hostess stopped at a table right next to an open window overseeing the beach with the beautiful view of the sunset. A handsome man was sitting at this table, and when she saw her, he stood up to greet her with a dimpled smile. 

“A pleasure to meet you, Sheila,” he said, in a deep, fluid voice. 

“The pleasure is all mine. Are you Randall?” Sheila asked. Because for one, he didn’t sound like he had a European accent like she had thought nor looked like someone from that side of the world, but she could be wrong. 

He gave her a sheepish smile. “Actually, I’m not Randall.” 

She stepped back and put her hand on the chair without sitting down. “Then, who are you, and where is Randall? I assumed I was supposed to meet with him today.” 

“Well, the thing is Randall couldn’t make it, so I’ve graciously stood in his place for the evening. I’m his good friend, Will Andrews,” he said. 

Sheila let Will pull out her chair for her and sat down in spite of herself. He didn’t look dangerous, but who was to say he wasn’t? 

“Okay, so you’re probably wondering whether to leave, and that is totally up to you. But can you give me a chance? It’s a beautiful evening,” Will said, moving his hand to the sunset. “I hear this place’s got a five-star rating on Yelp with their food and atmosphere. I’d hate to see you go without at least trying their food.” 

Will had these deep, trusting brown eyes that when he looked at Sheila with interest, she couldn’t help but say yes. “Okay, I’ll stay.” 

“You’ll stay?”

“I’ll stay.” 

The waitress served them with their food. Sheila ordered a chicken parmesan with a side of green salad, while Will got the steak and shrimp. They had eaten in silence with Sheila watching the sun completely disappear into the depths of the sea. The cool breeze of the evening felt nice. It also wafted the scent of Will’s cologne. It reminded her of open fields, warm sun, and the rugged mountains. 

As they ate, Sheila took this time to observe him from across the table. He had dark hair that fell to his eyes, thick eyebrows that framed those deep, inquisitive brown eyes, a straight nose, and a strong jawline. She has seen so many good-looking guys in her day, but never someone as attractive and nice to look at as Will. She had to touch her brunette hair to make sure it didn’t have any fly-aways, then caught herself because it was ridiculous. 

When it was time to pick up the check, Will offered to pay for them. “I got it. Don’t worry.” 

The waitress returned with his credit card and receipt, then he stood up and put his arm out for her. “Do you mind taking a walk with me?” 

Sheila circled her arm around his. “I’d love a walk.” 

“Good. Did you drive here or get dropped off?” Will asked, as they walked out of the restaurant and on the sidewalk going the other way. It was a nice, warm night with a handsome stranger at most. 

“I actually caught the bus to get here, but I wish more than anything to have a car of my own to get to places,” Sheila said, glancing down at her reasonable flats. 

“Would you feel comfortable enough for me to drop you off at your house?” he asked. 

The fact that he had asked if she was comfortable spoke volumes to her because, so far, he has shown her the kind of person that he was. A complete gentleman this whole date. Even the way he respected her enough to ask her questions about herself, while also opening up to her with answering questions about himself. He had family ties in England, but he has lived in the states with his family for all of his life. She had a feeling he was from here in the way he didn’t take himself too seriously. Always cracking jokes in between their conversation. It was different. He was different. 

They crossed the street to the other side and came to an ice-cream shop, and got a frozen treat for the night. They settled on a bench right outside the shop, so that they would still be close to the restaurant, where Will had parked his car. 

Sheila scooped some chocolate ice-cream into her mouth and shivered. 

“Are you cold? Here, let me,” Will said, taking off his jacket and putting it around her shoulders to cover her from the chilly air. 

“Thank you,” she said. 

Will nodded his head and continued to lick his ice-cream he ordered in a waffle cone. 

“How are you able to eat ice-cream in a cone? Wouldn’t it be better to have it in a cup, so that it doesn’t melt all over your hand?” she said, taking a glimpse at him. 

“Hmm, ice-cream in a cup seems inhumane,” he explained, as his eyes fell on her cup, then at his cone. “Ice-cream is meant to be eaten from a cone instead.” 

Sheila’s brow rose in question. “Oh, is that right? Are you trying to tell me that ice-cream in a cup is boring?” 

“Undoubtedly,” he deadpanned. 

“Well, what if I did this?” she said, and out of nowhere, flicked a spoon full of ice-cream at him. She was satisfied as she watched the ice-cream land on his cheek and covered the right side of his beard. 

Will froze and gave her a glance sideways. “You didn’t,” he started. 

“Oops? Did I do that?” she said, feigning innocence.

He shook his head with a grin on his face. “Then you don’t mind me doing this then,” and he proceeds to smear the top of his ice-cream on the left side of her cheek.

“Wow, retaliation, Andrews? You better be able to finish what you started,” she quipped, standing up now to get away from him, so she could safely flick more ice-cream at him. 

“Do that again, Wilborne. I dare you,” Will said, imitating her wide stance and creating some distance between them. 

Sheila scooped a big heap of ice-cream this time and flicked it at him, which he successfully ducked to avoid it from coming at him. “You are going down, Andrews. Come and get me,” and darted down the street to get back to the restaurant. 

She stopped when she saw the red light at the traffic lights, and tapped her foot impatiently, looking for any possible way for the light to turn green. “Come on, come on.” 

Right when the light turned green, she made a quick dash on the crosswalk and felt herself being picked up with the same intoxicating and spicy scent that was Will. Gone was the cup of ice-cream she left on the sidewalk as she gripped his arms around her. The last time she was this close to a male was senior prom and that was just one of her friends. This time was different. It was like the air was suspended and time stood still.

“I got you.” 

He whispered the words softly in the open, yet they felt intimate and just audible enough for only her ears to hear. The next thing she recognized was the heat from his body and how strong his presence was. She had never known or experienced anything like this, but she knew that this night would be important. That Will Andrews was going to be an important person in her life. 

What are the chances?