Free Cinderella Screwed Me Over by Cindi Madsen

entertaining? What if he took one look at me and ran away? You think I want to rehash that”—I clutched my chest and got all dramatic—“pain and suffering?”
    His eyes lit up as a grin spread across his face. “You found out he was a dentist or a lawyer, didn’t you?”
    “Worse. A marriage counselor.”
    “What’s so bad about that?”
    “Everything.” I shook my head, thinking of how quickly the date had gone downhill once his job came under discussion—Stephanie had purposely withheld that information, I was sure of it. “I offended him, and it was awkward. And it’s even worse because of all this other stuff. In order to explain it, I’d have to start from the beginning.”
    “Start from the beginning, then,” Jake said.
    I took a deep breath while figuring out how much to say. I started with the fact that Stephanie was getting married in a couple months, then who Karl was, and how I’d managed to offend him. “Needless to say, things were awkward after that.”
    Jake nodded, amusement flickering across his features. “Yep, that’d definitely do it.”
    “See, this is why I avoid dates with guys I’ll have to see again. He’ll probably be shooting me death glares all through the wedding.”
    “It’s right here,” Jake said, putting his hand on the small of my back and guiding me toward the entrance to one of the many downtown art galleries. He pulled the door open, and I stepped inside. The floor was pale wood; the walls, ceiling, and pedestals were all lacquered white. The neutral colors made the colorful art in the room stand out.
    “This reminds me of college,” I said. “I went to the Rocky Mountain College of Art and Design. There were always cool displays everywhere.”
    As Jake and I rounded the corner into a large open room, my heels echoed, each step sounding loud in the quiet space. We stopped in front of a large painting done in red, thick paint in some places and barely a hint in others. There were two tiny blue squares, one just left of center and one in the right corner.
    Jake crossed his arms and studied it. “Ah, yes, a lovely impressionist piece, reminiscent of…that one painter.” He tapped a finger to his chin. “Let’s see, what was his name?”
    I looked at him, waiting for him to come up with it. Then his lips curved up and he asked, “How’d I do? Get any of it right?”
    I shrugged. “No idea. I had one Art History class late at night, and the guy dimmed the lights and showed slides as he lectured in a monotone voice. It was almost impossible not to fall asleep. Plus, I always sucked at dates, so I studied enough to pass the class and immediately forgot everything.”
    “I was waiting for you to tell me one of your rules about dating included finding a guy who knew art,” he said, his smile widening.
    I nudged him with my elbow. “Very funny.”
    He put his hand on my back again, leading me toward the next painting. I was so caught up in the warmth of his touch and my quickening pulse that the next painting took me off guard. “Whoa,” I said as I looked at the gruesome image. There was a face with sagging gray skin, one missing eyeball, and blood covering its teeth and chin. “It’s a zombie.”
    He gave me this smile that made me feel like I’d been caught, even though I wasn’t sure what I’d done. “I notice you stated a fact instead of your opinion.”
    Okay, so I had been caught. “Well, the detail is impressive, but if I had that in my house, it’d give me nightmares.” It hit me then that we were here to see his friend’s work. “Please don’t tell me this is your friend’s piece, because I’ll feel horrible.”
    He leaned closer to read the card by it. “Nope, not hers. And it says ‘self-portrait.’” He glanced back at me. “I always knew zombies existed.”
    I laughed. “Irrefutable proof, right there.”
    Jake laughed, too, and of course I had to notice that on top of everything else, he had a sexy laugh. He tipped his