Steph rolled her eyes. “You’re completely hopeless.”

“No, you’re the hopeless romantic. They call it that for a reason, you know.”

Steph’s phone rang and she hovered her finger over her earpiece. “Anthony’s probably calling to tell me what his mom said about the flowers. I’ll just be one minute.”

“I knew you’d never make it.” I dug through my purse until I found the envelope I was looking for and took it out. “I’ll be right back,” I whispered.

Making my way toward the back of the restaurant, I took in all the different kinds of people out on a Saturday night. One couple sat, smiling at each other but not saying anything, neither one eating much of his or her food.

On a date. Probably first or second.

The next table over, a woman in her late thirties to early forties had her arms folded across her chest, a scowl on her face. The guy across from her leaned in, looking frustrated and confused, saying, “I’m sorry, okay.”

Married and not speaking—well, she’s not speaking.

The kitchen would be a madhouse tonight, so I didn’t bother heading in that direction. Brent, the head chef and owner, had done me a huge favor last week, making a special plate for one of my clients. The list of items she couldn’t have had been lengthy, but he’d managed to pull off a delicious meal anyway. I’d written him a thank-you note because that’s the kind of girl I am.

The office in the back corner had a plastic in-box attached to the door. Brent had mentioned I could place notes or special requests in there if he was ever too busy to come out of the kitchen. I dropped my note inside, then headed back the way I’d come.

A large group of people walked toward me, taking up most of the walkway, and I flattened myself against the wall to let them through. After they passed, I stepped forward, my thoughts on getting back to my table, when the heel of my stiletto caught. To keep from falling, I had to leave the shoe behind.

“Whoa,” I muttered as I recovered from my almost-fall.

I turned around in search of my shoe and saw a guy bend over to retrieve it.

“I think you lost this,” he said, tugging it loose from the crack in the floor.

“Yeah, it kind of stuck in there and… Let’s just say it wasn’t my smoothest move.”

He stood up, a big smile on his face. His very handsome face. His bright blue eyes, killer smile, and short, dark hair made it hard to look away. So I didn’t bother trying.

“Well…” He held my black stiletto out to me. “Here you go.”

Oh, that’s right. I’m standing in the middle of a crowded restaurant, one foot four inches higher than the other.

“Thanks,” I said as I took the shoe. Balancing on my other foot, I bent my leg back and attempted to slide the shoe on. Stepping into this pair wasn’t an option. They took a little extra work—a finger on the back—to wedge in the heel.

He reached out and put a hand on my hip to steady me. It sent my heart racing, which just goes to show you how long it had been since my last physical contact with a guy.

The shoe finally slipped into place and I put my foot down. When he didn’t move his hand, I glanced at it, then back up at him.

“I didn’t want you to fall,” he said, one corner of his mouth lifting.

A deep stirring I hadn’t felt in a long time burned through my core. “I wouldn’t fall.”

“You see how I might worry, since you did trip just a minute ago.”

Between the grin he was flashing me and the heat radiating from his hand, my pulse was having trouble staying steady. I smiled back, pulling out the flirty grin that was rusty from lack of use. “I suppose I do have that against me. Although I choose to blame the faulty flooring and not my coordination.”

He took his hand off my hip and held it out to me. “I’m Jake.”

I placed my hand in his—firm shake. Bonus points. “Darby.”

“Interesting name.”

“Interesting is one word for it. For a long time, I thought my parents chose it to torture me. People used to tell me that because of my name, they thought I was a boy.”

Jake’s gaze ran down my dress, then lifted back to my face. “I doubt anyone makes that mistake now.”

My throat went dry, and with him staring at me like that, I got a little light-headed, too. “Yeah, well, the dress and the heels, they kind of put it all in perspective.”

“So did you need something?” Jake asked. “I saw you near the office. Complaints? Compliments? Just so you know, we prefer compliments. And I’ll remind you that I did help you out with your shoe problem. Although with the flooring issue, that’s probably going to be a wash.”

It took me a moment to shift gears. Was he saying…? I looked him over again. All the waiters wore white shirts and black slacks. Jake had on a red button-down shirt with a black tie and nice black pants. In fact, we matched.

“You work here?” I asked.

“I do a little of this, a little of that.” Jake scooted to the side as Mindy led an older couple down the walkway, bringing him even closer to me. I caught a whiff of his musky, masculine-smelling cologne. “Actually, I manage and own the place. Well, my buddy and I do.”

That pulled me out of my he-looks-and-smells-amazing daze. Sure you do, you big fat liar. “Funny, I’ve never seen you here before.”

“Oh, do you come here often?”

I narrowed my eyes at him.

“It’s not a line,” he said. “Unless it worked, then I’ll go with it.”

“You know, I’ve got to get back to my friend. Thanks for the help with the shoe and everything.” I turned to walk away.

“Wait.”

I glanced back at him.

He leveled those dangerous blue eyes on me. “Could I take you to dinner sometime?”

I motioned around. “Like, here? In this lovely restaurant you own?”

“Wherever you want,” Jake said. “It doesn’t have to be here.”

“I’m going to have to pass. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve really got to get back.” Before he could say anything else, I turned and walked away from the best-looking guy that had ever hit on me.

It’s such a shame he’s a liar. Otherwise, I might’ve been tempted. And I haven’t been tempted in a long time.

Our food was at our table by the time I got back. Steph was even off the phone. “Where did you disappear to?” she asked.

I slid into my seat. “I was walking back from dropping a note off to Brent and my shoe got caught. This guy got it out for me.”

Steph grinned. “Did he slip it on for you, too?”

“No. I did that.” I picked up my fork, ready to devour my dinner. “Stop looking at me like that.”

“It’s just funny that the girl who is so anti-fairy tale had her shoe rescued by a guy. It’s very Cinderella.”

“The guy was definitely cute and charming. But he claimed he owned this place, making him a liar.”

“Maybe he wasn’t lying.”

“Steph, I’ve never seen him before and I eat here all the time. And I happen to know Brent, who actually owns the place. So, yeah, the very handsome guy’s a liar. And ever since Allen, I have a strict no-liars policy.”

“Liars are the worst,” Steph said.

I lifted my glass, ready to recommit myself to what I’d come here to celebrate. “To male sobriety.”

…

Being burned time and time again takes an emotional toll on a girl. I’d know. After my last failed relationship, I called Steph, like I always did, and she came over for calorie splurging, guy bashing, and binge drinking. Over pizza, Steph and I rehashed our worst relationships.

The next afternoon, I got the idea to lay out all my relationships, so I’d avoid making the same mistakes. Since fairy tales were partially responsible for my messy love life, I’d drawn parallels to my failed relationships.

The first of my case studies demonstrates why I never date liars—even charming ones.

Aladdin Case Study: Allen/Aladdin

My Age: 22

You know in Aladdin how he’s all charming and you’re rooting for him, even though he’s been lying to Jasmine the whole time? He comes in, says he’s a prince, and you think, okay, he had his reasons. He even tells her to “trust him.” Well, people do have their reasons for lying. It doesn’t make it okay, though.

Allen and I met at a cocktail bar. I was there with my coworkers, celebrating the end of a project. At the time, I’d had a few heartbreaks but was still optimistic about love. After all, this was the stage in my life when guys were supposed to be different—more mature.

Allen smiled at me from across the room. He was older, which made him more interesting to me. Feeling bold—thanks to the strong cocktails—I walked over and introduced myself. He and I chatted for hours. It was like everyone else in the room had disappeared.

“Twenty-two, huh?” he said after I’d told him my age. He studied me for a minute, then reached out and squeezed my shoulder. “I wish I would’ve met you back when I was twenty-two.”

“Instead, you met me now. I don’t really think age makes much of a difference.” I dug into my purse and found a card for Metamorphosis Interior Designs, where I was doing my apprenticeship, and scribbled my number on the back. I wasn’t usually so forward, but I hadn’t met a guy I’d liked in a while. “Give me a call sometime.”

Three weeks went by before he called. After talking on the phone for an hour, he asked me out.

Enter the magic carpet. Or in Allen’s case, a red Dodge Viper. Showy, yes. Fast, yes. Impressive, very. It didn’t fly, but it came pretty damn close.

Allen opened the passenger door for me and I slid inside, taking in the smell of the leather seats as I studied the gauges. My stepbrothers had taught me enough about cars to be impressed.