She meows and turns her face to the side, looking like she’s judging me.
“Don’t you start,” I warn.
The phone in my hand dings.
An alert from the dating app pops up.
You have a new message
My heart does a silly little flutter.
I click on the notification and read Bristol’s message.
Mistletoe_Reader:Okay. I’ve been thinking about this fancy algorithm.
Do you actually trust it?
Like—really trust it?
Because I’m looking at your profile again and, um..
I guess I’m just trying to picture how someone like you ends up matched with someone like me.
I know you said you looked at my profile but, if I’m being honest here, Rhett, you look like you belong on the cover of one of the books I shelve. All broad shoulders and confidence and “I can fix anything” energy.
And I’m not that at all.
I’m curvy.
Introverted.
Nerdy.
Quiet unless someone gets me talking about books or coffee or library funding proposals.
I’m not really buying it.
Her message is like a sucker punch to my chest.
She’s judging herself, and I haven’t even said a word.
I scroll back up, reread her words. My thumb hovers over the keyboard. This isn’t the time for teasing or witty one-liners.
I tap out my reply carefully and honestly.
RedBarnRhett:First, I don’t know a damn thing about algorithms. But I know that Luke’s app has yielded a lot of people some pretty incredible results.
Second, I think you’re underestimating yourself. Curvy and introverted aren’t turn-offs.
Honestly. You’re the sexiest damn woman in Mistletoe Bay.
You look at me and see a guy worthy of a book cover, but I’m no Prince Charming. I’ve got flaws too.
I look at you and see someone smart, funny, and sharp. Someone who notices the little things.
I’m not looking for a girl on the cover of a book or magazine. I’m looking for a woman who is going to hold me to a higher standard because she knows what those damn Booktok Book Boyfriends are capable of. Someone who believes that two small-town people are worthy of their own happily ever after.
I’m relieved that she replies almost instantly.
