“Oh, wow. Look athim.”
A comment like that was all it took. Curiosity prevailed.
“Now, that’s more like it. He’s hot,” George said.
“He’s smoking hot. Looks a little like you. Small paunch, blond scruff, slightly bearish.”
“Remind me to never let you write my profile description. What does he do?”
“Uh, let’s see... never mind.”
“What?”
“He’s a pizza delivery boy.”
“Boy? Hardly. I do like Italian sausage, though.”
May looked at him.
George grinned. “You started this.”
“How about him?” She said, pointing at the screen. In it was the handsome, smiling, dark-eyed face of a man wearing business casual.
“Not bad. I’m intrigued. What does he do? If he’s a Hill Brat, no deal.”
“He’s not. Says he’s an accountant for Dingley and Habersham. He’s looking for someone stable and relationship-minded.”
George continued to eye the screen.
“Can I set it up?”
He sighed. “I don’t know, May.”
“Come on. Do it for me.”
“You sound like a coach. Take one for the team.”
“It’s not that dramatic.”
“Tell you what,” he said, giving way to a small, sly grin. “I’ll make a deal with you. I’ll go out with this guy if you go out with Rachel.”
“No way. We just met. I don’t even know for sure she’s gay.”
“Oh, she’s gay.”
“How do you know?”
“I don’t know. Gaydar?”
“Well, it’s too soon. I barely know her.”
“Uh, excuse me... but me and, uh—what’s his name?”
May looked back at the screen. “Trevor Crenshaw.”
“Really? Trevor? That’s his name?!”
“You were saying.”
