“Beige on beige isn’t a good look. And your cat is in the rest of them. They’re not dating your cat.”
“It shows a softer side.”
“Nope.” I hold up his phone. “Smile.” He barely has time to process the command before I snap the photo. “That,” I say, examining the screen, “is already ten times better. You can finish giving your profile a makeover. And you’ll be all set.”
He nods and immediately starts typing, brow furrowed like he’s drafting a business proposal instead of a dating bio. I slide down the bar to help a couple of customers just as Beck steps in beside me. His arm brushes mine, and goosebumps scatter across my skin before I can stop them.
He tips his chin toward Miles. “You’re building him a dating profile?”
“Unfortunately.” I grab a glass and start drying it. “He joined OneDate and hasn’t had much luck, so I gave him a few pointers.”
Beck’s mouth curves at the edges. “You think that’ll help?”
I glance over my shoulder. Miles is hunched over his phone in fierce determination. “I don’t know. But it’s worth a shot.”
Beck leans a little closer, his voice dropping, amused. “So… you’re his dating coach now?”
I snort. “Absolutely not. I’m only saving him from himself.”
His smile tilts, slow and sexy. “That’s a shame. I’d enjoy taking part in your services.”
Heat creeps up my neck, but I keep polishing the glass. “You? No. You’d be a lost cause.”
He plants a hand on the bar and leans toward me. “Ouch. And here I thought I had charm.”
“Oh, you have charm.” I finally meet his eyes. “You also have confidence. Which makes you overqualified.”
“With someone like you?” His gaze lingers. “I doubt it.”
The air between us thickens as the bar noise dulls to a low hum. I clear my throat and reach for another glass, mostly so my hands don’t betray me by running them down his chest. “Good line,” I murmur. “But lines aren’t my thing.”
He studies me, slow and curious. “What is your thing?”
“You’ll just have to figure it out.” I flash him a smile before sliding a bottle of beer to a customer.
His grin widens. “I do love a challenge.”
I open my mouth to fire back?—
“NORA!” Miles’s voice slices through the bar. Beck and I both turn. Miles stands five stools down, phone clutched in both hands, eyes wide behind his glasses. “I got a match!” The surrounding chatter dips as a few heads swivel our way. “A real one. On OneDate. She starred me. And then—I think—I starred her back?”
Beck’s lips twitch. “Sounds serious.”
Miles jogs over, nearly catching his foot on a barstool. “She messaged me.”
My brain stalls. “She—already?”
He nods so fast his glasses slide down his nose. “Yes. And she used an emoji. I think that’s good. Is that good?”
“It’s good,” I assure him. “Very good.”
Beck glances between us, amused. “Congratulations, man.”
Only then does Miles register him. “Oh. Hi. Sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt?—”
“It’s all good.” Beck’s hand settles briefly at the center of my back before he steps away. “I’ll go stock some coolers.”
Miles turns back to me, lowering his voice. “What do I say next? I don’t want to mess this up.”
