Page 29 of Wild Abandon

“He probably didn’t. You’re cute as hell.”

I take a moment to, first, be flattered by his comment. Cute as hell isn’t exactly gorgeous or beautiful, but it’s still a compliment.

Then, I take offense. “I have more to offer than a ‘cute’”—I use air quotes on the word cute—“face. I at least deserve the ten seconds it takes to read about me.”

He studies my answer and then turns his body, so he’s facing me. “That’s true, but let me ask you this. A guy walks through the door and offers to buy you a drink. Do you let him?”

“It depends,” I say. I immediately cringe at the fact that I walked into his trap.

“On what?” His grin shows he knows the answer.

I mumble my words, “On whether I think he’s cute or not.”

“Online dating is the same thing.”

I lift a finger in the air. “Yes, but I actually read profiles after I decide if the guy is good-looking or not. I have set criteria he needs to fit.”

“And Carb Freak hit the mark?” That bottle goes right back to his mouth, and his tongue darts out with each sip.

“No. My friend Naomi accepted him. I’m looking for someone successful, cultured, and ready to settle down.” I poise myself in the most proper position.

Nate leans to the side, his eyes looking over my face, up and down. “You have a checklist of the perfect man?”

Folding my hands on my lap, I lift my chin. “Yes, I do.”

Nate narrows his eyes. “You’re doing it all wrong. Come on, Red, let’s pick out your next victim.” He takes my phone and holds it up in front of us.

“I have a name.” I balk.

His eyes never leave the screen. “I know. It’s Crystal.”

Oh. Well then…

“I know your name, too. The waitress told me.”

Nate just shrugs and starts flipping to the left, looking through the profiles. “What about this guy?”

I look at the picture on the screen. He’s a handsome guy, I suppose. He’s leaning against a car, his tattoo sleeves showing on the skin exposed from his T-shirt.

“No.”

“What’s wrong with him?”

“First of all, he has tattoos, which are not my thing. No offense.”

I glance at Nate’s wrist. He doesn’t seem to be taking offense, so I continue, “And he’s leaning against his car, which means he’s one of those guys who obsesses over his car. That means, he wouldn’t let me borrow it to run to the store. And, God forbid, if it got a scratch on it, our whole night would be ruined. He’d spend the entire night pouting while I stood in the kitchen after just making a romantic dinner and even breaking out the sexy lingerie. But, instead of looking at me, all he’d be able to picture was the dent on his Carrera. No, thank you.”

When I’m done, I look at Nate.

His mouth is open. “You’ve put a lot of thought into this.”

“I’m a professional dater. Next.”

Nate skims through until he finds someone else. This next guy only features a headshot, no particular background showcasing where he is or anything about him. He has a broad smile and eyes that crinkle with laughter.

“He’s cute. I wish he had hair though. Let me see the rest of the profile.”

“What’s wrong with his hair?”