Page 17 of Billionaire Romantic
I stop laughing, and zoom in a little.
Wow.
“Right?” Grace is watching my reaction with glee. “He’s freakinghot. And he’s already accepted the date.”
“He has?”
“The app set you up at a new place called Hopeless Romantic. It’s a boutique hotel but it’s got this trendy little bar and bistro downstairs. He’s agreed to meet you there tomorrow night. Seven o’clock sharp.”
“That’s so soon.” But I can’t tear my eyes away.
Heishot. It’s a stop-traffic kind of hotness. His hair is a rich chestnut brown. He’s very handsome, but what holds my attention most of all is his eyes. They’re a striking shade of blue. With light crinkles around them as he smiles. He looksnice, is my first impression. Like he’d hold a door open for you. But he’s also got this darkly sexy, manly thing going on. You get the feeling he wouldn’t betoonice. There are layers there.
He’s outside on what looks like a deck with the wide open blue sky that matches the color of his eyes and wispy clouds behind him. He might be at a beach somewhere. The photo looks natural, not like it’s been staged for social media. It looks real and unposed.
“See?” Grace is grinning at me. “All you have to do is click ‘accept.’”
“But I know nothing about him,” I protest, despite the fact that my eyes are still glued to his photo.
“And he knows nothing about you, except the info that was required, which the app keeps confidential.”
“It does?”
“Yes. You have to meet him to find out more about him. That’s the idea.”
“What if he’s weird? What if he’s a psycho killer or something?” I can admit he doesn’t look like a psycho killer. He looks like a normal, well-adjusted, successful person. The shirt he’s wearing is a nice one. It’s open at his throat, revealing his tanned, corded neck and a hint of chest hair.
Help.
“If he is, then you politely take your leave and you never have to see him again. He doesn’t know your real name or anything about you.” Grace squeezes my shoulder. “Take a breath, Luck. It’s one date. You don’t have to do anything other than show up, have a drink with him, then decide if you like him or not. No drama. No stress.”
“But…what will we talk about?”
Grace laughs. “God, has it been so long since you’ve been on a date that you even have to ask that? Don’t answer, because I already know the answer.”
“Yeah, I haven’t been on a date in…a while.”
“I know. I’ve known you for a year and a half and I don’t think you’ve gone on a single date that whole time.”
“I’ve been busy.”
Grace rolls her eyes. “And that’s why you need my help. And here it is, in the form of a date with Noah Steel.”
“But what do Isayto him?”
“You talk about the kinds of stuff people normally talk about on dates. Like your hobbies. Your work?—”
“I’m definitely not talking about my work. And I don’t have hobbies.”
She gives me an exasperated look. “You do have hobbies. You like to decorate your house. You like antiquing. You read sometimes, especially decorating magazines. You go to the movies occasionally. Every now and then you go to a museum or a play or a Broadway show. We saw Wicked for the third time just a few weeks ago. Tell him about that.”
“Those aren’t hobbies. Those are just…being alive and living in New York.”
“Stop being so difficult, Lucky. Talk about yourfavoritebook, yourfavoritemovie, yourfavoriteartist. Just let the conversation flow naturally.”
Suddenly, the thought of sitting at a table with a total stranger and forcing small talk sounds terrifying, especially considering all the craziness going on in my life right now.
But Grace is right. It’s one date.
