Page 13 of Curvy Nanny for the Cougar

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“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I mutter, rubbing my temples. “Why does it glow like that? Apps aren’t supposed to glow.”

Magic. Freaking Witch-coded apps.

I’m about to close it when I spot the tiny notification badge: One New Update.

Great. Now it’s taunting me.

I tap it.

The screen flickers, then opens with the annoying chime that sounds suspiciously like a wedding bell crossed with a wolf howl.

A button appears:

PAIR ME UP.

I stare.

Then mutter the two most dangerous words in any single dad’s vocabulary.

“Fuck it.”

I press the button.

The screen shimmers. A swirl of colors. Some glitter.

And for some reason, a floating cartoon of Uncle Uzzi doing jazz hands.

“Okay, now that’s just—” I stop.

MATCH FOUND.

Holy shit.

Wait. Wait.

That was fast.

Did it even?—?

It didn’t even ask me for preferences. Or a location. Or if I have allergies.

What if she has a dog? What if she is a dog or Wolf, I mean?

The screen flashes again and reveals a profile picture.

Curvy. Smiling. Pretty. She looks like she’s in a pizzeria.

Profile ID: TW743

Age 29.

Likes: kids, cheese, quirky puns, and loyalty.

Location: less than a mile away.

My mouth goes dry.

What in the actual supernatural fuckery?

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