Page 57 of Swiped
Nat took a deep breath and ducked under the curtain.
Sunlight streamed in through a full-wall picture window with sweeping views of the valley. Bud vases and orbs of soft candlelight dotted the airy space. Thom stood in silhouette, gazing out of the window with his hands behind his back.
Nat swallowed and took a shaky breath. “Hey, stranger . . .”
He turned, and there he was — light glinting in his soft blond waves, eyebrows raised in angles over thoughtful eyes, and a hint of pale stubble across his high, angular cheekbones and sharp jawline. “Nat. You’re here.”
Ripples of heat shot through her body. His rich, musical baritone melted like warm honey into her mind. There were the sparkles.
He stepped toward her. “Thank you so much for agreeing to meet.”
“I thought we were having a drink,” she said as her voice echoed a bit in the loft space. “This? Is a vineyard.”
“And so technically it’s within the parameters.” He gave her a sly smile. “You look as stunning as your pictures.”
Words left Nat’s brain and instead seemed to fly around her ears in dizzying waves. She stammered as a trio of waiters entered, each carrying a loaded tray of plates and glasses. They descended upon a low, knotty hardwood table. The sounds of clinking silverware and porcelain plates, gurgles of pouring waters, and dutifully shuffling feet filled the room. Nat dared only darting glances to meet Thom’s steady gaze. She kept thinking the waiters’ set-up was almost done, and she would be alone with him, but they kept producing more items from thetrays. Nat shifted on her feet, unsure of what to do with her hands.
Finally, the waiters stilled with a hush and broke their formation around the table. One of them gestured as the others pulled out the chairs. “The first tasting course, sir.”
“Brilliant, thank you,” said Thom, breezing to the table.
“I think I need that drink,” said Nat.
Thom called after the waiter. “Send in the sommelier, would you?” He turned to Nat, deep blue eyes shining. “You’re going to love this.”
Nat willed her shaky legs to sit at the table as a man in a waxed apron and full sleeves of dark tattoos swept into the room.
“I understand this is a special occasion,” he said in a library voice. “So today I’ve arranged a tasting flight based on the theme of hope.”
Yet more waiters rolled in a brass cocktail cart filled with wine bottles and an army’s worth of tiny glasses. They set rows of glasses on the table and began to pour. Thom watched them, rapt, and as comfortable as if he were watching a crackling fireplace in his own home. Nat folded her hands in her lap and spent several moments hoping that her posture was acceptable while the sommelier went into great detail about each of the wines, using many words that she had read but never heard pronounced. Time seemed to stand still.
Finally, the staff shuffled out with knowing nods. Nat watched with confusion as the sommelier remained. He hovered next to them with an expectant silence.
“Well,” said Thom, arching an eyebrow at her, “let’s start with the flight and let them know what we might like in a bottle.”
“This is lovely, but . . .” Nat lowered her voice.
“Oh, it’s absurdly over the top, I know!” Thom arranged his napkin in his lap and gave her a bashful smile. “This place is oneof my projects, and they are preparing for a debut, so it’s good practice for them and it’s all on the house.”
“Oh, thank God,” sighed Nat.
The sommelier rocked back and forth on his heels; his eyes discreetly fixed on the exposed-beam ceiling.
“Being honest, I just couldn’t stand another non-descript outing at a non-descript bar that’s not too divey but also not too nice.” Thom leaned forward conspiratorially, and the sunlight lit his angular jaw. “One must always maintain the illusion of not caring too much. Can’t show actual emotion!”
Nat felt her nerves unclench, and she drew a deeper breath than she had since walking in the room. If he was interested in showing genuine emotion, that seemed to signal that he was trustworthy, right?
“So, this is all for me as much as it is for you,” he said. “Besides, it’s not every day that one gets to go on a date with the brilliant mind behind BeTwo.” He winked and offered her a tiny goblet of rosé.
She took it. “You . . . know me?”
Thom nodded. “I know how this might sound, but I’ve followed your work. BeTwo is the only app I’ve ever used for longer than a fortnight. It’s different from the others.” He frowned, but his round eyes shone. “I mean that it’s far better than the others, and every time I’ve read about the mind behind it, I could see why.”
“Why?” she asked.
“Because of you,” said Thom, blue eyes wide and genuine, as if he were stating the most obvious thing in the world. “In my work, the strength of the individual’s perspective is what makes a site special or ordinary. I imagine it’s the same if you’re an architect of an app.”
Nat blushed and managed a nod. She sipped the rosé, and a splash of summer fruit and brown sugar swirled in her mouth.He knew her and wanted to be here. The ninety-nine percent match figure hummed in her mind.
