Page 19 of Desiring an Angel

Hi back, I wrote, clutching my cell in shaking hands. I grinned like a dork, my insides like a jumping bean.

Desiringanangel: Finding out ML matched us was a much needed ray of sunshine today.

My heart fluttered. “Aw!”

I’m glad to hear it, I hurried to reply, wishing I could reach through cyberspace and squeeze his hand.

Desiringanangel: Thank you for poking back. We have been searching for our angel for over three years, and your profile seems too good to be true.

“Too good to be true?” I echoed and snorted a laugh. No one in my life had ever thought that about me.

Ever.

Was he a pervert like Nora assumed, bullshitting me to get me into their bed?

I’m hopeful, but Rhett tends toward caution, he messaged before I came up with a response.

Or maybe he and his partner are a perfect match.

I bit the inside of my lip and typed out another message. I’m hopeful too, but your partner sounds like a smart man.

Desiringanangel: He is.

I hated the knocking of insecurity on my heart’s door. My life already had enough intelligent people in it. But perhaps Rhett wouldn’t be the type who cut people off or looked down their noses at those who didn’t measure up to their standards.

Can I ask your name? I was ready for my thoughts to be back in positivity land.

Desiringanangel: Ashton.

“Ashton…” I smiled.

I’m Skylar, I typed. And it’s a pleasure to meet you.

Desiringanangel: Would you mind exchanging numbers? I’m not a fan of messaging since so much more can be accomplished through speaking over the phone.

Me: Yes, please! I feel the same.

He offered his cell number, and I slowly inhaled, held my breath, and released the air from my lungs to the count of ten before I added him as a contact.

My fingers trembled as I hit the send button.

“Hi,” he answered, and I swallowed a giggle at his same, singular greeting.

“Hi back,” I echoed my own texted words from a few moments earlier.

We both laughed, mine from an attack of nerves. I felt like I was still in high school, crushing on the football’s quarterback who’d glanced my way once—even if he’d only been scanning the cafeteria.

“Thank you for agreeing to talk,” Ashton said, his soothing tone like a warm blanket I wanted to snuggle beneath.

“Thank you for suggesting it. I’m not good at typing on a cell screen, and speech to text hates me.” My voice escaped squeaky as a mouse, and I grimaced, biting on the inside of my lower lip. “Sorry. I’m really nervous.”

“Me too,” he replied, sounding like he smiled.

“I’ve never been on a dating app before,” I told him, closing my eyes so I could focus on his voice.

Smooth like whiskey was the simile that came to mind, but I’d never tasted the liquor…

“When did you upload your profile to Missing Link?” he asked.

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