SteveMD: Not at all. That sounds great. I just need to line up a sitter for my kids and then I can get on the road.

Oh, sweet. A family man. SteveMD just got hotter.

TK12: Aww, you have kids? How many?

SteveMD: Two. They’re my entire life. I can probably leave my house around seven thirty. Is that too late for you?

TK12: Nope. I’ll meet you around eight.

SteveMD: Can’t wait. I’ll see you tonight.

Yes, you certainly will.

***

I purposely show up early to dinner, parking near the entrance so I’ll be able to eye up Steve when he arrives. Considering the fact that we didn’t do the whole “send me a selfie” confirmation, I need to make sure this guy somewhat resembles his profile picture before I waste a perfectly good outfit on him. I pull my visor down and check my hair and makeup for the tenth time in the past five minutes, when a car’s headlights grab my attention.

Flipping the visor up, I watch as the SUV pulls into a parking spot and cuts off his lights. A man steps out, straightening his tie, and lifts his head the slightest bit, allowing me to see his face. He runs a hand through his thick, dark hair and closes his door before walking toward the entrance. It’s definitely him, thank God, and I’m kinda loving the fact that he dressed up for this. After he disappears inside the restaurant, I grab my clutch and exit my car, ready for my first official online date.

I picked Joe’s Pub because I knew it would be packed on a Friday night. I want a crowd; something to blend into in case this guy disinterests me completely. And to have some witnesses, in case he turns out to be a psychopath. Some baseball game is playing on all the giant TV screens, and a group of men are congregating in front of the one hanging above the bar, drinking and exchanging alcohol-induced conversations. Almost every high-top table is occupied as I scan the room, finally landing on Steve who is smiling at me from his stool.

He stands when I reach the table. “Hi, wow, you look great.” Unexpectedly, he leans down and presses his lips against my cheek.

“Oh, um, thank you.” I flatten my hand against his dress shirt, closing my eyes and inhaling his cologne. These are the first lips that have been on me in twelve months, but my body is responding as if it’s been twelve years. My breath catches somewhere between my chest and my throat, lodging itself there. When he ends the kiss, I drop my head to hide my flush, then pull my stool out and take a seat as he does the same.

He slides a menu across the table, smiling. “So, I need to be upfront with you about something.”

“Okay,” I reply with apprehension as I open my menu. If this guy drops the married bomb in my lap, I will not be held responsible for my actions.

“I’m not twenty-eight like my profile says. I’m thirty-three.”

“Why would you lie about that?” I hear the slight tinge of anger in my voice and see him react to it. Strike one.

He swallows, dropping his gaze to the table. “I had my actual age on there for a while and didn’t get one date. So I did a little experiment and dropped a few years, then all of a sudden, my inbox is flooded with requests.” He looks up at me. “I hope age isn’t a deal breaker for you.”

“No, but lying doesn’t really work for me.”

He frowns, nervously tugging at the knot in his tie. “I’m sorry. I should’ve told you earlier when you messaged me. I didn’t lie about anything else on there.”

I drop my eyes to the menu, scanning the choices of wing flavors I no longer want to consume. Is every guy a complete tool? His hand covers mine, prompting me to lift my gaze. “What?”

“I’m really sorry. If you don’t want to go out with me again, I get that. At least let me show you a good time tonight. I swear, I’m not an asshole. I’m just lonely.”

Yeah, I know what that’s like. And it’s not as if he lied about something major, like his gender, which would have prompted me to punch him in his or her baby-maker. So, I’ll give him a pass on this.

I nod, forcing a smile, and he removes his hand. A young waitress comes up to our table and places a coaster in front of each of us.

“Hi, my name’s Erin, and I’ll be taking care of you two tonight. Can I start you off with something to drink?”

Steve stares at me, waiting for my response with a look of reluctance. As if he’s expecting me to walk out of here instead of placing my order.

I ease his mind and glance up at the waitress. “I’ll have a water with lemon, please.”

She looks over at him, lifting her eyes from the notepad she just scribbled on.

“I’ll take a Coke.”

The waitress walks away as Steve opens his menu, his shoulders relaxing as he settles more on his stool. “So, I have to ask the obvious question. How in the hell is a woman that looks like you not married? Or needing to find dates online?”

“I could say the same for you. You’re not lacking in the looks department.”

He smiles as the waitress places our drinks in front of us. “Need another minute?”

“Please,” I reply, taking a sip of my water. I place my glass down and lick my lips. “Have you ever been married?”

He nods, running his finger along the rim of his glass. “Once. We met in high school and married when we were nineteen. I was young and stupid and thought that everything was always going to be perfect. It wasn’t, and instead of talking to me about why she wasn’t happy, she slept with my brother.”