He looked exactly like his picture.

I mean, exactly like it.

Same hard eyes, nearly identical stiff smile… though I wasn’t sure it could be called a smile. Grimace, maybe…

It was like he’d taken the picture five minutes earlier and tacked it onto his profile. Hell, maybe he’d done just that. Okay, so it would have been more than five minutes, but for all I knew, Harrison Garrison (and yes, that was his real name apparently – what the hell kind of parents did that to their kid?) was a serial killer who’d decided he needed to add a somewhat flashy, yet always color-coordinated, gay florist to his collection of meat suits that he kept in his basement.

God, I really needed to stop watching the Crime and Investigation Network. It was a wonder I even had the courage to leave the house anymore after some of the shit I’d seen on that TV show.

And why the fuck hadn’t I signed up for that Krav Maga class they’d been running a special on at my gym?

Oh yeah, because I hadn’t been able to resist the lure of the hot yoga class that had given me the perfect excuse to spend nearly an entire day’s pay on the black and hot-pink glittery leggings I’d been eyeing for the better part of a month.

Sure, my ass looked killer in the pants, but something was telling me that the stern-looking man sitting across from me wouldn’t really appreciate my logic in choosing fashion over self-preservation. Hell, I wasn’t sure he’d even appreciate my ass at this rate – mostly because he’d refused to even look at me long enough to let his eyes stray south to said ass. I’d even made sure to walk in front of him when the hostess had led us to our table.

Okay, admittedly I’d done that out of habit and I’d almost instantly regretted falling back into my old routine of trying to use my looks to lure a guy in. I mean, if that’d been enough for me anymore, I could have gone to any one of the half-dozen gay clubs within walking distance of the Chelsea apartment I shared with my bestie, Kira. I was practically royalty at those clubs, but it never failed that as soon as the sun came up, I was doing the walk of shame as soon as the hottie I’d chosen to go home with turned back into a closet homo who’d supposedly only stuck his dick up my ass because he’d been “totally wasted.”

Sadly, the guy across from me looked exactly like one of the jerks I often found myself mashed up against in a darkened hallway or corner. Only instead of eyeing me like I was the only piece of prime rib in a burger joint, he looked like he wanted to be anywhere else but across from me at the little corner table in my favorite Italian bistro, Martinelli’s.

I felt the dreaded and all-too-familiar insecurity filter through me and I automatically gave my outfit the once-over. I’d kept it pretty tame by donning a pair of black skinny jeans and a silver top that only shimmered a little, and I’d limited my makeup to a little bit of gloss that made my lips look plumper than they were and just a hint of liner along my lower lids to make my blue eyes pop just a bit. I’d done the obligatory mani/pedi combo, but I’d foregone colored polish for a clear, glossy topcoat. I’d waxed too, but that hadn’t been because of the date. If anything, I shouldn’t have done any kind of manscaping because I absolutely was not going to fuck this guy on the first date.

Even if he was kind of fuckable.

Fine, really fuckable.

Yeah, his dark green eyes were so cold and hard they could probably cut glass, and he had the sexy five-o’clock shadow thing going on that I’d always been a sucker for. His perfectly pressed, very pricey suit that I suspected had been custom-made fit him like a glove, outlining wide shoulders and a broad chest that tapered to narrow hips. And he may not have been looking at my ass as we’d been shown to our table, but I’d managed to sneak a peek at his and I was starting to think I’d been converted from a dick man to an ass man in those few seconds.

Because his was epic.

I mean, I had a great ass, but the ass gods had been shining on Harrison Garrison when he’d gotten to the front of the ass-ignment line. I’d never topped a day in my life, but I was definitely starting to wonder if maybe I wasn’t missing out on something.

“Do you know what you want?” he asked me, his eyes never leaving his menu.

“Oh, um, I haven’t had a chance to even look yet,” I said as I reached for the menu. I’d been here often enough to know what I wanted, but maybe since I was turning over a new leaf, it was time to put on my big boy pants and explore the other options on the menu.

Harrison didn’t respond to my comment other than to let out a soft huff of air. I knew the polite thing would have been to ask him what he was having, but I was too afraid that the unreadable expression on his face would turn to one of annoyance if I said even a single wrong thing.

“Buonasera, Nate.”

I glanced up and smiled at the waiter. “Hi Mario, how are you?” I asked.

“Bellissimo,” Mario responded with a smile.

He turned to greet Harrison, who didn’t even let him finish before he said, “We’re ready to order.”

Before I could protest, Harrison switched to Italian and began conversing with Mario, though conversing was a generous term since all he did was bark rapid-fire words at the intimidated waiter who frantically nodded or shook his head and tried to quickly respond to whatever he was being asked.

Mario shot me a glance as he nodded and seemingly agreed with everything Harrison had to say.

“Are you even old enough to drink?”

The switch back to English caught me off guard and I realized Harrison was talking to me. His lips were pulled into a tight frown.

“Um, yeah, I’m twenty-three,” I said. Had he even bothered to read my profile? Apparently not because I’d made it pretty clear in my profile I wasn’t a drinker. I didn’t have a problem with people who did drink, but I’d called out the fact that one of my turn-offs was heavy drinkers. It was another “new leaf” for me, because too often I found myself embroiled in relationships (though admittedly, they could barely be called that) with guys who used alcohol to either numb their emotions or to loosen their inhibitions.

As the child of an alcoholic with a temper, neither scenario appealed to me.

Before I could tell him I didn’t drink, Harrison returned his attention to Mario. About a minute later, Mario was looking at me, then he awkwardly said, “If there’s nothing else, I’ll go put in your orders.”

So the asshat had ordered for me. I’d suspected as much when he’d pointed to me as he’d spoken to Mario, but I’d wanted to believe otherwise.

I drew in a breath.

New leaf, Nate, remember?

I barely managed to keep from nodding to myself. I handed my menu to Mario. “Thank you, Mario,” I said with a smile. Mario sent me a quick nod, then fled.

I didn’t blame him.

It was all I could do not to pull up the Heart2Heart app on my phone to confirm that I’d actually read Harrison’s and my compatibility percentage correctly.

Maybe it’d read twenty-nine, not ninety-two.

“So, Harrison, you’re a lawyer,” I said, hoping to jumpstart the conversation.

“Yeah,” Harrison said.

“Um, what kind?”

“I’m a patent attorney.”

That was it? That was all he was giving me?

“That sounds… interesting,” I said lamely, because it really didn’t. Not to mention I really didn’t know what the hell a patent attorney did, and I was almost certain I didn’t care.

Seriously, ninety-two percent compatibility? Me and this guy?

When he didn’t respond, I switched to the easiest topic in the world. “Any hobbies?” I asked. “Your profile mentioned reading,” I added hopefully.

“Patent and copyright laws are always changing – there’s lots of reading required to keep up with everything.”

I half expected him to start in on what only he probably found to be a fascinating topic, but fortunately the wine came and while I had no interest in it, the process of sampling the wine occupied him for a good minute before he signed off on it.

Yeah, it had to be twenty-nine percent.

I discreetly fished out my phone and pulled up the app.

Ninety-two. What the ever-loving fuck?

“You’re a florist.”

I looked up at him and saw he was studying me over his wineglass. I felt an involuntary shudder go through my body at the way he was watching me. It almost felt predatory in nature.

But not in the serial killer kind of way.

New leaf, Nate. New leaf. You’re not fucking this guy on the first date.

First date? Huh? That made it sound like there’d be a second date.

Which there wouldn’t be.

Even if I was kind of starting to wonder if a Friday night was really the best night to turn over a new leaf. Maybe I needed to be like people who were about to start a diet. I needed to get my fill (or in my case, get filled) over the weekend… one last hurrah, as it were.

Despite his pretentious, overbearing attitude, I had a feeling there was nothing boring about Harrison Garrison in bed.

Or against a wall.

Or in the shower.

“Huh? What?” I asked as I realized I’d completely forgotten what we were talking about.

And then the bastard did something I hadn’t been expecting, but that sucker-punched me at the same time.

He smiled.

A legitimate, sexy-as-fuck, perfect white teeth, twinkling eyes – the works – smile.

Damn it.

“You’re a florist,” he repeated softly. Then he seemed to remember himself and he frowned as he set the wineglass down and then leaned back in his chair, his back stiff.

“Yeah, I, um, work at Blooms R’ Us. It’s by the McKittrick Hotel on West Twenty-seventh?”

He nodded, but didn’t say anything.

The awkward tension was back, and I ended up doing what I did best when I got nervous.

I talked.

And talked.

And talked.

“Why?” Harrison interjected after what could have been thirty seconds or five minutes of rambling. He wasn’t exactly smiling, but he wasn’t frowning anymore either so maybe it was something.

At least we were out of the please-fuck-me-up-against-the-nearest-wall zone.

“Why what?” I asked as I reached for my glass of water and downed about half of it.

“Why do you do it? There can’t be much money in it.”

“Wow, condescending much?” I asked before I could stop myself.

His eyes narrowed slightly, but then something flashed between us again. Something that was as equally intense as the fuck-me-up-against-the-nearest-wall thing, but not quite the same.

“Sorry,” Harrison conceded with a nod of his head.

I sighed and leaned back in my chair. “Accepted,” I murmured.

“Do you love it?” Harrison asked, his voice gentler this time.

“I do,” I admitted. I lifted my eyes and couldn’t help the smile that spread across my mouth. “Flowers are so many things to so many people. It’s like they’re their own language, you know? They can provide comfort in times of sorrow, joy in times of celebration… they can say things that words alone can’t. And I get to be a part of that. It may not be glamorous and it won’t make me rich, but I’m good at it and it’s the only thing I ever wanted to do from the moment my grandpa helped me pick a bouquet of wildflowers for my mom the first time she got sick.”

I felt tears sting the backs of my eyes as I thought about my mom, but I did what I always did and forced away the final memory that I had of her and replaced it with the look of pure joy she’d given me when I’d handed her the wilted flowers tied together with a little piece of ribbon.

“First time?” I heard Harrison say softly. I didn’t realize I had my eyes downcast until I actually lifted them and saw that he was watching me with a gentle expression on his face. It softened the hardness of his features considerably and the please-fuck-me-against-the-nearest-wall urge changed to something else.

Something a lot like a please-hold-me-and-never-let-go kind of thing.

Madness.

“Would you excuse me, please?” I said, as I stood. “I’ll be right back.”

I shoved my chair back without any kind of grace in my eagerness to escape the man. I was shocked when he politely climbed to his feet and then buttoned his suit jacket.

“Are you all right?” he asked as I passed him.

I managed a nod, but nothing else. I wasn’t about to tell him that the mere thought of my mother had me on the verge of sobbing on his shoulder like an infant.

Great going, Nate. At least we know this one’s not going to try and get in your pants. You’ll be lucky if he’s still here when you come back out.

“Shut up,” I muttered to myself.

I’d been to Martinelli’s often enough to know the bathrooms were single and unisex, so I’d at least have some privacy to pull myself together. Fortunately, both bathrooms were empty when I reached the back hallway. I took my time splashing some cold water on my face, careful not to smudge my eyeliner. I didn’t care about the gloss on my lips – it wasn’t like there was any need to reapply.

I was calling time of death on the date. If I was lucky, I could snag Mario and order my favorite meal to go and then crawl into my cold, empty bed and binge watch Netflix until Kira got home and told me about what would likely be her perfect night, since she’d recently gotten engaged to her boyfriend of a year.

I groaned because the reminder that my best friend would soon be moving out only soured my mood even more.

“Definitely calling it,” I whispered as I stared at my reflection.

Someone knocked on the bathroom door, but before I could call out that it was occupied, I heard Harrison say, “Nate?”

“Yeah?” I said in surprise.

“I just… I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

Something in my chest tightened painfully at his words. How many times had I wanted one of my would-be boyfriends to say something like that to me? The only times I’d ever been asked if I was okay were on the rare occasions after some guy had practically fucked me into the mattress or right after a guy finished explaining that he wasn’t looking for a relationship and that our night had been a “one-time thing.”

I quickly opened the door and belatedly wiped at my eyes to make sure I’d gotten rid of all the evidence of my tears.

Harrison’s eyes held mine for a moment, then his finger came up and he carefully swiped at the far corner of my left eye. “You, um, smudged your… your makeup.”

I heard his words.

I saw his mouth move.

But I didn’t really understand what he was talking about.

Because I was still reeling from the electricity that was shooting through my body at that one brief bit of contact between us.

The continued contact.

Since Harrison was still touching me.

Grazing my cheek.

Trailing his finger over my jawline.

Testing the texture of my mouth.

Dear God, what was happening to me?

“Harrison,” I whispered in confusion. Did he feel it too?

I had my answer a moment later when his mouth suddenly crashed down on mine. I moaned at the brutally delicious onslaught of sensation that slammed into me all at once. An arm that might as well have been made of steel swept around my waist and dragged me forward as I was propelled backward into the bathroom. I was forced to cling to Harrison’s arms as he kicked the bathroom door shut behind us. I heard the lock engage, but all I could think was, thank fucking God!

“Fuck,” Harrison muttered against my mouth, then his hands were on my ass and he was lifting me.

We’d gone from zero to one million in five seconds flat. New-leaf-Nate was gone and fuck-me-right-goddamn-now-Nate had taken his place. I wrapped my legs around Harrison’s waist and didn’t release my hold on him even when he settled me down on the vanity. His thick fingers carded through my hair in an almost painful hold as he practically assaulted my mouth in his quest to own it.

And I gladly conceded defeat.

“Definitely ninety-two,” I muttered when Harrison tore his mouth from mine and latched it onto my neck. When he bit down gently on the tender skin over my pulse, I whispered, “One hundred and fucking ten,” then grabbed him by the ears and yanked him back to my mouth for a kiss. My fingers went to work on his tie as his own hands practically ripped his jacket from his body. The second it was gone, his palms were pushing my shirt up and he was seeking out my nipples. I moaned and hit my head on the mirror behind me in my quest to angle my body so he could feast as much as he wanted. He touched me everywhere. I knew it had to have only been seconds since he kissed me, but I was so hot and horny that I was ready for more.

“Fuck, need you,” Harrison groaned as my greedy fingers sought out his dick through his pants. I’d managed to get the tie off, but had grown impatient with the buttons on his shirt. There’d be time to explore his chest later. His cock was my main goal.

“How do we do this?” he asked as he began ripping at the button on my jeans. “Here? Motel? What? I’ve never used one of these apps before.”

I was about to tell him to shut up and just fuck me already when his words rang in my ears.

One of these apps.

What apps?

“Wait,” I said. “You’ve never used a matchmaking app before?” I asked. Why the hell was he bringing that up now of all times?

He let out a little grunt. “You know what kind of app I’m talking about,” he muttered. His voice had lost some of the softness and he sounded almost… bitter.

Which made no sense.

But it was enough to cool my libido and I grabbed his fingers, which were in the process of lowering my zipper. “Wait, wait. What kind of app are you talking about?”

“Look,” he said in obvious frustration. “I don’t usually do this hookup shit. I didn’t think dinner was a part of it, but what do I know?”

Ice seeped into my blood as understanding dawned.

“Other apps,” I said softly. “You mean like Grindr and Tinder… hookup apps.”

Harrison finally seemed to have caught on that my passion had pretty much completely fled. “Well, yeah,” he said.

My dick deflated just like that and I let out a harsh laugh as I pushed his hands away from my body. “Are you fucking kidding me right now?” I asked.

“What?” he asked in complete confusion.

God, he really didn’t get it.

“Heart2Heart isn’t a hookup app, you asshole. It really is a matchmaking app!”

“No, it’s—”

“Wow,” I said as I tugged my shirt down and climbed off the vanity. My fingers were shaking as I began closing my pants. “So all this” – I motioned around us – “dinner, coming to check on me… that was all…Jesus!”

I shoved past him, angrier at myself more than anything. How the hell had I let this happen? How had I actually believed he might be different? What had made me think I was different? That I was worth having someone buy me a nice dinner and checking on me when I was upset for no other reason than because they were worried?

New leaf, my ass.

“Nate, wait,” Harrison began, but I waved him off.

“Go to hell, Harrison,” I said quietly as I left the bathroom, not caring if he heard me or not.

Because it didn’t make a damn bit of difference either way.