When I opened the hotel room door expecting to see my mother, I saw instead the expectant face of a guy about my age. He looked me up and down slowly, with a critical eye that I didn't appreciate. Before I could get too creeped out, he spoke.

"You're too tall, Darby. Are you seriously going to wear those fuck me heels to dinner? Although, I think I wouldn't mind taking you up on that offer." He rocked back from the door, and shoved his hands into his jeans, grinning at me.

I stared, speechless. Who is this guy and what the hell was that all about? That is what I got for opening a door without checking the peephole first. Stranger danger, and all that. I should have realized New York City would be weird.

"Um, I think you have the wrong room?" I know he called me by name, but I had no idea who he was.

I closed the door with a firm, satisfying click and engaged the safety chain this time. I went back to vigorously brushing my dark red hair. I swear, no matter how many times I fixed my hair in a day, I always had a tangle of curls. Of course, hours of airplanes and airports hadn't helped the situation. I didn't like the knots in my hair. Thankfully, I loved the color – so dark auburn; it was almost brown.

Another knock on the door, louder this time. I rolled my eyes as I peeped through the door expecting the weird guy, but instead I saw my mother, well dressed and coiffed as ever. Releasing the chain, I yanked the door open with a swiftness that caused her to widen her eyes.

"Mom, you finally arrived." I leaned in for a hug, which she returned halfheartedly, and I saw the person from before still lurked in the hall like a creeper.

"Darby, it's rude to leave a guest outside. Invite us in, for goodness sake."

Confused, I held open the door, and mom and the creepy guy came inside. My mother draped in her usual cloud of perfume, and the stranger had on too much aftershave. The combined effect was cloying and instantly started a headache. I stared at the two of them, unsure of what was happening.

"This is Michael, darling. You remember him, right? Barbara's son."

No, I didn't remember him, nor did I remember Barbara. However, that wasn't what was important now. Why was he here? Why was he butting in on my long-awaited New York City vacation with my mother?

I hadn't spoken my thoughts aloud; just the same my mother answered me anyway.

"I invited Michael to come along, dear. He heard I was coming to see you to celebrate your college graduation, and he has friends in the city he wanted to see. I thought dinner tonight would be a great time for you two to get to know each other better. After all, you are coming back to Silver Falls with me now that you have finished school, and Michael just opened his chiropractic clinic there. Won't it be great to know someone in town already?" She patted her hair and primped in the mirror over the sink. Mom even took a moment to reapply her lipstick, even though I couldn't tell the difference after she finished. Her makeup was always flawless. "I've already put my luggage in the room next door. Are you ready to go eat?"

As usual, when my mother was around, I was speechless. Michael, however, seemed to think this was an entirely reasonable situation, and he jumped right in.

"You are younger than I thought you would be. I mean, I know you just finished your degree, but your mom says you majored in library science. I guess I just thought librarians were born old, you know? You kind of have that whole sexy librarian look going on." He stepped closer and winked as he spoke.

Again, what the hell? I took a moment to gather my thoughts, and to choose my words with care. He was so inappropriate, and my mother didn't seem even to notice his comments.

I looked at him with a blank expression on my face. He was a nice looking man, I guess. Average height and good hair. Dressed neatly. He didn't look like the loser he was. He was the type of guy I could be interested in, at least until he opened his mouth. I had no idea why he complained about my heels. At five feet four inches, even in heels, I wasn't very tall.

"It's good to meet you, Michael. Again." I honestly didn't remember him at all, and it didn't appear that I had missed much.

Flustered, I pushed on, turning to my mom. "I'm glad to see you, mom."

She beamed. "Let's go eat. However, first I need to return a few calls." She was a very successful real estate agent, and a workaholic. She had been a hard worker my entire life. Even so, I smelled a rat. "Why don't the two of you run ahead, and I will catch up to you later?"

Bingo. She was setting me up with Michael, even though he was an apparent inappropriate asshole. My stomach lurched with a sudden onset of nerves. I wanted to protest, but somehow I was never able to find the right words to squirm out of her control without looking like a jerk. I didn't think it would be socially acceptable to blurt out that I didn't want to be pushed into a blind date with a man my mom had found for me.

***

MICHAEL AND I WENT down to the hotel restaurant. We asked for a table for three, but for now it was just the two of us. I was optimistic my mother was coming, until the texts started arriving.

My mom texted first. “Be there soon. Just need to make these calls.”

My reply was short and to the point. “Hurry, plz. This is awkward. I don’t know this guy at all, and I don’t think I want to know him.”

“Sorry, Michael. I’m just checking on my mother.” I smiled a small, reserved smile and placed my phone next to my silverware.

I made an effort to interact with Michael, but the conversation was flat.

“...so that’s when I bought my Mercedes, but I’m wondering if I should trade it in on a Tesla. I like the red ones. That paint color costs a little extra, but it’s so worth it. Sexy.”

What? I hadn’t been listening to him. So far, all he had to contribute to the conversation was a running list of all his worldly possessions.

I checked my phone again. No messages.

I fired off a text with one hand. “Where are u???”

“I’ll be there in a minute. Stop whining. And make an effort with Michael.”

Two hours later, I was so very sorry I hadn't spoken up for myself and made other plans for my evening. Michael and I were still sitting at the dinner table, staring at each other. My mom was a no-show, and I was not at all surprised by her absence.

Michael droned on and on. “I bought a townhouse about a month ago. It needed a complete remodel, so I’ve been keeping busy picking out granite countertops and flooring. I wanted a place that showed how successful I am. You know, I’m a doctor now, and my home needs to scream money. Otherwise, what’s the point of going to school all those years?”

I had all but stopped replying to him. I didn’t even own a car. I could care less about his granite problems.

I kept texting my mom.

“Save me from this guy!!!!”

Finally, I felt my phone vibrate on the table.

“I’m swamped with work. Catch up with u tomorrow at breakfast.”

She was ignoring my frantic "save me" texts.

I was resentful of her for putting me in this situation. We were supposed to be spending time together as that was the point of this trip. I wasn't shocked, however. My mom and I had never had much in common. After my dad left when I was a baby, my mom had to work hard to support us. She went back to school and got her real estate license, and then threw herself into her work. I admired her so much for raising me on her own with no support, but as I got older, I sometimes thought she worked extra hours just to avoid me, not for any financial gains.

My mom had always taken good care of me. I was fed, clothed, housed, and educated. I worked a part-time job in high school so that I could afford little extras, not because my mom didn't provide for me. We didn't fight, and she didn't have crazy, restrictive rules for my upbringing. However, she was never really interested in me or what I was doing. I was invisible to her. Oh, sure, she showed up for my dance recitals or awards ceremonies at school, but she was the parent whose eyes were on her phone, not on her daughter. Business came first. Always.

So, now I was stuck at this dinner table with some man I didn't know, and my mother was conspicuously absent. Michael and I tried to keep the conversation going but there were frequent awkward silences, and there was zero chemistry between us. Not that he had noticed. He stared at my boobs at least six different times, and he continued to drop hints about all the things we would do together once I returned to Silver Falls, including some not so seductive sexual innuendoes.

“You will like what I’ve done with the master bedroom. I bought a king-sized bed, and some really expensive silk sheets. I can’t wait to see what your hair looks like spread across those sheets.” Michael leaned forward as he spoke and rested his clammy hand over mine. I drew back, repulsed.

Not likely, I thought. I would never be so desperate for a man that Michael would start looking good to me.

“Are you kidding me? Do these pickup lines ever work for you?” I was proud of myself for expressing my thoughts. Michael was ridiculous.

How could I make a graceful exit? I hadn't even really eaten anything. I was thinking of grabbing something from the taco place next door, and taking a walk so I could see a little of the city. Anything would be better than this.

He ignored my rebuff. "You look like your back hurts. Let me give you a massage and take care of that for you."

Startled, I sat up straight and looked at Michael. He had said some outrageous things during this dinner, but I had ignored them. But now he wanted to actually put his hands on me?

"That's ok. My back is fine. I'm not hurting at all." I tried to say it as firmly as possible as I leaned back in my seat and sat up straighter.

"Really?" He looked skeptical. "I'm a professional. Backs are what I do for a living. Just let me rub on you for a while, and everything will be so much better. You will see." He winked at me, and then got up from the table to come around to my side.

He was so gross that I shivered in revulsion. He wanted to rub on me? I couldn’t help but think that Michael went to chiropractor school, or whatever, just for the cheesy pickup line. Panicked, I looked from side to side, trying to figure out what to do. I didn't want him putting his hands on me; however, I couldn't find the words to tell him to stay the hell away from me.

Was I just destined to spend my life manipulated by others for their purposes? When would I learn to speak up for myself? I needed to get better at handling myself. Haters are gonna hate, creepers are gonna creep, and all that. It was up to me to manage my reactions to stressful situations, and this had turned into a difficult situation. For sure.

"Sweetheart, there you are." A deep voice was speaking from the table behind me. I tuned it out right away because I didn't know anyone in New York, so he couldn’t be talking to me, but I noted how sexy and masculine he sounded.

Michael stopped with no warning and stared hard at someone over my shoulder. I turned around in my seat, and in my confusion, I tried to rise. Unfortunately, I caught my heel on the chair, and pitched forward, graceless as always. I fell face first into the crotch of a god.

Strong hands grabbed my elbows and pulled me to my feet. I looked up and gasped. The newcomer was tall, dark, and with movie star looks that would make George Clooney in his prime weep with envy. Salt and pepper hair, with more pepper than salt. Firm chin. Deep, brown eyes with a hint of crinkling at the corners. Lips that were so perfect I wanted to trace them with my fingers. I completely forgot about Michael, my mom, the restaurant, and all of humanity. I just wanted to stare at this rare specimen of seasoned masculine perfection forever.

"Darby, what are you doing?" Just like that, Michael resurfaced in my world and resumed annoying me. His whiny voice was an unwelcome intrusion.

To my surprise, the stranger didn't let me go. Instead, he tucked me under his arm as if we had known each other for ages, and turned to face Michael, who was scowling.

"Let’s go. I'll give you that massage upstairs, where we can be alone." Michael grabbed my arm, and now it was the stranger's turn to look annoyed. He roughly pulled Michael's hand away from me and stared him down.

Now I was in a bizarre tug of war with stupid Michael and the handsome stranger. I knew who I wanted to win.

"Angel, I didn't know you ordered a massage." The stranger smiled down at me; however, he still didn't release his hold. I was too dumbstruck to process what was happening, but I didn't care as long as he kept his arm around me.

"Who is this guy?" Michael's irrational annoyance was growing by the second, along with the volume of his voice. Heads turned as people started noticing us. Great. I hated being the center of attention.

"Um..." That was all I had to offer at that moment. I looked up at my dark god and blushed. My college degree hadn’t prepared me for this.

The stranger was still staring at Michael, and his demeanor was unruffled in direct contrast to Michael’s bluster. "I'm her boyfriend. Who are you?"

"Boyfriend? Your mom said you were single. Like, forever alone single. I thought you were a sure thing, and I was doing you a favor by taking you to dinner tonight." Michael was indignant, and he looked at me as if I had done him wrong.

A sure thing? My mom and I might not be close, and she might have pushed me to this date, but I know she didn't pimp me out. My face flushed. I opened my mouth to tell him off, still not sure of what I was going to say, but the stranger beat me to it.

"Looks like you were wrong. Darby and I have been seeing each other for months. I'm looking forward to meeting her mother soon." The stranger was unflappable, utterly unconcerned about what Michael had to say.

I didn't know why he persisted in pretending we knew each other, but I didn't care. I certainly would like to know him. I was awestruck.

“Right. We’ve been dating for months.” I had to clear my throat to get the words out. I sounded as intelligent as a parrot, but at least I was speaking again.

My eyes trailed down his body, but he was more than just physically attractive. It wasn't just his incredible good looks. He had a presence about him, an air of command. Maybe in some past life, he was the captain of a ship or commanded troops. I envied his confidence, his smooth way of speaking, and his total control of the situation.

"Now that I think about it, calling me her boyfriend seems silly. We are so much more than boyfriend and girlfriend, aren't we, baby?" He pulled me even closer and gave me a soft kiss on my forehead, and another one briefly on the lips.

I stared into his eyes, making no attempt to hide my attraction to him. I had never had butterflies likes these before. I should have been freaking out that a complete stranger was acting with such familiarity towards me, but I wasn't. I didn't care if he had a head injury, was suffering from a mental illness, or if this was some elaborate plan to distract me and steal my wallet. He could have everything I owned.

I couldn't stop looking into his eyes.

I shook myself and pulled free. I was just embarrassing myself. What was wrong with me? I glanced around and saw Michael storm off in a huff, and the other diners returned to their meals now that the show was over. I looked at my savior who smiled at me with ease and apparent amusement. Despite myself, I smiled back.

"I'm sorry. You just looked so miserable and trapped sitting there with that idiot, and then I heard him insisting on rubbing your back. I could tell you weren't interested. I decided to step in and rescue you. I hope I wasn't too out of line?"

"Oh – Oh, right! Of course. Thank you!" Flustered still, I grabbed my purse and started to leave, tripping over my feet, the picture of awkwardness. His smile grew bigger.

"Can I buy you a drink? I would love to hear the story of why you were dining with that dumbass."

"Oh, uh. Sure. I would like that." I kept stumbling over my words.

Feeling stupid, I took the arm he offered me, and we started toward the hotel bar. God, he even smelled great. I needed to pull myself together at once before I did something humiliating, like sniffed him, or took all my clothes off.

Soon we sat down at a small table off to the side. Two roses in a simple vase decorated the marble surface, and classical music played in the background. The room was dark and, except for the lovely music, quiet, and the stranger's attention was entirely on me. The server had to clear his throat more than once to get our attention as we stared into each other's eyes.

"What would you like to drink, Darby?" I realized he knew my name, thanks to Michael, but I didn't know what to call him in return.

I hesitated. I had only been legally able to drink for about two months, so I wasn't sure what would be appropriate to order. I knew nothing of wine and wasn't much of a drinker, anyway. My drinking experience was limited to a few silly drinks like Sex on the Beach, or a shot of vodka. College stuff. Usually, I wouldn't care so much, but this man exuded sophistication, and I wanted to meet him on his level.

The two men were still looking at me, waiting for my answer.

"White wine, please."

The stranger ordered a whiskey, neat, and the server left us.

"I'm sorry; I don't even know how I wound up at this table with you." Not my wittiest of moments, but at least I was speaking in complete sentences again.

"I should be the one apologizing. I crashed your date with your young man, and whisked you away without so much as an introduction." He smiled wryly and loosened his silk tie.

"Young man?" I laughed, charmed by his formal manners. "You make yourself sound so terribly ancient." I didn't have a daddy complex, and he wasn't that much older, I did not think, anyway, but if a daddy complex got me a man like him, sign me up, please. He was yummy.

"Not very ancient really, but to you..." He trailed off.

"I'm twenty-one. Fully grown."

He smiled again, and this time it was a tired smile. His smile told me he had lived a life, and he knew things about the world I did not.

"I'm forty-two, an old man compared to you, and my name is Nathan Randolph." For the first time, I noticed a hint of a Southern drawl to his words, as warm and vibrant as the whiskey placed before him by the silent server.

"Darby Turner."

"Pleased to meet you, Darby Turner." We shook hands formally, reaching across the table, both smiling at the silliness of it all, seeing as we had already kissed, more or less.

Silence descended again, but it wasn't uncomfortable like it frequently was during my dinner with Michael. I sipped my wine and savored the peace I was experiencing with Nathan.

"What brings you to New York?" Nathan regarded me with interest and traced one finger around the rim of his glass. I found the movement sexy and mesmerizing. I wondered what it would feel like if he touched me like that.

"I just graduated from the University of Maine, after finishing up my last few courses in the first summer session. My mom asked me to meet her to celebrate my achievement, and I guess to figure out where I'm going from here. Of course, she ditched me for work right off the bat and left me with Michael, so it hasn't been much of a celebration so far." I took another sip of wine. "Do you live here? I detect a little bit of an accent."

He rewarded me with another smile.

"I live in southern Mississippi, actually. I'm here on business. My company makes shotguns and rifles, among other things. I had a series of meetings with clients here in the city." He shifted his big frame in his seat, and his foot fell against mine. I shivered a little, and his eyes dropped to my lips. He pressed his legs closer to mine, and my shivers gave way to a tidal wave of heat that swept me from head to toe. I had never experienced anything like this attraction I was feeling right now.

As the evening wore on, we ordered another drink and yet another, and I relaxed and finally began to speak with ease. We chatted about everything and nothing at the same time.

I had been on dates before, of course. Nothing exciting, but I didn't sit in my dorm room feeling like a lonely loser or anything. This guy, however, this man, was something new. I couldn't get enough of him.

"Have you been to New York before?" His voice was low and smooth, hypnotic.

I shook my head.

"Well, I have. Many, many times. So I think I must show you some of the city, especially since I cut your date short." He threw some money on the table and stood up.

"Now?" I rose to my feet and managed not to stumble this time.

"Now." He held out his hand, and I eagerly succumbed to those dark, dark eyes. I knew I wanted to go wherever he wanted to lead me.