7:25.
7:28.
7:30.
7:31.
I set down my glass and reach for my purse. So much for highly compatible.
That's when he walks in.
Holy. Shit.
He's enormous, at least 6'4", with shoulders that nearly fill the doorway. Not just tall, but solid, like he was carved from marble and then covered in a perfectly tailored navy suit. Brown hair, just long enough to have personality. A strong jawline darkened with stubble. And even from across the room, I can see the intensity in his blue eyes as they scan the restaurant.
I realize I'm staring only when those blue eyes land on me. His face transforms with a smile that crinkles the corners of his eyes, and suddenly he's not just physically gorgeous, but somehow charming too.
He says something to the hostess, who points in my direction, and his eyes light up like he just won the lottery. As he makes his way toward me, I take another sip of wine, partly to calm my nerves and partly to hide the fact that my mouth has gone completely dry.
"Lexie?" His voice is deep, a little rough around the edges. And hopeful. Earnest.
I nod, not quite trusting my voice.
"I'm Darren." He extends a large hand, which I shake automatically. His palm is warm, calloused in a way that speaks of actual work. "I'm so sorry I'm late. Trying to wrangle my packmates is like herding cats."
"It's fine." I find my voice as he sits down across from me. "Where are they?"
He glances at his phone, brow knitting. "They'll be here if they know what's good for them."
I raise an eyebrow. "What's that?"
"Nothing." He looks up, and his expression shifts as he really takes me in. "Holy shit, you're gorgeous."
The bluntness of the compliment startles a laugh out of me. "You're not so bad yourself."
He doesn't smirk or preen like most attractive men would. Instead, he actually flushes slightly, running a hand through his hair in a gesture that seems almost shy. It's disarmingly genuine.
"So," he says, unfolding his napkin, "beyond what the app told you, which was probably next to nothing, what were you expecting tonight?"
I consider lying, then decide honesty might be refreshing. "In a word? Disaster. My dating history is basically a series of cautionary tales."
He laughs, a rich sound that echoes through me pleasantly. "Mine too, honestly. Though probably for different reasons."
"Try me," I challenge. "My last date tried to sell me insurance."
He blinks. "Like, metaphorically?"
"No, literally. Brought brochures and everything."
Darren throws his head back with a hardy laugh that draws glances from nearby tables. "Okay, you win. The worst I've had was a woman who just wanted hockey tickets."
I raise an eyebrow. "Hockey tickets?"
He freezes for a split second, then adjusts his tie. "Yeah, I, uh..."
The waiter arrives before he can finish, and we order drinks and appetizers. As he retreats, Darren seems to jump at the chance to steer the conversation in a different direction.
"So, the app said you're a business owner?"