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When I reach the coffee house I’m well ahead of schedule. I’ve looked at pictures of Dean Lawless all morning, one emailed to me by his mom, a couple I was able to get from social media, and even his picture on a couple of legal articles he’s written. The article was all jibberish, as far as I can tell—something about the Geneva Convention and carrier’s liability? Basically I have no idea what he does, it sounds way too technical to hold my interest.
This is standard protocol—I can guarantee his date will be checking him out on social media and Googling him. It’s way better to know up front what you’re dealing with—you wouldn’t believe what comes up sometimes.
As I clear the doorway and look over into the seating area, the first thing I notice is that Dean is already sitting at a table.
Dammit.
I can’t believe he beat me here, and I’m on the early side of early! I like to get to a spot first to get the lay of the land, gather my thoughts, and watch the client walk in. Watching people who don’t know they’re under surveillance is a good way of learning their tells and getting a sense of the person right away. Are they confident in their approach? How do they treat the host or service staff? I like observing them for those few seconds of unguarded time.
One thing I can tell you right away is that his physical appearance doesn’t match what I saw online. Not in a catfish sort of way—oh no. In real life, he’s so muchmorethan he comes across in the photos. For one—he’s better looking, but it’s also something about his size—he’s bigger than I was expecting. He simply takes up more space than I anticipated. And by that, I mean he’s built—wide shoulders, thick biceps, and large hands. A heavy, expensive watch peeks below his shirt cuff, and his clothing is immaculate.
There’s only so much I can see of his body when he’s sitting down, but damn, he’s hot.
Professional assessment, I swear.
And a little jolt hits me when I finally return to his face.
He’s staring right at me and wearing a frown that might leave permanent marks on his handsome forehead. There’s no glimpse of a smile, nor are his eyes sparkling with hope and eagerness.
To be fair, his mom warned me he wasn’t overly keen on her plan to use my services to find him a match. Based on the look he’s giving me, Dean Lawless isnoton board with this. In fact, he’s openly irritated.
As I plaster on a fake grin, I raise my hand in an acknowledging wave. I take a deep breath and cross the room.
Must find a match.
Must not fail.
Need job.
I’m so screwed.
