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“What kind of business?” Eli asks. I can’t tell if he’s amused or not.
“Another app.” The irony isn’t lost on me. “He’s developing something to do with the medical field. I don’t know, I kind of tuned it out.”
“Why’s he using a dating app to find investors?” Eli runs his hand through his hair, his biceps bulging at the movement.
“Because the dating app is targeted at older women. And apparently they have the kind of money he wants. And he thinks he can charm it out of them.”
“He’s catfishing for money?” Eli’s mouth drops open. “Jesus.”
“And I fell for it.” I feel stupid. Embarrassed. And yeah, a little bit like I’m over the hill. “Hook, line, and sinker.” I put my hand on my face. “I’m such an idiot.”
Gently, Eli pulls my hand away. “No you’re not. You were doing your friend a favor, that’s all.” He’s still holding my hand. “Tell me you made him pay for your drink at least.”
For the first time I laugh. “I didn’t even get that far. I just shouted at him and left.”
“Good.” His eyes are warm. He finally lets go of my hand. “Did you get this guy’s real name?”
I nod. “Ben Dickson. Why?”
“Because I’m going to rip his fucking head off.”
I laugh again. And it feels good. “No, you’re not.”
“Okay, his balls.”
“I’m not sure he has any. Anyway, he’s just some stupid kid.”
“He’s twenty-five. He knows better.”
“Everybody at work told me it gets like this. The older you are, the harder it is to find somebody to date. But I didn’t listen.” I was too busy working. The last time I really dated – when I was thirty-three, before our three years of overworking on a project began – I hadn’t noticed this phenomenon.
Is it something that suddenly happens the day you turn thirty-five? Why did nobody tell me?
“Look, there are assholes everywhere. I bet you met a few of them when you were in your twenties.”
He’s right, I did. The memory of one particular asshole rushes into my mind.
“Were you an asshole back then?” I ask him, really hoping he wasn’t.
“I tried not to be. My exes would probably tell you otherwise.”
I tip my head. “And now? Are you an asshole to women now?”
The corner of his lip quirks. “I still try not to be. But again, you’d need to ask the women I’ve dated.”
“Are there a lot of them?” There’s a weird ringing in my ears. High pitched. Like a siren.
“Women I’ve dated?”
“Yeah.” The need to know tugs at me. Eli’s brows knit and I take a moment to enjoy looking at him.
Because Eli Salinger is a handsome man. Dark hair, dark eyes, a lightly bearded jawline you could crack eggs on. And that’s when I realize that of course there are a lot of women he’s dated.
He must fight them off.
“A few. I haven’t dated since I left Boston, though.”
“Why not?”
