Magical Midlife Dating (Leveling Up 2)

I let my jaw drop, looking at each of them in turn. “Really? You were all thinking this and didn’t bother to mention it?”

“If we’d mentioned it, you wouldn’t have jumped,” Mr. Tom said, coming around the island with the plate of sandwiches.

There were no words.

“Now, about this dating—let’s see what you’ve got there.” Niamh moved around the table and motioned at my laptop. “Who’s this fella you’re goin’ out wit’ tonight, then?”3I had told them all when I confirmed the date. I’d even broken down and told my son on our last call. Surprisingly, Jimmy had wished me well. The others had mostly ignored me. Given I hadn’t canceled the date, something I was sure Mr. Tom hoped I’d do, since the guy wasn’t magical, clearly Niamh now wanted some specifics.

My stomach rolled over. “I found him on a different site. I was just checking this profile…”

“Sure, yeah, fine, let’s have a look. Come on.” She stood behind me.

A second opinion probably wasn’t a bad idea. I hadn’t been incredibly choosy on the guy I’d agreed to meet tonight, not really knowing what to look for in a dating profile, let alone which not-as-obvious red flags to avoid. He was about my age, somewhat in shape, based on his profile pictures, and said he liked to stay active. I figured that was a good start.

I inched the laptop open and clicked into my account again. “I’ve only posted a profile on this site. I haven’t talked with anyone yet…”

My voice trailed off and my eyes widened at the number of messages waiting for me.

“How long has that profile been up?” Niamh asked, leaning closer.

“The chosen of Ivy House dating?” Mr. Tom placed the plate on the table and huffed. “Ridiculous. With your prestige, you’ll have your pick. It’s as I’ve told you: you need but wait.”

“I don’t want someone who’s after my magic,” I said. “Besides, anyone interested in my magic is going to assume I’ve been turned young again. They might be put off that I’m not.”

“The only thing they’ll be put off by is your social awkwardness.” Mr. Tom turned and headed back to the island. “Eventually they’ll warm up to you.”

“He’s a real treat,” Niamh said, reaching over me and touching the message icon on the screen.

“This isn’t a touch screen,” I said, clicking in. “The profile has only been up for a few days. There’s no way I should have— Oh my God!”

The very first message was an erect member of the male persuasion. Grainy and angled, obviously taken as a still life in the heat of the moment with a bad-quality camera, it was one of the worst dick pics I’d ever seen.

And I would know—I’d seen quite a few since entering the world of online dating. “I hate this part of dating sites.” Disgusted, I trashed it and moved on to the next. “Come on, really? Two in a row? Why do they do this?”

Niamh leaned a little closer, examining. “You’ve got this all wrong. It’s best to see the willy up front. This way, ye don’t have to go through all the rigmarole to check out the equipment. Good size? Well then, sure, let’s try it out. Too small or big? Keep moving, my dear, I haven’t the time.”

“It’s not the size of the vessel, it is the motion in the ocean,” Mr. Tom said.

“That’s only what women tell you, ye old goat. They’re trying to make you feel better about yerself,” Niamh said as I trashed the pic and moved to the next. Yet another one. Trash.

“In my prime, they were too speechless to say anything at all.” Mr. Tom puffed up in pride.

“I think I just died a little inside,” I groaned.

“This many photo peep shows can’t be normal.” Niamh clicked into the profile section.

“What do you know about it?” Mr. Tom asked, pouring hot water into the teapot.

“I’ve done a great many of these dating sites for Edgar. Before he got his vitality back, we had to lure his food in under false pretenses. It’s easier to get guys on board, o’course, so I did the profile for a younger me.” Niamh blinked at the screen, then moved back a bit. “I keep forgetting that Ivy House fixed my eyesight. I’m a new woman.”

“Still wretched, sadly,” Mr. Tom muttered.

“Ah. Here.” She pointed at my list of favorite ways to relax. “You put ‘watch Netflix and chill.’”

I nodded. “I figured saying ‘watch TV’ was dated, Prime isn’t as popular, and I just don’t see the point in Hulu—Netflix seemed like the obvious winner.”

Niamh leaned to the side so she could see my face. “Are ye jokin’?”

“What?” I asked.

“‘Netflix and chill’ means you are looking for sex,” Mr. Tom said as though that were common knowledge.

“What’s this now?” I asked, staring harder at the words as though they might morph before my eyes.