The Blind Date

I have no idea what this is, but I do it. I do it all. Arms, head, and feet moving to mimic Riley.

“And a big breath, in through the nose and out through the mouth.” We do the breath together, and then Riley gives me a megawatt smile.

“Brain reset. Now just say what you want to say plainly. Fancy words and explanations don’t matter. Think of it like a rough draft. You don’t even want to know the number of times I have to rewrite my social media posts some days.” The encouragement is pure Riley Sunshine, but I need it right now. I need all the help I can get because I’m about to jump out of an airplane with no parachute and the ground below is sharp rocks.

“I want to continue what we started, Riley. Not only smooth over the miscommunication. I want to keep going. I want to have conversations like we had, and to talk with you and to . . . see where we can go.”

Now who’s the one with pie in the sky, big dreams? That’d definitely be me. But I can’t ignore what I’ve felt the last week, nor what I’m feeling sitting this close to Riley right now.

I can see her considering what I’m saying, and I reach out and lay my hand on top of hers the way she did mine moments ago, lending strength. Her fingers tighten in mine for a moment before she stiffens. “Noah, we can’t. What would Arielle and River think? They’re our siblings and best friends.”

It takes me a moment to realize what she’s saying, because it is a sort of weird X-shaped situation. Her best friend is my sister, my best friend is her brother. Yeah . . . that’s a little weird.

But I don’t care. Or more precisely, I’m willing to take the risk.

“You said who you date is none of River’s business. So why do they need to find out right away?” I ask. “We can always tell them later if things get serious.”

The opposite implication hangs heavily in the air—if this blows up, we’ll both pretend it never happened and never breathe a word about it to River and Arielle. But Riley considers it, and I feel my heart lighten as she nods shallowly. “I . . . Noah, I need to think about this.”

“Then think,” I tell her, stroking her hand with my thumb. “But in the meantime, I should go. Today’s been one hell of a day, and we both need to process everything.”

Riley nods robotically but walks me to her door. When she reaches for the knob, I say her name quietly. “Riley.”

She looks up at me, and I reach out, cupping the back of her head. She doesn’t resist me. Instead, she takes a half-step forward, standing on her tiptoes as I slowly lower my head to hers, giving her every chance to stop me. But she doesn’t, and our lips meet. It’s sweet and hot and everything I’ve ever dreamed of in a first kiss. I pull her in a little tighter, and she whimpers, falling into me. Her hands grasp at my chest, pulling at me as she opens up to me.

I could push her against the door, pin her body with mine and touch her. I could take her into my arms and carry her to her bedroom, strip her clothes off, and have a night of such intense physical passion that my balls would be drained for a month.

But I don’t want a night. I don’t want to drain my cock and be done with her. That isn’t why I answered her on BlindDate.

I want more.

I deepen the kiss, chasing her tongue with mine and burning my name—Noah—into her mouth, wanting to make sure she knows exactly who’s kissing her. And that I’m the same man who’s been messaging with her.

Me. Noah Mark Daniels.

I’m Riley’s ninety-six percent match. But I find that I don’t even care about the statistics and algorithms anymore. I can feel it, deep in my spirit or soul or whatever it is inside you that tells you that you’ve found someone special. Someone to hold on to.

And I’m not a man who believes in all that mumbo-jumbo soulmate stuff. A week ago, I would’ve laughed and called it a marketing ploy we could capitalize on for BlindDate. But now, all I know is that I can’t imagine not waking up tomorrow and texting Riley good morning first thing, not hearing about her day, not kissing her lips again.

“Think about that too,” I whisper when our lips part. “Because I want to give you this feeling every fucking day. Goodnight, Riley.”

Riley sighs dreamily, and I slide out her door before Raffy can follow me. I keep it together driving home, but by the time my door’s closed, I can’t take it any longer. My brain whirls with the taste of Riley on my lips, the soft natural scent of her skin, the way her shorts clung to her hips. Even the way her oversized T-shirt hinted at the luscious curves underneath without revealing all, letting me feel them when I pulled her to me and her soft breasts pressed against me. Fuck, that was sexy as hell.