Page 34 of Swiped

Sunlight streamed in through a full-wall picture window with sweeping views of the valley. Bud vases and orbs of soft candlelight dotted the airy space. Thom stood in silhouette, gazing out of the window with his hands behind his back.

Nat swallowed and took a shaky breath. “Hey, stranger . . .”

He turned, and there he was — light glinting in his soft blond waves, eyebrows raised in angles over thoughtful eyes, and a hint of pale stubble across his high, angular cheekbones and sharp jawline. “Nat. You’re here.”

Ripples of heat shot through her body. His rich, musical baritone melted like warm honey into her mind. There were the sparkles.

He stepped toward her. “Thank you so much for agreeing to meet.”

“I thought we were having a drink,” she said as her voice echoed a bit in the loft space. “This? Is a vineyard.”

“And so technically it’s within the parameters.” He gave her a sly smile. “You look as stunning as your pictures.”

Words left Nat’s brain and instead seemed to fly around her ears in dizzying waves.

She stammered as a trio of waiters entered, each carrying a loaded tray of plates and glasses.

They descended upon a low, knotty hardwood table.

The sounds of clinking silverware and porcelain plates, gurgles of pouring waters, and dutifully shuffling feet filled the room.

Nat dared only darting glances to meet Thom’s steady gaze.

She kept thinking the waiters’ set-up was almost done, and she would be alone with him, but they kept producing more items from the trays.

Nat shifted on her feet, unsure of what to do with her hands.

Finally, the waiters stilled with a hush and broke their formation around the table. One of them gestured as the others pulled out the chairs. “The first tasting course, sir.”

“Brilliant, thank you,” said Thom, breezing to the table.

“I think I need that drink,” said Nat.

Thom called after the waiter. “Send in the sommelier, would you?” He turned to Nat, deep blue eyes shining. “You’re going to love this.”

Nat willed her shaky legs to sit at the table as a man in a waxed apron and full sleeves of dark tattoos swept into the room.

“I understand this is a special occasion,” he said in a library voice. “So today I’ve arranged a tasting flight based on the theme of hope.”

Yet more waiters rolled in a brass cocktail cart filled with wine bottles and an army’s worth of tiny glasses.

They set rows of glasses on the table and began to pour.

Thom watched them, rapt, and as comfortable as if he were watching a crackling fireplace in his own home.

Nat folded her hands in her lap and spent several moments hoping that her posture was acceptable while the sommelier went into great detail about each of the wines, using many words that she had read but never heard pronounced. Time seemed to stand still.

Finally, the staff shuffled out with knowing nods. Nat watched with confusion as the sommelier remained. He hovered next to them with an expectant silence.

“Well,” said Thom, arching an eyebrow at her, “let’s start with the flight and let them know what we might like in a bottle.”

“This is lovely, but . . .” Nat lowered her voice.

“Oh, it’s absurdly over the top, I know!” Thom arranged his napkin in his lap and gave her a bashful smile. “This place is one of my projects, and they are preparing for a debut, so it’s good practice for them and it’s all on the house.”

“Oh, thank God,” sighed Nat.

The sommelier rocked back and forth on his heels; his eyes discreetly fixed on the exposed-beam ceiling.

“Being honest, I just couldn’t stand another non-descript outing at a non-descript bar that’s not too divey but also not too nice.” Thom leaned forward conspiratorially, and the sunlight lit his angular jaw. “One must always maintain the illusion of not caring too much. Can’t show actual emotion!”

Nat felt her nerves unclench, and she drew a deeper breath than she had since walking in the room. If he was interested in showing genuine emotion, that seemed to signal that he was trustworthy, right?

“So, this is all for me as much as it is for you,” he said. “Besides, it’s not every day that one gets to go on a date with the brilliant mind behind BeTwo.” He winked and offered her a tiny goblet of rosé.

She took it. “You . . . know me?”

Thom nodded. “I know how this might sound, but I’ve followed your work.

BeTwo is the only app I’ve ever used for longer than a fortnight.

It’s different from the others.” He frowned, but his round eyes shone.

“I mean that it’s far better than the others, and every time I’ve read about the mind behind it, I could see why. ”

“Why?” she asked.

“Because of you,” said Thom, blue eyes wide and genuine, as if he were stating the most obvious thing in the world. “In my work, the strength of the individual’s perspective is what makes a site special or ordinary. I imagine it’s the same if you’re an architect of an app.”

Nat blushed and managed a nod. She sipped the rosé, and a splash of summer fruit and brown sugar swirled in her mouth. He knew her and wanted to be here . The ninety-nine percent match figure hummed in her mind.

“ A votre santé , Nat Lane.” Thom winked and met her glass with a crisp clink.

* * *

Rami leaned against a bike rack on the sidewalk.

His feet hurt in his sneakers because he’d been standing just that long.

He craned his neck to scan the long line ahead of him, grumbling to himself at all the snuggling couples and frazzled parents and rowdy groups — the typical brunch crowd, and him, a single man alone.

Not weird at all! But Rami did have a book — Walden, or Life in the Woods by Henry David Thoreau, in a hunter green leather hardback edition he’d swiped from Ian’s library on his way out.

It had seemed like reading about a man’s escape from modernity inside a tiny New England cottage would provide some like-minded solace.

But now he was dealing with the reality of hefting around over three hundred pages of that like-mindedness.

He shifted the book to his other hand to give his wrist a break.

A couple approached him. “Hey, man, how much do you charge?” the man asked in a brisk, businesslike tone.

Rami took in the man’s grunge rock bob and all-black outfit of cargo culottes, leather shirt jacket, and platform boots. “Excuse me?” he said.

“To wait in line for us? You’re one of those taskers, right?” His eyes darted over Rami’s lone figure. “My phone’s dead, so I have to book this old school.”

“You pay people to wait in brunch lines for you?”

“Yeah. What is it today, like two hours? Three?”

Rami snapped his book closed. “Where’s my cabin?” he muttered. The couple gave each other confused looks as he leaned off the bike rack to literally take his stand. “Well, as much as I would love to make a few bucks—”

“Fifty bucks,” said the fashionable man.

Rami blinked. “Seriously?”

The man produced a turquoise-studded money clip from a leather belt bag and counted out the bills. Rami watched and debated whether accepting the task would weigh on his dignity for the rest of his life, or just for a few weeks.

“Remy!” a voice called down the line. “Ray-mi? Party of one!”

“Sorry, that’s me.” Rami waved the cash away. “Kind of.”

The man shrugged and squinted down the line.

“Live long and pancakes,” he said as he maneuvered toward the door.

* * *

Rami followed the host as they scream-spoke over the din of chatter in the restaurant.

“Had to put you with another solo,” they called over their shoulder. “Can’t justify a whole table for just one, you know?”

Rami rolled his eyes. He’d brought the book specifically to ward off awkward small talk.

Even if this was his favorite brunch in the city, and even if he’d stood outside for over an hour, a man had to take a stand sometimes.

He clutched Walden and trudged behind the host, his mind forming his eloquent refusal to accept this modern compromise.

“Sharing is not acceptable!” he yelled over the din.

Then he saw his potential tablemate.

She sat nervously in front of an open paperback. Loose coppery curls framed her round face, creamy fair skin, upturned nose, and watermelon-pink lips.

“Sharing is totally fine!” said Rami, as the host dropped a menu on the table. Rami smiled and took the seat across from the beautiful stranger. “Hi, I’m Rami!”

She looked up at him with a shy smile. “Allison. Nice to meet you.”

* * *

Nat followed Thom with slightly tipsy steps on the trail out into the vineyard.

Seeing his lean frame moving in front of her, with his rumbly baritone voice dancing in her ears and the wine buzzing in her temples — it all felt natural, like everything she had waited for was finally falling into place.

She held out her hand, letting the tips of the leaves kiss her fingertips.

“God, this view beats the hell out of London.” Thom threw her a lidded glance over his shoulder. “For a few reasons.”

“Napa is adult Disneyland.” Nat sighed.

“Bang on, it is.” He stopped in front of a rusted iron gate and turned to her. “Except now, instead of being full of sugar, we’re full of fermented sugar.” He flashed a grin. “Full circle, that.”

Nat laughed. “I like the way you think.”

“Same.”

“Really?”

His face grew serious. It was like he had the ability to open secret doors in his deep blue eyes. They drew her right in. “What’s not to like?”

Nat broke his warm gaze to look around. Her tipsy mind fuzzed out the dark reaction to his question — wasn’t there literally so much not to like about her?

— and instead she blinked into the Napa splendor.

The sun was fading into a cotton candy sky.

She ran her eyes over the way Thom’s flannel shirt jacket fell across his broad shoulders, how his chambray button-down was open enough to show the curls of caramel blond hair on his chest, how his dark jeans wrapped around the muscles of his thighs, and how his sapphire eyes tracked hers. She stepped closer.

“Oh!” he said with a start. “We’ve got another appointment to keep!”

“There’s more?”

“Oh, darling,” his voice purred like an engine. “We’re not done, yet.” He held out his hand.

She looked at his open palm and sucked in her breath in spite of herself. Butterflies fluttered into her chest as her desires rolled over her fears like mounting waves. She slipped her fingers into his smooth grip.

He smiled and pulled her back toward the winery.

She let him guide her as she used her other hand to pull out her phone and text Rami.

Nat: Just thought you should know, I’ve found a date to the BuzzFill party.

She watched for a bit, but no response bubble appeared.

Nat: Just didn’t want you to be too embarrassed.

She slipped her phone back into her purse and followed Thom through the dappled California sunlight.

* * *

Both Rami’s and Allison’s books were pushed to the side of the table, completely abandoned.

Allison let her laughter from his latest joke fade into a shy smile. “I have to say, you’ve really cheered me up.” She raised a syrupy bite of waffle. “I thought this was going to be the saddest brunch ever.”

“Is your book that bad?”

Allison laughed again and shook her head. “No, it’s not that.” She hesitated. “It’s embarrassing.”

“More embarrassing than the fact that I took three buses by myself just so I could eat something called ‘miracle pancakes?’” Rami gestured to the half-eaten lemony cakes on his plate.

Allison gave a serious nod. “True, that might be worse.”

“See? And I don’t even have any special healing powers now!”

She gestured to Rami’s pancakes with her fork. “May I?”

“Oh, please.”

She grabbed a bite and chewed in thoughtful silence. She turned her bright green eyes to him. “So, it’s my birthday.”

“What? Happy birthday!” Rami felt his heart swell. “Why is that embarrassing?”

“Because I’m here by myself!” Allison’s smile drooped, and she poked her fork around her breakfast. “Because I don’t have any other plans besides sitting in my apartment and sticking a candle in this leftover waffle.”

“Oh.”

She sat up and looked at him with a pleading expression.

“I’m not crazy or anything!” She shrugged and looked down into her empty coffee cup.

“I just moved here. I don’t know many people yet.

” She tucked a coppery curl behind her small ears.

“Actually, I don’t know anyone here besides my boss.

” She looked up at him with a desperate smile. “But she seems totally nice!”

Rami’s heart twinged in the way that it might for a wayward puppy.

The waiter appeared and set down two checks. “Whenever you’re ready,” he said.

Rami grabbed them. “My treat. For your birthday!”

Allison winced. “No! You don’t have to.”

“Please.” Rami suddenly never wanted anything more in his whole life than to pay for this adorable woman’s brunch. He placed his hands on the table. “Please let me perform this miracle.”

Her face twisted with a suppressed grin. “Well, thank you.” She gave his hand a quick, shy touch. “I hope all San Francisco people are like you.”

“Well, I don’t like to brag, but I’ve actually celebrated almost all of my birthdays in the city.” He dropped his voice to sound serious. “I’m something of an expert on what to do.”

Allison matched his businesslike tone. “Is that so?”

“I’m sensing that you don’t believe me.”

She crumpled instantly. “No, I do!” She laughed.

Rami shook his head and raised his hands in surrender. “Fine, if you insist on being skeptical, then I guess I’ll just have to show you how to have an awesome birthday in the Bay.”

Her face was pink with excitement. “Really?”

He rubbed his chin solemnly. “It’s my civic duty.”

Allison clapped her hands in front of her chest so quickly that she rattled the dishes on the table. “OK, yes! Let’s go do some birthday things . . .”