A Girl Like You by vinnie Kinsella (good books to read for 12 year olds .TXT) 📕

job, like knife-thrower in a circus? Sideshow act? Or is he just an amateur thrower?”

“Maddy, I didn’t interview him. I unmatched him in like two seconds.”

Madison’s choking dissolved into giggles. “Tell me more, Mom. You can’t make this shit up.”

“Well, there’s the green-eyed, 6’3” musician, LuvNotes, who told me right off the bat he doesn’t drive, because he had to sell his Subaru to get his guitar fixed.”

“Oooh, Subarus are nice,” Madd said.

“Can you stay focused, please?” I nudged Penny with my foot, then felt bad, so I bent down to scratch her ears. “I asked him how he gets to work, and he says he was mugged and the robbers hurt his shoulder, so he lost his job.”

“Oh, that’s so sad! But, hey, if his shoulder is hurt, how does he hold his guitar?”

“EXACTLY!” I yelled into my phone. “My question, exactly. I’ve hit rock bottom. Fish sucks, man.”

“Maybe you should widen your search area,” she said kindly to her old, lonely mother.

How far out are you going?”

“I think up to 60 miles away.”

“Go 90. If he’s worth it, he’ll drive to see you.”

“Yeah, well, maybe—if he has a car.”

We both went quiet.

“How’s Billy?”

“He’s amazing,” Madison said. “We’re taking a ride up to Lake Placid next weekend.”

“That’s so great! I’m happy for you.”

“Yeah, so guess I’m proving Ian wrong about the whole having sex too early thing.”

“It’s always good to put Ian in his place,” I said.

“K. Text me later.”

“Love you.”

“Love you too, Mombo.”

61

“We have a lot in common, AriesGurl,” messaged YourRomeo. “We both have small dogs and drink tea and don’t watch TV. If you’re interested in talking, you can reply anytime. I’ll be around.”

Hmm. It was the politest message I’d received. I quickly scrolled through his pics. One was a distant pic of him in front of what looked like an adobe hut. Another was of him holding a newborn, pride written all over his face. The last was of trees on a hiking path in spring.

So he was a hiker—so what? Most of the guys were.

I deliberated for a couple of minutes about ordering hiking boots on Amazon and trying to break them in and dirty them up before any kind of outdoor date. Too much work, I decided immediately.

I messaged Romeo back after waiting a few hours to downplay my interest. He was fifty-seven, had three sons, the one granddaughter, and a little terrier named Chloe. He was a fitness buff, and owned a company that designed and built custom staircases. His name was Hudson. He lived about ten minutes from me.

“I keep myself healthy—no fast food or Cheetos for me—and always end up hanging out with younger people,” he messaged. “People say I’m youthful and don’t look or act my age.”

Why was he making such a big deal about being young at heart?

Shit. I had registered for Fish as a 49-year old. That posed a serious problem, but I put off figuring that one out so I could ride the high of getting to know Hudson. I liked his genuine, personable messages. Maybe he was put in my path because he lived so close to me. Maybe I would read his aura and it would be all gold and yellow. Maybe we would travel to New Mexico and take selfies by an adobe hut.

Over the next four days, Hudson and I were in constant contact, through the site, then texting, then talking by phone. He’d been divorced fourteen years and dating ever since.

“Just haven’t met The One,” he texted. “But I won’t settle. I’ll keep looking till I find her.”

Being the boss hadn’t been easy, he told me. One office manager, Shelley, had so much trouble doing her job that Hudson basically did it for her.

“Why did you keep her?”

“She was really nice, she walked Chloe, and she made this really great carrot cake every week for us.”

Hudson made me laugh the way I did with my kids.

He was passionate about his work, especially custom jobs using wood other than ordinary oak. He loved mahogany and cypress on curved railings with fancy newel posts.

“We did an open spiral staircase this week,” he texted, and I could almost hear the excitement behind his words. “Gorgeous, curved railings, inlaid box newel posts, you name it.”

“Did it look like ‘Stairway to Heaven?’”

“Pretty much.”

“Guess you hear that joke all the time,” I texted.

“Yeah, but that’s OK, Jess.”

We made a date for dinner Wednesday. Hudson said he would pick me up at my house after work.

“He’s picking you up here?” Madison said incredulously. “You never give a guy your address, much less get into his car!”

“Relax. We’ve been talking for a week. I know where his stair company is, the names of his kids, what kind of chow his dog Chloe eats—”

“OK, OK, but give me his cell number just in case.”

“Fine,” I said, writing it down and handing it to her.

“Don’t go casual,” Maddy advised as I was pulling on mummy leggings. “Wear your black skirt and that red blouse with the buttons. And for god’s sake, go a little crazy and leave the top two open.”

I would have felt more at ease with the Halloween leggings, but she knew things about dating etiquette that I did not. Red blouse it was.

Hudson texted me ten minutes before his arrival.

“I’m on my way. It’s not too late to run.”

I couldn’t get my breath fresh enough, so I brought toothpaste into the kitchen and scrubbed my teeth with my fingers. When he pulled into our driveway in a really clean red Jeep, I dabbed toothpaste on my tongue, which made my breath overly fresh.

I peeked out the front door when he got to my porch.

Hudson looked even better than his photos. He seemed very young, with a full head of sandy-colored hair, bright blue eyes with those dark rings around the irises, and broken-in straight-leg jeans. He smiled through the window even before I opened the door to usher him in.

Penny immediately bounded to him, tail wagging furiously. Hudson