I’m going to have some dinner at the Chinese Palace. Have you eaten? Riley.

 When four minutes had passed, four of the longest minutes she’d ever endured, during which she could feel extreme embarrassment about texting him, she was ready to go into the grocery and get a salad. Then her phone pinged with a text.

 On Wayside and Bayshore?

 That’s it.

 Ten minutes or less.

 I’ll get a table.

 * * *

 Riley kept telling herself it was an experiment, just to see if she had any game left after all these years. She’d had the most uncomfortable feeling in her chest when she realized that not only had Adam managed to brave a relationship, but Emma had somehow bounced back, too, after probably the most destructive relationship of all time. So who better to try this out on than a guy who intrigued her and was as safe as dating a member of the Royal Guard. He was a cop. If he gave her the least trouble, she’d call the police chief, whom she’d met on several occasions at community functions. The only thing that could make this better would be if one of her teams cleaned the chief’s house.

 While she waited for Logan Danner, she ordered wine and pot stickers. This might take more than one wine. Would he give her a breath test before she got in her car?

 Her pot stickers had barely arrived when he came in the door. And she got instant nerves. He was attractive; he wore jeans, a beige sweater over a white shirt, a leather jacket. His light brown hair was just a bit too long. Not shaggy, but no buzz cut for this guy. And he had a bit of a beard growth. That sexy I-have-just-too-much-testosterone growth.

 He slid into the booth across from her and grinned. “Date night!”

 “Don’t get frisky,” she said. “This probably won’t work out to be anything.”

 He shook his head. “What an attitude.” The waiter came over and he asked, “Have you ordered dinner, Riley?”

 “Just the pot stickers.”

 “Great. Bring me a Tsingtao,” he said to the waiter.

 Riley had a look of confusion on her face.

 “Beer,” he said, smiling. “In the end, you asked me out. How’s that for a major upset?”

 “This isn’t really a date. It’s two people sitting in the same booth, eating dinner.”

 “So you just couldn’t stop thinking about me, is that it?” he asked.

 “That is not it at all,” she said.

 He put his napkin on his lap. “So tell me about your day. That’s how most dates start out. Which, by the way, is usually two people sitting in the same booth, eating dinner.”

 She leaned her head into her hand. “I knew I’d live to regret this...”

 He laughed at her. “Okay, we’ll start with my day. I was off today. I had stuff to do. I went to the gym, stopped by my mother’s office—her car has a weird warning light so we swapped cars and I took hers to the shop. I did some laundry and ran the vacuum around the house, a couple of things I do every month like clockwork.” He stopped talking to check her expression. “I was starting to think about dinner but I had something more lively in mind.”

 “Like a bar?”

 “Yes. I have a foolproof system. When I’m flying solo I go to a noisy place where there will be people, some I know, some new to me. When I have a date, I pick a quiet place like this. Want to know what’s different about tonight? I’ll tell you—usually if I have a date and pick a quiet place like this, the woman talks my leg off and I don’t have to work very hard to seem interesting and charming.”

 “Huh,” she said. “I really don’t date.”

 He sat back against the booth’s padded seat. “I guess that makes me pretty special.”

 “I guess it does,” she said. “It also makes you the only person I know who has any interest. Besides my brother, that is.”

 “I’ll try to elevate my status,” he said. His beer arrived and he took a drink. “Just out of curiosity, why isn’t anyone interested? Or am I going to understand why in another ten minutes?”

 “It’s a long story, really...”

 “Maybe you could give me the bullet points,” he said.

 “Okay, let’s see. I’m a single mother. When my daughter was little...very little...I was so focused on working, staying one step ahead of the bills. I absolutely did not consider a date. I probably wasn’t very...”

 “Nice?” he asked, lifting his brows.

 “I was going for another word. Like receptive.”

 “So you were so not receptive that before you knew it, you gave off a vibe?” He cocked his head and waited.

 “And this is your interesting, charming side?” she asked. She sighed. “Let’s just order,” she added, opening her menu.

 “Vibe,” he said under his breath.

 She lifted her hand and the waiter was back at their booth.

 “I’ll have the chicken and broccoli with rice and egg drop soup and...” She looked at him. “Need a minute?” she asked.

 He didn’t even open the menu. “Shrimp lo mein, garlic chicken, another beer.”

 “You already knew what you wanted?” she asked.

 “I’ve been here before. I live about two miles down Wayside. So—how old is your daughter?”

 “Fifteen,” she said, taking a sip of her wine, regretting more with every moment what she’d done and completely at a loss as to why she’d done it.