CHAPTER FIVE
Kate arrived at Vic’s fifteen minutes before her one-o’clock lunch date. After regretfully admitting to herself that there was nothing to pursue with Ian—on account of the fact he was apparently some kind of felon—she’d moped around for a week and then scrolled through the inbox of her online dating account. After deleting multiple stomach-turning requests for casual sex and naked pictures, she sifted through what was left to see if anyone interesting had messaged her. So far she hadn’t had the best luck with online dating, but Kent, the man she was meeting this afternoon, sounded promising. He was thirty-six, handsome, and worked as a stockbroker for Morgan Stanley. He loved cooking, animals, and long hikes in the woods. They’d been exchanging e-mails for several days, and the last couple contained mildly flirtatious comments from Kent about how attractive she was and how much he was looking forward to meeting her in person. He seemed nice enough even if he did want to spend what Kate felt was a bit too much time discussing her physical description, especially her body type. She was one of those enviable women who was long legged and slim hipped but still in possession of full breasts. And they were real. Even so, she worked hard to stay in shape. She attended a Pilates class several times a week, and she walked everywhere. For her profile photo, she’d had Helena take a full-length picture of her standing next to the sign for the food pantry. She was wearing jeans and a sweater, and her long hair was pulled back in a ponytail. Kate wasn’t interested in false advertising, and she wanted the men who looked at her profile to know exactly the type of woman they’d be meeting. Apparently it wasn’t enough, because Kent had sent not one but two messages yesterday asking for additional clarification.
Do you count calories or follow a specific diet plan? he’d asked. What the hell was that all about? Frankly, she sometimes ate like a truck driver because she was hungry, dammit. And hunger was a bit of a hot button for Kate, considering she spent her days making sure people got enough to eat. That message was followed up with What kind of clothing would you say highlights your best features? What did that even mean, and why did he care what kind of clothes she wore?
Ian likes short skirts, and that didn’t seem to bother you.
Ian just liked to push her buttons. And besides, Ian was no longer in the picture.
Kate glanced at her watch discreetly. Kent was now five minutes late. Just then her phone vibrated to signal an incoming e-mail. Kent was probably reaching out to let her know he was running behind. Very thoughtful.
She opened her e-mail and smiled. The message was from Kent.
I changed my mind. I’m not interested.
What?
In addition to confusing, Kate found the message rude and unacceptable and fired off a reply.
You’re a tool.
His response came ten seconds later.
You’re just bitter because you’re fat.
Kate stared down at her phone as if it somehow held an explanation for the bizarre exchange. She was so deep in thought that the scrape of a chair being pulled back startled her.
“It would never have worked out,” Ian said, sitting down across from her. “You were already fighting over e-mail.”
“We were not fighting. We were having a discussion. And how would you know?”
“Loves cooking, animals, and long hikes in the woods? Please. Do you want to know what Kent really loves? Threesomes. Kent loves threesomes. Also hard-core porn and occasionally cocaine. Is this the dating pool you want to swim around in? I mean really, Katie.”