One perk of short hair is that it takes less time to dry. So, in just under thirty minutes I’m all set and ready to go grab a coffee. Clad in black trousers and a gray knit sweater, casual-wear appropriate for the office, I go meet Diego down the hall and stop dead in my tracks again. Dressed Diego is no less heart-stopping than half-naked Diego. He’s wearing a pair of light-faded jeans that fit his rear side so well they should be made illegal. And his biker jacket does nothing to tone down the sexiness. My mouth goes a little dry—too much sex appeal to handle on an empty stomach and without an ounce of caffeine in my system. I need breakfast.

We opt for the Starbucks around the corner. I order my usual skinny mocha vanilla latte and note that he goes for black coffee, super manly. As for food, we both get glazed donuts. At least he’s not also one of those protein bars, healthy-eater types. I mean, nothing wrong with keeping a healthy diet and exercise routine, but I can’t stand extremists. Julia sort of is a food extremist, but of course, I still love her. She’s my sister; I have to.

“You always get black coffee?” I ask, as we sit at a table by the window.

“No, sometimes I venture into the wild lands of cappuccinos. Why?”

“Just trying to learn your habits. We should know these things about each other since we’re”—I make air quotes—“dating. Skinny mocha vanilla lattes are my poison, and I prefer Starbucks.”

“So you order fat-free milk, but a side of glazed, fried pastry is okay?”

I shrug. “Coffee tastes as good without the fatty milk and sugary syrup. Can’t say the same about donuts.” And to show my appreciation, I take a huge bite.

Diego smiles. “Duly noted.” He rolls his coffee cup between his hands a few times, turning pensive.

“What?” I prompt him.

“Can I ask you one last time why you’re doing this?”

“I already told—”

“Yeah, you need a date for the holidays. But… can I be honest?”

“Sure.”

“Before getting to know you, I thought you had to have a major issue that scared men away or something, but spending the last few days together, you don’t seem that…”

“Crazy?” I supply. “Well, thanks,” I say, irritated.

“Don’t get me wrong, I’m not trying to insult you. I only want to understand why a woman like you needs to hire someone to be her date.”

My nostrils flare. “And by ‘a woman like me’ you mean?”

“Beautiful, smart, with a successful career, and with no clear social awkwardness… You shouldn’t have any problems finding a man the traditional way.”