“Oh my god. I’m a complete fucking moron.” And while it’s definitely not the first time I’ve thought those words, it might be the most mortifying. “In my defense, I was completely wasted at the time.”

“I don’t think that’s a defense.”

“I’m so sorry for wasting your time.” I sling my purse over my shoulder, preparing to make a hasty retreat because oh my god, could things get any worse?

“It’s not a waste of time if you’re in the market for a roommate.” He slides a piece of paper across the table.

I don’t want to be rude—or ruder—so I take it, though I have no intention of moving in with a strange guy I’ve never met before, app background check be damned. I pretend to peruse the specs on his sheet before breaking the news gently. “I wish I could, but my career is based in Midtown and honestly, I couldn’t afford anywhere in Park Slope.” The words have barely cleared my mouth when I see his asking price. His ridiculously low, must-be-missing-a-zero asking price. “Wait, does that say . . .”

This time I let my eyes actually take in the information printed in front of me. Words leap off the page. Words like “brownstone.” “Chef’s kitchen.” “Backyard.”

Straight-up real estate porn.

“Okay, now I know I’m being punk’d.” I tear my eyes away from the tantalizing details to study Jack, whom I’m suddenly seeing in a whole new light. An I-could-live-with-this-man-in-exchange-for-a-backyard light.

Jack averts his gaze from mine. “You’re not being punk’d.”

“So you’re a serial killer, then?” I can’t resist going back in for another look at the flyer. Is there anything sexier to a New Yorker than a hot real estate listing?

“Definitely not.”

“But you’re renting a room in a brownstone for a pittance and you just happen to want me to move in with you? Why me?” We all know it has nothing to do with my sparkling personality.

He takes a sip from his coffee, and it seems to give him the fortitude he’s so far been lacking. Jack raises his eyes. “Honestly? You seem like the kind of person who likes to laugh. And I need some laughter in my life.”

And something about those words, the sincerity in his gaze when it finally meets mine, well, it almost comes close to warming my cold, cold heart.

But I can’t let anyone know that.

I toss my hair over my shoulder. “I’m quite witty, as you’ve probably already noted.”

“Hmm.” His answer is noncommittal, but he almost sort of smiles. He folds up his file and stashes it in his bag. “So do you want to come see the place? It’s just a couple of blocks from here.”

“Sure.” Picking up my phone, I snap his photo before opening my group text.