The male brain is a weird organ. I was at a concrete risk of dying a very painful death, and I had the time to check out Medusa’s unexpectedly racy panties as she came to my rescue. The bright pink lace was kind of hard to ignore, given the unfortunate perspective, but still, my pesky encephalon’s priorities are definitely skewed.

Because your brain is not the organ you were thinking with, a nasty little voice says in my head.

Right. And I’d better not brood over a woman’s lingerie when I’m about to meet another one for the first time. Now is the moment to concentrate on tonight, and the surely delightful Miss Bishop.

The hostess stops next to the blonde, saying, “This is your table, Mr. Ewing,” and then leaves.

The mysterious Miss Bishop turns her face up and our eyes meet for the first time. Hers are a dark blue-green shade, and she is… honestly, a very beautiful woman. Fresh-faced, without too much makeup on, and with an open, friendly expression. And when she beams at me in welcome, two cute dimples appear at the sides of her mouth.

She gets up, saying, “Hi.” Then she smiles again and blushes a little, adding, “Sorry, I’m nervous. I’m not used to, you know, all this.” She waves at me and the table. “But a friend convinced me I had to give Listen to Your Heart a try, so here we are. I don’t even know how we should greet. A handshake seems too formal, and a hug too forward?”

The blabbered introduction puts me immediately at ease. Miss Bishop is just another human being who has been roped into joining a dating agency by her pushy friends.

“I’m fine with a hug, if you are?”

She nods, and we share the briefest of embarrassed hugs.

I push her chair in for her, then move to the other side of the table, sit down, and place my napkin on my legs.

“All right, Miss Bishop, I believe we’re now allowed to share our real names. I’m Lucas—Luke.”

“I’m Meadow.”

“What a pretty name. I love it.”

She blushes again. “Thanks.”

“I hope you like the restaurant I picked. The menu is mostly meat, but the agency assured me you’re an omnivore.”

Meadow chuckles. “This place is perfect, and steak is my favorite. And, oh, gosh, can you believe the list of diets on that questionnaire? I wasn’t sure what half of them were.”

Okay, Garrett, maybe you had a point, and this dating agency idea isn’t so crazy after all.

“I know, right?” I say. “Can I ask you something?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“Why did you pick the alias of Bishop? Is it a famous name?”

“Bridget Bishop was the first witch hanged at the Salem trials.”