“Where did you get these pictures?”
“I dunno. Stuff we all did together, random shots. That one there, I cropped out of a group pic. Actually, I think Logan took it and sent it to us all. The rest of the photo was a bit blurry, but you were pin sharp.” Katie found the original picture on her own phone, and showed it to Harriet.
“It’s a fluke, you were in focus.” Logan laughed. “All my pics are blurry, including my selfies.”
Harriet liked it a lot. It was a snap of her on the dance floor at Jackson’s, and must have been taken in the summer because she had a golden tan and was wearing a halter top.
“Well, I approve of the choices, as none of them make me look like an old maid or desperate.”
“You are neither of those things.” Katie laughed. “Is she, Logan?”
“No.” Logan leaned forward and picked up his wine glass to sip at it. He momentarily gazed out the window, and as Harriet studied his profile, she remembered their conversation from last weekend. “Oh, I wanted to add something to my profile. Um, to say something about the type of man I am looking for. Hmm, now what was it you said last Sunday, Logan?”
“That I send women to sleep?”
Harriet rolled her eyes at him. “No, the thing about having strong shoulders for crying on and being a good listener? I want a man who can be there for me. Can you put that in there, Katie?”
Katie grimaced. “Hmm, Tinder doesn’t quite work like that. It might just put guys off as it makes you sound like you’ll be sobbing into your drink every night and will be whining on about all your exes.”
“It does?”
Katie went to Harriet’s profile selection. “Why don’t we leave it like this for now? Keep it light.” Katie handed the phone back to Harriet.
Harriet took her phone and read through what Katie had written.
Job: Arranging peoples’ stuff
Hobby: Arranging my friends’ stuff
I love arranging guys’ stuff, too, so if you aspire to artfully arranged stuff, swipe right, and if the date doesn’t go well, at least your crib will look cool!
“Oh God, that is truly terrible,” Harriet said, as she cringed.
“Okay, well, you can change it, but don’t put anything mopey on there, it’s supposed to be fun and flirty. Right now, how about we get to the best bit.” Katie grabbed a slice of pizza and looked over Harriet’s shoulder. “Let’s look at your matches, and you can decide who to keep or sweep.”
“Um, maybe I need a drink first.” Marlow leaped on the coffee table and sniffed at the pizza box. Harriet grabbed the ginger tom and put the cat on her knee. “Come here, puss, you can help me decide.” She stroked his silky fur and the cat settled down, and promptly went to sleep.
Logan reached over her and clicked on guy number one: Nick P. “Huh, what does the P stand for—prick?” he muttered.
Katie giggled at the guy in the picture who was holding, for some unfathomable reason, a pair of oranges. “I thought he was kind of cute.”
“Huh, but why the fruit?” Harriet squinted at him. He was a little young, perhaps still in college. Pleasant enough to look at, with a somewhat cocky expression on his face. She read his profile out loud. “I prefer my melons like oranges. Like my shirt? Your oranges would look good in it.” She frowned. “I don’t get it. What on earth does that mean?”
Logan almost spat out his wine. “Like I said, the P is for prick. X him.”
Katie giggled. “I think Nick P. might be referring to the size of breasts he likes.”
“Ugh, Katie, I thought you said you pre-selected these guys.”
“Oh, I never read the profiles. Just weeded them out by their looks, or the state of their rooms.”
Harriet rolled her eyes and clicked the X.
The next guy’s picture was him with his dog. The somewhat ugly and fat hound licked at the man’s nose. Harriet X-ed him immediately.
“What was wrong with that guy?”
“I didn’t like the dog.”
“Harry, you can’t dump a cute guy just because his dog isn’t pretty enough. It might not even have been his dog!” Katie exclaimed.
“But I prefer cats, don’t I, Marlow?” The ginger cat opened one eye and gave Harriet an approving look.
A new face came on the screen. This guy was leaning on the hood of his Mercedes. ”X,“ Harriet said, and she swiped left without a second thought.
“You didn’t even look at him.”
“I’m off guys with Mercs.”
“Not every guy with a Mercedes is like Nigel. Come on, Logan, help me out here, there will be no one left in a minute.” Katie looked around Harriet at Logan for support.
He picked up his wine and the pizza box. “Seems to me, Harriet is doing a great job by herself. Why don’t we go eat this over there and let her make her own selections?”
Harriet grinned up at him. “Thanks.”
He smiled back at her. “You’re welcome.”
Logan
Three Weeks Later…
Logan stared at the table where Harriet sat with her first Tinder date. Harriet was leaning forward, laughing over something her date said, which didn’t seem forced, but Logan couldn’t work out what she saw in him—the guy was too clean-shaven, his hair too short, and his dress shoes too shiny.
For weeks, she’d been agonizing over the men that had liked her photograph on Tinder—there had been a lot. No surprise there, as Harriet was very attractive. She’d shown him a few, and even asked his opinion, but Logan found he was just wishing she’d X them all.
Logan scrutinized the guy she’d eventually settled on. Talk about stiff. He really didn’t seem like Harriet’s type at all. The guy sitting next to her now looked like his collar might strangle him at any moment.
“Hey, Logan, can I get
