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one had a great smile with a dimple creasing one square cheek and perfect teeth. Wavy black hair and the golden-brown skin of mixed heritage. He wore a white linen shirt in the profile picture and dressed nice, downplaying a stellar body that did show up in one of three pictures: the one of him surfing. The others showed him with children hanging from his burly shoulders and on a construction job in a tool belt and a hard hat.
    Dear God. She’d always had a thing for tool belts.
    He was probably not that bright, between the surfing, tool belt, and handsome looks. She clicked on About.
    He’d been to college. Her eyebrows rose.
    He had a degree in architecture and currently ran “a family-owned construction business.” Liked blues guitar, classic rock, and discussions about “the things that really matter in life, like building dreams, being true, family, and friendship.” Wanted to meet someone who doesn’t need me, but wants me anyway. A woman who is her own person, does her own thing, and knows her own mind. Message me if you are that person .
    She wasn’t messaging anybody. No matter how gorgeous. Or family oriented. Who liked classic rock and discussing dreams and being true. Who wore a tool belt and had been to college.
    No.
    She was going on another blind date and letting the farce continue, because much as she liked the look of this guy, he wanted someone who wanted to “be true,” and she sure as hell wasn’t.
    She signed up for another Crazy Blind Date tomorrow night. The computer sent her a match, extending the misery by providing only a question mark instead of a profile photo, and three choices of when and where to meet. She picked the easiest one and shut down the computer, heading to the shower to have a good wallow in self-pity.

Chapter 5
     
    Adam sat in his jeans and checked his online dating profile before work the next morning. He had six new messages in his in-box. He decided not to answer any of them, to just wait and see what the Crazy Blind Date was like—and he noticed the visitors box was up to fifty-four women.
    Several of them were ones whose profiles he’d visited the night before. He checked his message in-box again. He wondered if this was some sort of weird Internet dating protocol—I look at you; you look at me; one of us makes a move—but he didn’t feel ready to do anything, even for the cute brunette holding a little silver dog. He stared at the screen, pondering and reading over his three Crazy Blind Date place and time choices.
    “Adam, can you pick up some rice at the store on the way home?” his mother called.
    He shut down the computer quickly. He’d said yes to the Crazy Blind choice of a drink at a restaurant/bar in Paia. Couldn’t be that
bad.
  He could always leave right after.
    “Sure, Mama, but don’t bother making dinner. I’m going out after work.” He pulled on another black work tank over his head and grabbed a clean button-down off a hanger for the date.
    “Oh, really?” She didn’t approach his room, but there was no mistaking the hopeful note in her voice. “Got a date? With who?”
    “Mama.” He walked down the hall, kissed her on the cheek as he took down a mug and filled it with coffee. “ It’s not Tami, if that’s what you’re asking.”
    “I wasn’t asking if it was Tami.” His mother scrubbed at a spill on the white enamel stove unnecessarily hard.
    “Mama, Tami and I talked last night. We’re friends, cousins. We just don’t like each other like that.”
    His mother’s shoulders drooped as she held on to the stove with both hands. Was she going to cry? He was horrified.
    “I just want you to be happy. To have someone love you. Like Earl and I had. We had so much love for so long.” She grabbed for the dish towel hanging off a magnetic hook on the side of the stove, covered her face with it.
    “Mama.” He hugged her against his chest. “Ma, it’s okay. I’m okay. Really.” He hated it when she cried, and these