That reminds me, I’m supposed to let Eli or Arielle know where I’m going when I go out on a date. Safety first. Arielle has still been swamped at work all week, so I send Eli a quick message . . .

Riley: First date with app guy, Mark. Meeting in public at Alex Lighthouse at five thirty. I’ll text when I’m home.

Eli: So I should expect your text in the morning? Don’t do anything or anyone I wouldn’t do.

Riley: <eye roll emoji, kiss emoji>

Eli’s instruction leaves me more than enough room to do anything I would want to because I’m not half as crazy as he is.

I grab my purse and look back at my apartment, just in case we do ‘happen’ to end up here. I’m pleased as always with what I find. Sure, it’s not the biggest. It’s just a one-bedroom place. But it’s in a nice complex in a good part of town, within walking distance of a nice supermarket, and best of all, I don’t have to break the budget on a monthly basis for it.

“Wish me luck, Raffy. Don’t wait up!” I sing-song as I pull the door closed behind me, checking the lock. As I head to my little yellow Volkswagen bug, with sunshine hubcaps, of course, my brain replays my messages with Mark over and over. I’m looking for red flags I might’ve missed, but I mostly end up smiling as I remember funny things he’s said.

There’s something about Mark that tells me he’s one of a kind and that where we don’t match, we compliment. We fill gaps, as someone once said. I’ve got gaps, he’s got gaps, and together, we’ve filled gaps.

Now let’s see if we want to fill those gaps that haven’t been filled properly in a long time.

Riley Ann! I yell at myself. But truthfully, I don’t feel embarrassed or ashamed about my naughty thoughts. After last night, I might have to hold myself back from Mark if he’s half as amazing as I think he is.

I cross my fingers that it’s the case, and I start my car and head to the bookstore, hope blooming the whole way there.

Driving toward the bookstore, I try to be present in the moment. Briar Rose is a beautiful town with crape myrtle trees blooming in pinks and whites in the medians, families playing in the park as I pass, and people walking the sidewalks.

It’s not small, though. We have a bustling downtown and rail system that’ll get you anywhere in town easily.

The sun is shining, there’s not a cloud in the blue sky, and I’m on my way to meet Mark.

It doesn’t get any better than this right here, enjoying the moment and on the precipice of something possibly great.

Stopping at the Iron Bridge, I decide to skip the radio today and instead tap my phone quickly. “Play audiobook Baby Daddy.”

“Playing audiobook file,” my phone replies, and I have to grin. Voice control’s a lot easier than tapping at a screen while I drive, that’s for sure. Safer, too. Although my insurance agent would probably have a heart attack if he knew I was driving along while listening to a romance audiobook.

But I’ve been reading and listening to a lot of romance lately. At first, it was just to live a bit vicariously since my own love life is so nonexistent, but after chatting with Mark for the past week, I’ve been drawn into the steamier side of romance once again. I even imagine that the voice actor playing the lead in this audiobook is what Mark sounds like.

And as the book gets steamier and hotter, I imagine Mark telling me things like he did last night. Much more explicit things . . . what he wants to do to me, what he wants me to do to him, what we can do together.

Whew! I turn up the air conditioning a notch because with the sunshine beating down through the windows, it’s getting hot in here. Yeah, that must be it.

Suddenly, my book stops, and a ringing tone comes over my speakers. “Mom calling.”

Ugh. Okay, okay . . . well, that’s what I get for having my phone synced with my car’s audio system. Mom can interrupt a hot romance with a phone call. Reaching over, I tap the green button on my screen. “Hey, Mom.”

“Hi, honey,” Mom says, like she starts every phone call since I moved out of the house. “How’s my baby girl doing on this beautiful afternoon?”

“Ah, Mom, you mind if I call you back?” I ask as I turn down Vine, a half-mile from the bookstore. “I’m in the car. You know, safety?”

Okay, I do feel a little guilty about trying to claim safety when I was just listening to a guy talking about what his mouth and tongue were doing on his lover’s body twenty seconds ago . . . but not too guilty. Mothers ruin date moods. It’s a universal law. Besides, I don’t want to tell her, but I also don’t want to lie to her.

“Aw, honey, okay, that’s fine,” Mom complains before sighing. “You still coming over soon?”

“I sure am,” I tell her. “I’m volunteering with Arielle a lot right now, but I’ll come over as soon as I can. I’ll let you know.”

“Good. I can’t wait to see you. We can play in the garden.”

Oh, no. Mom said ‘play’, and of course my phone’s voice controller’s still turned on. And with the nice speakers in my little bug of a car, my phone decides to start playing my book again.

I try to turn it off, but I’m in stop-and-go traffic and can’t seem to close it.

"What’s that? Is someone with you?” I can hear the interest through every syllable, the hope in her tone.

“Ah . . . just someone next to me, Mom. Their windows are down and they’re yelling into their phone, that’s all.”

“Oh, okay,” Mom says as I scramble to try and turn off the book without rear-ending the pickup truck in front of me.

I manage to hit a button, and thankfully, not the truck because that hitch would destroy my cute car, but it’s not the ‘stop’ button. Instead, I guess I hit the fast forward because my car fills with the sound of . . . oh, sweet Jesus.

“Yes! Yes! Fuck me, fuck me harder!”

“Riley, what is THAT?!” Mom screeches as the blood drains out of my face.

“Ah . . . sound file,” I reply, tapping the phone again, but nothing happens. “I had an . . . audiobook up.”

“She spasms underneath me, her sweet, silken pussy milking my cock of every last drop—” my radio continues, and I groan, my brain going into circuit overload. Why can’t I get this damn audiobook to stop?

Mom is on a roll. “I know you are a grown woman, but your choice of books could use work, Riley!”

Swallowing my pride and feeling my face burn, I grit my teeth. “Turn off Baby Daddy!”

The partial silence that fills my car is a relief until Mom sighs heavily, letting me know the call’s still connected.

“Mom, it’s just a—” I start, but she’s not having any of it.

“Riley, I thought I raised you better than that. To be driving while listening to . . . that,” she complains. “You could have gotten into an accident! And to think, what would you tell the police? Oh, I’m sorry, Officer, that I got into an accident. I was too busy listening to porn.”

It’s not porn. I know that, but there’s no sense in explaining to Mom. And as if that’s bad enough, she’s not done.

“Or worse, what if you were trapped in the car and they had to cut you out? You’d have that smut playing while they’re trying to help you. At least tell me you have on clean underwear?”