For a moment, I dare to hope the guy at the speed dating table just looks like Trent Baron—the same piercing blue eyes, but with more tattoos than my meathead nemesis from college.
But it’s him all right.
Only he isn’t the cocky football player who drove me crazy freshman year anymore. He’s funny and intense and a single dad who adores his little girl and maybe…perfect for me?
Is that still something I believe in after my own ugly divorce?
I’m not sure. And I have a firm rule—no dating guys I used to fantasize about strangling.