Ryan stared at the rigid woman in front of him, sitting straight like a jukebox with palms folded on top of each other, her eyes looking intently at the tablecloth, as if finding the embroidered fabric so fascinating. He took his time to eye her. She was of reasonable height, thinly built with glossy blond hair parted to the left of her face, displaying dangling silver earrings. If he could describe her, she would be classified as pretty but definitely not his type. Ryan’s style would be petite, with voluptuous breasts that would fit right into his hands. This woman couldn’t be more than an A-cup.

“So,” he said, trying...