Bachelor number three was Kintano Kind. That was the singlelite’s name. His looks were unbearably handsome, and everything I liked in a man. He looked shy in his chocolate-colored skin, amber-brown eyes, thin eyebrows, deep cleft in chin, onyx-colored buzz cut, six-two frame, one-hundred and ninety pounds of all muscle, thick neck, thick shoulders, and his GQ smile. You couldn’t read a man’s soul by just how he looked, though. Every guy out there knows that, which made my three-minute date with the man intriguing.

“Kintano Kind,” he said, shaking my hand.

“Adam Schultz.”

I told him what I did for a living, how old I was, and that I rather liked dark-skinned men.

He said he was twenty-nine-years-old, worked with autistic children, had a degree in social health from Temple, and was the youngest of seven brothers.

“Jesus, that’s a lot of testosterone, Kintano.”

He laughed. “You have any siblings?”

I shook my head.

“What are your hobbies?”

“Running. Planning trips. Eating southern food. House-sitting.”

“I’m from the south,” he said.

“Which state?”

“Georgia.”

“Atlanta?”

He nodded.

“You don’t look gay.”

“I like white dick, if that’s what you’re getting at,” he said, and chuckled thereafter.

“I’m rather fond of black dick,” I admitted.

He winked at me in a seductive manner.

I winked back. “You’re unbearably cute, Mr. Kind.”

“And you’re my type,” he said, grinning with a bright-white smile.

“You work out?” I inquired.

“Three times a week. How about you?”

“I run about four times a week, or try to.”

“You’re as white as I am black.”

“I have some Irishman in me.”

“Would you like some black in you?” he quipped, teasing me.

“Are you flirting with me, Kintano?”

He raised both eyebrows, which explained interest in my question. “White on chocolate ... I like that.”

“How about chocolate inside white? What do you say?”

“I say we click, Adam.”

“Schultz,” I corrected him. “Everyone calls me Schultz.”

He shook his head. “I’m calling you Adam.”

I was about to say something smart to him but Tina ended our short romance with her bell-ringing and I moved to the next table where bachelor number four sat.

* * * *

I dated all fifteen men and thought Kintano an adequate fit for me. As I pondered my short period of time with the social worker, Quiver left The Brat House and went home with his red-headed professor. Jason was pulled out of the bar and whisked to a different part of the city by a military man named Copen. Once alone, Kintano found me near the concession stand and said, “Hey, it’s you again.”

“Schultz,” I said.

“You mean Adam,” he corrected, and handed a napkin to me. “That’s my cell number. Call or text me. I really want to go out with you.”

“What about tonight? The night is young. What do you say?”

He shook his head and said, “No can do.”

“You hiding a white boyfriend at home?”

He laughed. “Not quite.”

“Suit yourself,” I said, maybe a little dismayed that he didn’t want to spend a few more hours with me.

Before vanishing from my side, he moved up to me, brushed a finger along my chin, and whispered, “You’re sexy as hell, dog walker.”

“I really don’t try to be.”

“You wear it well, my new friend.”

Before I knew what was happening, he clutched his arms around, pressed his hulking chest against my chest, and dabbed a kiss to my right cheek.

Truth was, I felt crushed against his massive size, but really didn’t care. The outline of his cock in his denim jeans pressed against my leg. His biceps were inflated with numerous veins and aligned to my sides. His breath was minty fresh and proved he was a non-smoker.

When the hug and light kiss ended, I said, “Your skin smells like hot chocolate.”

He shrugged a massive shoulder and replied, “I’ll take what I can get, man. Thanks for the hug.”