12 Steps to Mr. Right

by Cindi Madsen

  “I’m not suggesting he hang out with your friends right away. But if you’ve been dating for a while and he’s really against it, it shows an aversion to making you and your relationship part of his life.”

  I clicked to the next slide, since putting them all on one made them too hard to read.

  - Never remembers anything you say

  - He’s often unreachable

  - Makes you feel bad about yourself

  “Let’s face it,” I said, pointing to the bullet point about being unreachable. “We live in a world where it’s easy to get a hold of one another. A little space now and then is normal guy behavior, but even then a quick text back shows he cares. As for the last one…”

  Just seeing it sent alternating surges of empathy and anger through me. “If you only learn one thing from my workshop, please let it be this.” I paused for a beat. “If he constantly criticizes you, he’s a jerk. If he turns everything into your fault, or makes you feel bad about your body, dump him. Everyone deserves to be in a relationship with someone who treats them like an irreplaceable treasure. Not someone they own. But someone they can’t wait to be with.”

  I let that sink in for a moment, and then I sat on the edge of the table. “Some of you are probably thinking that you already knew about those red flags. Often our hearts are already involved, though, which makes it hard to simply say ‘You’re a jerk’ and walk away. Which is why I would rather teach you to spot that type of guy before your heart’s involved. Which brings us to tonight’s field trip…

  “I want you to mingle with guys who catch your interest,” I continued, looking over the sea of excited, beautiful faces. “I’ll be watching, so I know it’s a bit weird, but try to act like you usually would. Learning all of the tips and tricks will give you a good foundation, but there’s nothing like seeing them applied in a real life setting.”

  I straightened. “So, what do you say? Are you ready to go looking for red flags and potential guys?”

  …

  Even armed with my steely resolve and self-control, as I gathered my students in front of Azure, I couldn’t help hoping that maybe I’d get lucky and Linc wouldn’t be working. Then I’d be completely distraction free, and not so paranoid about what he was about to witness.

  On the plus side, no guy in his right mind would attempt to hook up with me after this. Since I wasn’t looking for a hook up, the thought really should offer more relief than panic.

  As we pushed inside the bar, I tried to untangle my emotions so I could better analyze them. Regardless of how much I knew better, I cared what Linc thought.

  Because we were friends. Yeah.

  While I’d had reservations about renewing our friendship—and as hard as my attraction to him made keeping myself in check—I enjoyed that we were slowly getting back to us. That was why I’d missed him. Why I cared about his opinion of me.

  As if he could sense I was thinking about him, Linc’s blue eyes found me across the crowd. A tiny fissure formed in my resolve, and I turned to address my team. Focus was going to be the name of the game tonight.

  “Remember, this is all about learning. There are no wrong moves, and mistakes are just proof you’re trying. Go mingle, and good luck!”

  The place was packed, and I noticed a lot of guys’ heads perk up when the women moved farther into the bar. Ah, yes. Try to hit on them. Let’s sort the jerks from the good guys, and the boys from the men.

  Eyes peeled, I slowly made my way toward the bar. I hesitated when I spotted one of the ladies talking to a GQ type. Callie lowered her chin and shyly tucked her dark hair behind her ear, and Mr. GQ’s eyes dropped to her cleavage.

  You get three seconds, buddy, and then you better get your eyes back where they belong. Callie looked up and said something. He continued to stare at her cleavage for another couple of seconds, bringing his total to about six. Not good.

  Ivy was working the floor tonight, and Mr. GQ snapped his fingers at her as she walked past. Ivy kept on going as if she hadn’t seen him, but the stiff set of her shoulders made it clear she’d noticed him calling her over like a dog.

  I maneuvered closer to the table in time to hear him say, “The service here is horrible. How hard is it to stop and take a drink order?”

  At that I went ahead and plopped down on the stool next to Callie. His gaze dropped to the neckline of my dress and lingered, a canary-eating grin spread across his face. “Two beautiful women. Looks like I’m in for a fun night.”

  “Sorry,” I said. “I’m afraid you failed.” I turned to Callie. “Did you notice any red flags?”

  Her eyes went wide and she whispered, “Here? I mean I saw them, but should I really say them in front of him?”

  “If you’re uncomfortable, we can step away.”

  “Hey now. You just got here.” The guy put his hand over hers. “Maybe we should find someone more fun than her to share a drink with. What do you think of the blonde in the corner?”

  The concern leaked out of Callie’s expression and the line of her jaw hardened. “He paid more attention to my cleavage than my face, and he was rude to the waitress. A person who’s not nice to a waiter is not a nice person.”

  Pride radiated through me. “You get all the gold stars, Callie. I’d suggest finding another guy to talk to.”

  We both hopped up and Mr. GQ looked completely baffled, his mouth hanging open like a fish that’d just been yanked out of the water. “You know what? A huge group of women came in a few minutes ago. I don’t need either of you.”

  “Good luck,” I said, and then added a huge canary-eating grin of my own. “You’ll need it.”

  Tony, the manager of the bar, gave me a stern look from across the room, his bushy salt and pepper eyebrows turning from two to one solid line—he rarely came out from the back, but he always seemed to manage it during my field trips. I put on my most innocent, remember-how-much-you-love-me look and blew him a kiss.

  Pretty sure he was grumbling as he melted back into the crowd, but as usual, he let it slide. I liked to think it was all my charm, but I knew alcohol sales were a big part of it.

  I checked on a few of my other attendees, and when I saw that Eliza was talking to a guy who checked a lot of right boxes, I gathered some of my girls and pointed out the good signals so they could witness them firsthand. Or secondhand—whatever it was when you were sort of spying for educational purposes.

  Then I sent off my spies on recon missions of their own, nudging them toward a circle of friendly-looking men.

  Halfway through the room, a guy asked if he could buy me a drink.

  “Thanks so much, but I’m working.” As a general rule, I didn’t look for potential Mr. Rights for myself on field trip nights, but this one was handsome enough to make me reconsider that rule—especially since my last few dates hadn’t gone so well. “I’m Savannah.”

  “Stanton,” he said, extending his hand and giving mine a firm shake. He even maintained eye contact the entire time.

  “Nice to meet you, Stanton. I’ll be a bit distracted for the next hour, but if you’re still around at the end of the night, I’ll buy you a drink. Deal?”

  “Sure,” he said, and then he headed toward the bar.

  When I felt the hand on my back I assumed Stanton had returned, but when I spun around, Linc stood there instead, an empty tray tucked under one arm.

  “Hey,” I said, and my stupid voice came out way too breathy.

  “Looks like you’re out here coaching your ass off.”

  I sunk my teeth into my bottom lip, but it didn’t stop a smile from breaking free. “That’s right. I’m doing whatever it takes to make sure my team wins tonight.”

  He nodded, and an awkward beat passed, like there was too much unsaid between us to leave enough room to actually say anything. My fingers couldn’t stop fiddling with the belt of my dress, even though it didn’t really hold anything up—it accentuated the waist nicely, though. Especially important with a big floral print.

>   Linc gestured to the busy room and opened his mouth, most likely to say he needed to get back to work, and all of a sudden, my mouth was moving and spewing out words. “By the way, the other night at the club, I didn’t hook up with anyone. Not that you need to…it’s just that I realized my text probably made it sound like I was there to find a one-night kinda dude, but I meant that other people go there for that. Ivy wanted to dance, and Wednesday is ladies’ night, so we went to blow off some steam. I’m not a hookup type girl.”

  Since it took that long for my brain to catch up to my mouth and scream to stop talking, I hadn’t registered his stunned, raised eyebrow expression till now. Ugh. Why’d I tell him all that?

  “I know,” Linc said. “I didn’t think that you were.”

  “Ever?” Maybe that’d explain what had happened that night over spring break. I wasn’t sure if his saying that he used to would make me feel better or worse.

  “Never.”

  My heart gave a painful squeeze and I put a hand over it, as if that might help. “Then why’d you—crap, I gotta take care of this red flag.”

  I’d almost asked him why he’d treated me like one, which wasn’t letting go of the past and pushing away the baggage like I said I was going to do. It also wasn’t sticking to the just friends topics.

  A few seconds more, and I might’ve screwed up our fragile renewed friendship and made everything more complicated than it needed to be. Saved by the red flag.

  I approached Emmalee and the guy she was chatting up. “Hi,” I said, leaning a hip against the table and peering down at the shaggy-haired dude in question. “Could you stand up for me?”

  His dark eyebrows crinkled.

  “I know it’s a bit of a weird request. Just indulge me. I’ll even pay for your next drink.” Nothing like using my soothing voice and the allure of a free drink to get a guy to tie his own noose—it worked every time.

  He stood, and I turned to Emmalee. “See it?”

  She studied him for a moment. “I…I’m sorry, I don’t.”

  “His shirt.”

  He looked down at the shirt, with its skull, crossed swords in the place of bones, and the white surrender the booty lettering. “What? It’s funny.”

  “Maybe. But it also says that you’re not interested in a serious relationship.” I raised my eyebrows. “Or am I wrong? Are you looking for a nice girl to settle down with?”

  He swallowed, the gesture looking like it took great effort. “I plan on settling down someday. When I’m ready. If the right girl comes along.”

  “That’s what I thought.”

  The last traces of shock and discomfort faded, a grumpy cloud settling over him instead. “Jeez, lady, I just came for a drink. I stood, so where is it?” I turned, caught Linc’s eye, and gestured him over. “A beer for the guy in the booty shirt on my tab, please.”

  “Sure.” Linc tilted his head toward the other side of the room. “Come with me to the bar?”

  “Your choice if you want to keep talking to him,” I said to Emalee, “but think about your goals and if that’d be in line with them.”

  She headed over to a group of my attendees who’d set up at a table, and I followed Linc to the bar, wondering why he asked me to do so, and wondering even more why I went along with it so easily.

  Linc flipped up the tap and amber liquid filled the tipped glass in his hand. “You’d rule out a guy based on his shirt alone?”

  “Shirts are statements, and he chose that one. It’s kind of like when you used to wear your ‘Free licks’ T-shirt to campus.”

  He closed the tap and turned his full attention on me. “What?”

  “Oh, come on,” I said, and I might’ve accidentally added an eye roll. “Don’t tell me you don’t remember that shirt.”

  “I’m surprised you do.”

  “Girls would come up and tell you they wanted to take you up on the offer. Kind of hard to forget something like that.” It was permanently burned into my memory. How they’d giggle and he’d smile and flirt, and I stood by, thinking someday he’d realize he didn’t want girls like that but me instead.

  Two creases formed between his eyebrows. “I…”

  I waved it off like it wasn’t a big deal so it wouldn’t turn into one. “It’s okay. I know that’s just who you are.”

  “Used to be,” he said.

  I shrugged and relieved him of the glass of beer. “I’ll deliver this and still tip you for it.”

  “Yeah. ’Cause that’s what I’m worried about.” Frustration edged his words. Surely I hadn’t offended him. With both of us currently working, too much was going on to stop and have a heart to heart about it with him right now. Besides, I wasn’t going to apologize for knowing how to properly read signs now.

  I set the beer down in front of Surrender Your Booty Boy, who looked a little downtrodden and lonely sitting there by himself, and for a second, I actually felt bad.

  He was wearing the shirt, though. I hadn’t told him to put it on. And I’d given him a free beer. I was helping women, and I refused to feel guilty about it.

  But when I glanced back at Linc and he quickly looked away, an icky sensation I didn’t quite understand rose and took up residence in my gut.

  Chapter Eighteen

  The past few days had been filled with meeting a new client, a practice date with another, and a whole lot of overanalyzing Saturday night.

  At the end of the field trip, I’d gathered my attendees, summarized the red flags and good signs we saw, and told them they could stay and drink, or that I’d see them next Saturday.

  After the crowd cleared, I’d caught sight of Surrender Your Booty Boy and his still-mopey expression. Despite my best attempts to ignore it, I couldn’t completely smother the worry that I hadn’t given him the fairest of shakes. A shirt like that wasn’t the hugest red flag. And maybe—just maybe—with Linc nearby, my seek-red-flags-and-destroy sensor might’ve been working overtime.

  So even though I was right about his lack of interest in commitment, I went over to him and asked, “How’s your IQ?”

  Distrust and disgust battled it out on his features. “Really? Are you hitting on me now?”

  I bit back the “never in a million years” response I wanted to make and pushed on with my attempt to be nice. “No. But the hot blond bartender isn’t looking to settle down, either. Go impress her with your intellect and maybe you’ll snag yourself what you’re looking for.”

  Ivy could handle herself, and the guy was attractive, so maybe he’d be a good fit for the temporary fun she wanted right now. He didn’t strike me as the type to smother her with phone calls and needy texts, either, so win-win.

  With that done, I approached the guy who offered me a drink earlier that night and bought him one, as promised. He was a lawyer. Motivated, smart, and a touch arrogant, but the main problem wasn’t with him. It was me. I couldn’t stop looking at Linc, who seemed intent on ignoring me.

  When the lawyer offered to buy the next round, I thanked him but called it a night. Since he possessed a lot of promising attributes, I almost added that I’d love to grab another drink sometime, but my mouth wouldn’t form the words. Might’ve been the lump that’d taken up residence in my throat.

  Tuesday morning, and I was still thinking about it. I’d thought about it on my walk to the Daily Grind, then I sat down with my coffee, ignored the laptop propped open in front of me, and thought about it all over again. Linc hadn’t called or texted, and I hadn’t reached out to him. I lifted my phone and ran my thumb over the smooth glass, thinking I should text. Say something. If only I could decide what.

  I miss you.

  Whoa, not that. It’s too needy and implies more than friendship.

  “Savannah?”

  I lowered my phone too quickly, like I’d been caught doing something I shouldn’t—which was probably close to the truth, considering. “Abigail. Hey.” I shut my laptop and gestured for her to sit across the table from me. “How are you?”
>
  “Good.”

  “And how was Saturday night?” I asked, mentally crossing my fingers. She’d had her date with the programmer, and we set up this meeting to deal with however it’d gone.

  “Well, he complimented my looks, which was nice, and the dark theater definitely made it easier not to worry about every movement I made. At first I was freaking out because the movie I chose was seriously so awful, but as we left the theater, he said he loved it.” Her lip curled, making it clear how she felt about that. “So then I really had no idea what to say, and when I mentioned a plot hole, he seemed to take personal offense to it.”

  Abigail smoothed a hand down her cute floral skater skirt and then folded her hands in her lap. “Despite how much we had in common online, we didn’t click at all in person.”

  Part of me wondered if more dates would fix that, but that was a tricky line. I didn’t want her to have too many bad dates in a row, and I didn’t want to push her to keep dating someone she wasn’t interested in. Some guys did get weird if you thought their beloved movies had flaws, so that wasn’t really a red flag, although it might signal that he didn’t know how to disagree or argue fairly. But again, far too soon to tell.

  “Don’t get me wrong, I love online gaming, too,” Abigail continued, “but he made a bunch of programmer jokes, and when I explained that I didn’t know enough about coding to get it, he gave this exhausted sigh and talked to me like I was stupid.”

  Okay, that tipped him to the no side. After her last experience, she needed a guy who realized how amazing she was.

  I opened my mouth to tell her that setbacks were common, but we could move past them, learn from the bad dates, and try again.

  “That’s why, when Reid told me he’d be at Piedmont Park Sunday morning, and that I should meet him there, I almost said no.”

  “Reid? The other guy you’ve been chatting with? For some reason I thought it was Sam.”

  “Sam was the other guy, and we’ve exchanged a few messages, but remember the note that popped up the day you were on my computer?”

  “The rugged sporty guy?”