by Gayla Twist
“Where did you go to college?’
“U Mass.”
“For their fabulous bartending program?”
“Ouch, that almost hurt. No, I got the most useless degree in the world—political science—and here I am, wondering what to do next.”
“Besides counseling dateless women.”
“Soon to be formerly dateless women.”
“Could be your new calling: matchmaker to the hopeless.”
His friend Jack had a fabulous house with a big back yard and a beautiful wife who laid out a spread of food that should’ve been photographed and put on a magazine cover. I would have been happy dating her just for the food. But Brady was right, a few interesting friends were there as well, and he made it clear when he introduced me that I was just his pal.
“Go get ‘em champ,” he whispered to me. He went into the house, leaving me outside with Brett the dentist, Tony the roofer, and Zach, who owned a store. We wandered over to a horseshoe pit. I was just glad no real horses were involved. That would certainly have had an ugly outcome.
“Jane’s on my team,” Tony announced. His big, black dog barked his approval and ran over to us.
That made me smile. He was my pick of the bunch, with long, dark hair, a killer tan and muscles to match. And he brought his dog along? I’m in, I thought. I grinned at him. “Confession time, before you tap me for your team.”
“Oh, no. You don’t play for my team?” He tried to look serious.
I playfully whacked him. “I’ve never played horseshoes.”
“Never too late to learn. Let me show you.” He handed me a horseshoe and stood behind me, gripping my hand and showing me how to pull my arm back and throw it toward the pin. I’m certain he could’ve gotten across the points of the game without the up-close-and-personal demonstration, but that was the most man action I’d had in months.
I threw the first shoe and it clanged against the stake and spun around, dropping to the grass.
He high-fived me. “Holy crap, total natural! Knew I was right about you.”
I smacked my hand to my forehead. “All these years neglecting this inborn talent. I could’ve been on my school’s horseshoe team.”
Brady wandered out with beers for us all and watched while Tony and I totally creamed the other team. Tony scooped me up and spun me around. “You’re awesome.” His dog leapt and barked, hoping to join the fun. “Even Winston thinks so.” He patted his dog’s head.
I looked over at Brady, but he wasn’t smiling.
Tony sat next to me at dinner, and we had a competition to see who could eat more ribs. He beat me, but only by two. “You eat more than any girl I’ve ever met.”
“Oh, you sweet talker.” I nudged him with my elbow. My stomach wasn’t rolling like it did at the thought of hooking up with Brady, but I’d be interested in a go-round with Tony.
Seemed like he was thinking the same thing. “My uncle owns the roofing company I work for. He’s having a picnic for us Saturday afternoon. Wanna come and do some damage in the horseshoe pits?”
I opened my mouth, but Brady answered for me. “Don’t you have that charity thing that day? For the sick … cat … society?” He totally faked a cough.
I narrowed my brows, and he fixed me with a stare. “Oh, right. I almost forgot I even signed up for that. How could I have forgotten the Sick Cat Society Gala? Thanks for the reminder. Wouldn’t want to let them down.”
“Maybe some other time,” Tony said, his smile disappearing.
“Don’t worry, I’ve got her number,” Brady said.
Which, clearly, you won’t ever give out, I thought.
We said goodnight, and I couldn’t wait to confront him in the car. “I forgot, are you coming with me to the Sick Cat Charity Gala? Don’t I have to go to the Dermatologist for my mole that day?”
He dropped his head back against the seat. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t let you go out with him.”
I planted my hands on my hips. “You said these were your nice college buddies. That’s why you brought me here, remember?”
“I didn’t know Tony was going to be there. He’s friends with Jack, but he’s not one of my college buddies.”
“And what’s wrong with him?”
“He’s got an arrest record. Drugs.”
Shaking my head, I closed my eyes. “Your men just get better and better. But why don’t you let me go out with him and decide if he’s right for me? People make mistakes. He’s even got a job.”
“Well, his jeans seemed too tight. Doesn’t that bother you?”
I gave him a look. “And why were you checking out his jeans?”
Brady’s face reddened. “What? Well, it was… it was hard to avoid,” he stammered.
“I know. They looked good. Real good.”
He frowned, backing out of the driveway. “I remember being at a party where he was arguing with a woman in the driveway and she left crying.”
“Maybe she just found out someone died.” I pointed at him. “Making a woman cry doesn’t take him out of the running. Not even the arrest record does. I don’t have a man shopping-list like Miranda. My needs are simple. Cute and nice.”
“I can’t vouch for whether he’s nice. I’d have to think jail makes a person not nice. Sorry. I have to say no to this one.” His hands gripped the steering wheel.
“I’m still dateless. Looks like you’re going to be buying me a brand-spankin’-new shirt.”
He ignored me. “I’m not giving up yet. My brother’s birthday is this Saturday. I’m taking the night off and you’re coming.”
“What about the sick cat society? They really need my support.” I clasped my hands in a pleading gesture.
He sighed. “Send them a check. I’m afraid you’re going to have to cancel and spend the night with me.”
I looked out the window and grinned up at the moon.
Miranda came back from the beach a day early. “He started talking about baby names.” She plopped onto my couch and dangled her feet over the armrest.
“At least you can cross beach house off your list.”
“True, true.” She picked up a Cosmo off my coffee table and started flipping through it. “I’m thinking about working on that bartender from last week. Want to go back there tonight?”
With you? Hell, no.
“He’s on vacation this week,” I lied. “We’ll try another time.” I didn’t want her anywhere near my crush. He might not be able to help himself. I changed the subject. “How about a sixth-grade sleepover at my place?”
She popped up and headed for the door. “I’ll bring the spa goodies.”
Miranda came over and we recited every line of Sixteen Candles, while painting each other’s toes. Mr. Mew promptly climbed onto her lap when she settled onto the couch, and tucked a bowl of popcorn between us. Even feline males preferred her company to mine, that traitorous cat. You think Miranda would shove a pill down your throat when you get worms, you beast? No. She wouldn’t.
Our sleepover would’ve been the perfect time to tell her the truth about Brady. But I couldn’t admit I’d finally fallen for a guy—who was trying to set me up with his buddies. Embarrassing. And I didn’t want her pity. It was clear I was just meant to be friends with a guy who I wanted more than a lifetime supply of Godiva. There’s no Valentine’s Day card for that relationship.
On screen, Jake Ryan kissed Samantha, and we both sighed. Then Miranda stretched and shooed my kitty off her lap. “I’m beat,” she said. “Off for some beauty sleep.”
“Ah, if only that’s what it took to look like you.”
She bopped me with her pillow. “Shut up, Jane. You’re adorable.”
“Puppies are adorable.”
“Are we going out tomorrow night? There’s a new bar downtown.”
I wasn’t ready for another night fending off her suitors. And I didn’t know how long I’d be out with Brady. “I can’t. I’m sorry. I’ve got this sick cat charity event to go to.”
>
She eyed me strangely.
I nodded. “It’s for work. Boss’ll be mad if I don’t go.”
“Have fun, if they allow that kind of thing at a sick cat charity event.”
“I’m sure I will.”
“Has everyone been cleared and vetted ahead of time?” I asked Brady, when he picked me up.
“You never know which stragglers might show up. And we’ve got a few oddball cousins who could make an appearance, but I think we’ll be okay.” He gave me a thumbs-up.
I smoothed my sundress, and was glad he didn’t mention my first appearance in a dress. It was a rare day that I slipped on a dress, but I wanted him to see me as someone more than just funny old Jane.
Thus far, he hadn’t seemed to notice.
Plus, we were going to his parents’ house and it’s always good to make a nice first impression, at least in my world of wishful thinking.
We pulled up in front of a rambling old farmhouse outside the city. The party was in full swing under a big, white tent out back, and as we walked over I could see why Brady had brought me. There was indeed a nice collection of men to choose from. I spotted a Brady look-alike, only a few years younger. “Is that your brother?” I asked, jerking my chin in the direction of the keg.
“Yep. Turning twenty-four today.”
“How old are you?”
“Twenty-six.”
I gave him a nudge. “Me, too.”
“I wouldn’t have guessed. You’re nowhere near as mature as me.”
I stuck my tongue out at him, and he led me over to meet his brother. “Tad, this is my friend, Jane.”
He smiled, and it was almost as dreamy as Brady’s. “Nice to meet you. Brady hasn’t brought anyone along in a while. Not since—”
Brady cut him off. “We’re just friends.”
Guess my sundress wasn’t that cute, after all. I stuck out my hand. “Nice to meet you and happy birthday. One more year till you hit your quarter-century crisis. Ready for it? Now that I’m the ripe old age of twenty-six, I can answer any questions to help ease you through this difficult time.” I nodded sagely.
He took a long swig of his beer and crushed the plastic cup. “I know. Depressing. I figure twenty-five is the year I become an adult. I’ll spend the rest of this one partying. Maybe I need the guidance of an older woman to help me through it.” His smile almost killed me.
I didn’t have a chance to do anything but blush.
Brady grabbed me by the elbow. “Come on, I want you to meet my parents.”
“But I was talking to the birthday boy,” I protested as he dragged me away.
He ignored me and waved to a handsome older couple laughing by a big bed of roses. They looked up and smiled. “Brady, darling!” his mother called.
He reached over and kissed his mom and his father patted him on the back. “Mom, Dad, this is my friend Jane.”
His mother raised an eyebrow.
“Friend,” he emphasized.
He was certainly making that point clear.
“Nice to meet you,” I said. “Lovely place.”
We chatted a bit, and then a few cousins dragged Brady away and I found myself talking to Tad again, without my handler.
“So, what’s on your birthday list this year, young man?” I asked him, as we walked along the shore of a small pond.
“The usual. Beer, money, a pony.” He was a bit shorter than Brady, but he could be a nice stunt double. He seemed just as nice and funny, too.
I tipped my head and raised an eyebrow. “I thought only girls wanted ponies.”
“How else can you be a true cowboy without a pony? My parents could never understand that. I thought by asking for a pony instead of a horse, I’d increase my chances, considering how much smaller they are. But no such luck.” He shrugged and smiled.
“Sorry to hear it, buckaroo. So, no girlfriend here?” I linked my hands behind my back. “Subtle, right?”
He laughed. “At your age, I’m sure you don’t have time to beat around the bush. My mother’s hoping this is the year I grow up and find a decent girl, because you know, she was married with a baby at my age.”
“Wow, I had no idea mothers played that guilt trip business on their sons.”
“Probably because she doesn’t have any daughters.”
“So, what do you do for a living, irresponsible Tad?”
“I’m a high school gym teacher.”
“Oh, those poor girls. ”
“It’s an all-boys school.”
I bit my lip. “I’m sure you’re tormenting a few of them, too.”
He laughed, and Brady materialized behind us. We ignored him.
“What do you do?” Tad asked.
“I’m a veterinary assistant.”
“And she blew off a very important charity event to be here,” Brady said.
I rolled my eyes.
Tad nodded at me. “Hey, I’ve got a fundraiser for the school next Saturday, a Hawaiian luau to help raise money for new football uniforms. Do you want to come with me?”
“I think I’ve got a hula skirt kicking around,” I said.
“Actually, she’s going out with me next Saturday. Remember?” His eyes narrowed slightly.
I looked at him, confused, and before I could say anything, Tad piped up. “Sorry, dude. I thought you two weren’t dating.”
Someone called Tad’s name, and he waved and started walking away. “Talk to you later, Jane.”
I glared at Brady and planted my hands on my hips. “Okay, so what’s wrong with him—recovering from malaria? Is he a closet cross-dresser?”
“He hates puppies.”
“You hate cats, but that doesn’t make you a bad guy.” I crossed my arms. “Why don’t you want me going out with your brother?” Did he think I wasn’t good enough for him?
“He’s immature and it’s bound to end badly. I don’t want to get caught in the middle of that. And besides, I am taking you out next Saturday.” He led me away from the pond back to the party tent.
“You’re blowing off work again?”
He nodded.
“Haven’t we yet mined all your friends and family? Who am I meeting now?”
“No one. We’re going out. You and me. For dinner and a movie.”
“You’re going to pawn me off on the ushers? They’re usually high school boys, and last time I checked, that was illegal.”
“No. I’m taking you on a date.”
“A date?” I narrowed one eye at him. “You’re running out of time and you want to win the bet.”
He held up his hands. “No, no. I just want to take you out. I’ll pick you up at five.”
I thought about that long after he dropped me off. If he wanted to take me on a date, why wasn’t there any goodnight kiss after the party? Or was he just that desperate to keep me from his brother? Something else was going on here, but I didn’t know what.
How in the world do you dress for a date that didn’t really feel like a date? I didn’t want to get too dressed up, but I didn’t want to slum it, either. I had to sneak out for a shopping trip without telling Miranda. The deeper I dug myself, the harder it was going to be telling her about Brady. But what would I even tell her?
She was having dinner with her mother, so she didn’t see Brady pick me up. He looked kill-me-now hot in a pale blue shirt and dark jeans. Now, if I lived life like Miranda, I would’ve said screw the date, and come on inside and…
“Hi,” I said, pushing those nasty thoughts out of my mind. I didn’t know what was going on, but I knew the evening wouldn’t be ending that way.
Brady was quiet for most of the ride to the restaurant. I joked about his dislike of cats and the collection of bras at the bar being a good resale opportunity on ebay, but it got little more than a chuckle from him.
Once we got to the restaurant and each had a drink, he loosened up a bit. “So, am I allowed to date your brother when he’s twenty-five?” I teased.
He looked out
the window. “No, I just don’t want you to, that’s all.”
“You didn’t have to take me out. You could have said I was leaving for an African photo safari or something.”
“I wanted to take you out. Really.”
I smoothed the napkin on my lap and looked at him. “You wanted to go out with me on a date.” I swallowed hard. “As more than a friend?”
Before he could answer, a tall, blond woman walked up to our table, and my first instinct had me thinking it was Miranda.
“Brady? How are you?” She set her hands on the table and leaned over, like she was going to pour her cleavage on his plate.
Brady sat up straight. “Laura? I thought you were in Florida. Did you move back?”
“No, I’m visiting my folks. Who’s this?” She nodded in my direction.
“This is Jane. Jane, this is Laura.”
“His ex-girlfriend,” she filled in.
I gulped and shook her hand. “Nice to meet you.” But it wasn’t. Not at all. She was tall, and thin, and gorgeous, and reminded me of how I wasn’t any of those things. No, Brady wasn’t truly interested in taking someone like me out. This was a sympathy date, and that was it. I was like the girl back at the bar who’d scored a free drink. Tall, blond goddess—that was his type.
“Hope you’re doing well,” she said. “Nice meeting you, Jane.”
He blew out a breath as she walked away. “That was fun,” he said.
“When did you two break up?”
“Six months ago. It was kind of ugly. She moved down to Florida and was mad I didn’t follow her.”
“Do you still love her?” I asked, trying to sound uninterested.
He snorted. “No. I’m damn glad I didn’t follow her there. We weren’t right for a number of reasons.”
I looked down at the menu, pretending to be enthralled with the description for the chicken florentine. “She looks a lot like my friend Miranda.”
He cocked his head. “I guess she does a bit.”
I just nodded and was so grateful I had taught myself how to keep from crying by pinching that space between my thumb and forefinger. My thumb cleavage. It would probably be bruised the next day.
We finished dinner with forced conversation and a few lame attempts at jokes. Afterward, I suggested skipping the movie. “I’m not feeling great,” I said.