“Rematch?” Flynn asks, eagerness in his eyes.
I don't have the energy to attempt to even the score with my brother. “Nah.”
He sets down his racket on the bench. “Clearly something is horribly wrong. Confession time.” He pats the wood. “Tell me how you messed up last night.”
I can’t pretend I didn’t. Misery slithers down my spine. “We were having the world’s most perfect date,” I say, forlorn.
“Yeah, yeah, skip over the sex part.”
“We didn’t have sex.”
“Okay, you didn’t have sex, so how could it have been the world’s most perfect date?”
I swat him with my towel. “Things do not have to include sex to be awesome.”
“But sex does help to make things awesome.”
“You know how you didn’t want to talk about how I look good in clothes? I don’t want to talk about sex with you.”
“Okay, fine, so you’re having an awesome date.” He makes a rolling gesture for me to keep going.
“We hit it off, Flynn. We had insane chemistry. We talked about everything, including how much we liked each other already. That’s what freaked me out. We liked each other from the beginning.”
His brow knits. “So you’re worried it’s insta-love?”
“But I don’t believe in insta-love.”
“Except you felt insta-love for him?” he points out gently.
My stomach flips with the sweetest memories of Herb’s kisses, his words, his easy way with me. “I did. That’s the thing. I felt insta everything for him.” I toss up my hands and look to my brother. “Clearly, there’s no way that can work. It’s impossible, so I took off at the end.”
“That’s real mature,” he deadpans.
“I couldn’t fathom that it was all real . . . And then, what if I’d invited him up?”
“Let’s play this game,” Flynn says, thoughtful and logical. “What would have happened? What were you so scared of? Having real feelings for someone you truly like?”
A movie reel plays before my eyes. “I would have had hot, dirty sex with him, and I would have said, ‘Let’s get married and make babies,’ and he’d have said yes, and it would be too good to be true.”
“Wait. I thought we weren’t supposed to talk about sex. You just said you had hot and dirty sex.”
“In my dreams. Yes, it was going to be the hottest sex of my life because I’m that attracted to him. He kissed me in the middle of an escape room, and it was incredible. My toes are still tingling from it. Then he kissed me in the diner and all I saw was a future full of kisses and pancakes and conversations and hot, hot sex.”
“This is like immersion therapy or something, right? Where you keep mentioning the deed over and over?”
I grab his arm for emphasis. “Yes, the deed. All the deeds. Over and over, but it was more than hot sex and dirty deeds. It was,” I stop, remembering how easy everything was with Herb. Every. Single. Thing. “We connected. We hit it off. It was insta-love. And what the hell? That doesn’t happen. And if it does, it’s dangerous.”
“Is it though? Is it dangerous? What if it’s the real thing?”
My stomach flutters at the possibility. “It felt like the real thing.”
“Why are you standing here with me, then?”
“I don’t know. That’s a good question.” I swallow hard, my throat burning.
He sighs, shaking his head. “Olivia, you’re doing it again.”
I sigh. I don’t fight the truth this time. “I know. I’m sabotaging it. Because I’m afraid.”
“And you like this guy. So, woman up and un-sabotage it.”
6
Herb
The morning brings no more answers.
Only a gigantic question mark when I check my phone and find zero messages from her.
Then again, I didn’t text her either.
I don’t need to have her reject me again. Doing it to my face last night was all I needed, thank you very much.
Still, the clinical part of me wants to understand what went down.
As the sun rises, I dribble a basketball on the court in Central Park then send it soaring into the net.
“And then she just left,” I tell my buddy Malone, a fellow vet.
“Admittedly, that’s not an ideal ending to a date.” That’s Malone for you. Straight up and to the point. He grabs the ball and whooshes it toward the net.
I snag it on the rebound. “It was literally the definition of a perfect date. Then she said, ‘I’m so tired, and I need to go.’ Boom. She was gone.”
“Ah, now I get it. Sounds like she didn’t want to see your sorry ass naked.”
I roll my eyes. “My ass is spectacular, clothed or naked.”
He shudders, like he’s watching a horror flick. “Don’t tell me anything more about your ass.”
“I’m just saying, it’s a gold-standard ass. She was checking it out.”
He covers his ears. “Stop. Make it stop.”
I shoot the ball, watching it arc into the net. “Anyway, that’s that. She made it clear. There’s nothing more that’s going to happen. I’ll just move on.”
He grabs the ball, stops, and stares at me. “Wait. That’s your takeaway?”
“Well, what should it be?”
“You like this woman, you had a great date, she turned sleepy at the end, and your conclusion is you should just walk away?”
“You said sleepy time isn’t the ideal ending to a date.”
He taps his chest. “I did, and it’s not, because sexy time is the ideal ending to a date. But just because you didn’t get there doesn’t mean you stop shooting the basketball.”
“I should throw a basketball to get to the sexy times?” I’m thoroughly perplexed.
“No. But here’s the thing. You like her, you had chemistry, and you had one weird moment. Dating is weird. It’s like when you put a sweater on a cat and they don’t know how to walk.”
I furrow my brow. “Pretty sure Olivia knows how to walk.”
“But you might need to help her take off the sweater.”
“Man, your analogy game needs work. Are you saying I need to undress her?”
“No. Well, not yet. But soon. What I am saying is you need to try again.”
I crack up, clapping him on the back. “Wow. I didn’t get that at all from the cat sweater analogy.”
“Just try with her. Give it your best shot. Let her know what you want. The worst that’ll happen is you’re back out there on the dating circuit, putting sweaters on cats.”
Maybe, just maybe, he’s right. Maybe I should try to decipher what happened, because that really was the perfect date. And I don’t want to give up this time.
7
Olivia
Later that day, I track down my matchmaker. We have lunch, and I tell her what happened.
“I really messed up.”
Evie pats my hand. “No, sweetie, you didn’t mess up, you got nervous. People get nervous. That’s what happens. The question is—where do you go now?”
“I want to see him again. I think he’s the one.”
She beams. “I believe that too. But you’re going to have to make it clear you’re not a runner. That you’re a stayer. Because I’m pretty sure he wants you to stay.”
“Does he?” Tingles sweep through my body.
“The two of you are meant to be.”
I quirk an eyebrow. “Do you believe in that? That people are meant to be together?”
“I do. Now you need to do what you should have done last night.”
And I don’t wait. I whip out my phone at lunch, dial his clinic, and ask to speak to Dr. Smith.
Evie beams the whole time, the proud matchmaker.
“He’s with a patient right now. May I take a message?” The man on the other end of the phone asks.
With a smile, and a belly full of nerves, I give him a message. “Can you please tell Dr. Smith that it’s Olivia and I would like t
o know if he would want to work on my checklist at Madison Square Park tonight?”
“I’ll give him the message.”
Evie claps.
I set down my phone, catching a glimpse of a message icon in the status bar. With butterflies fluttering, I click it open. It arrived fifteen minutes ago.
Herb: Hey, Olivia, so I’m not really sure what went wrong last night, but I’d like to try again with you. If you’re up for it, maybe we can meet at Madison Square Park after work.
He must have sent it before I even called him. Oh God, I think I’m falling in love. My fingers speed through the fastest reply in the world.
Olivia: YES!!!!!! I’m there!
* * *
We arrive at the same time.
He walks toward me. I walk toward him. I stop in front of the bench, nerves and hope clogging my throat.
“I’m sorry I freaked out last night.”
He sits and I sit next to him. “Are you a runner? Because once I have you as mine, I’m not going to want you to run away.”
I take a deep breath. “I had a bad relationship. He cheated on me with a ton of other people, and sometimes I sabotage dates when it seems like it might work. I especially do when it’s too good to be true.”
He smiles and runs his thumb over my jawline. “So you think I’m too good to be true?”
“You said it yourself last night. Everything seemed that way.”
“And that scared you?”
“It did. But that’s no excuse.” I reach for his hand. When he threads his fingers through mine, I swear all is right in the world. “Maybe it’s too soon. Maybe it’s too much. But I want to know what we can be.”
He sighs, but it sounds like it’s full of happy relief. “Look, I was hurt too. I was in love with this woman, and she took off around the world. I keep waiting for someone to pull the rug out from under me again.”
My heart aches for him. “I don’t want to pull the rug out from under you.”
He sweeps his thumb over my jaw. “And I don’t want to hurt you. All I want is to make you feel good.”
And my heart—it soars to the sky. “That’s the past. This is the present.” I smile, and the way he smiles back at me, all crooked and sexy, sends heat through my body.
“There’s only one way to find out if this thing is too good to be true,” he says, his voice low, husky. His hand slinks around my neck, into my hair, sending shivers down my spine.
“To do this thing.”
“Let’s do this thing.” He dips his face to my neck then kisses me there. “You know what escape room I’d like to go to right now?”
“Which one?” I’m trembling with desire.
“There’s one in my apartment.”
I moan. “If you take me there, I’m not going to want to escape.”
“That’s the plan.”
I plant a kiss on his lips, and it’s better than last night. It’s wonderful and magical, and I feel it everywhere. Everything else fades away but the absolute magic of this man and me. Maybe I’m crazy, but I swear I can taste forever in his kiss.
I make a choice.
To break my habits and make brand new ones.
Starting with the hot, dirty sex I’d hoped for.
Funny, how a man so sweet can be so dirty in the sack. Because when we make it to my apartment, the alpha animal in him comes out. And my sweet, swoony vet is whispering filthy things in my ear.
Things like . . .
Want to strip off all your clothes.
Spread you out on the bed.
Eat you, taste you, have you.
Fuck you.
Fuck you so damn hard you’re not just seeing stars, but planets and galaxies.
Who knew that Herb Smith had such a dirty mouth?
“You are quite naughty,” I say, shuddering as I grab his shirt, tugging it over his head as we stumble to my bed.
“I am. And hey, maybe that is what makes me too good to be true.”
I laugh as I drag my nails down the grooves in his abs. Grooves. The man has traceable grooves. “Yes, definitely too good, because I do like it when you tell me all the bad things you want to do.”
He yanks off my top, unclasps my bra, and dips his head to my breasts, murmuring as he licks a circle around my nipple. “I’d like to lick, and kiss, and fuck you all night long, Olivia. Take you hard, take you slow, take you every way.”
I shiver. Is he for real? Is this happening?
My knees shake and I gasp as he lavishes attention on my breasts, telling me how delicious my skin is, how good I taste, how he could spend the night worshipping my body.
Yes.
I’d like that very much.
But I want to worship his too. And even when he has me squirming and panting, I don’t let my own pleasure deter me. I sit up, pressing a hand to his chest.
“Let me taste you.”
He arches a brow, his eyes darkening. “Yeah?”
“Let me show you how much I want you too.”
“Show me,” he says, more commanding than I expected.
He wraps my hair in a fist, and tugs me down to him. I’m hot and bothered and so ready for all sorts of dirty deeds as I take him in my mouth.
He moans and groans, muttering just like that, yeah, deeper, your mouth feels so damn good, so fucking good, that I swear I’m going to orgasm from his words. His reaction. His realness.
When his words turn into nonsense, he pulls me up, brings me close, and whispers let me fuck you now, sweetheart.
And yep. I’m done for. That’s it. I’m gone. It’s insta-lust, insta-love, insta-everything.
The deed is spectacular. It’s electric and intense, it’s wild and frenzied, it’s slow and tender. It’s the best it’s ever been.
But it’s not too good to be true. It’s better.
I suppose that’s how it goes when you’ve finally met the man who ticks all the boxes and then some.
* * *
Herb
The next morning I take her out for pancakes.
With her fork in hand, she dives in with gusto. “I love pancakes.”
“Some people do.”
“Hey! Don’t rain on my pancake parade.” She eyes my plate of eggs. “Why didn’t you order pancakes?”
I sigh heavily and level with her. “I don’t like them.”
Her blue eyes pop. “What? How is that possible?”
“Just don’t. I’m an eggs and hash browns kind of guy.”
She shakes her head vehemently. “I refuse to believe anyone can dislike pancakes.”
I tap my chest. “This guy does.”
She huffs, takes another bite of her pancakes, then smiles. “Herb.” She sets down her fork and gives me a strange smile.
“What? Is this a deal-breaker? A new act of sabotage?”
She stands, moves around the table, and sits down next to me, then kisses my cheek. “You told me you hate pancakes, and I still like you. This must be the real thing.”
I laugh, cup her cheek, and bring her close for another kiss.
“And amazingly, I can tolerate the taste of pancakes on your lips.”
She tap-dances her fingers down my shirt. “I’ll get you to like them eventually.”
“We’ll see about that.”
I walk her home, and outside her apartment she gives me the best redo ever—kissing the hell out of me and making me wish I could take the rest of the day off.
Instead, I peel myself away, send her a text, and ask if I can see her that night.
Seconds later, she replies with a yes.
It’s possible I send her a few more texts that day. It’s possible some are sweet. It’s possible some are dirty too. She seems to like all those sides of me, and hell, I like all of hers.
Or really, love is the better word.
Epilogue
Olivia
I spend the night. And the next night, and the next one, and the next one.
For several wonderful blissful
months that culminate in a ring, a promise, and a shared home.
Right now, I’m heading to meet Evie to thank her for setting me up with the man who has become my fiancé. When I see her at the coffee shop, Flynn is with her. “If we could only convince Flynn to let me work on him,” Evie says, crossing her fingers.
He shakes his head. “Nope. I’m too focused on work.”
I shoot him a you’re so ridiculous look, then turn to Evie. “Someday he’ll realize there is a meant-to-be for him, since I found mine. And we’re going to Bora Bora for our honeymoon.”
Flynn’s green eyes light up. “He passed the Bora Bora litmus test.”
“And someday you’ll find someone who passes yours,” I say.
My brother might be reluctant, he might have his own reasons for keeping up his guard, but I believe that deep down, there’s a woman who’s going to be his perfect match.
I found mine.
I thought he was too good to be true.
Then I realized that some things simply are, and those are the ones you don’t let slip away.
THE END
Intrigued by Flynn? He has his own story to tell in COME AS YOU ARE, the smash hit romance that’ll have you swooning, out now! Malone’s story is told in SATISFACTION GUARANTEED, available everywhere!
Strong Suit
A short story
ABOUT
From the day I meet Ginny in the conference room, I’m smitten with the co-worker who’s ten years my senior. And I’m going to pull out all the stops to win her over.
Her Prologue
A year ago
For the record, I did not—underline not—make the offer because he’s hot.
I only made the offer because I’m helpful.
That was it.
That was all.
It went down like this.
Dating Mr. Right: Four Standalone Romantic Comedies Page 16
