Flirting With Forever

by Kendall Ryan

  Flirting with Forever

  Copyright © 2018 Kendall Ryan

  Content Editing by

  Elaine York

  Copy Editing by

  Pam Berehulke

  Cover Design and Formatting by

  Uplifting Designs

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form without written permission of the author, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages for review purposes only.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  Table of Contents

  Flirting with Forever

  About the Book

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Epilogue

  Get a Free Book

  What to Read Next

  Sneak Peek of Dear Jane

  Acknowledgments

  Follow Kendall

  About the Author

  Other Books by Kendall Ryan

  About the Book

  I've waited years for the perfect girl, yet she was right in front of me all along.

  My best friend, Natalie, has been by my side through everything. Leaning on my shoulder, borrowing my sweatshirts…and making my pants too tight when she flashes me that sassy smile that drives me crazy.

  But she has no idea about that last part. She doesn't have a clue I've felt this way about her for years.

  Until one night after too many cocktails, we fall into bed together.

  I'm flirting with my forever…she just doesn't know it yet.

  This book is a sexy, slow-burning best-friends-to-lovers romance with a guaranteed HEA and no cheating. Dive in, and get ready to melt for Cam!

  Chapter One

  Camden

  “A beer for this guy.” I motion to the bartender to bring another for my miserable-looking buddy. Jack and I have been friends for fifteen years, and I’ve never seen him this torn up over a girl. Ever. Heartbreak isn’t a good look on a man. That’s an undeniable truth.

  A bottle of beer appears a few moments later, and I push it closer to him. “Drink up.”

  “Thanks, man,” Jack says, taking a long swig.

  It isn’t often that I volunteer to be the designated driver, but when I got the call from Jack this afternoon that his long-term girlfriend broke up with him over text, I knew he’d be drinking a bit heavier than our usual one or two reserved for Friday nights. We can’t drink the way we used to in college without calling most of Saturday a complete wash.

  But tonight is different. He deserves to work out his problems with his drink of choice without worrying about getting home to our apartment safely, so I told him I’d stick to water for the evening.

  “All I’m saying is she could have had the decency to say it to my face,” Jack says, wiping the beer foam off his lips with the side of his hand. “What kind of person ends a year-long relationship over text message?”

  “The kind of person who doesn’t deserve you,” I say, gesturing to the bartender for another cold one. He pops the top off a bottle for Jack and slides over a bowl of bar mix for me.

  Jack sighs, sliding his empty beer bottle to the bartender. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.” He groans, staring down the neck of his beer like the answer to his relationship problems is floating in there somewhere.

  “Damn straight I’m right. Name one time I’ve been wrong in all the years we’ve been friends.”

  He rests his chin on his fist but doesn’t answer. Either because he can’t think of a time, or because the alcohol has made his brain fuzzy, or maybe because he’s fallen into a beer-induced sleep. I look over at him to see if he’s still upright. Thank God, he is. I don’t want to have to carry him out of this bar.

  My phone buzzes twice in my pocket—it’s Natalie, checking in to make sure I’m getting Jack good and drunk. Given the circumstances, I figured it was best that it was a “no girls allowed” kind of evening, but it’s been a long time since he and I have been out without Natalie. I can’t blame her for feeling a little left out.

  When I glance over, I notice Jack is messing around on his phone for what has to be the tenth time tonight. Odds are good that he’s already hitting up some other girl. I love Jack to death, but he’s always been a bit of a player. I’m actually a little surprised his most recent relationship lasted this long.

  “Natalie was checking in to make sure you were getting adequately hammered,” I say, holding up my phone to snap a picture of Jack and his collection of empty bottles. He sets his phone down and poses mid-chug, giving the camera an enthusiastic thumbs-up. I send the photo to Natalie as evidence that I’m doing my job.

  “Man, I’m so damn lucky to have you two,” Jack says between long sips. “What would I do without you guys?”

  A little bit of alcohol always brings out his sentimental side, but I’m game for a stroll down memory lane. I decide I’ll play along.

  “I hardly remember life before the three of us were friends,” I admit, shoving my phone back in my pocket. “My brain must have just erased every memory prior to sophomore-year biology class.”

  “The three amigos!” Jack hollers, raising his beer in a toast. “The best lab group ever!”

  “Yeah, only because I carried all of our grades by doing all the work,” I tease, clinking my water glass against his beer.

  “Hey, it’s not Natalie’s fault that she was so bad at biology, and that I had such a hair-trigger gag reflex looking at pig eyeballs,” he argues with a sloppy finger wag.

  Four must be the magic number of beers for Jack. I’ve got to remember to give him grief tomorrow about what a lightweight he’s become.

  “Yeah, I remember. That private school she transferred in from didn’t teach bio until junior year. What was your excuse?” I pick through the bar mix and flick a peanut at Jack’s head.

  “Laziness and a queasy stomach, mostly,” he says after trying to bat the peanut away a little too late. It hits him square between the eyes and bounces across the floor. His reflexes are gone; he’s officially drunk. “You should be thanking me. That was the class that made you want to become a doctor. I was just letting you discover your passion.”

  I’m a pediatrician, and he’s right, I love my job, so I really can’t argue. “And I was just saving you from flunking science class.”

  Downing the rest of his beer, he shoots me the bird and then reaches for the bar mix to find some ammo of his own, eventually settling on a pretzel rod. I let him take his shot, lining up the pretzel like a javelin and tossing it at me. He’s obviously aiming for the “third” me that he sees and he misses by a long shot. The pretzel goes hurtling across the bar, nailing some unsuspecting sucker in the back of the head.

  “And that’s our cue to close the tab.” I wave over the bartender and slide my AmEx card across the bar, which gets me a confused look from Jack.

  “Why the hell are you paying?” he asks, his brow furrowed. “You just got water.”

  “Yeah, and you just got dumped,” I say, scribbling my signature across the receipt and stuffing a ten-dollar bill i
n the tip jar. “Now, come on. Let’s get out of here.”

  As I walk and Jack stumbles across the parking lot, I shoot Natalie a quick text to let her know I’ve completed my mission of getting Jack drunk and that we’re headed home. The radio starts as soon as I turn the key in the ignition—some catchy pop love song that Jack immediately switches. He stays diligent on the radio dial, changing the station every time a song mentions a girl or a kiss, or anything else even sort of related to romance.

  I feel bad for the poor guy. Apparently, his ex has left his heart in freaking tatters, and this is so out of my element with him. He’s always been the love ’em and leave ’em heartbreaker, not at all the type to get dumped and feel like shit about it.

  “All these goddamn love songs,” he mumbles, throwing in the towel and shutting the radio off altogether. “I’m sick of this shit. Women suck. All they do is steal your sweatshirts, cram all their shit into your bathroom, and then leave when they’re bored of you.”

  Before I can form a counterargument, he’s pointing at a fast-food restaurant ahead. “Dude, let’s get something to eat.”

  I don’t even bother trying to stifle my annoyance as I pull up to the drive-through, asking the girl on the intercom to give us a minute to decide.

  “What do you want, Jack? A burger? Fries?”

  “I want a woman who isn’t gonna completely screw me over,” he grumbles, giving the glove compartment a swift kick of frustration.

  “Burger and fries, it is.”

  I place his order and pull forward to pay. Jack is either too buzzed or too sad to give me shit about paying this time, but his mood lightens a bit when I pass him the bag of hot, greasy goodness packed with more calories than he’s probably consumed all day—well, except for the liquid kind of calories. Hopefully, those fries will soak up some of the alcohol in his system and make his hungover ass slightly more bearable tomorrow.

  He tears into his fries with a satisfied grunt. “Fries are so good. Why would I ever even need a woman when I have fries?”

  “I’m going to go out on a limb here and say that it’s probably because fries can’t get you off. Although, I will admit that I’ve eaten a steak a time or two that almost gave me a happy ending.” I pull into a parking spot nearby and settle back into my seat.

  “I think I’ve gotta go on a hiatus, dude,” he says around another mouthful. “Swear off women for a while. Get my head straight.”

  My gaze swings over to his in stunned fascination. “That’s cute. But there’s no way in hell you’d last more than a week. Two, tops.”

  As long as Jack and I have been friends, he’s always had a girl in the picture. Whether it’s a girlfriend, a hookup buddy, or just somebody he met on a dating app, there have been very few nights in our apartment where Jack hasn’t been sharing his bed with someone. Swearing off girls will be harder for him than swearing off beer—or fries. And that’s saying something.

  “Bullshit. You really think I’m that weak?”

  He seems genuinely insulted, so I try a gentler approach. “Come on, man. You’ve been getting it on the regular for as long as I can remember. There’s no way you can go without.”

  “I’ve got a perfectly good hand. I’ll be fine . . . women are the root of all my evils. I’m in need of an exorcism,” he says into the greasy paper bag, digging out his burger. “No more women. I’m announcing it now. Hold me to it.” He points at me with a fry.

  Resisting the urge to roll my eyes, I reach for a couple of fries. “I’ll remind you of that when you meet some blonde at the gym next week and want to bring her home. You’ll fold in a heartbeat.”

  “Like hell I will. How much do you want to bet I can make it a whole month without hooking up with anyone?”

  Is he seriously going to make a wager on this? I’m not much of a gambler, but this sounds like a bet I’ll be guaranteed to win, so why the hell not?

  “All right, how about this?” I turn in my seat to look him straight in the eye so he knows I mean business. “I’ll do it with you. No women, no sex, no hookups. I bet I can hold out way longer than you. Easy.”

  Jack rolls his eyes. “Oh, sure, easy for you. You’re practically a monk.”

  It’s been a long couple of months’ worth of his jokes insisting that I must be a born-again virgin with how little action I’ve been getting. Yeah, maybe I am in the midst of a dry spell, but it’s no big deal. And working long shifts in the pediatric wing of the hospital downtown certainly isn’t helping. But I’ll take whatever he’s gonna bet me, because I know what a dry spell feels like. My homeboy here has no freaking idea what he’s in for. This win will be like taking candy from a baby.

  “Listen, are you for real about this bet or not?”

  Jack weighs it over with a few more fries, presumably trying to decide if his hand can really cut it. “You know what? Let’s do it,” he says, pumping his fist in the air and sending fries flying throughout my car.

  I love my job. I really do. Not to say that I wouldn’t mind getting laid in the near future. I’ve had a few potential prospects catch my eye, but if we’re betting on it, what’s another month of beating it in the shower?

  “And whoever breaks first . . .” I chew one fry slowly, partially to build the suspense, partially to buy myself time to think of what we’re betting on. A round of drinks? Cleaning the apartment for a month? No, this is some serious shit. The stakes are high. We need to make this deal worth keeping it in our pants for.

  “Whoever caves first has to do the other’s laundry for the rest of the year.”

  A sinister grin creeps across Jack’s face. “Done.” He wipes the fry grease from his hands onto a napkin before slapping his hand into mine.

  “It’s a deal then,” I say with a firm handshake and a confident smirk. “So you might want to say good-bye to that hookup from last year who I’ve been watching you text all night. Because that’s sure as hell not happening anytime soon.”

  My own phone chirps from the cupholder and I grab it. “It’s Nat again,” I say to Jack, opening the text.

  Now we’re all single. Lonely Hearts Club unite.

  I stare down at her message and frown. As far as I know, Natalie is single by choice. This is the first time I’ve heard her say she’s lonely, and something inside me doesn’t like it.

  Surely you’re not lacking for offers, Miss Moore.

  She is a Moore, whether she likes it or not—a trust-fund baby whose father’s wealth is reported by the media much more often than she would like.

  Oh, hush, you can’t comment on that.

  Smiling, I can practically hear the sarcasm in Natalie’s text.

  And why not?

  Because you’re a twenty-nine-year-old doctor, for starters. Women line up to drop their panties for you.

  I chuckle and shove another fry into my mouth.

  Not interested in a gold digger.

  Same. But if you know of any good guys out there, send them my way.

  A weird tingle creeps down my spine. There are only two good guys I can vouch for, and both are inside this vehicle. Jack may be a player, but he’s honest and loyal to the women he dates and hooks up with. They know the deal, and are okay with the mutually beneficial arrangement. Him being heartbroken over getting dumped is new for him and says volumes about his maturity level. Me, on the other hand, I’m not entirely sure why Natalie’s words affect me the way they do, and I chalk it up to being around the heartbroken drunkard sitting next to me.

  Will do.

  “What’s that look for?” Jack asks, his burger halfway to his mouth.

  “Hmm? Oh, nothing.” I set my phone back into the cupholder. “Just texting with Natalie.”

  “Good. Because now that you’ve taken this vow with me, Nat better be the only female you’re texting with these days.”

  “Noted.”

  Why does the prospect of that not bother me in the slightest?

  Chapter Two

  Natalie

  Kn
ockity-knock-knock.

  “Special delivery.”

  I poke my head through the bathroom doorway and call, “Coming!” Sound travels easily in my condo, so I have no worries that Cam didn’t hear me.

  Moments later, I open the front door. It’s Cam, holding up a small pink box with a promising doughnut sticker on the side. As I tackle him with a hug, he saves said treats from being crushed by my enthusiasm. Before I release him, I breathe in his masculine, fresh scent. It’s comforting, familiar, like a warm cup of chamomile tea or a new spool of yarn.

  We part and he takes a step back, his gaze lowering as he appraises me with a frown. “You’re wearing a towel,” he says, still holding the doughnut box above my head. Oops.

  “Well, yeah, I was about to shower,” I respond defensively.

  Swiping the box from his hands, I head straight for my kitchen. I haven’t eaten all morning, so I’m more than ready to dig into this pastry, regardless of whether I’m properly clothed.

  “What’d you get me?” I ask, spinning the box around on my kitchen counter, eager to open it.

  “Something new,” he says, leaning against the countertop.

  “New?” I peel open the box. Inside sit a dozen decadent doughnuts. I select a chocolate-vanilla-swirl doughnut with frosting drizzled on top and take a nibble. A groan escapes me as the frosting melts devilishly on my tongue.

  “You, sir, are bad for my waistline,” I say, scolding him through a mouthful of sugary goodness.

  “Stop. Your waistline is perfect.”

  I feel my cheeks grow ever-so-slightly warm. “Not according to the personal trainer I pay a small fortune to each month,” I mumble around a mouthful of pastry. “I’m going to hop in the shower, but feel free to hang out.”

  “Sounds good.”

  I step into the shower, enjoying the way the hot water relaxes my aching muscles.

  “Got plans for tonight?” Cam asks.

  Through the sheer curtain, I can pick out his tall frame in the bathroom mirror. He’s leaning against the door frame, politely facing away. For a doctor who surely sees all sorts of bodies all day, every day, Cam is very aware of his presence in the living space of a naked friend. It’s cute.