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No, if I have a man in my bed, I want him to be only in my bed. And I don’t think Warrick’s capable of that.
More than enough times over the three years I’ve lived here, I’ve seen him come into the coffee shop with a different woman and give them all the same charming grin while he lets them down gently on a repeat performance.
I don’t fault him for his dating habits or lack thereof, but a notch on his bedpost isn’t anything I’m interested in. So while he’s the hottest thing since a double steamed latte, I avoid him like my panties depend on it.
Because they do.
Or at least keeping them on does.
That doesn’t seem to stop him from trying though. I smirk at the barbecue that he brought up. It’s thirty degrees outside, and the man is talking about a barbecue. Those belong in the summer months under a hot sun, with a hard lemonade in hand. Not three weeks before Christmas.
I fire off email after email and cross tasks off my list. Host zoom meetings to make sure my clients’ schedules are on track and their travel is planned. By the time my workday is over, my stomach is trying to devour my soul.
A glance at the clock shows I’m nearly late for meeting Samantha at the local Italian place to pick up dinner for game night. I grab my coat and keys and hightail it out of the house.
On the drive to town, I listen to my stomach grumble, unhappy that I missed lunch.
Breadsticks. Pasta. Salad. Game-night domination.
Not necessarily in that order, but all of that is happening tonight.
Lights twinkle along the road, the town committees having decorated for the holidays a few weeks ago. I have to admit that it’s festive at least.
This time of year is the worst part for me. Like the last two Christmases, I’ll be spending this one alone, probably working, maybe binge reading something on my e-reader.
I pull into a parking spot not too far from the building, and after a near catastrophe with the slippery sidewalk, step into the warm restaurant.
Marinara spices the air, and my stomach gurgles hard at the scent.
“Hi Sam,” I say to the brunette waiting by the end of the bar where we pick up to-go orders.
“Hey Chip. How was your day?”
I give her a shrug. “Normal. Just staying busy with my clients. How about you?”
“Good. I had two offers put in on a couple of my listings, so we’re bumping right along there.”
Samantha was the real estate broker who helped me buy my house, and after closing she took me out for a celebratory drink at the town watering hole. We’ve been friends since. After a few months of living in town, she roped me into coming to their monthly game nights.
I love board games. It’s a holdover from when I was little and Gran and I would sit at the dinner table and play before I had to go to bed at night.
Board games are happy, warm memories for me, and while I expected the pang of sadness of losing my gaming buddy in Gran, I was surprised after the first time at Sam’s when I actually had a good time.
My competitive nature sometimes gets in the way, and I forget that it’s a game, but it’s still one of my favorite things to do.
I’m a demon at Monopoly—undefeated in all of my thirty years.
“Did you hear about Celeste and Mick?”
I shake my head, but can guess. Celeste lives in the next town over, but even here her antics are legend. She’s never met a taken man that she doesn’t want to claim for her own. Mick is a married mechanic, and if the town rumors are anything to go by, he and his wife have been having problems for a while.
“Jenny caught them in bed together,” Sam whispers.
I shake my head again. “Isn’t Celeste with Warrick?”
“I don’t know about ‘with’ her. But I know they’ve gone out a few times. It just hurts my heart because Jenny doesn’t deserve that shit.”
“No, she doesn’t. But she’s probably better off without him, ya know?”
