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It is up to you, my friends, to change her mind. Tune in for Wednesday’s podcast to find out how.
Goodness, the man was so damn maddening! But I’d promised the girls I would keep my cool, and I would. Oliver March was nothing to me.
Nothing at all.
Someone needed to teach him a lesson, though.
Not me, but someone.Oliver“Is it me, or is there something new about this place?” I looked around Plymouth Bowling, where I was enjoying my weekly night out with my friend Chris Jacobs. Chris was a mystery writer and a single dad who didn’t have much time for himself, so I always looked forward to us catching up. I frowned. “It’s weird. Right?”
Chris shrugged and raked a hand through his brown hair, sipping his lager with the other. “Got new seats about a month ago. Took you long enough to notice.” I ignored his smirk and looked around again.
The seats were dark blue instead of green, and all the parts that were previously sewn up or duct taped were gone. “Hmph, guess you’re right. Weird. “How’s Lila adjusting to third grade?”
Chris shrugged and let out an exhausted sigh. “Much better than the last few months of second grade. She has friends now, but she’s a bit more… precocious than the kids in her class.”
I took my time and lined up my shot, sending the ball right down the center of the lane before I turned back to Chris. “That’s not a bad thing. They’ll get used to her, just give them time.” It wasn’t easy being different in a small town, but Pilgrim was pretty open-minded.
“I am. She wants to sign up for the Junior Search & Rescue Training Program in town. I don’t know.”
“Why not? What have you got against that kind of work?”
“Not a thing, but that doesn’t mean I want my little girl to take a job that puts her in harm’s way.”
I stared at Chris, trying to put myself in his position. A single dad to a little girl, worrying nonstop. As a bachelor with only myself to think about, I couldn’t. “She’s eight. Next month, she’ll want to be a ballerina, unless you make a big deal over this current fad.”
“When did you become so smart about women? Oh, I’m sorry, I forgot I was sitting with a celebrity. Dating royalty, Mr. Your Best Bachelor.” I knew he was joking, but I was kinda proud of my job.
“There’s no Mister. It’s like Madonna, just Your Best Bachelor.” It was now a syndicated column published in more than a dozen magazines and newspapers and, as of last year, a male-centric podcast. “I wouldn’t say celebrity, more like well-known local.”
Chris laughed. “Does that mean Chrissy the choir girl didn’t change your bachelor ways?”
I shuddered at the thought of my last date, more than two weeks ago. “Definitely not. She showed up to dinner with her wedding binder, determined to ‘convince me’ that marriage is beautiful.” It would’ve been funny if the woman hadn’t been so serious about it.
Chris sent his bowling ball flying down the lane and turned to me, tilting his head back and laughing his fool head off. “That’s why I have no shame about using my daughter to get out of dates. Works every single time.”
“Still hung up on your ex or what?” Chris and I had met about six months earlier, and had grown close because we both worked odd schedules, but we were men and we didn’t open up right away about our feelings.
“Nah, I’m glad to be rid of her. But my relationship with Sandra, specifically the way it ended, left me a little sour on dating and relationships.” He sighed and reached for his beer. “My focus is on the new Cobalt series, and Lil.”
“How’s the new series coming along?”
He shrugged. “As soon as I figure out why the killer is killing, the words will fly. Until then, I’m just twiddling my thumbs.” His eyes glazed over for a moment before he shook it off. “I read your latest article.”
“And?” Everyone in town usually had an opinion about what I wrote or said for Your Best Bachelor, so I was used to it.
“It was pretty brutal. You think women don’t want romance? Well, I can tell you that you’re wrong. Totally wrong.”
I shook my head and smiled, wondering what Miss Prissy herself, Eva Vargas, thought of it. “Maybe your ex really craved it, but I stand by what I said.”
Chris laughed. “You’re a jackass. Entertaining, but still a jackass.”
“Not the first time I’ve heard that. Still, you haven’t told me why I’m wrong.” Romance was a fraud. It was all a show that men were forced to put on to please a woman—specifically, to get pleasure from a woman. “Roses and chocolates are somehow special? Means you love her more than the other girls?”
