Page 62 of The Mr. Right Checklist

Last night she showed up to surprise me with a peach pie she’d baked and vanilla ice cream. I forwent the pie, preferring Destiny à la mode instead.

Sweetest dessert ever.

I woke up this morning sprawled over her like the octopus she claims I am. I didn’t want to get out of bed, and it had nothing to do with the fact that my semester has ended and I didn’t need to be at work—and everything to do with the sleeping beauty I had trapped beneath me. That’s why I gave Destiny a kiss goodbye, told her to sleep in since she didn’t have to go into Perfect Paws today, and got my ass out of there to try to clear those all-too-comfortable thoughts from my head.

I haven’t spent an evening alone for weeks, and I love my alone time. How could I let it slip away? Maybe that’s what I need. A night alone to get my head on straight.

Yes. That’s exactly what I need.

I look down at Molly. “Tonight it’s just you and me, girl.”

I swear she gives me the side-eye. As we come over the crest of the hill, the oak tree where my unlikely friendship with Destiny began comes into focus, and just like that, I wish she were by my side, chatting up a storm.

“Hey, Fletcher!”

I turn at the sound of Marshall’s voice and see him running up the path behind me. “Hey, Marsh, how’s it going?”

“I should be asking you that. Where have you been? I haven’t seen you running lately, and you blew off basketball this weekend.”

“I’ve been busy.” Suddenly I understand Jimmy a little better. Not that I’m in love with Destiny, but given the option of playing basketball with the guys or a sexy morning with her, the guys will lose every time. Therein lies the problem.

“I thought school was done for the summer.”

“It is.” My workload is lighter over the summer, and my days start later, since I’m only teaching two classes, but there are still meetings to attend and students to meet with. “I’ve been hanging out with Destiny. Late nights, early mornings, you know how that goes.”

“Dude, that’s great. You must really be into her to spend that much time together.”

“She’s fun to be with, but don’t make a thing out of it.”

“Are you kidding me? Why not?”

I give him a look that should shut that down, but Marshall’s not one to be silenced.

“I think she’s great. Did she tell you she dropped off a basket at Annie’s Hope for the reception area? It was loaded with cookies and books on recovery and pocket-sized cards with positive affirmations on them. She also wrote me the sweetest note about how she thinks about my little girl often and wishes me well and all that.”

“She didn’t mention it, but I’m not surprised. She didn’t tell me when she gave Chuck cookies to thank him or that she put together a thank-you basket for Dr. Wilkinson and his staff.” The only reason I know about that basket is because I saw it on her counter when I was at her place. “She’s not looking for a pat on the back. She’s just incredibly thoughtful.” That boundless heart of hers is just one of the things about her that makes it so hard for me to keep my distance.

“You mean Wilkinson, the vet?”

“Yeah. Molly . . . uh . . . ate some clothing, and we ended up there two weekends ago.”

Marshall chuckles. “What kind of clothing?”

I don’t answer, but there’s no stopping my grin as memories of that night come rushing back.

“Damn, Fletch. You’re a lucky bastard. I’m glad you found each other. You deserve to be with a special person.”

Reality wipes the grin off my face, and I know I have to come clean to Marshall. He’s a good friend, and I trust him not to rat me out to my brothers. “Don’t get too excited. This thing between me and Destiny has an expiration date.” The words cut like glass.

“A what?”

“You know, like a coupon that’s only good for a certain amount of time.” Fuck. Now I’m using her analogies?

“Are you seriously comparing your relationship to a coupon? What the hell, man?”

As we run down a hill past the kiddie play area, I remind him of how she and I met and tell him the truth about our relationship. “She was determined to pay me back for my help with her business, and I was sick of my family giving me a hard time about dating again, so I asked her to go to the wedding with me. One thing led to another, and I guess we’ve evolved from fake dating to friends with benefits.” That doesn’t sound right, either. She’s more than a friend. “Hell, I don’t know what to call us, but after the wedding, we’re done.”

“Then I’d call you a fucking idiot if you’re willing to let her go.”