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“Dammit.”
I pulled out my phone and opened to Facebook. I didn’t even have to dig for the damn post. It was at the top of the page and had been reshared a staggering seven-thousand times.
I tapped on the picture to open it all the way. Were people that—
“Jesus.”
It was John Gideon, all right. It was obviously a candid shot and from that vantage point, the photographer was either a shorter woman, or maybe a kid.
In the first shot, he was mid strip off of his T-shirt in that stupidly sexy way that men had. The reach back and drag it off kind of move that had been murdering women for a millennia. It showed off all his ripples of muscle and a surprisingly cut bit of sin lines just below his belt. Why was that little bit of flesh always the most delicious thing on a built man?
I wasn’t exactly the kind of woman who drooled after men, but I was still a flesh and blood woman. And while cobwebs were threatening to take over my girl dance space, there weren’t enough to combat that photo.
Or the second picture where he was arching a brow at the photographer, which somehow was even hotter. His look of dubiousness was far more attractive than a cocky smile.
All that was hiding under his standard white T-shirt? That seemed cruel.
I clicked the photo closed. The cruelest part was that he was a freaking liar who didn’t think having a daughter was a tidbit of information he should have disclosed before we played tonsil hockey. Or hey, maybe anytime over the last two years that we’d been flirting.
Maybe I was more of a fool than I’d thought. Again.
Five
I was a guy who ate, slept, worked, took care of his kid, and crashed on the couch with coffee and Sportscenter and considered it the good life. I rarely dated, mostly by choice. It wasn’t that I was bitter after my divorce so much as wary. My judgment could be questionable, especially when lust was added to the mix, so it was better if I just scratched the need when absolutely necessary and stayed single file the rest of the time.
The idea of using a dating app to meet someone horrified me. People lied and exaggerated and played games when you got to know them face to face. To start it all off online seemed like asking for trouble.
Clearly, the universe was now having a fine laugh at my expense.
I drove up behind The Haunt just before five am on Thursday. Karen had come over super early because she had afternoon classes, so I’d promised to return shortly after lunchtime. Assuming I could get back out. The only reason I could actually get in now was because many of the horny vampiresses were sleeping.
Or resting up for their next onslaught. Whatever.
Actually making it into the building without being verbally accosted seemed like a damn miracle. Maybe today would be a better day. Surely they would get tired of stalking a man who didn’t want their advances soon enough.
I just didn’t understand what their purpose was. There was nothing that unique about me. Was the fact that I had a job and cared for my daughter that remarkable?
“Yes,” Murphy Masterson aka Moose said as he replaced some floorboards near the wide picture windows in front of the restaurant.
We’d put up blackout curtains to cut down on the foot traffic outside, which meant we were using approximately fifteen spotlights around the place to give the effect of daylight. We had a finish carpenter helping us out, as well as a member of Macy’s small hand-picked design team overseeing things, and simulating natural light was a must.
Ideally, we’d be able to let the real sunshine in, but God forbid someone catch me mopping my sweaty brow with the hem of my T-shirt. I didn’t want to keep an ambulance on call.
I leaned against my ladder and guzzled water before rolling the bottle against my neck. “Okay, I’ll bite. Why? If women were so hot for the blue collar types, you wouldn’t have turned to online dating and Lucky wouldn’t be haunting the bars on a nightly basis.”
“I have no need to haunt anything, son. Just walking down the street is an opportunity for me to star in my very own pornographic romantic comedy.”
I just kept drinking my water.
“You’re forgetting the most important ingredient.” Moose pivoted to face me, his shirt dotted with sweat. Yet another pheromone-inducing event for the women outside. Thankfully, they weren’t able to see in. “When I started online dating—although that was not quite like you’re suggesting, since I knew Vee already—I didn’t have a kid. That’s the accessory they all want.”
“All women want children?” I snorted. “Not hardly. In fact, I can think of one who thinks having a child is worse than being chased by Michael Myers.”
“Macy,” they both said in unison. Even a couple of the other guys chimed in from their different spots around the room.
“No, I didn’t mean all women want kids, although it seems as if the population of Crescent Cove is a bit more child-friendly than your average small town. But women want good providers. Not even because they can’t provide for themselves, because look around. They sure can. It’s just the bedrock of a good human being, someone who does his duty.” Moose reached for his level. “Similar thing to why many women find military men so attractive. Vee explained it all to me one day.”
“Did she explain why if that’s the case, it takes a post to make them all come swarming? I’ve lived just outside the Cove for years, and I’ve worked within the town and shopped here quite often. Yet all of a sudden, they’re fighting each other to get a piece of me?”
