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3
Dash
“The klutz himself!”
The heckling starts the moment I walk through the doors of Mavericks. It’s morning, so the place is closed, but Charlie is drinking coffee at the long, polished bar—and clearly awake enough to give me shit.
He’s not the only one.
“Can I get your autograph?” His girlfriend, Grace, teases, joining him with a bag of what looks suspiciously like my favorite bagels. “Since you’re a famous social media star now.”
I flash her a grin. “Sure, trade me a bagel, and I’ll sign your chest.”
Charlie draws Grace to him with a mock growl. “Try it and I’ll chop your hand off with a butter knife.”
“Hey now, no need for violence. I’m just trying to oblige my new fan club.” I laugh at his teasing—and the fact my former wingman, the ultimate bachelor, isn’t entirely teasing. He’s so crazy about Grace, it’s cute. And nauseating. “There’s plenty of me to go around.” I flop onto an empty bar stool beside them and reach for the food.
“Oh God, like you need any more attention.” Charlie smirks. “Five different people have already texted me that video.”
I shake my head. “I can’t believe it has so many views already, don’t people have more important shit to do?”
“More important than watching Phineas Dashford the Fourth get his ass handed to him by one of the few women in all of Manhattan who appears immune to his charm? Sorry, but nope.” Grace salutes me with her coffee cup.
“What the hell happened, anyway?” Charlie says.
“Someone got up on the wrong side of bed, clearly,” I crack, but still, I feel kind of bad about the whole thing. I was only trying to help, but that woman seemed weirdly fixated on her makeup, and not even my most charming grin could defuse her rage.
“She seemed pretty mad,” Grace agrees.
“Right? I can’t remember the last time a woman screamed at me—outside of the bedroom, I mean,” I crack. “She should be thanking me, not yelling her head off. If I hadn’t pulled her back, she’d have been DOA under that train.”
Charlie shrugs. “You get all kinds in the city,” he replies, as my phone lights up with a text.
Grace glances over my shoulder, then laughs. “‘Naked in my bed right now, thinking of you,’” she reads aloud with a smirk. “Who’s Misty?”
I smile at the memory. “A girl I went out with last week. Enjoys long walks, short skirts and having fun in public places.” I waggle my eyebrows.
Charlie rolls his eyes dramatically. “Dash, Dash, what are we going to do with you? Isn’t it time you thought about settling down?”
“You sound just like my grandmother,” I retort, “So, I’ll tell you what I’m always telling her. I like my life just fine the way it is. Not all of us are cut out to become a nauseatingly happy couple like you and Grace,” I add, teasing.
“Right, because it’s so tough being in love,” Grace says, slipping an arm around Charlie. He smiles and tips her face up for a kiss, and I make a loud coughing noise.
“Take it to the office, kids. Isn’t that why you expensed a new couch?” I ask Charlie. He just laughs.
“One of these days, you’re going to fall flat on your ass for a woman, and I’m going to be here to say, ‘I told you so,’” he says. “And laugh. And take pictures.”
“Any deny the women of New York the pleasure of my company?” I lob back lightly. “Now that would be a crying shame.”
Charlie shakes his head like I’m a lost cause—conveniently forgetting that just a few months ago, he was just like me. Until Grace came along and knocked him flat on his ass. Now, he’s Mr. Monogamy, putting the rest of us bachelors to shame.
Or showing us what we’re missing.
I’d never admit it, but a part of me does wonder what it would be like to have someone like that in my life, too. One date, instead of a dozen. Someone who really knows me—and not just as the hot bachelor who’s always hooked up with the latest VIP passes…
Trouble is, I haven’t met her yet.
“Look, if there’s a woman out there who can keep up with me, I’m all ears.” I tell the pair of them. “And hands. And—”
