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I’m so gone on this man and his little girl that I keep dreaming about them.
Almost every night.
I need an intervention. Stat.
Glancing over at the clock, I see I have fifteen minutes before my alarm goes off and decide to start my “Friday night hunt for a man to keep my mind off Drew” a day early.
Online dating was clearly created by the devil himself, but it’s the only way to meet people these days. I suppose some people still meet at work, but as someone who works with small children and mostly other women, that’s never been an option for me.
I’ve created and deleted dating profiles so often, it only takes me five minutes to whip up a profile and start scrolling. The first thing I notice is that the men in Bad Dog are much cuter than the men I left behind in rural Kentucky. Most of them also seem to have jobs that don’t involve horse poop.
I love horses, but Kentucky men are obsessed with their horses, to the point they feel no shame standing you up if America’s Darling has gas or is off her feed for some reason. I swear, getting stood up for horses is a pattern for men in my hometown.
Or maybe it’s me.
Maybe my picker is broken.
But you picked Drew. And he’s amazing. Like the way he apologized last night. It was so kind and honest and grown-up.
“Stop,” I chide the inner voice with a sigh. Yes, Drew is a full-fledged unicorn, a dirty talking man with a cock piercing who’s also incredible at adulting, but he’s not on the menu for me.
I have to live in reality, not fantasyland.
In the name of coming back down to earth, I swipe right on a couple of nice-looking guys in their early thirties who, judging by their bios, seem to have a decent sense of humor, and call it good. I’m about to shut the app and start the kettle for tea when I come across a very sexy guy on a motorcycle.
He’s gorgeous, with huge muscles and piercing blue eyes, but it’s his face that really gets me.
He looks so much like…
“Like Drew,” I say aloud, my jaw dropping as I enlarge the picture on my screen. Aside from the blue eyes, instead of brown, lighter hair, and the more solid, square-shaped jaw on the biker, the two of them could be twins.
What are the chances this man isn’t related to my sexy boss?
Probably pretty damned small.
I glance at his name—Christian—and take a gamble, typing “Christian McGuire, Bad Dog, Minnesota” into a new search window.
In just a few seconds I have loads of information on Drew’s slightly younger brother, who owns a motorcycle shop and organizes a charity event to fund the local animal shelter every year. He’s hot, sexy, and loves helpless animals in need. The man is the entire package, and he’s not my boss.
Too bad I didn’t meet him before I met Drew. Maybe things would have been different, and we could have had a good time together. But now…
Well, I would never date a member of Drew’s family. It would be too weird.
Which makes me wonder…
Hastily, I glance at the names of the two men I swiped right on. Neither of them looks like Drew’s clone, but they’re both tall, have great smiles, and dark hair, just like Drew. I add McGuire to both of their names in a search window and—damn it!
“You certainly have a type, woman,” I mutter. Theodore McGuire is Drew’s first cousin. So is Jacob McGuire, but he isn’t Theo’s brother. They have different parents, a fact made clear by an obituary for Theo’s grandmother from a few months back.
I quickly unmatch with both men and set my profile to private. It’s not safe to stick a toe in the dating waters around here without a complete McGuire family tree. Making a mental note to start working on my “Do Not Date List” during Sarah Beth’s nap today so I’m ready to play the field on Friday with confidence, I get dressed and head to work.
I’m a few minutes early, but head up the steps at Drew’s place anyway, figuring I can help get Sarah Beth’s breakfast and give him more time to get ready for work. But when I step inside with a bright, “Hello, McGuires!” I’m not met by the cheery kitchen scene I’ve become accustomed to.
Instead, Sarah Beth is hiding under the table with tears streaming down her cheeks while Drew leans over, pleading, “Come on, Sarah Beth. I don’t have time to make pancakes and you can’t have pancakes for breakfast every day. It’s not healthy. Sometimes you have to have oatmeal and fruit.”
“I hate oatmeal,” Sarah Beth sobs. “It’s as bad as lasagna.”
“Hey guys.” I finish hanging my coat and move cautiously into the room. “Rough start this morning?”
