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She grinned upon seeing me. “Congratulations on the new job, cousin. Give me a minute to get ready, and we can go out.”
I held up my package of frozen fries—because I didn’t happen to have an ice pack at home for my ankle. “Rain check for the weekend?”
She came over, letting her hair down from her bun, and sat next to where I had my foot elevated on a pillow. “Oh, no. Are you okay?”
Sometimes my cousin could be self-absorbed, but she was sweet with the people she cared about. “Yeah, I’ll be fine. You should still go out if you want.”
Didn’t have to tell her twice. Malorie lived and breathed the Vegas night-life. And with her long blond hair, big blue eyes, and banging body, she never went without attention.
I didn’t bother to glance down at my own body for comparison. Banging would never be a word to describe my curvy, five-foot-two frame. Our mothers were identical twin sisters, yet we looked nothing alike.
“Maybe I will go out for a little while.”
“Please do.” Having the apartment to myself would be kind of nice. Not that Malorie wasn’t a good roommate, but sometimes it was pleasant to spend time on the couch without conversation. “Oh, I put your heels back in your closet. They’re beautiful, but I definitely won’t be borrowing them again since I can’t keep my balance.”
Her expertly arched brows shot up. “Are my shoes okay?”
And we were back to the superficial side of her. “Perfectly fine.”
She breathed out a sigh of relief. “Good, because they weren’t cheap. So tell me where you’re working. Any hot guy prospects?”
Nic had given me a tour of the warehouse, and “hot guy” seemed to be a criteria for working there. “Lots of them. Most are prior military.”
Her eyes went round. “Oh, yeah?”
“Get the thought out of your head. You’re not dating any of the guys I work with.” I didn’t need Malorie’s drama in the office. She was a girl who enjoyed any and all male attention and wasn’t above dating multiple guys at once.
Her lips curved into a smile. “Fine. You keep all those hotties to yourself.”
“I’m not dating where I work.” The intense, military, spend-all-my-hours-in-a-gym guy was definitely not my type. As if to send the point home, my hand reached into the bag of chips next to me and pulled out three. I shoved them into my mouth.
Malorie scrunched her nose up in distaste. “You seriously can’t keep eating all these carbs and hope to lose weight.”
“Since when was I hoping to lose weight?” I’d long ago made peace with my curves.
She sighed, standing up. “You want a man, don’t you?”
“I can’t find a man who enjoys eating chips with me?”
She laughed. “Not one who has a six-pack.”
“We have very different types of men in mind.” If Malorie wanted to go low carb to look the way she did and only go after guys who were equally into fitness and health, then more power to her, but I certainly wasn’t about to date a non-chip-eating guy. Where was the fun in that?
“What do you want in a guy, cousin?”
Hadn’t the matchmaker I’d gone to see asked the same question? When I’d first moved to Vegas, I’d sought a professional regarding the relationship search. But after two disastrous dates, even by my standards, let’s just say she wouldn’t return my calls.
And online dating? Ugh. At first it had boosted my self-esteem as there’d been plenty of interest in my profile. But then for every penis picture I’d received, a piece of my soul and belief in humanity left me. Especially the hairy ones. An involuntary shiver snaked through my body at the memory forever burned into my brain.
Of course, meeting men out in a club in Vegas didn’t exactly foster relationship material, either. Most were tourists only looking to reenact theHangovermovie and not at all interested in a love match.
“I want someone who makes me laugh. Who’s loyal and kind and can’t wait to see me when I come home at night; someone who wants to spend time with me.” It was hard to describe, but I wanted someone who was a partner in all things. Most of all, I wanted a man who’d make a great father to our kids.
“It sounds more like you want a golden retriever than a man. I don’t get why you want a relationship when you can have fun instead. Why settle down at your age?”
She was two whopping years older than me at twenty-six, and not even close to settling down. I didn’t think the man existed to convince her to do so. Not when she enjoyed the chase more than the prize.
“I want a family.” Sure the night-life could be fun, but I much preferred to be home curled up with a good movie and popping popcorn. The thought of preparing for the holidays for my kids filled me with a pang of want.
