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Guilt crawled into Laurel’s stomach and dug in its sharp claws. Her friend was right. No denying that she wanted absolutely nothing to do with the opposite sex. She’d made such a mistake. Been blinded by Lance’s good looks. He’d said all the right things. Treated her the way she’d always fantasized about—great sex, nights out, more money to spend than she’d ever know what to do with. It’d been perfect…until it hadn’t.
“I missed my chance, Teri. I wasted it on Lance.”
“Bull shit. You’re only twenty-nine.” Teri sank back onto the carpet next to Laurel and frowned. “You have plenty of good years left. If you say you don’t then you’re saying I don’t either.”
“You’re already with Greg and have been for a year. He’s great and totally in love with you. This time next year, you’ll be married with a baby on the way,” Laurel said, sipping the last of her wine.
“Mmmhmm, sure Ms. Matchmaker.”
“You will,” Laurel said, confidence filling out her tone. She knew a good match when she saw one and her best friend had found a great one. Greg’s brother had been one of her earliest successes. She’d known from the first time she met Greg that he was just what Teri needed. And after talking to him, Teri had checked all of his personal “boxes” too. They were yet another success on her long list of match-making accomplishments.
Apparently her gift worked on everyone but herself.
Chapter 4
Mr. Sumner will have a date, meaning you need to be sure you bring one as well. Air fare and travel accommodations are included in the attachments for two people.
Mick readthe email twice more.A date?Really? Why couldn’t he just go alone. It’s not like he was going to prowl around for a hookup at the Oscars. Plus, there wasn’t a single person in Somewhere that he could take at such short notice—or wanted to take. Especially the week after Valentine’s. It was a lost cause.
And, if he took someone from town they’d out him in a second. Then he’d never hear the end from his buddies. It would be constant jokes and ribbing. He’d had more than enough of that to last him a lifetime. The teasing had ultimately been why he’d only stayed in Drama Club for a half a semester in high school.
Everyone had given him hell. He’d been called every name in the book and he’d told Mr. Deaver right before Christmas that he wasn’t staying. The teacher had tried to convince him the teasing would pass, but it just wasn’t something he wanted to deal with. It hadn’t been worth it.
He loved drama. Film. All the arts. But not enough to get tortured for it incessantly through four years of high school. After he quit, he’d joined the archery team. Done some wrestling. Participated in field sports when necessary. It’d worked out.
His friends had forgotten all about his foray into drama. He was just one of the guys. He hunted and fished and played the occasional game of softball when called upon to fill in. It was fine. It just wasn’t what he loved.
He kept his true interests under wraps. No one knew. Not even his few and far between girlfriends had been read in on his secret. His parents were the only people who knew his dreams. They supported him. And that was enough. It had been for years.
There was no need for the status quo to change.
But who the hell was he going to take to the Oscars? He certainly wasn’t passing up the opportunity of a lifetime because he needed a date. It couldn’t be that hard to find somebody in town that didn’t know him, right? He flipped to the contact app in his phone and scrolled down the list, his shoulders sagged further with each swipe of his finger. All too soon he was at the bottom of the list.
The only female numbers in his phone was his mom’s cell, his cousin Deirdre, Anna Granger from the therapy ranch outside of town, and the real estate agent—Edie—who’d helped him buy a house a few years ago. All married. Not that they would’ve been options if they weren’t.
He didn’t even have his ex’s number saved. But last time he’d seen her, she’d been doing the two-step with Ronny Gilt—banker extraordinaire—at Everyday Joe’s and had that doe-eyed-hook-on-you-look plastered on her face.
Again.
Not an option.
“Mick, what’s up, dude?” His long-time hunting buddy Jack strolled through the front door of the feed store and up to the counter. “Hey, Charlie.”
The clerk nodded a quick hi and went back to checking out the customer buying a large order of oats.
“Just keeping busy. How did your fishing trip go?” He walked around the counter to meet his friend halfway.
“Great, man.”
Jack nodded over his shoulder to the door. “You been across the street? That’s one fine piece of ass setting up shop. You’ll have more business at the store just from guys hanging around to catch a glimpse of her.”
Mick frowned, shaking his head. “I didn’t even know it’d been rented.”
“Some fancy chick in a skirt and heels that I wouldn’t mind—”
“Jack,” Mick coughed, casting a sideways glance at the customer scribbling their signature on a receipt.
His friend shrugged and raised his eyebrows, a wicked gleam in his gaze. “I helped her down from a step ladder. Let’s just say the view was spectacular. I mean this chick was—” Jack made a guttural groaning sound. “Day-ummm fine.”
