Flirts! 5 Romantic Short Stories (The Flirts! Collection) (3 page)

“It’s close enough to walk. You ready?” he asked.

“Let’s do it.”

Eight of us sat at a big table, sharing wings and war stories from our high school sports careers. Or lack of a career in my case. “I’m just saying, how many concussions do you need to suffer on the volleyball court before you realize it’s not your calling? The coaches pawned me off on each other until I finally gave up sports and joined the drama club. And they kicked me out for being too dramatic.”

Brady’s friend, Flynn, just laughed and shook his head. “What kind of volleyballs did you use? I remember them being very soft.”

“True, but the floor was quite hard when the ball hit me and knocked me over.”

Flynn’s eyes swept over me. “You should have moved on to beach volleyball. You certainly could handle the uniform.” Up went a sexy eyebrow. “I could teach you a few moves this weekend. Bunch of us are hitting the beach on the South Shore if you’re interested.”

I almost ducked, hearing the flirty comment sail my way, like an errant volleyball. I looked over at Brady, expecting a told-you-so smirk, but he was frowning. “She can’t make it.” He scratched his head. “She just had a pre-cancerous mole removed. A great big one on her back. It was all hairy. And lumpy. She has to stay out of the sun unless she’s totally covered up.”

My mouth dropped open and I glared at him. Who did he think he was—
me
? And why was he shooing off the very men he’d been trying to set me up with? I excused myself to hit the restroom and jerked my head, signaling him to follow me.

As he caught up to me outside the bathroom, I pretended to fan myself. “Gosh, Mr. Quinn, how could I have forgotten my great big sunbonnet today to shield me from the venomous rays of the sun?” I crossed my arms. “And did you have to make the mole hairy? God. Did I miss the purpose of today’s little exercise?” I tried to sound mad, but he flashed these puppy-dog eyes at me that would undoubtedly get him out of any jam.

He grabbed my shoulders. “I know. I’m sorry. He definitely seemed interested, but he’s no good for you.”

I swatted away his hands. “I’ll decide that for myself once I see if he has six-pack abs or not. And I suspect he does.”

He looked at me, incredulous. “And you say men are the ones after looks.”

“Without money or power, six-pack abs are a nice consolation prize.”

He shook his head. “He’s got the abs—and three ex-fiancées. He left each one within the month before the wedding.”

I leaned back against the wall next to the kitchen. “Cream of the crop you’ve got here for me today. Thanks, Brady.”

“I kind of forgot about that. Normally, I don’t think about all that bullshit. But with you, I have to.”

“Compliment or put down? I just can’t decide.”

“You deserve better than that, Jane. Plus, I’m a little scared of you.”

I slugged his arm and pushed past him into the bathroom. Truth was, none of his friends would do. Not while he was hanging around. But I had to face the facts—if he was trying to set me up with his buddies, he must not be interested in me.
Deal with it
.

He was waiting for me when I came out. People were clearing away from the table and he dropped a few twenties by the check to pay for our share.

“Thanks,” I said.

“I’m lucky I could cover it. I got lousy tips last night because someone was distracting me all night.”

My first thought was Miranda, but then I realized he meant me.

“Hey, I could have set you up with Miranda in exchange. She was definitely interested. It’s not too late.” How much did it suck, saying that?

He looked down at me, and his eyes locked on mine. “I’m not interested.”

I sucked in a little breath. “You’re going to have to explain that to me one of these days.”

He just shook his head. “Maybe one of these days you’ll figure it out for yourself.”

We stopped walking when we reached my car. “So, day one and no success. I’m still dateless. That T-shirt is going to look so cute on me.”

He ignored me. “Good news. My buddy, Dave, is having a barbecue this Wednesday night. Kind of a hump-day thing. How ‘bout I pick you up at six?”

“Should I bring anything? Nothing homemade. I’m not that kind of girl.” Just wanted to get that out in the open.

“Nope. Just your acerbic wit. I’m sure you’ll be serving up rounds of it.”

I really didn’t want our day together to end. In a movie, this is where we’d make an awkward attempt to kiss each other and it would end up being so awesome, we’d tumble into the car only to emerge rapturous and flushed, hours later. Or maybe interrupted by the police in a slapstick scene.  Or aliens in a sci-fi movie. Or a killer in a horror flick. I shuddered, imagining
that
, but I still wanted a kiss.

But he just patted the roof of my car, waiting for me to get in.

So, I climbed in. It was getting late, and duty called at the vet clinic the next day. Poor, furry suckers didn’t know their early morning joy-ride was going to be the end of their manhood. There were three neuters scheduled for the next morning. That’s something a girl needed to rest up for.

“See you Wednesday,” he said.

I waved goodbye, pretending I wouldn’t be counting down the hours. All seventy-two of them.

Brady picked me up in his Wrangler, and I was more excited to see him than the time I saw Santa behind our house the night before Christmas. I hoped this hot, funny guy wasn’t going to just turn out to be make-believe, too. I liked him more and more each time I saw him.

“Did you tell Miranda what you’re up to?” he asked.

“Since she lives across the hall from me I would’ve, but she’s down on the Cape this week at someone’s beach house. Apparently the dry cleaner is the new place to meet hot men.”

“Or at least cleanly-dressed men.”

“I’m sure he’s both. And rich.” I was glad I didn’t have to tell Miranda about my “date” with Brady. She probably would’ve wanted to come along and I wasn’t willing to share. She had enough boys to play with.

Brady slowed the car. “Should we make a detour to the dry cleaner before the party?”

I leaned my head back on the seat and looked at him. “I’m good, thanks.”

He sped up the car. “Miranda sounds very different from you.”

I snorted. “And you didn’t draw that conclusion the other night from looking at us?”

“No, I mean the way she treats men. Like an all-inclusive ticket to amuse her. I’m surprised you’re friends with her.”

I tightened my grip on my purse. “You don’t understand.”

“Of course not, I’m a man. Enlighten me.”

I looked out the window, wondering how much to tell, but still wanting to defend her. “We met when we were kids. I was nine and she was eight. We were both in the cancer ward at Children’s Hospital. Leukemia, only hers was worse. Way worse.”

He reached over and squeezed my hand. “I’m so sorry.”

His hand on mine was like butter on a biscuit—only I was the one melting. I had to remind myself to keep talking. “Yeah, it sucked. But it sucked more for her. My parents were there all the time. I was never alone. But her mom was single; her dad took off before she was born. Her mom couldn’t lose her job, and she could only visit for a little while each day. So, we kind of took her under our wing.”

Brady pressed his lips together. “That must have been so hard for her.”

I nodded. “And then it got worse. I only had to do one round of chemo. She had to do more. I checked out of the hospital and she was still there.” Damn it, tears were pricking my eyes and it was too late to stop them.

“Tissues are in the glove box,” he said.

“Thanks.” I reached for one and blew my nose, knowing how pretty that must look. “I tried to come back and visit her as often as I could. I felt so guilty, knowing she was there, alone. We’ve been friends ever since. No one else really understands what it’s like to go through something like that.”

“And you still feel responsible for her?”

I hadn’t really ever thought of it that way, but he was right. “Yeah, seventeen years later, I guess I still do.” I picked at my thumbnail. “She has a bit of a “live life to its fullest” thing going on, thus her list of conquests. Kids with her type of cancer usually don’t live past forty,” I said, quietly.

He came to a stop for a red light. “That explains a lot.”

I shrugged. “So don’t judge her. And don’t judge me for helping her. It seems like fun and games, but it’s more than that.”

He reached for my shoulder and squeezed it. “You’re a great friend, but don’t put your life on hold just to make sure she lives hers.”

I sucked in a breath. He was wrong. Totally wrong. “I’m not. Not at all. Look at me with you here tonight, trying to wrangle up a date.” I swiped a stray tear off my cheek and put my defensive humor back in full protection mode. I hadn’t told too many people the story I’d just told Brady. But now it was time to change the topic. “So, who are the lucky fellows today, anyway?”

The car behind us beeped, and he pulled his hand away from me and started driving. “Some friends from college. Good bunch of guys, and they’ll love you.”

“Where did you go to college?’

“U Mass.”

“For their fabulous bartending program?”

“Ouch, that almost hurt. No, I got the most useless degree in the world—political science—and here I am, wondering what to do next.”

“Besides counseling dateless women.”

“Soon to be formerly dateless women.”

“Could be your new calling: matchmaker to the hopeless.”

His friend Jack had a fabulous house with a big back yard and a beautiful wife who laid out a spread of food that should’ve been photographed and put on a magazine cover. I would have been happy dating
her
just for the food. But Brady was right, a few interesting friends were there as well, and he made it clear when he introduced me that I was just his pal.

“Go get ‘em champ,” he whispered to me. He went into the house, leaving me outside with Brett the dentist, Tony the roofer, and Zach, who owned a store. We wandered over to a horseshoe pit. I was just glad no real horses were involved. That would certainly have had an ugly outcome.

“Jane’s on my team,” Tony announced. His big, black dog barked his approval and ran over to us.

That made me smile. He was my pick of the bunch, with long, dark hair, a killer tan and muscles to match. And he brought his dog along?
I’m in,
I thought. I grinned at him. “Confession time, before you tap me for your team.”

“Oh, no. You don’t play for my team?” He tried to look serious.

I playfully whacked him. “I’ve never played horseshoes.”

“Never too late to learn. Let me show you.” He handed me a horseshoe and stood behind me, gripping my hand and showing me how to pull my arm back and throw it toward the pin. I’m certain he could’ve gotten across the points of the game without the up-close-and-personal demonstration, but that was the most man action I’d had in months.

I threw the first shoe and it clanged against the stake and spun around, dropping to the grass.

He high-fived me. “Holy crap, total natural! Knew I was right about you.”

I smacked my hand to my forehead. “All these years neglecting this inborn talent. I could’ve been on my school’s horseshoe team.”

Brady wandered out with beers for us all and watched while Tony and I totally creamed the other team. Tony scooped me up and spun me around. “You’re awesome.” His dog leapt and barked, hoping to join the fun. “Even Winston thinks so.” He patted his dog’s head.

I looked over at Brady, but he wasn’t smiling.

Tony sat next to me at dinner, and we had a competition to see who could eat more ribs. He beat me, but only by two. “You eat more than any girl I’ve ever met.”

“Oh, you sweet talker.” I nudged him with my elbow. My stomach wasn’t rolling like it did at the thought of hooking up with Brady, but I’d be interested in a go-round with Tony.

Seemed like he was thinking the same thing. “My uncle owns the roofing company I work for. He’s having a picnic for us Saturday afternoon. Wanna come and do some damage in the horseshoe pits?”

I opened my mouth, but Brady answered for me. “Don’t you have that charity thing that day? For the sick … cat … society?” He totally faked a cough.

I narrowed my brows, and he fixed me with a stare. “Oh, right. I almost forgot I even signed up for that. How could I have forgotten the Sick Cat Society Gala? Thanks for the reminder. Wouldn’t want to let them down.”

“Maybe some other time,” Tony said, his smile disappearing.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got her number,” Brady said.

Which, clearly, you won’t ever give out
, I thought.

We said goodnight, and I couldn’t wait to confront him in the car. “I forgot, are you coming with me to the Sick Cat Charity Gala?  Don’t I have to go to the Dermatologist for my mole that day?”

He dropped his head back against the seat. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t let you go out with him.”

I planted my hands on my hips. “You said these were your nice college buddies. That’s why you brought me here, remember?”

“I didn’t know Tony was going to be there. He’s friends with Jack, but he’s not one of my college buddies.”

“And what’s wrong with him?”

“He’s got an arrest record. Drugs.”

Shaking my head, I closed my eyes. “Your men just get better and better. But why don’t you let me go out with him and decide if he’s right for me? People make mistakes. He’s even got a job.”

“Well, his jeans seemed too tight. Doesn’t that bother you?”

I gave him a look.  “And why were you checking out his jeans?”

Brady’s face reddened. “What? Well, it was… it was hard to avoid,” he stammered.

“I know. They looked good. Real good.”

He frowned, backing out of the driveway. “I remember being at a party where he was arguing with a woman in the driveway and she left crying.”

“Maybe she just found out someone died.” I pointed at him. “Making a woman cry doesn’t take him out of the running. Not even the arrest record does. I don’t have a man shopping-list like Miranda. My needs are simple. Cute and nice.”

“I can’t vouch for whether he’s nice. I’d have to think jail makes a person not nice. Sorry. I have to say no to this one.”  His hands gripped the steering wheel.