Flirts! 5 Romantic Short Stories (The Flirts! Collection) (4 page)

“I’m still dateless. Looks like you’re going to be buying me a brand-spankin’-new shirt.”

He ignored me. “I’m not giving up yet. My brother’s birthday is this Saturday. I’m taking the night off and you’re coming.”

“What about the sick cat society? They really need my support.” I clasped my hands in a pleading gesture.

He sighed. “Send them a check. I’m afraid you’re going to have to cancel and spend the night with me.”

I looked out the window and grinned up at the moon.

Miranda came back from the beach a day early. “He started talking about baby names.” She plopped onto my couch and dangled her feet over the armrest.

“At least you can cross beach house off your list.”

“True, true.” She picked up a
Cosmo
off my coffee table and started flipping through it. “I’m thinking about working on that bartender from last week. Want to go back there tonight?”

With you? Hell, no
.

“He’s on vacation this week,” I lied. “We’ll try another time.” I didn’t want her anywhere near my crush. He might not be able to help himself. I changed the subject. “How about a sixth-grade sleepover at my place?”

She popped up and headed for the door. “I’ll bring the spa goodies.”

Miranda came over and we recited every line of
Sixteen Candles,
while painting each other’s toes. Mr. Mew promptly climbed onto her lap when she settled onto the couch, and tucked a bowl of popcorn tucked between us. Even feline males preferred her company to mine, that traitorous cat.
You think Miranda would shove a pill down your throat when you get worms, you beast? No. She wouldn’t
.

Our sleepover would’ve been the perfect time to tell her the truth about Brady. But I couldn’t admit I’d finally fallen for a guy—who was trying to set me up with his buddies. Embarrassing. And I didn’t want her pity. It was clear I was just meant to be friends with a guy who I wanted more than a lifetime supply of Godiva. There’s no Valentine’s Day card for that relationship.

On screen, Jake Ryan kissed Samantha, and we both sighed. Then Miranda stretched and shooed my kitty off her lap. “I’m beat,” she said. “Off for some beauty sleep.”

“Ah, if only that’s what it took to look like you.”

She bopped me with her pillow. “Shut up, Jane. You’re adorable.”

“Puppies are adorable.”

“Are we going out tomorrow night? There’s a new bar downtown.”

I wasn’t ready for another night fending off her suitors. And I didn’t know how long I’d be out with Brady. “I can’t. I’m sorry. I’ve got this sick cat charity event to go to.”

She eyed me strangely.

I nodded. “It’s for work. Boss’ll be mad if I don’t go.”

“Have fun, if they allow that kind of thing at a sick cat charity event.”

“I’m sure I will.”

“Has everyone been cleared and vetted ahead of time?” I asked Brady, when he picked me up.

“You never know which stragglers might show up. And we’ve got a few oddball cousins who could make an appearance, but I think we’ll be okay.” He gave me a thumbs-up.

I smoothed my sundress, and was glad he didn’t mention my first appearance in a dress. It was a rare day that I slipped on a dress, but I wanted him to see me as someone more than just funny old Jane.

Thus far, he hadn’t seemed to notice.

Plus, we were going to his parents’ house and it’s always good to make a nice first impression, at least in my world of wishful thinking.

We pulled up in front of a rambling old farmhouse outside the city. The party was in full swing under a big, white tent out back, and as we walked over I could see why Brady had brought me. There was indeed a nice collection of men to choose from. I spotted a Brady look-alike, only a few years younger. “Is that your brother?” I asked, jerking my chin in the direction of the keg.

“Yep. Turning twenty-four today.”

“How old are you?”

“Twenty-six.”

I gave him a nudge. “Me, too.”

“I wouldn’t have guessed. You’re nowhere near as mature as me.”

I stuck my tongue out at him, and he led me over to meet his brother. “Tad, this is my friend, Jane.”

He smiled, and it was almost as dreamy as Brady’s. “Nice to meet you. Brady hasn’t brought anyone along in a while. Not since—”

Brady cut him off. “We’re just friends.”

Guess my sundress wasn’t that cute, after all. I stuck out my hand. “Nice to meet you and happy birthday. One more year till you hit your quarter-century crisis. Ready for it? Now that I’m the ripe old age of twenty-six, I can answer any questions to help ease you through this difficult time.” I nodded sagely.

He took a long swig of his beer and crushed the plastic cup. “I know. Depressing. I figure twenty-five is the year I become an adult. I’ll spend the rest of this one partying. Maybe I need the guidance of an older woman to help me through it.” His smile almost killed me.

I didn’t have a chance to do anything but blush.

Brady grabbed me by the elbow. “Come on, I want you to meet my parents.”

“But I was talking to the birthday boy,” I protested as he dragged me away.

He ignored me and waved to a handsome older couple laughing by a big bed of roses. They looked up and smiled. “Brady, darling!” his mother called.

He reached over and kissed his mom and his father patted him on the back. “Mom, Dad, this is my friend Jane.”

His mother raised an eyebrow.

“Friend,” he emphasized.

He was certainly making that point clear.

“Nice to meet you,” I said. “Lovely place.”

We chatted a bit, and then a few cousins dragged Brady away and I found myself talking to Tad again, without my handler.

“So, what’s on your birthday list this year, young man?” I asked him, as we walked along the shore of a small pond.

“The usual. Beer, money, a pony.” He was a bit shorter than Brady, but he could be a nice stunt double. He seemed just as nice and funny, too.

I tipped my head and raised an eyebrow. “I thought only girls wanted ponies.”

“How else can you be a true cowboy without a pony? My parents could never understand that. I thought by asking for a pony instead of a horse, I’d increase my chances, considering how much smaller they are. But no such luck.” He shrugged and smiled.

“Sorry to hear it, buckaroo. So, no girlfriend here?” I linked my hands behind my back. “Subtle, right?”

He laughed. “At your age, I’m sure you don’t have time to beat around the bush. My mother’s hoping this is the year I grow up and find a decent girl, because you know, she was married with a baby at my age.”

“Wow, I had no idea mothers played that guilt trip business on their sons.”

“Probably because she doesn’t have any daughters.”

“So, what do you do for a living, irresponsible Tad?”

“I’m a high school gym teacher.”

“Oh, those poor girls. ”

“It’s an all-boys school.”

I bit my lip. “I’m sure you’re tormenting a few of them, too.”

He laughed, and Brady materialized behind us. We ignored him.

“What do you do?” Tad asked.

“I’m a veterinary assistant.”

“And she blew off a very important charity event to be here,” Brady said.

I rolled my eyes.

Tad nodded at me. “Hey, I’ve got a fundraiser for the school next Saturday, a Hawaiian luau to help raise money for new football uniforms. Do you want to come with me?”

“I think I’ve got a hula skirt kicking around,” I said.

“Actually, she’s going out with me next Saturday. Remember?” His eyes narrowed slightly.

I looked at him, confused, and before I could say anything, Tad piped up. “Sorry, dude. I thought you two weren’t dating.”

Someone called Tad’s name, and he waved and started walking away. “Talk to you later, Jane.”

I glared at Brady and planted my hands on my hips. “Okay, so what’s wrong with him—recovering from malaria? Is he a closet cross-dresser?”

“He hates puppies.”

“You hate cats, but that doesn’t make you a bad guy.” I crossed my arms. “Why don’t you want me going out with your brother?” Did he think I wasn’t good enough for him?

“He’s immature and it’s bound to end badly. I don’t want to get caught in the middle of that. And besides, I am taking you out next Saturday.” He led me away from the pond back to the party tent.

“You’re blowing off work again?”

He nodded.

“Haven’t we yet mined all your friends and family? Who am I meeting now?”

“No one. We’re going out. You and me. For dinner and a movie.”

“You’re going to pawn me off on the ushers? They’re usually high school boys, and last time I checked, that was illegal.”

“No. I’m taking you on a date.”

“A date?” I narrowed one eye at him. “You’re running out of time and you want to win the bet.”

He held up his hands. “No, no. I just want to take you out. I’ll pick you up at five.”

I thought about that long after he dropped me off. If he wanted to take me on a date, why wasn’t there any goodnight kiss after the party? Or was he just that desperate to keep me from his brother? Something else was going on here, but I didn’t know what.

How in the world do you dress for a date that didn’t really feel like a date? I didn’t want to get too dressed up, but I didn’t want to slum it, either. I had to sneak out for a shopping trip without telling Miranda. The deeper I dug myself, the harder it was going to be telling her about Brady. But what would I even tell her?

She was having dinner with her mother, so she didn’t see Brady pick me up.  He looked kill-me-now hot in a pale blue shirt and dark jeans. Now, if I lived life like Miranda, I would’ve said screw the date, and come on inside and…

“Hi,” I said, pushing those nasty thoughts out of my mind. I didn’t know what was going on, but I knew the evening wouldn’t be ending that way.

Brady was quiet for most of the ride to the restaurant. I joked about his dislike of cats and the collection of bras at the bar being a good resale opportunity on ebay, but it got little more than a chuckle from him.

Once we got to the restaurant and each had a drink, he loosened up a bit. “So, am I allowed to date your brother when he’s twenty-five?” I teased.

He looked out the window. “No, I just don’t want you to, that’s all.”

“You didn’t have to take me out. You could have said I was leaving for an African photo safari or something.”

“I wanted to take you out. Really.”

I smoothed the napkin on my lap and looked at him. “You wanted to go out with me on a date.” I swallowed hard. “As more than I friend?”

Before he could answer, a tall, blond woman walked up to our table, and my first instinct had me thinking it was Miranda.

“Brady? How are you?” She set her hands on the table and leaned over, like she was going to pour her cleavage on his plate.

Brady sat up straight. “Laura? I thought you were in Florida. Did you move back?”

“No, I’m visiting my folks. Who’s this?” She nodded in my direction.

“This is Jane. Jane, this is Laura.”

“His ex-girlfriend,” she filled in.

I gulped and shook her hand. “Nice to meet you.” But it wasn’t. Not at all. She was tall, and thin, and gorgeous, and reminded me of how I wasn’t any of those things. No, Brady wasn’t truly interested in taking someone like me out. This was a sympathy date, and that was it. I was like the girl back at the bar who’d scored a free drink. Tall, blond goddess—that was his type.

“Hope you’re doing well,” she said. “Nice meeting you, Jane.”

He blew out a breath as she walked away. “That was fun,” he said.

“When did you two break up?”

“Six months ago. It was kind of ugly. She moved down to Florida and was mad I didn’t follow her.”

“Do you still love her?” I asked, trying to sound uninterested.

He snorted. “No. I’m damn glad I didn’t follow her there. We weren’t right for a number of reasons.”

I looked down at the menu, pretending to be enthralled with the description for the chicken florentine. “She looks a lot like my friend Miranda.”

He cocked his head. “I guess she does a bit.”

I just nodded and was so grateful I had taught myself how to keep from crying by pinching that space between my thumb and forefinger. My thumb cleavage. It would probably be bruised the next day.

We finished dinner with forced conversation and a few lame attempts at jokes. Afterward, I suggested skipping the movie. “I’m not feeling great,” I said.

“Legionnaire’s disease, I suspect.”

“Probably. Don’t even dream of kissing me, I’m probably contagious.”

“Fair warning.”

We drove home and I had to pinch my thumb again. This date was such a mistake. He wasn’t interested in me, of course not. He just felt bad for me. And how could we keep being friends with this between us now, like a piece of spinach in your teeth that would never go away?

I hopped out of the car before any uncomfortable conversation could arise.

“I’ll call you tomorrow to make sure you’re feeling better.”

“Thanks,” I said, dashing off to my apartment for a long, hot, bubble bath and an even longer cry.

After a restless night, I knew I had to talk to Miranda. She’d be mad I didn’t tell her about this all along, but she would tell me how to save my friendship with Brady if there were any way to do that.

I heard someone out in the hall and popped up to look through the peephole. Brady was leaving Miranda’s apartment. I sucked in a breath and flattened my back against the wall. My heart was in my stomach. Miranda had hooked up with him, after all. She didn’t know how I felt about him, or she never would have done it. But of course, I’d been too stupid to tell her about my silly little crush.

I knocked my head against the wall a few times, then jumped back in bed, unwilling to answer the door for him in case he stopped by my place.

But he never came.

Miranda, however, did. And I wouldn’t let her in. Was he after her now? A nice substitute for his ex-girlfriend? Did seeing Laura remind him there was a perfect body-double nearby?

I waited for her to stop knocking, quickly got dressed, and left the apartment. I couldn’t bear to hear her gushing over the guy I was crazy about. I left a note on my door telling her I was visiting my parents and would be home quite late.