Page 37 of About That Night

“What?”

I’m flustered. “You shouldn’t play on my fear of bugs.”

“I never said there was a bug. You said there was a bug.”

I blink. He has me there.

“I was just trying to calm you down. Reassure you there was nothing there by rendering aid and assistance.”

Now that I’m out of the cell, I feel calmer, but it still feels like I have the heebie-jeebies. I briskly run my hands over my arms. “Thank you,” I say wryly.

“Good thing you’re dating. You clearly need a big, strong, protective man to kill bugs for you.”

I’m not sure how he feels about me being with someone else. Hank can switch from flirt to friend very easily. “That’s definitely the number one reason. You know, aside from companionship and friendship.”

“You ever think about dating Conway?” he asks, clear out of the blue. His voice has no edge to it, just curiosity. “He fits the bill.”

“Your brother? Of course not! I had a crush on you, Hank. And we, you know, on two different occasions, and well, I couldn't. I can’t. I wouldn’t. I’m not interested in Conway. Why would you even say that?” I’m flustered by the very concept.

Hank shrugs. “You seem like a good fit for each other. He’s big, strong, loyal. Closer to your age.”

Is that a tell? Does he mean closer to my age than him?

“That’s weird. And gross. And it’s weird. And it’s gross.” I repeat it twice just for emphasis. “I can’t date a guy whose brother I’ve had sex with. That’s very awkward.”

He gives a quick nod. “Fair point. So let me see these guys you’re talking to.”

I hesitate. “You want to see my matches?”

“Yes. If I know any of them, I can give you some intel.”

Why not, right? I can use all the help I can get. “Okay.” I pull out my phone and open the dating app. I show him my matches, which is only a dozen because I’ve kept my radius to Porte French and I just put my profile up two days ago. “This is Chad. He’s twenty-three.” I show Hank a picture of a clean-cut-looking guy who has his dog in his photo with him.

Hank studies the photo. “Is that really his dog?”

“He said it is. I don’t think he borrowed a dog.” I can’t tell what Hank is thinking. “He wants to meet for coffee.”

“Coffee is good. Never a bar. Always somewhere public, like the park or the diner.”

“Of course.” I may be inexperienced with this, but I do have a sense of personal safety. I have my son to think about.

“When are you meeting him?”

“He suggested Saturday. I haven’t answered yet.”

“Well, go for it, babe. Get on that horse.”

“Okay.” I shoot off a quick response, agreeing to meet him. “Then there’s Nick.” I show Hank another picture.

He looks. “He’s kind of young.”

“He’s my age.”

“Hmm.”

“This is Dylan,” I say, showing him a third guy. “He’s very cute.” He is. He has dark skin and a smile that reaches his brown eyes. “He’s twenty-eight and looking for a relationship.”

“Did he ask you out?”

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