Page 41 of A Lucky Shot

The fuck? With friends like that … Josh shook his head. “That’s messed up.”

“She was kidding, I think.” She stared wistfully to where Libby and Stephen huddled. “I guarantee Nick will announce the future Mrs. Martin within the year. Two, tops.”

A thought unsettled the edges of his brain. Stephen played his romances close to the chest, but surely, he would have said something if they’d had a history. “You and Stephen ever …”

“Oh, god no. He and Libby go way back.” Cass laughed. “Plus, Stephen’s not my type.”

Something unclenched and he let his lip curl. “How’s he not your type?”

“I don’t fall for guys who are nice to me, and when the guys I date do start being nice, they are nice for someone else. They put their energy into someone else.”

“Ever think you just make them realize they want more?” asked Josh.

Cass winced and stared down at her hands.

“Oh, shit. That sounded really bad,” Josh said hastily. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“I’m not sure you’re wrong, though.” Rose blossomed on her cheeks again. “I’m just tired of it. And Nick, he’s just the latest, and the worst. I need to get over him once and for all.”

Josh couldn’t help but think she was extremely cute when she was embarrassed, and she embarrassed herself a lot. But this wasn’t the kind of embarrassment where she was having fun.

Cass gave him a put-upon look, but a small grin broke through. “Sorry, I don’t usually throw pity parties like this.”

He did. He was practically an event planner for pity parties. And he knew how to break out of them.

“There are way better people out there, and definitely better fuckboys.”

“Haha,” she said. “The last thing I need is to be under someone else’s spell.”

Again, she’d been under him. Those fantastic tits pressed into his chest, one shapely calf wrapped around his back, the other locked around the back of his thigh to urge him deeper. The way she’d cried out when she came, arms twined around his neck as he … absolutely shouldn’t be thinking about this right now.

Talk about getting someone out of your system.

He cleared his throat. “You need to meet people. A bunch of dates with a bunch of different men. A bunch of different women?” he finished with a question.

“Unfortunately, I’m only attracted to men, although being into women would just double my chances of getting ghosted. No one really wants this package.”

“Package looks spectacular from where I’m sitting.”

“Stop it.”

“Are you on Raya?”

Cass scoffed. “Not all of us are big enough names to get an invite to that.”

He hadn’t gotten his invite through his name. The model he’d slept with added him because it was the only messaging platform she used. Easier to hookup when he was in LA. Not like he messaged her back after.

“Never mind, that’s useless up here, anyway. Tinder? Bumble? That new one?”

She looked away, fiddling with the tail of her blouse. “I have a Tinder account. I haven’t used it in a while,” she hedged. “It’s really out of date.”

“We’re in production here for months,” he said, a plan forming. If he was in a self-imposed celibacy to focus on his movie during that time, at least he could get vicarious stories out of Cass, and maybe help her get over this schmuck. “Go on two dates a week. That’s plenty of time to see what else is out there.”

“That sounds exhausting!”

“You’re not on set for fourteen-hour days. Ten, max,” he said, waving a hand to dismiss her objections. “Do you want to get over this guy or what?”

She gave a pitiful grimace and nodded.

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