Page 45 of A Lucky Shot

Every Tyler I’ve ever known has been juvenile

Literally or metaphorically? I don’t condone cradle robbing

EW!

Date 3

Is there any rule about having to stay for the whole thing?

Full permission to bail

Date 4

Report in

Not sure if he’s a general misogynist or just hates his ex with the literal fires of hell?

both?

Date 5

How many more of these do I have to do?

Oh, beautiful

You barely started

“He talked about tropical fish for two hours! Without a break!”

Cass shouldn’t have been surprised he didn’t ask her any questions about herself. She’d felt lucky to get out with splitting the bill on overcooked burgers and a boredom-induced migraine. When he said his mom couldn’t pick him up for an hour and asked if she could drive him home, her people-pleasing instincts overruled her self-preservation instincts and she drove to the out-of-the-way suburb well after dark.

Stupid.

Five dates in and their little experiment forcefully reminded her why she got off the apps in the first place: a sorry group of guys that could be categorized as Chads, Bads, and Wanna-Be-Dads. Not to mention the portfolio of pathetic dick pics that now polluted her DMs.

Besides her latest date with the tropical fish-o-phile, she had coffee with a guy who listed himself at thirty-five but was pushing fifty; beer with a guy who kept swiping other matches on his phone the whole time; lunch with a guy who talked about how much he missed and hated his ex; and one guy who was so mousy she couldn’t remember either his name or what he looked like. At least she hadn’t feared for her life.

“Ouch. Zero for five, then?” Josh grinned, his dimples on display. He laced his fingers behind his head, signature black graphic tee shirt snug over his lean torso. Lighting was still setting up for the next scene, with Libby’s booming voice ordering the grips around, and the rest of the crew was making a serious dent in the craft services table.

“I’ve learned more about cleaning fish tanks than I ever thought possible. If I ever need to change careers, I could get a job at the zoo,” Cass said. “I mean, I’m fine with weirdos. Just not a tropical fish obsessed type of weirdo.”

“So, what is your type?”

Hot, dark-haired, and a where-did-my-panties-go smile.

If she could woman up, she’d say he was her type. Even if it didn’t mean anything would happen between them anymore. But if she said that, it would lead to a series of jokes that would make him laugh as she blushed. And the last thing she needed was his smile wrapping around her like a trap. Those dimples had already lured her into bed once.

No, not lured. She’d tripped over her platform sneakers to jump in his bed.

“I think my type is my problem,” she said finally.

He swept his eyes over her and appeared to come to a decision. “Hand it over.”

“Hand what over?”

“Your phone. Unlock it.”

“Why do I already not like where this is going?”

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