Page 3 of Just One Fake Date

“And that’s another thing, Tyler. You work too much...”

“I’ll talk to you later, Mom.”

“You certainly will, young man. You might have grown up but that doesn’t mean you can evade a question...”

“Bye, Mom.” Ty ended the call, telling himself he’d given his mother fair warning. This had been her third call of the day. Sadly, he couldn’t predict whether there would be rain on the day of Katelyn’s wedding—a matter of huge concern for his mom—much less guarantee that the entire day would go perfectly. In his experience, if something went wrong at a wedding, it would be an unanticipated surprise and they’d have to improvise. If nothing went wrong, then it was all good.

His mom preferred to fret.

One thing was for sure—Ty needed an answer to the endless questions about his date to Katelyn’s wedding. Tick tock. He wasn’t seeing anyone. He didn’t want to see anyone. He certainly didn’t want to be fixed up. He didn’t have time to invest in a relationship right now. And it seemed that every casual encounter left him with another woman in his life who wanted more than he was prepared to give.

Giselle texted him again.

She must be hungry.

Ty turned off his cell phone and dropped it into his pocket. He might not turn it on anytime soon, at least not until he got through the previous month’s financial reports for the club.

If he went alone to any of the events leading up to Katelyn’s wedding—never mind the wedding itself—an entire army of well-intentioned female relations would be determined to play matchmaker.

His mom would be first in line.

The prospect made him shudder.

He needed a plan. Fast.

Ty’s friend and partner, the one who could be relied upon for advice about women that was inevitably disastrous for Ty, was lounging at the front desk to the club. Kyle was wearing his yoga gear, and looked as much like a toned and tanned beach bum as ever. He worked a lot of hours, but his lighthearted manner meant that many underestimated his total commitment to the club.

He was teasing the receptionist, which was perfectly predictable. Sonia was tall, blond, serene and efficient—but she also didn’t take any crap from anyone. Ty thought that was her best trick, especially since Kyle was a merciless tease.

“It’s all your fault,” Ty said, pointing at Kyle.

“Me?” Kyle straightened and grinned with his usual confidence. “What did I do this time? Was it worth it?”

Sonia shook her head then answered the phone.

“I’m not taking advice from you ever again,” Ty continued as he headed into the offices behind the reception desk. He hung up his coat and left his umbrella to drip, waved to Jax who was working on a spreadsheet for the next month’s classes, then continued into the conference room. He didn’t have an assigned office at the club, and the big table meant he could spread out his files.

Kyle laughed, unrepentant, and followed. “I’m the only reason that you ever have any fun. Without me, your life would be as dry as dust.” He pretended to blow dust from his open palm.

Ty hardly thought it would be that bad. “But I’d never end up in these tight corners. I can do without that.”

“This sounds juicy. Which particular tight corner are we talking about?”

Ty slung his suit jacket over a chair and gave Kyle a look. “I have to tell my mom about Giselle.”

“Oh, the non-existent-relationship corner.” Kyle nodded wisely but his eyes twinkled. He was enjoying this too much.

He always did.

Maybe he gave Ty bad advice on purpose.

“As if you know anything about navigating that one.”

“I like to keep things simple.” Kyle flung himself into a chair and spun, his manner expectant. “No relationships at all, and no information sharing with my family about my personal life.” He dropped his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “It works much better if your mom lives thousands of miles away.”

“No such luck there. I should never have suggested that Giselle was still around. It should have been enough that they met her once.”

“Don’t be so negative,” Kyle chided. “My brilliant idea kept your family from fixing you up for almost eight months. Don’t tell me you didn’t love that.”

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