Page 78 of You've Got Male

She blinked. Twice. “That’s very sweet.”

“Don’t sound so surprised.”

“I’m not surprised so much as touched.” She went quiet. “Are you still buried?”

“Asking for a friend?” he said without a trace of humor.

“Maybe,” was all she said, but the organ in his chest reacted like she’d just admitted that she, too, saw possibilities. But he wanted to be honest. She deserved honesty.

“I think a part of me will always be. But it’s easier to breathe now.”

“What changed?”

He wanted to say that she was the change but he knew that would scare her. Hell, it scared him.

“Hello, darling,” someone interrupted, and they looked up to find Moira looking back, a conspiratorial smile on her face. She looked at their intertwined hands. “Aren’t you two cozy?”

He felt Evie fight the urge to pull away. “I got a flat and Jonah gave me a ride.”

“I bet he did.” Moira lifted a naughty brow. “You do look more relaxed, honey.”

“Mom,” Evie scolded, then turned to Jonah. “I am so sorry.”

“Nothing to apologize for, sweetie,” Lenard said. “Your mother’s just proud of you. I guess the sex-tervention worked.”

“Sex-tervention?” Jonah asked Evie, who rolled her eyes.

“You can still leave if you want. It’s not too late.”

“And miss this?” He laughed. “Not on your life.”

“You want to watch me be utterly humiliated?” She stopped and slapped a hand to her mouth. “Oh my God. Is this how I make Camila feel?” She looked at Jonah. “I’ve become my mom!”

“Who is standing right here,” Moira said. “And if that child iseven a tenth as happy as you look then the embarrassment is worth it.”

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Evie

Evie’s one and only experience in Shoot Your Shot was a blind date that Moira had guilted her into. Chad had been a sweet, good-looking, professional snowboarder who was barely old enough to legally rent a car.

He’d made her laugh, and they’d even shared a kiss, but when he’d invited her back to his place she’d declined. There was only room for one cougar in the Granger house. But tonight felt different. She’d taken care with her hair, picked out a stunning silky top with spaghetti straps and a plunging neckline, dark jeans, and strappy heels. Most would think she’d dressed to impress, but the only person she wanted to impress was herself.

It was a test, to see if she could tap into a side of her that had been extinguished. The part that socialized with friends, tossed back a few fruity cocktails, and laughed like she meant it. Although that part of her, the laughing part, had already made several appearances in the past few weeks. But she wanted to prove to herself that she didn’t need a man to laugh, she couldcome out of her shell on her own.

Julie opened the bar door, and a blast of temperature-controlled chilled air, expensive cologne, and ear-piercing chatter smacked her around. The place was packed fuller than a free Taylor Swift concert—only instead of teens this was a sausage fest.

Suits ran the entire length of the bar, with a few hipsters in the mix. The average age was mid-twenties—then again Evie had a good five to seven years on most of the You’ve Got Male-Mamas. Whereas Evie had a teenager, these other women had elementary school-aged kids and younger.

Evie’s too-high-to-be-anything-but-an-invitation heels dug into the ground on their own accord. What was she doing? This wasn’t her. The lipstick, the low-cut top, the extra-mascaraed lashes. The bar scene had never been her. Even the new her didn’t like the scent of cigar smell that lingered in the air, or the way the group of men standing at a round top near the front of the bar was sizing them up—like their sausage was looking for a blue-topped bun.

Just turn around, call an Uber, and you can be in sweats with a pint of mint chip in under ten minutes. You don’t have to talk to a single one.

“Why would you when you’ve already got one at home?” Julie asked.

“I said that out loud?”

“Along with the list of other reasons why you’re a chicken.”

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