Page 8 of Tight Spot

“I’ll think about it,” I finally sighed. It was a carrot dangled in front of her, one I figured she’d run with but whatever.

It gave me time and got me out of this conversation.

For now, at least. Pretty sure happy hour was going to be a different story.

* * *

“Okay. How about this?” Misty flung back her blonde hair and tipped her wineglass in my direction. “Let Meredith go through the men she has in her files. Maybe she’ll find someone in it who can give you the D.”

“That’s not what I do,” Meredith grumbled.

I slumped down in the booth on the rooftop bar area at Vecchio Mondo Vino and rested my head on Sloane’s shoulder. “Can we please stop talking about this?”

Mission: Get Hailey to have hot sex, commenced as soon as Sloane, the last of our party of four, joined us and poured herself a drink from the bottle of Montalcino we’d started with.

The table was filled with a variety of tapas, including my personal favorite, bruschetta.

Sloane patted the top of my head. “There, there. It’ll be okay.”

I huffed a laugh and sat back up. “Why can’t we focus on Sloane or Misty? They’re single, too.”

“Yeah, but I’m dating,” Misty said. “And I’m perfectly happy with my situationship.”

Situationship. I didn’t even know what that stupid term meant. Friends with benefits? Fuck buddies? Seemed like that’s what it was supposed to be, but Misty’s situationship bought her flowers and had soup delivered to her when she was sick and took her out on real dates. Seemed an awful like dating to me, especially after four months, but both claimed they didn’t want a relationship. Except, wasn’t that exactly what they were doing? Sometimes the dating world made my head spin.

“Sloane isn’t.”

“Don’t bring me into this.” She bumped her shoulder into mine, and I lifted the glass of wine over the table, thankfully not spilling any of it. “I’m in my post-divorce healing era.”

So she had a pass. At least my relationship ended before I’d changed my name, moved in together, built a life and mixed finances, and then had it all blow up.

Small mercies. I grabbed a piece of bruschetta and bit into it, moaning at the flavorful burst of tomato, basil, and fresh mozzarella. Vecchio not only made the cheese on site, but grew the basil and tomatoes on the rooftop gardens on the other side of the deck from us.

“How about this, then?” Meredith sipped her wine and tilted her head to the side. “I won’t force you to listen to me, again, by the way, because I think I already tried…”

She arched a brow.

I rolled my eyes. “Can you please stop telling me I told you so?”

“Sure. Happily.” She grinned like a maniac. “If you agree that if I find someone who fits exactly what you think you’re looking for, you’ll consider it for twenty-four hours before telling me no.”

Think? I knew what I wanted. Someone who was the complete opposite of Darrick in every single way I could imagine.

If the tall, lean, tennis-playing, country club blond, blue-eyed boy who looked like the sweetest boy in the world could screw me over this epically, my next guy would be his exact opposite.

“Exactly what I’m looking for?”

She reached into her Burberry bag and pulled out her old-school paper planner, flipping to the notebook at the back. “Let’s make a list. Shall we?”

She clicked the tip of her pen and put it to paper.

I’d play this game. And make it completely impossible for Meredith to deliver. Then I’d never have to be the target of her matchmaking again.

Drop-dead sexy.

A little bit rough looking.

Tattoos because Darrick said they were skanky and classless, even if I’d always wanted one.

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