Page 36 of Red Flags Only

Chapter Twenty

Illegal is illegal… unless it’s Ted.

Jove

“I thought we agreed you wouldn’t do anything questionable in the eyes of the law when we’re on our dates,” Lyra comments, standing above me as I stab my pocketknife into stupid Ted’s tire.

“This isn’t questionable,” I inform her, rising to move to the next tire, where I resume my squat. “They know exactly how they feel about this. Illegal, through and through.”

The hiss of air leaving Ted’s tire sparks much joy in my heart. “Do you want to do the next one?” I ask. “This is Ted’s new car.”

Lyra’s frown transforms into pure disgust. “Ted? This is Ted’s?”

“Mmhm. His last one mysteriously disappeared. Wild, that.”

“So wild,” she murmurs, walking around to the other side of the small sedan. “Can I have that knife?”

I grin.

After taking care of Ted’s other tires – and his spare… and his spare’s spare – Lyra and I make our way across the street to the actual reason we’re parked in Bandera’s town square.

Mini-golf.

“I’ve planned a series of flag themed dates,” I tell the adorable lemon drop beside me. “To compound the research. The girliesloveFlag Day, and I cannot let them down. Mostly because letting them down means letting Mars down, which is unacceptable.”

“Which girlies love Flag Day again?” she asks, brows furrowed.

“All of them,” I assure her. “All.”

“Right… and mini-golf has… what? To do with Flag Day?”

“Golf holes have flags,” I educate. “Red ones, even. It’s perfectly on brand!”

She trips stepping up on the curb and grabs my arm to steady herself. “Um. Jove–”

“You’re kind of clumsy,” I remark, settling her on the sidewalk. “Have you always been clumsy?”

She blinks. “Yes. Listen, before we go in there, I want to prepare you.”

“No worries,” I wave away her concern. “I know I’ve never been on a date before, but I did a little bit of research for the research. You’ll see once we get into the contract. It’s going to be all good.”

She bites her lip, shoulders hunched, then visibly lets it go. A deep breath. A relaxed posture. “Okay, Jupiter,” she says. “It’s going to be fine.”

“Good,” I correct. “It’s going to be good.”

She takes my hand, but doesn’t reply.

“What do you mean there are no flags here?” I growl through the plexiglass ticket window inside the mini-golf’s office building. “We’ve been out there for thirty minutesand I haven’t seen a single one. Not even as decoration! What sort of golf course is this?”

“A mini one?” the teenager behind the window replies.

Lyra groans. “Jove, you’re taking it up with the wrong person. This kid is not in charge of the flag content here. He’s just trying to make enough money to take his girlfriend to the movies this weekend. You’ll have to talk to the owner if you want flags.”

Hmph. “Who’s the owner?” I ask the kid.

He points to a full-to-bursting business card holder, and I snatch one, fully intending to havetalkswith whoever is in charge of this sham.

“Did you need anything else, sir?”

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