Page 66 of More Than a Good Friend

“You’re fine. You don’t have to change to be my friend, Dag.”

My phone buzzes, and I tilt the phone away from Dag as I read the message from Luke.

Luke:Crazy busy week at work. New project. You free Sunday for lunch?

It’s been more than a week since I’ve heard from him, and I’m guessing he’s still very much a workaholic. But I choose to give him a chance. He seems like a genuinely good guy, and those are hard to find. At least that’s how it seems to me. Maybe the other good ones are swiping left on my picture.

Me:Sunday works. Let me know when and where to meet you.

I catch Dag looking my way and scowl. “Eyes on the road. Please don’t wreck my car while trying to read my messages.”

He flashes a sheepish smile. “Going out with coffee guy again?”

“Sunday. And his name is Luke.”

He tightens his grip on the wheel. “Cool. When do I get to meet him?”

“Dag, I don’t need you to screen my dates. I’m a grown woman and can decide who’s worth my time.”

Without taking his focus off the road, he grins. “I’m just glad I rank and get some of your time.” He turns, drives through a ranch gate, and finds a spot under a sign that readsFree Parking. “We’re here. Hang there a sec, and I’ll get your door.”

It doesn’t seem fair that I’m going on dates with a guy who messages once a week and then I spend hours some days doing fun stuff with my friend who has zero romantic interest in me.

What I need is someone who has all that rolled into one person.

* * *

On Sunday,I stare at my phone, disappointed.

Luke:I’m sorry to cancel with such late notice, but I’m having an issue at work and can’t get away today.

After sending a thumbs-up, I call Tandy.

“Hello, lady. What kind of trouble are you getting into today?”

“None. That’s why I’m calling. Luke canceled on me. You free for lunch?”

“Yes, ma’am. There’s a vegetarian place I’ve been wanting to try. That interest you?”

“Sounds great. One o’clock?”

“Yep. I’ll send over directions and see you there. Gotta go.” Tandy ends the call.

I have a few hours until lunch, and I’m hoping the little salon in the next town over has an opening for a pedicure. Pampering myself is how I intend to cope with my disappointment.

Dag pulls up as I step out the door. “Hey, I’m glad I caught you. What time is your lunch?”

“He canceled.” I open my car door. “But I’m headed out. What did you need?”

“Where are you going?”

“Why?” I’m not in the mood for a long drawn-out discussion of how I plan to spend my day.

“Can I go with you?” He points at the passenger seat. “I won’t even ask if I can drive. And—hear me out—if you want a cocktail with lunch, I can drive us back.”

“Why?”

“You keep asking the same question over and over. I like hanging out with you, and the bull wasn’t interested in playing fetch today.”

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