Page 8 of More Than a Good Friend

A hand lands on my shoulder, and Goldie’s breath tickles my neck. “Thank you.”

The little girl taps the chair. “You’re sitting by me, Aunt Goldie.”

“Great. How are you, Missy?” Keeping a hand on my shoulder, Goldie eases into her seat.

When we leave, it’ll be uncomfortable silence again, but right now, things are good.

Missy puts her mouth up to Goldie’s ear. “Is he your boyfriend?”

Maybe not so good.

CHAPTER5

GOLDIE

Mama is more unhappy with Dag than usual. But I could kiss the man. I won’t. For obvious reasons. But he’s been awesome tonight.

She knows I’m never going to be interested in Ronaldo, but she’s desperate for me to find someone. And I understand. But I don’t just want a someone. I want love. And the repeated buzzing in my purse throughout the evening is helping me keep my hope for Dag’s affection in check. I’ll have to see who has matched with me, but I won’t do that in the car. Dag will only ask about the apps, and that is not something I want to discuss with him.

He’s a good friend, but I want more than that.

I just have to keep reminding myself of that when I’m tempted to hang onto the old dream and continue hoping he’ll look at me with stars in his eyes.

He opens my door and holds out his hand. One eyebrow is raised, and he’s twisting his mouth, a clear sign that he has something to say. Thankfully, he waits until he’s behind the wheel and the doors are closed.

He turns on the engine, then turns to face me. “I’m surprised she didn’t just chew his food for him. What is wrong with that guy? Why would your mom want you to go out with someone like that?”

“Perla is Mama’s long-time friend. And Mama’s desperate for me to get married.” I hold up my hand, halting what I know he’s about to say. “I’m not changing my mind about our deal. And I still don’t want to talk about it.”

He taps on the steering wheel. “Besides Ronaldo, did you have a good time?”

“I did. And you were wonderful. Thanks for making sure I had someone on each side of me.”

“Your mom may never forgive me.”

“But it won’t have anything to do with tonight. She blames you for me never marrying.”

He slams on the brakes, and his eyes go wide. “How is that my fault?”

One night hasn’t made him any less dense.

“It’s not.” The fault is completely my own. I’m the one who’s been hanging on to some crazy hope.

It doesn’t even make sense. I look nothing like the women Dag normally dates. And when I think my new makeover makes me look good, he swats away that glimmer of hope by telling me I look better without it. But my everyday natural look hasn’t worked in my favor.

However, all is not hopeless. There are multiple notifications on several apps, and when I get home, I’ll be answering every single one. Fingers crossed that at least one of them isn’t a weirdo. I’ll say yes to as many as possible. Because statistics and all that.

As Dag negotiates traffic and gets on the highway, I study his muscular arms. It’s not a wonder he has no trouble finding dates. He has movie-poster good looks and muscles to match. With his shirt off, he can stop traffic. And I’ve seen him do it.

Ages ago, when we were still in high school, some club we were in had a car wash. But no one wants to trust high-school kids with their expensive cars. Well, Dag rips off his shirt and stands beside the road, holding up a sign.

Minutes later, we were all busy washing cars. I think every single cheerleader got her car washed that day.

And every one of them handed Dag their number.

“You got quiet.” He looks at me out of the corner of his eye before changing lanes. “Want to stop for a drink? There’s that new country bar that opened in town.”

“Rain check. I’m tired. It’s been kind of a long day.”

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