Page 44 of My Undead Heart

Right. Because Jared bats for the other team. But Matt ... Matt would look fine as hell in bed. That well trained body leaves very little to the imagination. The stamina from long workouts would transfer to the bedroom, wouldn’t it? Then there’s the way he’s so authoritative when he’s in charge. I can practically hear the deep timbre of his voice instructing me what to do. “Oh, my God ...” Groaning, I drop my face into my hands, this time to clear the naughty images from my mind.

“What am I going to do? I can’t back down. Not with the cocky smirk he’d flash knowing I was being downright chicken. And dating him? How’s that gonna go? We get along great, but that’s because there’re no expectations. We both know it goes nowhere. If he starts to get ideas ... like, I can’t handle it. Not with Matt.”

“Jesus. You’re worse than women who start a Pinterest board for the wedding after the first date, only in reverse. He doesn’t want a relationship with you; he probably wanted to call your bluff. So, don’t fold. I’m sure you’ll have fun together, though I don’t know how you’ll keep your hands off of him. Or why you’d want to.”

“No. I don’t.” The words pop out extra sassy.

Jared chuckles. “Just say it. I think you want to.”

“What?”

“I give the best advice ever. You’re welcome. Now get back to work before Stanton sees the long break you’re taking! Especially with the partners in town!”

“You were the one—”

“You’re welcome. I know, I couldn’t live without me either.” He winks and turns to leave.

“Delusional,” I mutter.

“What was that?” His head snaps back to raise his brows.

“Superstar. That’s what you are,” I grind between a forced smile.

“Madonna. Nice. Break for lunch at eleven?”

I nod because really, did he even need to ask? We’re best friends and sure, we give each other a hard time, but I couldn’t survive without Jared’s advice and insight, even if I do the opposite of most of it. Twisting back to my computer screen, I wonder if he’s right. Could Matt have known I’d make a bet like that? No way. I’m not that easy to read. The real me, the one very few ever see, is guarded safely behind a good ten different levels of carefully designed defenses. Hell, most men never make it over the first firewall before I install a new virus protection and swear off relationships for another year.

Some women are really good at being a girlfriend. When they care about the man they’re dating, they go out of their way to show him. Cook him his favorite meal. Hand over the remote so he can watch his show. Yeah, I’msonot that girl. I don’t like modifying my choices for anyone, especially a man. If that makes me selfish or undeserving of a boyfriend, I’m totally okay with it.

But this bet with Matt is different. I’m not going out with him because I want to. Hell, he didn’t even ask me, I asked him—even though I thought he’d say no.Shit. This entire thing is stupid and I don’t know why, but it has my stomach twisted in little knots. Probably because it’s like a science project that leads to the worst possible conclusion of all.

That must be it. Because I like Matt. Not in a mushy way, but in a you’re-actually-not-the-douchebag-I-assumed-you-were kind of way. And I didn’t expect to enjoy learning self-defense but it’s something I now look forward to, including the ride home on the back of his bike. I don’t want to ruin that, but I’m certain after spending more time with him outside of the gym, I won’t enjoy his company anymore. It’s more probable he’ll really begin to grate on my nerves and I’ll have to give up our training altogether.

My phone buzzes from the top of my desk and I glance over to see a message from him.

Matt: Doing research. Date #1 is in the works. Hope you’re ready.

A grin takes over my face and if anyone were around to see I’d have to mask it. Since they aren’t I pick up my phone and indulge in an answer back.

Mia: Good luck with that. Every date I’ve been on sucked monkey balls.

His answer comes almost immediately.

Matt: Ixnay on the monkey balls. Got it. Back to work I go.

I think about responding but I don’t know exactly what to say. Instead, I set the phone down and pull up my email so I can answer a few questions from my boss before breaking for lunch. Not a minute goes by before my phone buzzes again.

Matt: Training tomorrow night? 10?

Unlocking the screen, I tap out my response.

Mia: Yes.

I almost suggest hitting a meal of food truck hotdogs on the way home and counting that as our first date, but then I don’t want him to think hotdogs are code for something dirty.

Matt: Good. Maybe I’ll give you a clue about our first date. I know it’s all you can think about.

Shit.Iroll my eyes because sure, it might be taking up a lot of mental space at the moment but not for the reason he’s implying. Knowing he’s joking anyway, I get the last words in with my reply text and slide my cell inside the desk drawer so I’m not tempted to check it again.

Mia: You wish.

A little reminder so he doesn’t forget exactly what this is—a bet and nothing more.

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