Page 6 of Operation Annulment
Dark blond hair
Blue eyes
Tall
Doesn’t curse
RichFinancially abundant
Helps people
Well-endowedHas a big heart
Actually wants to have sex with meSexually generous and open to exploring new depths of pleasure with me
“So, I told him, ‘Go on to Seattle, baby. Live your dreams.I’ll drop you a line when this little one shows up.’ Well, he took one look at my hand on my stomach, and suddenly, med school—are you listening?”
“Of course.” I drop the pen and meet Carla’s gaze. “Do you feel that Jackie would have gone to Seattle had you not been pregnant?”
“How the fuck should I know? I never had to find out,” she replies with a careless shrug. “Can you believe back then he didn’t have a single tattoo? He said it wouldn’t be professional to start med school with tattoos. Graduated summa cum something but wouldn’t ever let himself enjoy it. I mean, look at me. I graduated cosmetology school and had a damn good time doing it.”
“Tell me about your time in school,” I say, discreetly checking my watch when she’s not looking.
Forty more minutes.
I run the pad of my index finger over the list. It’s a good start.
Everything’s about to turn around. I just know it.
three
COMMANDMENT #4: THOU SHALT RUN FROM, NOT TOWARDS, THE RED FLAGS
Kate
Ican’t believe I’ve been wasting my time at Spin Cycle classes while all the gorgeous—and, more importantly, available—men congregate at Dakota’s gym.
There’s no sign of my dream man yet, but I have a good feeling he’s here, just waiting for a dark-haired beauty to waltz in and sweep him off his feet.
Obviously, he’d have to do the sweeping. I’d look ridiculous doing it.
Maybe we’ll bump into each other while filling our water bottles at the fountain. He’ll offer an apologetic smile and insist I go first, to which I would reply?—
“Dakota, who did you bring with you today?” The stocky man directs the question to my breasts while smoothing a hand over his Better Bodies t-shirt.
Not him.
I believe I was very specific on the height part.
“I’m Dakota’s sister, Kate.” I automatically offer himmy hand, operating off the childhood programming that prioritizes friendliness over self-preservation.
“Kyle,” he replies, grasping my hand tightly in his damp, meaty palm. “Were you looking for a trainer? I had a client no-show, so I’m available.”
Dakota pauses her search for Thor to roll her eyes. “Oh, gee. I can’t imagine why they didn’t come—what with you being such a stellar trainer and all.”
Ah, the jerk who got my sister hurt.
“I’m sorry. You said your name was Kyle?” I ask, wrinkling my nose when he doesn’t release my hand.
