Page 20 of Guys Can't Write Romance
“Ethan’s Boring Banker?” Chad said, plopping down on the couch.
“Yep,” Chloe said, angling the bag of chips so Chad could reach inside. “Get ready with the Red Bull.”
“Do not encourage him,” Daisy hissed, smoothing her skirt as she hurried to the door. She opened it, and Ethan stood there, looking pristine as always. If Chad embodied chaos in his hoodie and baseball cap, Ethan embodied smug sophistication in his perfectly tailored suit and tie. His polished dress shoes clacked on the tiles as he stepped inside, his faint cologne wafting ahead of him. He adjusted the cuff of his perfectly ironed button-down shirt, then, almost as an afterthought, leaned down and kissed Daisy briefly on the cheek.
“You’re not ready?” he said.
“I thought you were picking me up at seven,” Daisy replied, brushing her hair back behind her ears. “You’re early.”
“I didn’t want to waste time,” Ethan said briskly. “I thought we could grab drinks before dinner.” His eyes then flickered to Chad. “And who’s this?”
“Oh! Uh,” Daisy stammered, smoothing her skirt as she stepped slightly to the side. “This is Chad. He’s, um…”
“Writing partner,” Chad filled in. He rose from the couch and stepped forward just enough to extend a hand. “Nice to meet you.”
Ethan hesitated for the briefest of moments before taking Chad’s hand in a brief, overly formal shake. “Ethan,” he replied coolly. “I see writing has brought a diverse group together.”
“Sure has,” Chad said, his grin not faltering for a second. “So you’re Daisy’s boyfriend, huh? She probably mentioned you, but I wasn’t paying attention.”
“He never does,” Daisy muttered beneath her breath.
Ethan didn’t return Chad’s grin. Instead, he turned back to Daisy.
“I wasn’t aware this contest was such a group activity,” Ethan said with the faintest hint of disapproval. “But it’s good you’re getting support, I suppose.”
“Oh, yeah, we’re big on support around here,” Chad said. “You see the Post-It mess Daisy made on the wall over there? I was just about to help her fix it when you showed up. Early.”
Daisy shot Chad a glare. Note to self: Chad dies a slow, painful death.
“Post-It mess?” Ethan asked, his brow creasing as he looked past Daisy to the wall; and then around the room at the tilted painting and misplaced books. “It appears the entire room is a mess.”
“Long story,” Daisy muttered. “I’ll tell you over drinks.”
Ethan’s eyes returned to Chad, narrowing just slightly. “And what is it you do, Chad?”
“Oh, lots of things,” Chad replied casually. “Write. Surf. Shoot hoops. Coach P.E. and baseball.”
Ethan blinked, clearly unimpressed. “Oh. P.E.? Hm. Well, I suppose someone needs to teach the children.”
Daisy did a double-take and shot him a look. “I teach children too, you know.”
Ethan returned her look. “That’s not what I meant.”
“That’s exactly what he meant,” Chloe piped in from the couch, kicking her feet up on the coffee table and shoving another chip into her mouth like she was watching a Netflix show. “But hey, Spreadsheet Guy, you do you.”
Ethan shot Chloe a brief, mildly disapproving glance.
“Have you ever played sports, Ethan?” Chad said, giving Ethan’s lanky frame a once-over. This guy probably thought chess was a sport.
“I have. Why do you ask?”
“Just curious. Golf obviously doesn’t count.”
“You don’t consider golf a sport?”
Chad snickered. “Sports are about breaking a sweat. But I can see how that might clash with some people’s cologne.”
“Some of us prefer not to smell like a locker room, I suppose.”
