Page 20 of The 7 Rules of Moving On
“Sick? How sick?” There was a note of genuine concern in Ryan’s voice. Ryan was known in town as a player, but Trig knew better. It’s true he was down to fuck around pretty much at all times, but Ryan never set out to hurt anyone. No matter how hard he tried, he wasn’t ready to settle down. Even so, he had a terrible habit of crushing on unavailable people, and if they had red hair? Forget about it.
“Pretty sick,” Kissie replied. “Woke up with a nasty cough. So now I don’t have a wingwoman or a room to stay in or anything.”
“What? Because of those rules Trig keeps in his drawer?” When Kissie held up the card, Ryan amended, “Keptin his drawer?”
“Yep,” she said.
Squinting his dark brown eyes at the card, Ryan read, “Rule number one: Crying is strength.”
“I’ve already done plenty of that and I don’t feel an ounce stronger,” Kissie mumbled. “I may rewrite that one.”
“Do we have any soup?” Ryan asked, walking around the bar and heading back into the kitchen.
“We have empty rooms this weekend,” Trig told her quietly. “You can take one of those. No extra charge.” He’d already refused to charge any of their drinks to their room. What was a little more small-town hospitality at this point?
“Trig should be your wingman,” Ryan shouted from the kitchen.
When Trig exploded into a fit of coughing, Kissie burst into laughter.
Returning with a steaming bowl of soup, Ryan said, “What? It’s not a terrible idea.”
“Yes, it is,” Trig practically growled. “It’s the worst idea I’ve ever heard.” He did not want to be her wingman. He wanted to be her…he didn’t know what he wanted to be. But not that. Not the knucklehead setting her up with other knuckleheads.
“No, it isn’t,” Ryan insisted. “You know all the men around here. You know all of Kissie’s rules. And you used to make the best wingman ever, before Tin—”
“All right,” Trig said, strafing Ryan with a ‘please shut up’ glare. “I don’t think we need to bringthatup.”
Kissie made a thoughtful “hmm” noise. “You do know all the men here. And you do know the rules.”
Trig’s head practically shook itself. “No. No way.”
“Come on, buddy,” Ryan said, grabbing a spoon and napkin off the counter. “She needs your help. When have you ever turned down a friend in need?”
Trig could have strangled him. “Where the hell are you going with that soup?”
Smirking, Ryan said, “Her friend needs some help too.”
“You are not seriously going to hit on an engaged woman while she’s sick, are you?” Trig asked, exasperated. “That’s beyond the pale, even for you.”
“Dawn does love soup,” Kissie admitted. “She’d probably appreciate the gesture.”
“Thank you, Kissie,” Ryan said with a smug, self-satisfied smirk. “And I’m not hitting on anyone.” Nodding at the foil-covered plate on the bar, reminding Trig what he’d brought with him, Ryan said, “I’m being helpful. Considerate. You should try it sometime,Andrew.”
Trig fought the urge to flip Ryan off behind his back while he left the bar, but when he turned back to Kissie, his resolve wavered. Her eyes had somehow grown even bigger, her lashes fluttering with each blink. When she bit her bottom lip, twirling a lock of her hair between her fingers, he knew he was screwed.
“Please, Trig? Please be my wingman?”
“Fine,” he said, relenting.
Brightening as she bounced on her stool, she said, “You’ll do it? Really?”
“I can’t believe I’m agreeing to this.” Even though everything inside him resisted this decision, he forced a smile. “But if you need to mess around with some random local to get over your broken heart, I’ll make sure you’re safe while you’re…doing it.”
“Thank you.” She welled up, her eyes glistening. “You’re a nice guy, Trig.”
No, he was not a nice guy. He was an idiot. An idiot who would now spend the next few days kicking himself while he helped her find a man who wasn’t him.
“Yeah, I know,” he said, passing her the box of tissues he always kept under the bar. “And since you’re getting rule number one out of the way, how about a little rule number two action?” Pulling the foil off the plate, he revealed four pink heart-shaped sugar cookies with ‘Lonely Valentine’s’ written in white icing across their tops. “Care for some health food?”
