Page 18 of Good at Being Bad (Rock Canyon, Idaho 8)

“Yeah, I know, but you’re also not a pro football player who can get tail by just snapping his fingers. Whatever is in that notebook might not work for you. Wouldn’t you at least like a second opinion?” Ellie couldn’t tell if he was actually thinking about her offer or if he was about to toss her out on her rear. She told herself this was important because she needed him to help her repair the damage she’d caused, but it might also be that she was curious. Why did everyone seem to think Mike needed help getting women? Everyone else liked him and he was handsome with his own business and house.

So, was she right, and he had laundry so dirty it scared girls away?

Finally, Mike asked, “But why your second opinion? What makes you such an expert?”

“You mean besides the fact that I have ovaries?” When he didn’t laugh, or even crack a smile, she sighed. “I’ve been dating since I was thirteen, and I know women. We all want the package deal…a guy who treats us right, who’s also uber sexy, has a few tats, and drives a hot car or motorcycle.”

“I’m just saying that you being a woman doesn’t mean you know about relationships. And you haven’t exactly been a fan of mine, so why should I trust you?”

Okay, he had her there.

“You’re right about the fan part, but I do know what women are looking for in a man, and this pretend nice guy thing is not it.”

“That is the second time in less than five minutes you’ve insinuated I’m not really a nice guy, that it’s all an act. I think I should be insulted.”

“Don’t be. You’re very good, but I know your type.” She ticked off her fingers. “You pretend to be a knight in shining armor until it’s no longer in your best interest and then you screw them over. Unfor

tunately for you, you’re being too nice and it’s turning the women you’re involved with off.”

Mike stood up and walked over to the shelf to grab what looked like a tool box. “So, if you think I’m just going to screw over whoever I date, why help me?”

“Because I need something, and I’m not afraid of making a deal with the devil.” Dramatic, but it broke the tension.

Mike laughed, shaking his head. “You’re cr—”

She narrowed her eyes and he coughed.

“I was going to say, creative,” he said.

“Right. Look, do we have a deal?”

Mike tilted his head, watching her with those Golden Retriever brown eyes and she fought the urge to squirm. Finally, he held out his hand. “Deal.”

Ellie took his hand with a grin, a plot already forming. “Come by Buck’s after work and we’ll get started.”

Mike stood outside Buck’s Shot Bar just after five, wondering what in the hell had possessed him to agree to this. Ellie and he hadn’t even been able to stay in the same room without insulting each other and now they were going to be in cahoots? Partners in crime?

He would have told people she was okay, just because he wanted to make it up to her for the way he’d treated her. But when she offered to help, some part of him kept yelling for him to say yes. To do it. To crack through all the bullshit and rumors and figure out who Ellie was. He couldn’t help it—she fascinated him.

Because she’s beautiful and fiery and doesn’t think you’re genuine?

He had to admit, he found it interesting that she didn’t believe he was a good guy, that he was just putting on an act. Granted, he hadn’t exactly shown her his best side, but still, people sometimes didn’t click. It didn’t mean they were faking it.

Suddenly the door swung open, and Ellie stepped out. “Are you going to stand out here staring at the door or come inside?”

“I hadn’t decided yet,” Mike said. “How did you know I was here?”

“A little birdie told me, and I’m deciding for you.” Ellie took a step toward him, and grabbed his hand boldly. Heat shot out across his skin and up his arm as he allowed her to drag him inside behind her, too surprised to ask what she had planned for him. He caught the sweet smell of her perfume, and, despite his best intentions, he got a semi.

“I’ve been thinking about our problem with your ‘lack of credibility,’” Ellie said.

“My lack of credibility?” Mike echoed as they passed by the bar toward one of the booths on the wall.

“Eric, I’m taking a break.”

Eric scowled at her from behind the bar. “A break? You just got here!”

“Technically, I’ve been here for over an hour, and we’re dead anyway.”

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