Page 2 of Degrees of Control

Hayley nuzzled into her neck. “You look hot as fuck. I may take you home myself.”

Charlie laughed. “Thanks, I feel kind of naked.”

“Don’t worry about it, you’re just Daleing.”

Post breakup, the softball team had decided to name their self-deprecating thoughts after Charlie’s ex, as inI thought I looked chunky in my skinny jeans, then I realized I was just Daleing myself. Every time someone used the phrase Charlie didn’t know whether to laugh or cry with appreciation.

Hayley released her to walk around and stared deeply into her eyes. “You’re so beautiful and shiny.” She pulled her into another long embrace until Sophia dragged them apart.

“Okay, Drunky McDrunk, that’s enough hugs, we need to brief.”

Sophia took their arms and tugged them toward a dimly lit staircase. They climbed until they were hidden from view but still able to scope the venue.

They stood there a moment as Sophia fretted with her rings. “Lord, I haven’t been this nervous since my junior prom.”

“Worried about aCarriesituation, or did your date want you to put out afterward?” Hayley asked.

Charlie shot her friend a warning look and began rubbing Sophia’s back in slow, soothing circles. A lot of people dismissed Sophia as a shallow Southern debutante, a hot blonde with nothing on her mind beside money, babies and bitchiness. They were wrong. Sophia was a sweet, highly intelligent woman, who could strategize her way out of a blitzkrieg. She micromanaged Charlie’s life out of an unabashed desire to see her happy, and while it was occasionally overbearing, she couldn’t help but love her for it. Even when she’d been forced into stage make-up, false eyelashes and a dress she was pretty sure Sophia had gotten made just for her.

“Everything’s going to be fine,” Charlie said as she rubbed Sophia’s back. “Either way you’ve thrown a great party.”

Sophia jerked away, her lovely face tight with worry. “The party isn’t the point! I swear, if you don’t meet someone tonight, I’ll never forgive myself.”

Hayley gulped a mouthful of frozen cocktail. “How hard could it be to find Charlie some dick? She’s a hot yoga teacher on the rebound—argh—brain freeze.”

Charlie glared at her. “Yoga is my entirely non-sexual profession. I want a guy to go home with me because he likes who I am, not because he wants to bang a yoga teacher and tell all his mates about it.”

“I know, I know. But it’s a good selling point.”

The phrase seemed to snap Sophia out of her funk.

“You leave selling Charlie to me,” she said, taking on the brusque, confident tone she used for her pre-game speeches. She straightened her shoulders and pointed toward her unsuspecting guests. “Charlie, you asked me to help you have a one-night stand of the sexually deviant nature.”

“Hey, I didnotask for that.”

Sophia ignored her. “I can confirm there are thirty-seven single men here tonight, accounting for absences and unexpected girlfriends, all of them attractive, all of them heterosexual.”

Hayley sniggered. “Oh good, Charlie’s first thirty-seven man orgy.”

Charlie tried to stop her stomach from flopping around. This was actually going to happen. “Sophia…”

“To make things easier for you I’ve narrowed your options down to three ideal candidates based on hotness, height and your particularinterests.”

Charlie was beginning to regret telling Sophia so much about her fantasies.

“First up we have Blair Hudson. He’s at eleven o’clock, talking to Parker.”

Charlie scanned the crowd until she spotted an auburn-haired man talking to Sophia’s fiancé. He was huge,literallytowering over everyone around him, and his broad body looked like it rightfully belonged to Superman.

“Blair is a six-foot-five State Trooper,” Sophia said. “He and Parker work together. He broke up with his fiancée last year and has been ploughing through every available female in the Midwest since.”

“Holy shit, Charlie, he willdestroy you,” Hayley whispered.

“Candidate number two, Conner Moreno. Four o’clock, outside. Tall, dark and handsome.”

Charlie took in the man smoking on the back porch. He had a shaved head, two armfuls of tattoos and a brooding expression.

“He’s Colombian, a personal trainer and, by all accounts, a demon in the sack.”

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