Page 38 of Fabulous Filthy Friend

He shifts awkwardly. “And you know I’ve never tried to set you up with anyone, right.”

I nod. He really hasn’t. Which is always appreciated.

Who knows what it would do to our friendship if I dated one of his buddies and it ended badly?

I’d like to hope he would choose me over any male friend, but we all know someone always ends up getting the cold shoulder after those situations. Bros before hos and all that. And the last week has taught me that I can’t handle anything coming between us.

Despite the fact that I’m glaring at him and trying to be pretty blatant about my lack of desire to be set up, Flynn pushes on with his spiel, like if he keeps going, I might change my mind.

“Well, this guy I work with—Dan. Super nice guy who’s not afraid of commitment.”

Red flags fly up, waving in my vision, warning me to beware. Anything that sounds too good to be true usually is. That isn’t something you lead with, nor that you would normally tell a co-worker.

“Not afraid of commitment?” I raise an eyebrow at him. “How would you know that?”

He looks suddenly pained and rubs the back of his neck. “Well, he was married.”

I throw up my hands and roll my eyes. “Oh, great.”

That’s the last thing I need—to get involved with some emotionally unavailable guy who is reeling from the loss of a marriage. No one wants to be a rebound.

Flynn chuckles and shakes his head. “No, no, no, not like that. He married his high school sweetheart. They never had any kids, and they just grew apart. It wasn’t a bad breakup or anything like that. They’re still on cordial terms. And they’ve been divorced for eighteen months, so it’s not like this is a fresh wound or anything.” He pauses and sucks in a deep breath. “Anyway, I actually think you guys would get along really well, and like I said, he’s a super nice guy. The kind of guy you should be with.”

Super nice guy.

Translates into boring mama’s boy.

I can already tell where this is going. Nowhere fast. The kind of guy Flynn thinks I should be with is the kind of guys I’ve been dating since I moved out here and we became friends—solid job, kind, complimentary, opening doors, and bringing me flowers. There’s nothing inherently bad about them. Dozens of women would probably fall over each other to snag men like I’ve dated, but they weren’t perfect. None of them ever seemed to want to spend the kind of time with me that they should and there was never that spark.

And I can’t exactly advertise what it is I do want without being ridiculed and potentially even worse. But if I say no, it’s going to look like I don’t want to even try and that I don’t trust Flynn’s judgment in this, and I actually do. He has never tried to set me up before, and he knows I’m still a little salty over the recent breakup, so I doubt he’d even suggest it if he weren’t confident we’ll have some sort of spark.

So, maybe I’m wrong. Maybe I need to give this guy a chance. He might surprise me…

The family in front of us moves on to the next hole, and we step up onto the fake grass.

He nudges me out of the way with a shoulder. “I won the last hole, which means I have the honors of going first.”

“Asshole.” I muttered under my breath, but his mouth drops open along with his eyes.

“Did you just call me an asshole?”

I slap my hand over my mouth. I almost never curse—at least not the bad ones—even in front of Flynn. Habit. I’m afraid if I get used to cursing in my everyday life, I’ll also let things slip out in class, and nothing else sets parents off more than their kid’s teacher dropping an F-bomb in the middle of story time.

He narrows his eyes at me and tsks the way Mom used to.

“What can I say? You annoyed me so much, I managed to let one slip out.”

His laughter floats through the night air as he takes his shot. This one buzzes right next to the hole and ricochets back, stopping an inch away. I shove him out of the way and then bend to set my ball in place.

He leans on his club and grins. “Well, well, well, look whose competitive side has come out full force.”

I sneer at him. “Watch and learn, buddy. Watch and learn.”

He steps back and holds up his hands. “Show me how it’s done, oh, wise golf master.”

Damn right, I will.

I shoot a wink at him and send my ball rolling down the green artificial turf toward the spinning windmill. The sad thing is, I have a better chance at making this shot than I do at finding a guy I click with who will fulfill all my needs.

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