Page 3 of The Romance Game

“That’s me. Mr. Right.”

“Did you not hear what I said about not wanting two children? If I date, it’s for marriage. End of story.” The promise of my happily ever after was short-lived. Thirty-six days, to be exact.

“Dude, you are not dad material,” Shaggy’s buddy says.

He and the third guy at the table tease him and I make my getaway. Unfortunately, I have to return to the table five minutes later with their burgers.

“Come on. Meet me for drinks later. I’ll make it worth your time,” Shaggy says with a baggy-eyed attempt at a smolder.

With a plea in my gaze cast at Shaggy’s friends to call him off, I turn to him and say, “You seem like a, um, nice guy, but you do not want to board this hot mess express. The train is known for its delays and diaper disasters.”

“Where’s the baby daddy?”

This guy does not know when to quit.

Leveling him with my sassiest, sharp-eyed, and brattiest look, I deadpan, “The train ran him over.”

The others let out a resounding,Ooh.But whether it’s anoohlike tragedy oroohlike he was burned by my comment, I’m not sure, nor do I care.

I’m joking about the train thing, but when I walk by the hostess stand, my coworkers are in silent hysterics.

Stephanie gives me a high five. “You get to wear the Come-On Queen Crown today.”

I don’t want to think about my ex and the mistake he was—not the Luke part, though. The problem is, I put my money on the wrong horse. Bad analogy. He repeatedly put his money onthe wrong horses with a secret gambling problem, among other things.

We fell in love hard and fast. It was over fast and hard.

It wasn’t that I was heartbroken, more like dumbstruck, because I should’ve seen it coming.

The room at large erupts in a cheer when someone on some team does something. I don’t even know what sports ball game is on until I hear them chanting, “McGregor.”

As far as I know, there is only one professional football player with that last name. And he’s also someone I’d rather not think about. But like everyone else in the Gastrodome, my eyes are glued to the screen as the quarterback for the Miami Riptide scores an epic touchdown—mind you, this is replay footage because it’s still off-season.

“Either you’re really impressed by number fourteen’s ability to throw a spiral or your eyes are on the guy in the uniform,” Stephanie says.

I’m quiet for long enough to remember how easily Ryan McGregor gets under my skin. “He’s not all he’s cracked up to be.”

Stephanie gasps and then claps her hand over her mouth. “He’s your ex?” she asks, implying that he’s Luke’s dad.

Not Luke’s dad and not my ex. Not really. “No, quite the opposite.”

Ryan McGregor is my nemesis. A person I hope never to see again. Doubtful. As soon as my cousin pops the question to the woman he calledthe petal soft flower of his soul—my sister found a book of his poetry back in high school—no doubt there will be wedding bells. I’ll have the unfortunate displeasure of having to participate in the festivities back home. Ryan and Brando are best friends, something I’ve never understood...much.

Stephanie gazes wistfully at the television. “How could a man that fine be your nemesis?”

Pfft.“You’re joking.”

“I’m not. You don’t think he’s gorgeous?” she asks.

“Maybe on the outside, but trust me. On the inside, he’s like the bottom of a busbin after a busy Saturday night.”

There’s no denying that the football player is extremely attractive. Women trip over themselves for him, but I’d rather go wait on Shaggy’s table than think about Ryan.

Stephanie trails me while I do side work. “I can’t believe you know Ryan McGregor. Tell me about him. Do you think you could get him to come in here?”

Before I can answer, I get another table. Thankfully, Shaggy leaves me alone and the rest of my customers are well-behaved. After I clock out, Stephanie stops me when I’m one step away from the exit.

“Do you think you could cover me this weekend? A guy from one of my tables asked me out.”