Page 26 of Flirting with Forever

A few times a year, he’d start having sex dreams multiple nights in a row and he’d know it was time to find a hookup. When it was time, he did one of two things. Either he called up Stephanie Ortega, who he had an eighty percent chance of hooking up with—she’d been his three-quarter girlfriend about a decade ago and, if she wasn’t involved with anyone, was usually pretty receptive to a booty call. Or he went to the same dance club in Lower Manhattan that he’d been going to since law school. It was dark, a little grimy, and the only dancing that anyone really did there consisted of the sweaty grinding of soft parts against hard parts. All John had to do was knock a few drinks back at the bar and then slide onto the humid dance floor. There too he had about an eighty percent success rate of going home with someone.

But that wasn’t what he was talking about here. No. This move, this sitting down in the chair across from Mary, was a whole different thing. He sipped at his beer, which was warm because he’d gotten here so early to try to make sure he got the right seat at the bar.

He had two legs. He could stand up right now, walk over there and sit down.Mary, screw Elijah Crawford. I’d really like to kiss you good night.

He could do it.

He was going to do it.

John reached into his back pocket, pulled out his wallet and threw cash on the bar. He took a deep breath that tasted metallic in his throat. Shiny with nerves, he was about to stand when his phone vibrated in his pocket. He pulled it out and rolled his eyes when he read the text.

Whatever. His mother could wait. Right now, he had a chair to sit down in, he had a beautiful woman to be crystal clear with. He was nervous and unsure, but he was doing this. He was—

“Did she text you too?” A warm hand landed on John’s elbow and all thoughts of the chair across from Mary died an immediate death. Because Mary stood beside him at the bar and the hostess was already clearing away Mary’s used water glass from the table.

“My mother?” he asked hoarsely, trying to catch up and clear the nerves from his throat all at once.

Mary held up her phone to show him the text she’d just gotten at 8:00 p.m. on the button.

Mary, dear, so sorry but Elijah won’t be making it tonight. Sorry you had to get all dolled up! Don’t walk home alone, love. I’ll see if John is still at work.

The restaurant wasn’t actually far from John’s work and he laughed as he showed Mary the text he’d just gotten.

Mary was just stood up by Elijah Crawford, she’s at that restaurant Mellow. I’m sure you’re still at work, so be a dear and head over there to see the poor girl home.

John watched Mary mouth the wordspoor girl.

“Your mother is ruthless!”

He tucked in his smile. “I told you so.”

“I know, but I just couldn’t picture it. She actually made sure I’d get stood up so that you would have a reason to walk me home. Either she’s the greatest wingman of all time or she should see a therapist.”

John, still trying to contain his smile, raised his eyebrows. “Could be both.”

“Wow. I meanwow. I can’t believe she went this far. For all she knows, I’m completely crushed right now.”

“Well, in her defense, if you were crushed, shehadjust sent her charming, handsome son to pick up the pieces.”

Mary laughed. “John, you’re many things, but charming isn’tquiteone of them.”

It was silly for his stomach to swoop at the fact that she hadn’t refuted the handsome part of his teasing statement. Was it possible that she thought of him as handsome?

“You’re all paid up?” she asked.

He nodded, all different strains of adrenaline racing and twisting through his system.

“Shall we? No reason to stay if Elijah isn’t coming.”

No reason. No reason. No reason.

Give her a reason!he internally shouted at himself. There was an empty stool next to him. Getting her to sit on the stool was just as good as sitting down at the table across from her, which was no longer an option. But...wait, was it as good? Buying her a drink and telling her he wanted to kiss her somehow seemed sleazier and less romantic than physically and metaphorically taking Elijah’s seat.

Besides, she was already walking across the restaurant toward the door. Was he really going to sit there and watch Mary Trace walk out of a restaurant again? Hell no.

He nodded at the bartender, left the second half of his beer and hurtled after her.

“Which train are you catching?” she asked as they fell into step down the sidewalk.

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