Page 16 of You've Got Male

Evie hadn’t even had a moment’s peace to think about what she wanted in a partner. She hadn’t gone into her twenties thinking she’d wind up alone. In fact, late at night, when the house was quiet and the world was asleep, she let her mindwander, wondering what it would be like to have a life partner. Someone who took the time to understand her and accept her for who she was. Someone she could rely on and share the workload and joyous moments with—and the shitty ones.

Maybe it was because she’d had a long day, or that the worry over her dad’s health felt like an albatross, but hypotheticals felt like a fun distraction. “Okay,” she said, handing a complimentary bagel ball to the next customer in line, her “Grinder” tee dusted with flour. “If I were to accept a date from a man, he’d have to be kind, funny, reliable, know his way around a kitchen.”

“And the bedroom?”

“For sure the bedroom. My monthly battery budget is insane. And it would be nice to put on some silk and lace for someone other than myself.” She laughed. “He’d have to be gentle, but all man and funny.”

“You already said funny.”

“Because it’s important. If he can’t laugh at himself or the chaos of life, there’s no way he’ll fit into mine.”

“Anything else? Brunette, blond? Bad boy or boy next door? Charming or swagger?”

“Aren’t they the same thing?”

“No, charming comes from confidence. Swagger is closer to cocky but in a good way.”

The man who came to mind had both charm and swagger and had this whole bad-boy-next-door vibe about him, in his own rumpled, lackadaisical ways. Evie gave herself a mental shake.

Thatman didn’t even own a razor—there was no way he could give her what she needed. And at this point in her life, an orgasm was the only thing on the table.

“Neither. I want sweet and romantic, the kind of man who would meet a stranger in a coffee shop and bring a single red rose. Or talk about bouquets of freshly sharpened pencils.”

Julie rolled her eyes. “You mean, like Tom Hanks inYou’ve Got Mail.”

“Joe Fox is a role model for single men everywhere. Successful, driven, loyal, good with kids—”

“A liar.”

“That’s just a trope of the rom-com genre. And it was more of a mistaken identity than a lie, another trope. Oh, did I mention funny—”

“Twice.”

“Loyal and”—since this was just a hypothetical, what was the harm in asking the dating gods to deliver—“a man who can give a woman an orgasm. Like a blow my mind, take me to another galaxy orgasm. But I don’t think one like that exists.”

“Is that a challenge to the Universe?” Julie asked.

Now that she thought about it, a date with a nice guy wouldn’t be so bad. Getting all dolled up for someone else would be fun. Not that there was time for fun, but this was all hypothetical.

“I guess it is.”

Chapter Six

Evie

On Tuesday morning, Evie sat in the break room, staring at her parents across the table. It was like being called to the principal’s office, only she was the principal and her parents were the irresponsible party.

“I can’t believe you let it get this bad and never said a word,” Evie said to them.

Her parents shared a pained look before Lenard spoke. “We didn’t want to worry you.”

“Yeah, well your plan backfired. I’m worried.”

She’d spent last night going through every bill, statement, and order and she still couldn’t believe how close the shop was to going under. Sure, when she’d quit her job to work for her parents’ shop, she figured it would be just long enough to fill in until they could hire someone to take over as general manager. After seeing the books, there was barely enough money to cover the day-to-day expenses, let alone hire a qualified and trustworthy manager.

How had the shop gone from booming to nearly bankrupt in just a year? And how had she been so distracted with her own life that she didn’t see this moment coming?

“Just manifest what you want,” Moira said. Her mom was dressed in skintight capris, a leopard print blouse, and matching heels. Her lipstick was red, her hair upswept, and her skin could rival that of a woman twenty years her junior. People often mistook them for sisters, which Moira loved.

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