Page 1 of Mr. Flirt

Chapter One

Daring Disaster

Shep

The man never misses a dare or a bet.

He will never grow up.

It must feel great to be a manwhore, Sheppy.

You’ll never settle down.

These are all the things I’d heard over the years, usually from females, but my friends sometimes teased me too.

For some reason, that last one was the dig that stung the most.

Some might think it would be the manwhore comment that would make me pause, but it wasn’t. I knew I’d earned that title, even if it had happened accidentally. Well, many accidents.

But I didn’t want it to look like I’d been stringing anyone along. Ever.

I always thought my intentions were clear, and I liked the women I’d wound up dating over the years. But truthfully, more times than not, they were the ones who broke it off with me. And if you glance over the character traits briefly once more, you might see why.

And now my mug was plastered on the front cover of our local magazine’s Most Eligible Bachelor issue. However, that was no accident. I had a knack for staying solidly in my bachelor lane.

At an early age, I’d learned that I was good at getting the girl. I was just horrible at keeping her. I never wanted to be perceived as playing with someone’s heart. I had a sister. I knew what lousy love could do to a girl’s world, and I’d never want to do that to a single soul. My younger brother Colton felt the same way.

However, I could proudly say that I’d never cheated. I’d been cheated on, but I would never do that to someone I loved.

Shoot! I wouldn’t do that to someone I hated, either.

I’d seen the devastation to our family when my father did it to my mom. And how I could never look at him the same.

So, why did I feel like reflecting on my life’s worth tonight, of all nights?

It went back to character flaw number two.

I’d accepted a dare to attend this colossal matchmaking event in Seattle, but not as Shep.

Tonight, I was Perry. Perry Bartholomew. I pretended to be a college dropout, who enjoyed couch surfing with the best of them, without a goal in sight. I was more of a wanderer, if you would.

My mission tonight was simple. I needed to prove to my best friends, Mike and Brendan, that with this kind of bum résumé, my looks couldn’t help me get a girl. My best friends felt that I would indeed have a win tonight with the female persuasion, but I knew better. These types of functions were for serious lookers. They’d be able to see through me immediately. A grand was at stake.

Honestly, I hadn’t given the dare a second thought until I wandered into the hotel ballroom tonight with tables as far as the eye could see, with men and women nervously fidgeting and looking around the room like their future selves depended on tonight.

Now, I felt like a jerk.

A royal jerk.

But they’d slapped a nametag on my sweatshirt so quickly and pushed me toward the first empty table that I couldn’t actually get out of the jam that I could thank my best buds for getting me into.

Okay, it wasn’t their fault. I could have declined the dare.

See character flaw number two.

Anyway, I knew I’d made a gigantic mistake when I stumbled to the first table.

Actually, it wasn’t a huge mistake.

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