The worst thing was that I’d put myself in this situation. I was the idiot who’d offered to set her up, and now, I had no choice but to go through with it.
I was the idiot who’d been honest with her tonight.
Thankfully not entirely honest. Fuck knows what she’d do if she knew how I really felt. That I was sorry her date was shit because I wanted her to be happy, but I was glad it was shit because I wanted her to be happy with me.
I was one poetic line away from being a lovesick motherfucking puppy.
“Colton’s sister,” I muttered to myself as I got up and grabbed some boxers from the dresser. “Colton’s. Fucking. Little. Sister.”
If I said it enough times, maybe it would sink in, maybe it would smack me in the face enough that I’d forget all of this.
Or maybe I’d throw caution to the goddamn wind and tell Kins the truth,
No.
No, that wasn’t a fucking option, and I knew that.
That was why I was doing this. Why I was her matchmaker. Why I was setting her up with guys I didn’t think were worthy to lick her Ugg boots clean.
If she was happy, I’d be able to cut a knife through my feelings and move on.
In theory.
In. Fucking. Theory.
The problem with theory is that it always needed a practical experiment to back it up and prove it.
And I was my own goddamn fucking experiment.
I tugged on my boxer briefs and used the towel to scrub the excess water from my hair. Maybe I needed to get on the dating site for myself and find someone to go out with.
Yeah.
I was gonna do that.
I tossed the towel to the floor and went back downstairs. After stopping into the kitchen to grab another beer, I uncapped it using the Montana-shaped fridge magnet I’d grabbed at Bookworm’s Books several months ago and headed back to the living room.
I took a long drink from the neck of the ice-cold Coors bottle and grabbed my phone. I had a series of messages from Kinsley, and I reluctantly tapped on the notification to read them.
KINSLEY: Sorry. I just wanted to know. I knew there was something you weren’t telling me.
KINSLEY: Obviously if I knew what it was I wouldn’t have asked.
KINSLEY: But if I knew, I wouldn’t have had to ask.
KINSLEY: Anyway, I’m sorry.
KINSLEY: Why aren’t you replying? Are you mad at me?
KINSLEY: Josh, I’m sorry. Don’t be mad at me.
KINSLEY: You’re mad, aren’t you?
KINSLEY: Omg. You’re so mad. I’m sorry. I’ll forget you ever said anything. I’M SORRY!!!!
I rubbed my temples. Fuck me.
ME: I’m not happy, but I’m not mad. You’re forgiven. Stop texting me every ten seconds. I was taking a shower.
KINSLEY: OH MY GOD YOU’RE ALIVE
ME: When would I have died in the last twenty minutes?
KINSLEY: Murderers are a thing, you know.
ME: You need to a: stop watching the ID channel and b: read a little less murder in your books
KINSLEY: Okay, first, you need to apologize for that.
ME: I won’t.
KINSLEY: Well, now I’m mad.
ME: Thank God. I might get some peace and quiet to find myself a date instead of you.
KINSLEY: You’re looking for a date?
ME: Is it that shocking?
KINSLEY: No. I just didn’t know you were in the market for a girlfriend.
ME: I’m not looking for a potato stand, Kins. A nice dinner will do.
KINSLEY: Can I help?
ME: Absolutely not. Now go away.
KINSLEY: **middle finger emoji**
I took that as my cue to shut down the conversation. It seemed like a natural end, so I pulled up the Tap That app and logged out of Kinsley’s account. It didn’t take me long to create my own account, and after a few minutes of work on my profile, I started looking.
The app showed a lot of matches for me.
Good.
I scrolled through them, and after ten minutes, I’d matched with five different profiles. Within sixty seconds one of them had matched back with me, and I made the first move to message her.
Josh_395: Hi. How are you doing?
MTgirl: Pleasantly surprised at the lack of cheesy pick up lines. How are you?
Josh_395: Good, thanks. Bit tired from work.
MTgirl: What do you do?
Josh_395: I’m a builder in White Peak. You?
MTgirl: Cool. I’m a reporter for the Dartree Daily. Do you live in White Peak?
Josh_395: Sure do. You live in Dartree Mountain?
MTgirl: Born and raised.
Josh_395: Not too far to go for dinner, then…
MTgirl: Are you asking me out?
Josh_395: Depends. Are you free tomorrow night at around 7.30?
MTgirl: Depends. White Peak or Dartree?
Josh_395: Dartree works. Do you like Fleming’s Steakhouse?
MTgirl: A man after my heart. I’m free. I’ll meet you there at 7.30.
Josh_395: I’ll call for a table and let you know if there’s a different time.
MTgirl: ;) can’t wait.
And just like that, I had a date for tomorrow night.
***
Jessica Harper was wonderful.
She was tall, standing only two inches shorter than me without heels. She had long, blonde hair that curled over her shoulders and halfway down her back, and eyes so blue you’d think she was wearing contact lenses.
She was also absolutely beautiful, great company, and had a great sense of humor.
So why wasn’t I planning on asking her out again?
Because I’d fucked up.
That was all I had.
I knew realistically that I didn’t really want to go out with anyone. All I had to do now was get through the last twenty minutes of this date, drive home, and collapse into my bed.
This was what happened when I engaged my mouth—or my fingers—before my brain.
“Do you ski?”
I blinked and refocused on Jess. “I’m more of a snowboarder. You?”
“I love skiing. My dad owns the lodge on Harvest Mountain.” She beamed. “We could go soon.”
Great. Her dad was rich as hell. “Isn’t it a bit early in the season for it?”
“Hmm, you’re right. Sorry. I got
