Page 70 of The Last Goodbye

My heart pounded so hard I was certain he could hear it. I forced myself to act casual. He’d just made it clear that he considered me to be a friend.

This wasn’t a date.

The man liked to cook. It was his thing.

Do not make this more than it is.

“Dinner on the boat. As friends,” I said, more to let him know I understood what this was.

“Yes. Dinner on the boat as friends.” He chuckled and added, “Does that mean you’re coming?”

Does that mean you’re coming?

Did he really just say that?

Was I the only one who was having ridiculously dirty thoughts?

I jumped to my feet. “Yes. I will join you for dinner tonight, as long as you come to the restaurant right now and pick a flooring option so I can get it ordered. If we can get that done, I’m sure after a long day of work, I’ll be plenty hungry. We can even make it a working dinner. Two friends who continue working over dinner.”

Please make the nervous rambling stop.

“Always the professional, Magpie.”

I wasn’t feeling all that professional at the moment, but I sure as hell wasn’t going to tell him that.

“Let’s go, friend. We’ve got some flooring to pick.”

He was still laughing when we stepped off the boat and started walking back to the restaurant.

I peeked up at him, and he looked relaxed and calm.

I was a bundle of nerves, while the man didn’t look remotely fazed.

I needed to get myself together by this evening.

This was not a date.

Definitely not.

We already had a tumultuous relationship; complicating it with a potentially flirtatious dinner was a terrible plan.

We were friends.

Nothing more.

seventeen

​. . .​

Bass

I’m making Briar dinner to thank her for what she did for Jovi.

Brody

Dude. It’s okay to say you like the woman. You don’t have to use our text chain as a confessional.

Cannon