Page 74 of Never Not Friends

I have standards.

But I’d hoped he’d chew with his mouth open, have dirty fingernails, or do something obvious I could report back to my friends with a clear conscience about why this isn’t going to work out.

Shane, however, didn’t get the memo.

“Am I just supposed to let that cheating slide?” His eyes flirt back at me. “Is that what your other dates do?”

I scoff. “I didn’t cheat.”

“So nudging the ball with your foot is part of your rules in mini golf? Got it.” That smile of his is so big and beautiful I can’t even focus.

“The ball stopped against my shoe. So it wasn’t a nudge. It was just there.”

“It’s fine. I was probably going to let you win anyway.” He bends over his club, pausing briefly to look up at me and wink before putting the ball.

And dang it.

I laugh.

Again.

This man is becoming a problem.

“I don’t need any favors from you.” I try to sound confident. “I can win miniature golf all on my own.”

He pulls out the tiny scorecard from his back pocket. “If you don’t want any favors, it sounds like I’ll be adding a stroke for that little foot nudge back there.”

My mouth falls open. “Now that’s cheating.”

“No, that’s keeping score.”

I lunge for the card. He jerks it out of reach, with me following. Now we’re all arms and body contact and closeness as I try to reach the paper waving in the air above me. I jump for the card, catch his forearm, and tug it down. He counters by sweeping the hand holding the scorecard behind my back, which somehow leaves me trapped between his arm and his chest.

He’s still smiling, but it’s changed slightly. “Now I’m adding a stroke for physical assault. It’s only fair.”

My stomach does a very unexpected flip.

“You’re, like, double my size.” I smile up at him, liking the way my heartbeats have found a pulse for someone other than Vinny. “I think self-defense is more like what’s happening here.”

His brown eyes squint down at me like he’s debating something, then his arm drops, releasing me. “Fine. I’ll give you a mulligan for the nudge. But you’re only getting that one.”

He steps back to give me room to putt.

“Fair enough.” I nod then line up my ball for the next hole. It’s over the river and through the woods, practically, but I’m confident, taking my sweet time.

“So we’ve reached the part of the night where I ask you about your dating history.”

I glance up at him with raised brows. “Oh, have we?”

Shane leans against his golf club, one leg crossed in front of the other. “It’s an inevitable part of every first date.”

That may be true, but I’d rather not get into the specifics, especially since, a week ago, he heard me watching a get-over-the-love-of-your-life YouTube video.

I finish my stroke and watch the ball roll over a little bridge to the other side, then I turn to him. “Well, you might be disappointed because there isn’t a dating history to tell you about.”

“Really?”

“Yep.”