Chapter Twenty-Nine

Evie

Evie’s one and only experience in Shoot Your Shot was a blind date that Moira had guilted her into. Chad had been a sweet, good-looking, professional snowboarder who was barely old enough to legally rent a car.

He’d made her laugh, and they’d even shared a kiss, but when he’d invited her back to his place she’d declined. There was only room for one cougar in the Granger house. But tonight felt different. She’d taken care with her hair, picked out a stunning silky top with spaghetti straps and a plunging neckline, dark jeans, and strappy heels. Most would think she’d dressed to impress, but the only person she wanted to impress was herself.

It was a test, to see if she could tap into a side of her that had been extinguished. The part that socialized with friends, tossed back a few fruity cocktails, and laughed like she meant it. Although that part of her, the laughing part, had already made several appearances in the past few weeks. But she wanted to prove to herself that she didn’t need a man to laugh, she could come out of her shell on her own.

Julie opened the bar door, and a blast of temperature-controlled chilled air, expensive cologne, and ear-piercing chatter smacked her around. The place was packed fuller than a free Taylor Swift concert—only instead of teens this was a sausage fest.

Suits ran the entire length of the bar, with a few hipsters in the mix. The average age was mid-twenties—then again Evie had a good five to seven years on most of the You’ve Got Male-Mamas. Whereas Evie had a teenager, these other women had elementary school-aged kids and younger.

Evie’s too-high-to-be-anything-but-an-invitation heels dug into the ground on their own accord. What was she doing? This wasn’t her. The lipstick, the low-cut top, the extra-mascaraed lashes. The bar scene had never been her. Even the new her didn’t like the scent of cigar smell that lingered in the air, or the way the group of men standing at a round top near the front of the bar was sizing them up—like their sausage was looking for a blue-topped bun.

Just turn around, call an Uber, and you can be in sweats with a pint of mint chip in under ten minutes. You don’t have to talk to a single one.

“Why would you when you’ve already got one at home?” Julie asked.

“I said that out loud?”

“Along with the list of other reasons why you’re a chicken.”

She looked at the men, over her shoulder at the exit, then back to Julie. “I’m not ashamed to flap my wings and bak bak bak all the way home.”

“And leave me here with all these straight people? I haven’t seen this many loafers since I walked into my accountant’s firm last April.”

“Who wants to be in a place that reminds them of taxes? Am I right?” She turned to make a beeline for the exit when Julie slid her arm through Evie’s and locked Evie to her side.

“I take back what I said. This actually reminds me of the night I was drowning my sorrows in a pint of rocky road after I found out Zoe was engaged,” Julie said, referring to her ex-girlfriend who claimed she didn’t want to be a stepmom, then turned around and married a woman who had three kids. “You showed up to my house with an emergency Girls’ Night Out kit, which included a little black dress, enough makeup to cover up a zebra’s stripes, and those Doc Martens I’d had on my wish list for two Christmases.”

“The pink camo ones with the platform bottoms,” Evie remembered. Julie had worn those boots until the soles wore out. They were the perfect juxtaposition of her feminine side with a twist of bad-assery.

“You dragged me to Pandora’s Box,” Julie said, nostalgia lacing every word. “Do you remember what you told me?”

“That Vera Wang and Doc Martens are a bold fashion choice?”

“That my person was out there, and it wasn’t Zoe. But I’d never find my person if I kept metaphorically dragging Zoe with me everywhere I went. So you asked me to leave her in the car, for just the night, and see what happens.” She rested her head on Evie’s shoulder. “I did and I met my wife that night.” Julie lifted her head and looked Evie right in the eyes. “Leave all the baggage in the car. Just for tonight, and see what happens.”

Evie jerked back. “Well, I can tell you what’s not going to happen. I’m not going to find my person, because I’m not looking for one.”

“So you say.” Julie took Evie’s arm again. “Look, I told you I was sorry for posting that video of you and Jonah. I crossed the line there. Let me make it up to you by giving you an excellent Girls’ Night Out where we aren’t leaving until at least one of us is shit-faced.”

“Well, you dragged me here, so you might as well buy me a drink,” Evie reminded her.

“Oh. You’re right. I did. But only because I love you and you need to get out and have some fun.” Julie pulled them through the noisy bar.

Evie was relieved to see the You’ve Got Male-Mamas in a booth at the back, waving her over. Julie waved back, then took Evie’s hand and waved it like this was a scene from Weekend at Bernie’s.

“Just a reminder, I’m a hilarious drunk.”

Julie snorted. “You’re an obnoxious drunk. But you’re cute when you’re obnoxious. Now, here we go.”

They waded through the busiest part of the bar toward the back, where all six of the ladies who’d made girls’ night stood and swarmed Evie. Before she knew what was happening, she and Julie were in the middle of a GNO huddle, with arms hugging her from every direction.

“We are so glad you made it,” Alex said. The young mom had her blond hair twisted up at the base of her neck and was wearing a cute red-and-white polka-dotted 1940s-style pinup dress. “The first round is on us.”

“Oh.” Evie waved a hand. “You don’t have to—”

“Thanks,” Julie said, shoving Evie into the nearest seat. “I’ll have a whiskey neat and Dr. Ruth here will have a vodka and tonic, heavy on the vodka.”

“Dr. Ruth?” Evie asked as one of the ladies headed to the bar.

“You didn’t think they invited you here to talk about cross-stitch, did you? They want to know about sex after single motherhood,” Julie said, sliding into the booth next to Evie and blocking her exit.

Evie looked around the table, all the women looking back with rapt attention. “Did you?”

All five heads nodded.

“Only if you want. There is no pressure,” Alex said.

“If you want, Evie.” Julie nudged Evie’s elbow gently.

Alex clapped. “It’s just this is the first time for all of us venturing out into the world of dating and sex. Who better to ask than the original You’ve Got Male girl?”

Evie looked over her shoulder and found the woman returning from the bar with a tray full of drinks. “I’m going to need this first.” Evie grabbed hers and downed it in one shot. She coughed at the cold liquid stinging her throat, then set the tumbler down on the table—hard.

While it tickled her nose and she enjoyed the bubbles stinging her throat, it was not nearly enough to get her comfortable talking about sex—especially since she hadn’t officially had sex. And it was her intention to keep it that way.

As the other women grabbed their own drinks, Evie leaned into Julie and whispered, “Dr. Ruth is like a million years old. There is no way she’d still be getting her tank filled regularly, if you know what I mean. But she still gives advice, right?”

Julie lifted a brow. “Have you and Jonah not had sex—”

She slapped a hand over Julie’s mouth. “No.”

“Seriously?” Julie mumbled through Evie’s fingers. “Plus, that kiss looked too hot for two people who hadn’t seen each other naked.” When Evie didn’t respond, except to flush, her friend licked Evie’s palm.

She jerked her hand back. “Gross.”

“If you don’t want tongue action then keep your hands to yourself,” Julie said. “Unless you want action, just the right man isn’t here.” Julie looked Evie up and down, then gave a Cheshire smile. “Interesting. You know that stick that’s always wedged up your ass? Well, it isn’t as noticeable, like maybe you’ve had a recent orgasm that wasn’t battery operated.”

Heat licked up Evie’s neck to her face and she groaned. “Fine, we haven’t done the deed, but I can attest to the fact that he has a magical mouth.”

“Magical?” Alex said and waggled a brow. “Do tell?”

Evie opened her mouth, but nothing came out. Even though this was part of the plan, a surefire way to cement the story that she and Jonah were an item, she didn’t want to share any of the details from that day. Not even with Julie—and she told Julie everything. While the other things had been for show—she wanted to keep that day between them.

Between them, she snorted, as if there was an official “them.” It wasn’t like they shared inside jokes about lemonade, or knew each other’s quirks and favorite colors, or held hands like a real couple would do. Nope, Evie and Jonah were nothing but a fake couple pretending to have fake feelings.

Sadly, for her, fake was the new real.

Oh boy, was she in trouble.

“I need another drink for this.”

“Coming right up,” one said, and walked off into the crowd.

“Okay, what’s going on?” Julie pulled Evie close and asked quietly. “And don’t bother lying, your face is like a living lie detector test.”

Evie worked hard to school her features, which only made her look more guilty. “What makes you say something is going on?”

“You have that I just ate a gallon of ice cream and I’m going to deny it look.” She leaned forward on her elbows until she was within whispering distance. “Is it about the shop? Am I losing my job?”

“No. Your job is fine.” Evie turned to address everyone. “It’s just that everything with Jonah is still so new. I don’t want to jinx it.” And she didn’t want to add another lie to her already growing pile.

“That’s a smart idea,” Laura said, approaching the table. Her shoulders were drawn, her eyes were two angry slits, and she had a tray filled with—apparently another round. “Because the Jinx is alive and well tonight, ladies.”

“Your date is already over? What happened?” Alex asked, shifting over so Laura could sit.

Laura handed out the drinks, then plopped down. She gave Evie a welcoming but discouraged smile. “He was a creep.”

“He’s a children’s book illustrator. How big of a creep can he be?” one of the other Mamas asked.

“He wanted to know if we could go into the bathroom so he could illustrate me—naked,” Laura said.

“Total creep,” Alex said, then held her glass up. “One creep closer to Charming.”

“One creep closer to Charming,” the group repeated like it was their mantra, then tinked rims and—down the hatch went round two.

Evie was starting to feel a little loose around the shoulders and her neck felt a little wobbly. Her lips were tingling and her body buzzing. It had been a while since she’d been tipsy, but it felt good to let go a little. Which was the only reason she could account for her affirmative response when Laura said, “Never Have I Ever tequila version.”

And that was when Evie went from tipsy to obnoxious and how, six rounds of Never Have I Ever and shots later, she found herself in a dark corner texting her faux toy-friend. Her brain told her to put the phone away and call it a night—her tequila told her to live like she was that fun, extroverted, outgoing woman of years past. So she hit send. Then immediately regretted it.

Evie: Guess what color I’m wearing?

Her words popped up on her screen and she groaned with regret. Maybe if she stuck her phone in her pocket and turned it on silent then the text never happened. Only his response was too fast for her to put her plan into action.

Jonah: You do know it’s after midnight.

She looked at her watch.

Shit. It was nearly one.

Evie: It’s five o’clock somewhere.

Jonah: Where are you?

Evie: Shot Your Shoot.

Evie: I mean Shoot Your Shot

Jonah: Are you drunk?

Evie: Define drunk?

Jonah: Texting me to tell me you’re wearing blue.

Evie: I didn’t say blue.

Jonah: You didn’t have to. I can sense these things.

Evie: It must be another one of your magical abilities.

Jonah: What was my first one?

Evie: First what?

Jonah: Magical ability. You said another one, which means there is already one.

Evie: I can’t tell you. It will go right to your head.

Jonah: Which head are we talking?

Evie rolled her eyes so hard that she nearly toppled off her stool.

Evie: You just proved my point.

Jonah: You’re the one who wore blue.

Evie: Maybe I wore it for me.

Jonah: Even through text you’re a terrible liar.

She got worse when she was drunk, which was why texting him had been a bad idea to begin with. So then why did she?

Because you’re surrounded by a sea of handsome men, yet you keep thinking about one man. And his magic mouth.

Lord, what a mess she’d made of things.

Evie: Am not.

Jonah: Is this our first argument?

Evie: I’m not the arguing type.

Jonah: Then why are you aggressively swiping?

Evie went to punch in a reply and sucked in a breath. How did he know?

She glanced quickly around the room to make sure that she hadn’t manifested him. But there was no grumpy neighbor to be seen. A pang of disappointment pushed through her.

Jonah: Got ya.

Jonah: Back to my magical ability.

Evie’s lady town started buzzing so she squeezed her thighs tighter, but that only made things worse. She closed her eyes to get her hormones under control when an image of his magical ability popped into her mind.

Jonah: Don’t go shy on me now.

Evie: Not shy. Smart.

Jonah: I like smart almost as much as I like blue. I also like knowing that I’m winning this argument.

Evie: We aren’t arguing.

Jonah: Good, then tell me a secret.

Evie typed her response, then deleted it letter by letter. Then retyped it again, only to erase it.

“You came here to be bold, so be bold, Evie Granger,” she mumbled to herself and retyped the message and quickly hit send.

Evie: Your mouth. Kind of like Magic Mike, only Magic Mouth.

She didn’t wait for a response because Bold Evie would leave him with that parting message. Bold Evie would take to the dance floor with her new friends and twirl like she didn’t have a care in the world. Bold Evie wouldn’t think about her fake toy-friend once. Not when some suit asked her to dance and she declined, not when she ordered a lemon drop—which was essentially adult lemonade—and especially not when she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror and liked the woman she saw smiling back.

Nope, she didn’t think about Jonah once.