Spring Fling (Dating Season Book 1) by Laurelin Paige (best ebook reader for ubuntu .TXT) 📕

for years. Well, maybe I have, but there’s no time to respond with more grannyisms about the dangers of social media, because the front door opens and in walks the reason for my nun-like state and Charlotte’s insistence that I give this a try.

“What’s up, ladies?” Austin, Charlotte’s roommate extraordinaire, drawls in his husky timbre that warms my wine and brings the fine hairs on the nape of my neck to attention.

“Hey,” I say, sitting a bit straighter. “How was work?”

“Busy.” He deposits a white to-go box on the counter separating the kitchen and living room. “What do you have for me today, Chloe?”

For a moment, I can’t think. He truly is extraordinary, in an understated way. Dark eyes, dark hair, and a dark sense of humor. He’s the holy trinity in my book. But, like all good things, he’s taken. So I can only mope and admire his tall frame from atop my lonely dying-hill.

“Forks were once thought to be sacrilegious,” I finally say.

He chuckles and leans against the counter, crossing his arms. “Why is that?”

“When they were introduced in the 11th century, they were considered artificial hands and as such, an offense to God.”

“Amazing. You never disappoint me, Chloe.” And his amusement at my gems of worthless knowledge never disappoints me. “I’ve got something for you, too. A customer ordered fettuccine Alfredo, and while I was making it, they canceled due to carb-guilt.” He winks at me. “I know you love to eat, so I brought it home for you.”

Three concerns immediately present themselves.

The fact that he expected me to be here is troublesome. For someone who wants to be alone, I’m always hanging out here to avoid being alone. Maybe I do need a date.

Austin is a phenomenal chef, so although I hate being predictable, I’ll take the fettuccine. Seems fair. He feeds me delicious pasta, and I feed him useless history facts.

He cannot see what we are doing. Sure, he’s got a girlfriend, but do I want him to think I’m off the table? Not that I’m on the table. But I might be? Some day?

“Thank you. That was really thoughtful.” Faster than Austin can dice an onion, I spring from the couch and cross to Charlotte’s desk, positioning myself to block the screen.

He ambles closer, bringing the seductive scent of garlic with him. “What are you—”

“It’s lady underwear stuff,” I half shout, at the same time Charlotte says, “Setting up a dating app.”

Austin’s eyes volley between us.

“A dating app…for Charlotte,” I amend. This is not my finest cover-up.

He stops a few feet from my raised hand and gives me side-eye. “Charlotte’s engaged.”

“She may need a fling.” I shrug. “Don’t shame her sexual needs.”

“I do need to know I’m still desirable,” Charlotte adds, because besties roll with stuff like this. “I’m a modern gal in a post-modern world, bud.”

He grazes his bottom lip with a peek of white teeth, and then, like the laid-back guy he is, lets it go. “Okay. Keep your secrets. I’m going to shower and nap before I meet Lucy.”

Right. Lucy. The totally put-together new girlfriend with a successful career in public relations.

“Let me know how you like the fettuccine,” he calls on his way out of the room.

When he’s disappeared down the hallway, Charlotte whispers, “You know, you’re doing this to get over him. So it’s okay if he knows. Because…you’re moving on?”

“Shhhh. He doesn’t know about my crush. And never will. Because you would never, ever tell him, upon pain of death. Right?”

“I’m offended. Girl Code is more sacred than the cross.”

“You’re Jewish.”

“It’s the principle.”

“Well, I’m already nervous enough about going out with strangers, I don’t need him making me more nervous. He’ll have me convinced they’re all serial killers.”

Actually, I don’t really need convincing on that part. Granny Mae convinced me years ago.

“They’re hardly strangers,” Charlotte reassures. “They’re friends of friends on your social media. Who are going to give you an O—”

“Stop, please,” I cut her off. “I need to eat my feelings with cream sauce. Want some?”

“I do, but no. I have a fitting for my wedding dress soon.”

See, Charlotte doesn’t understand what it’s like to put yourself on the internet. She’s been with her man since high school. If only my high school boyfriend hadn’t been a jerk, I could be in Charlotte’s position. Thanks for nothing, Josh. Ten minutes later, when I’ve settled into a chair next to Charlotte with warmed pasta—and more wine—Austin reappears. “How is it?”

“Delicious, as usual.” Even if it’s now stuck in my throat at the sight of his damp, rumpled hair.

“Good. I’m heading over to Lucy’s now, because she wants to nap with me.”

A nap date. Could life be more unfair? I love naps.

Austin’s crooked grin before he leaves is beguiling, and really, it’s best I do this dating thing because no one should be so enamored with the smile of such a good friend of theirs.

“Why can’t all men be like Austin?” I murmur, twirling fettuccine in an endless spiral on my fork.

“They can be, Chloe.” Charlotte places a hand on my knee. “You’re so focused on the tree, you can’t see the forest. It’s time to say timber.”

Maybe it’s the alcohol lowering my defenses, but she’s right. Austin is one of my favorite people. He brings me unexpected meals and laughs at my history trivia, but that’s as far as it goes. “Let’s do this, before I change my mind.”

She smiles. “While you were focused on Austin’s…noodle,” I choke briefly, “I set up the account with your email. Your password is forkme.” Charlotte’s pink nails fly across the keyboard and navigate to the profile page. “First, we need a cute picture to entice the forest. Got any selfies?”

“No. I’m not a selfie taker. I’m a meme saver.”

She lifts her phone and aims it at me. “Smile.”

This is happening too fast. Although I’m only half invested, I’d like to at least look like I didn’t crawl out of a hole. She gives me a few minutes to release my