What Lovers Do

“Oh …” His eyebrows lift. “You’re dating?”

“No. Of course not. It’s been two seconds since we stopped…” my nose crinkles “…doing whatever we were doing. I was just using it as an example. I don’t know what to talk about.”

“How’s your mom been since her cat died? Are you nervous about your arranged marriage?”

I grin. How does he make it look so easy? Oh that’s right … he wasn’t the bad lover. “I’m a little nervous about my arranged marriage. And my mom is fine, I guess. I haven’t talked with her lately. My dad called and wants me to go to California and golf with him in two weeks.”

“Sounds fun.”

I nod. “Yeah, it should be fun. What about you? Any plans to travel?”

“Nah. Just working. Unless my new friend invites me to California to golf with her and her famous dad.”

Averting my gaze to the dogs chasing each other, I give him a nervous laugh. “I’m sure my dad would love to play golf with you, but he wouldn’t understand our friendship.”

“Now see … that’s the problem. When did it become so unnatural for men and women to be just friends?”

“Since you didn’t want to tell your parents you took a woman to Sedona instead of your male friend. And since we had bad sex in Sedona.” There. I slip that in there. He pitched the perfect ball; how could I not hit it out of the park?

Shep smirks, rubbing the pads of his fingers over his mouth. He can’t erase his amusement no matter how hard he tries. “Well…” he glances at the dogs instead of holding my gaze “…now that we got that experience over with, we can be friends who go to California to golf instead of having bad sex.”

WHY WAS IT SO BAD?

“I’m not inviting you into my world.”

“I invited you into my world.”

“Yes, but I didn’t ask to be invited. In fact, I fought you on it.”

“I didn’t ask to be invited into your world. I suggested you invite me into your dad’s world. At this point, I don’t even care if you go. I’m good with playing golf with just your dad.”

“Are you seriously trying to hijack my golfing trip with my dad?”

“Why are you making this so difficult?”

I roll my eyes. “Because I can. Because I should.”

“You worry too much.”

“I worry an adequate amount.”

Shep smirks. “So that’s a yes to me going with you?”

“What would I tell my dad?”

“We were best friends, but that didn’t work out, so now we’re just friends—the really mature kind who can go reverse in relationship status.”

I shake my head slowly. This is a bad idea. Everything about Marcus Shepard has been a bad idea. Why can’t I say no to bad ideas?

“Are you flying or driving?” he asks.

“Driving.”

“Great. If I go, you won’t have to drive the whole way. You can kick back, read a book, take a nap …”

I shake my head, but I can’t help but grin. “I don’t know.”

“Think about it and let me know. If you don’t want me to go, I get it. I’m sure it’s nice to spend time alone with your dad.”

I grunt. “It’s never time alone with him. His wife Taryn is always with us. She’s a shitty golfer.”

“Worse than me?”

I smirk and giggle. “Just barely, but yes.”

“Is she younger than your dad?”

I roll my eyes. “She’s younger than me, by a year.”

“Ouch.”

I shake my head, watching the dogs chase the ball that Shep throws. “I’m not bothered by her age. He adores her; that’s all that matters. It’s not like I hate her. She’s a yoga instructor and her family owns a winery. My dad hates wine, but it’s a secret. He’s never had the nerve to tell her that. I think he’s hoping it’s an acquired taste, but he has yet to acquire it. So if you like wine, then she will love you.”

“So…” Shep slides his hands into his front pockets “…that’s a yes. Right? You said she’ll love me, that means I’m invited?”

Shit …

I shake my head. “Hypothetically. That’s what I meant. I haven’t decided yet.” Too bad I can’t say that without grinning.

“Oh … I’m so going.” He takes a step closer, keeping his hands in his pockets. “You want me to go because I’m your favorite friend.”

I shake my head. “Jules is my best friend.”

“Yes, but I’m your favorite.”

“Favorite and best are the same thing.”

He shakes his head slowly. “No. They’re not. George Clooney is my best dog. He’s better behaved and knows more tricks. But Julia Roberts is my favorite dog because she’s a lovable daddy’s girl. So Jules can be your best friend because you’ve been friends for so long, but I’m your favorite friend because I golf and I’m available at a moment’s notice.”

A little uneasy in his close proximity, I clear my throat and lift my gaze to his. “Funny, for a short bout of time you said we were best friends.”