Start Me Up (Man of the Month 4)

Definitely not Alan's thing, but even though they'd never actually talked about being exclusive, Alan was the only guy on Shelby's current radar.

So who was the man in her delicious little fantasy? For that matter, why was she fantasizing at all? She was perfectly happy with Alan and their casual non-relationship. Maybe they were moving more slowly than was common these days, but there was nothing wrong with that.

"Getting back to Alan," Hannah began, once they were in her car and heading toward downtown. "Obviously he's not tying you up and fucking you like crazy--"

"Hannah!"

"--so what is going on with you two?"

"Oh, my God," Shelby said, a little disconcerted that Hannah's question tracked Shelby's own. Albeit in a completely mortifying way. "You're impossible."

"I know. I really am. It's just so easy to tease you. But the question's legit. You and I haven't had the chance to catch up in weeks. I do want to know what's going on with you."

Shelby lifted a shoulder, a little mollified. "Alan's great. He's the perfect guy. Smart. Attractive. And he's on tenure track at the university." Alan was an assistant professor at UT in the same department where her mother held a tenured position as a professor in the Department of Statistics and Data Sciences. And her father, who was a high-level statistician with the State of Texas, thought that Alan pretty much hung the moon.

"Mom says he'll probably be the dean of the department someday," Shelby added.

"And?"

"And what?"

"Oh, come on, Shel. Forget bondage tape--but does he get your motor revving?"

Shelby smirked. "My motor is doing just fine. And a good relationship is about more than sex, anyway." Alan was kind, smart, well-read, and they enjoyed so many of the same things, like concerts and classic movies and quiet nights at home.

All in all, Shelby and Alan m

ade sense. The same way that a balanced equation made sense. And just like in math, Shelby could see the way the formula played out. Two more months of casually seeing each other, and then they'd talk about being exclusive. Six months after that, they'd get engaged. They'd get married in the summer, and by next winter, she'd be Mrs. Alan Lowe.

Hannah shot a quick glance at Shelby before checking her mirror and changing lanes. "I just--never mind."

"What?"

"Nothing. I swear. It's just that--well, I don't want to see you settle."

"Dating Alan is not settling. He's the kind of guy who'll make the perfect husband and father."

"You're getting married?"

"Well, not now, obviously. But I think Alan definitely checks all the boxes."

Hannah's brows lifted. "Does he check your box?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I only want you to have fun."

Shelby sat up straighter. "I have fun. Just because I don't sleep around doesn't mean I don't have fun."

"Oh, hell," Hannah said. "You know I didn't mean it like that."

Shelby slumped back in the seat. "I know," she said. And she did. Her whole life she'd been juggling well-meaning friends who saw her as shy or sedate or boring or too much of a brainiac to have any social skills. And maybe that was true. But that didn't mean she wasn't happy, because she was. Happy and ambitious and successful.

More than that, Shel knew exactly what she wanted in both her career and her life.

With her career, Shel had been obsessed with numbers since the first time her dad sat her down and taught her the multiplication tables. The way they worked, what they represented, the streamlined beauty of the truth they represented.

Accounting suited her perfectly. Not only was she helping people and companies, but she got to play in that finite world that always made sense. Because at the end of the day--at least in the world of accounting--two plus two always equaled four.