Guy Hater (Fisher Brothers 2)

I might not be a hopeless romantic like Britney, but I appreciated romance as much as the next girl. I wanted passion in all aspects of my life, especially when it came to love. Finding love in Southern California had been difficult, and meeting a guy who was as passionate about me as he was his career seemed even harder.

Frank reappeared, three drinks in hand, and nudged a small footstool over with his shoe. He sat facing us before handing us each a fresh drink.

“What should we toast to?” Britney asked playfully.

“Your call,” Frank said with a shrug.

“We should toast to finding guys to love us the way Nick loves his girlfriend,” Britney said with a little too much enthusiasm, causing her drink to slosh.

Frank scoffed. “I don’t want a guy to love me like that.”

I burst out laughing. He was so serious, his demeanor kind but reserved. He seemed like he was holding back, but I liked that about him. There was an air of mystery that surrounded Frank. He seemed like the kind of guy who only let a few people get close to him, and that quality only intrigued me more.

“Well, I do,” I said firmly. “I totally do.”

That got Frank’s attention. His eyes bored into mine again. “You do?”

“Definitely.”

He studied me, his head cocked a little to one side. “You’re into over-the-top public displays of affection?”

I thought for a moment, gathering my feelings before wording them properly. “I’m into someone loving me passionately and not caring who knows. When I love, I love hard. I love deep. My love is all consuming. I want to be loved back in the same way. I want to be consumed.”

I took a deep breath after my declaration. The words felt good spilling from my lips, pouring from my heart. I rarely confessed such private feelings to a stranger, but he had asked.

Frank’s lips pursed together with my answer, drawing my attention. “What nationality are you?”

“Colombian,” I said proudly, happy that he asked, that he seemed to care.

“Hence the need for passion.”

I nodded in agreement and offered him a tight-lipped smile. “Hence the difficulty in finding any American guys who have it.”

“Maybe you’re looking at all the wrong guys.”

Was he flirting? I really, really wanted him to be flirting.

“Maybe you’re right. Know anyone I should be looking at instead?” I was definitely flirting.

“I might.”

When he pushed to his feet, I stifled my disappointment. I hadn’t wanted my question to make him leave.

“I have to get back to work,” he said. “If I leave Ryan alone for too long, he’ll burn the place down.”

I had completely forgotten that Frank was working. It was easy to forget when you sat in a place like this, drinking delicious cocktails and having good conversations. Or what was the start of a good conversation.

Britney lit up at the mention of Ryan’s name. “Frank, wait!” she called out, and he stopped to turn back to her. “What’s his deal, anyway?”

“Ryan’s?” His dark eyebrows drew together.

“Yeah. Does he have a girlfriend? Does he date? He’s super flirty with me all the time, and I’m just trying to get a good read on him, because I can’t really. At all. I don’t know what any of it means coming from him.”

Frank shifted his weight, like the question made him slightly uncomfortable. Or maybe it was that he’d been asked it a million times before. “Ryan’s extremely flirty. He always has been. He does date, but he hasn’t in quite a while. Do you want me to tell you the truth or keep you hopeful?”

“Truth,” I said at the same time that Britney answered with, “Hopeful.”

We both laughed, and Frank smiled.