One Hot Summer

“Bet your ass you will,” says my friend with a chuckle. “Now let’s talk about Single in Sitka. Luuuuuuuke, right? I went back and read the ad after the meeting.”

Hmm. Luke. Luke, Luke, Luke.

I don’t know the first thing about him. Well, that’s not exactly true either. I know he’s four years older than me. I know he’s got three great kids. I know he’s sick of on-line dating. And thinks Tinder is completely gross…and you know what? So do I! And I’m lonesome too. I understand wanting someone to share a life with and needing to—

“Ooo-eee! Your face just got hella moony, girl. All soft and dreamy and faraway—”

“That ad was a week old.” I cut my eyes to her. “He could already be married for all we know!”

“That would be a shame,” says Leigh. “Because, I was thinking…as long as you’re going to be up there anyway, why not set up a meeting?”

“What? No! Absolutely not!”

“Why not?”

“Because that’s so…desperate.”

“It’s not desperate, it’s…it’s—okay, think of it this way. If you were on vacation, would you get a manicure? A massage?”

“Maybe.”

“Maybe,” she scoffs, folding my jeans, but keeping them on her lap “Of course you would. So…think of meeting this guy like…like a vacation amenity.”

“Leigh! He’s not a gigolo. He’s a single dad.”

“And probably just as hard up as you.”

“Gee, thanks. You make me sound oh, so, appealing.”

“Girl, if you’d just get out of your own darn way, you’d see that you are appealing. What’re you? A size ten?”

“Eight.” One good thing to come from my break-up? I dropped a full dress size.

“You have great hair, big tits, decent style and a cute butt. Come on! You have zero to lose.”

“Hmm,” I say, eyeing my “lucky-nucky” jeans uncertainly.

“Hmm good? Or hmm bad?”

“Hmm…maybe.”

“Well, I’m going to the bathroom for the four hundredth time today and while I’m in there, how about you turn that “Maybe” into “Yes. Awesome. I’ll do it!,” okay?”

Leigh heaves her body from the bed and waddles past me, headed to the hallway bathroom, and leaving me alone for a moment.

I catch my reflection in the mirror—dark red hair up in a ponytail, bright green eyes and a size ten, er, eight body, complete with curvy hips, a symmetrical size-C rack, and a smattering of freckles across my nose. Maybe not gorgeous, but not bad either in a 40s pin-up sort of way. Good skin. Good teeth. A solidly attractive for a woman in her early-30s, I decide.

Would it be so terrible to answer Single in Sitka’s ad?

No, it’s not really my style to pursue a man so aggressively, but something’s drawing me to the Odds are Good website, right? I’m only there for two weeks, so it’s not like anything could really happen between us. It’d just be a no-strings-attached fling. I could warm his bed and he could warm mine. A couple of horny adults looking for a safe and better-than-average hook-up.

Hmm. I purse my lips at my reflection, thinking it over. Maybe Leigh’s right. I’m going to be up there anyway. What do I have to lose?

“I know that look,” says Leigh, who’s been standing in the doorway to my bedroom for Lord knows how long. “It’s a good idea, right? Answering his ad?”

“It’s not a terrible idea,” I say, my cheeks warming a touch as I grin at her.

Leigh glances at the bed, a slow smile turning up the corners of her mouth. “Hey! Do I spy lucky-nucky jeans in that pile?”