Super Hot Wingman (The Best Men 0.50)

“Sometimes, I get a vibe that he doesn’t like me,” Flip says, like that’s the oddest thing ever.

And it fucking is. Why on earth would Mark not like his sister’s fiancé? “What reason could he possibly have for that?”

“No idea. That’s what’s so weird. But you’ve met him a couple times. The dude is impossible to read.” Flip stands and grabs a tennis ball.

“You’re not wrong there,” I say, since I can’t figure out what Mark’s deal is when it comes to me either. I annoy him, and I don’t know why.

Except, why do I even care? Well, besides the obvious. Mark is a smoke show. With that clean-cut look, that short dark hair, and those midnight blue eyes, plus the glasses, Banks can work the hot nerd vibe hard.

But I make a point not to crush on straight guys. Besides, he’s barely said more than a few words to me.

“What do you think?” Flip asks.

I was daydreaming about the sexy nerd, single-dad banker again. And that’s not something I like to do when it comes to men who don’t even play on my team.

“Don’t worry about that guy,” I say to Flip. “I’m sure Mark approves. You’ll be the best brother-in-law ever.” I point to the court. “Now, prepare to regret the fact that you didn’t take the advantage I offered. And you can take back everything you said about football when I win.”

I proceed to begin his destruction on the court. Only once between games does my mind drift back to Mark Banks.

Too bad he’s not queer.

Shame, that.

A couple hours later, Flip eats his words. “You’re right. Football is great,” he says, grudgingly, as we stroll off the court.

“It is. And I forgive you for saying those terrible things. In fact, to show you how much I forgive you, I decided we need to celebrate your engagement. I want to throw a little party tomorrow night,” I say as I snag a towel from the bench and wipe the sweat from my neck.

Flip’s eyes twinkle with delight. “I love a good party.”

“Tell me something I don’t know.” I grab my phone and fire off a quick message to a manager at the sushi restaurant Flip and Hannah love—the one with the mackerel rolls. “I’ll take care of the whole thing as a gift to the two of you.”

Flip grins. “You’re right. How could anybody not like either one of us?”

“It’s mystifying to me,” I say. “Speaking of, one of my clients who adores my work gave me some Cubans. Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

“That we need to smoke them tonight to celebrate my engagement? And my impending fatherhood?”

Fatherhood. Damn. I’m a little shaken up by his whirlwind engagement. The speed at which my best friend’s world is changing makes my head spin. But it’s his life, and I support him. These big events are cause for celebration.

“It’s settled,” I announce. “I’ll be on your terrace this evening to light up and celebrate. Hey—give me Hannah and Mark’s phone numbers? I’ll need to make sure they’re available for the party tomorrow.”

“Thanks, man.” Flip slaps me on the back. “I really appreciate this gesture.”

“My pleasure.” The party is going to be great. I just know it.

SHOTGUN WEDDING

MARK

“Another?” the bartender asks, and I hesitate, checking my co-worker's face.

“Sure,” Brett says. “But I'll switch to light beer.”

I order another rum and tonic, because unlike Brett, I don't have a wife or any significant other, for that matter, at home waiting for me. Rosie is with Bridget. So the only one who’s hoping I come home tonight is an antisocial cat.

Hell, Blackbeard won't even notice my absence until breakfast.

Brett noodles with the chessboard that’s set up on the bar between us. “Did you hear Hartman is pissed because we both scheduled our mandatory time away before he could pick a date?” he asks.

I snicker. “He who snoozes loses.”

“Exactly. God bless MTA.” Brett holds up the dregs of his old drink and we clink glasses to our required two weeks off.

“Did you make a plan yet?” he asks, because my mandatory vacation is coming up fast.

“Well, no and yes.” Last time, I flew my family to Michigan, where we rented a cottage on a sandy beach. My parents drove up for a few days to spend time with us.

But this time, I've been at a loss for what to do with myself for two lonely weeks—until Hannah suddenly sprang her engagement on me. “My sister just announced she’s having a shotgun wedding. So she'll be throwing something together during my break.”

Brett lets out a low whistle. “They’re tying the knot that quickly, huh?”

“Yup.” I swallow roughly.

“Wow.”

The bartender plonks down our fresh drinks. We thank him, then Brett takes a sip of his beer and studies me over the rim of his glass. “This isn't sitting well with you, is it? The baby. The marriage.”