The Secret (Single in Seattle 1)

The light goes out of her pretty blue eyes, and I immediately apologize. “I’m sorry, did I miss something?”

“He’s also an asshat,” Erin says with a shrug. “I like that word. He just wanted to hang out with my dad, who had no interest in hanging out with him, and we never got to a third date. Thank God. I’m so glad I adopted my mom’s three-date rule because I would have been really pissed if I’d slept with him.”

“How does that work again?” Stella wants to know.

“You don’t have sex until after the third date,” Erin says. “That way, you know when the dude is just in it to get in your pants.”

“What if you want him in your pants?” Stella wonders.

“I’m telling you, three dates is the rule,” Erin insists. “By then, the ones who are in it for the right reasons are still around.”

“Erin,” I say softly and reach over to pat her hand. “Are you a…virgin?”

“No.” She laughs, and her cheeks darken. Which happens a lot when you have gorgeous red hair. “I’m not. But I also don’t sleep with every date because that’s just gross.”

“Three dates can be a long time,” Stella says and brushes her long, blonde hair over her shoulder. “What if you can only see each other once a week because you’re super busy? You’re going to wait three weeks?”

“Four,” Erin says and pops a fry into her mouth. “Because it has to be after the third date.”

I press my lips together to hold in laughter as Stella just blinks at our cousin in disbelief. “Like, a month?”

“I guess Stella doesn’t abide by the three-date rule,” I say with a laugh and sip my martini. This is exactly what I needed tonight after the shitshow of a day I just finished. Some time to blow off steam with my girls. Some laughs.

I’ll worry about Vaughn Barrymore tomorrow.

“Where were you guys?” Drew asks when the three of us walk into the house several hours later, laughing. He’s in the kitchen, as usual, munching on leftover pizza.

Drew’s also a cousin and lives in the guest house out back, where my mom’s studio used to be. But he eats in here and spends most of his time inside when he’s home.

“We met up after work,” I inform him. “How was your day?”

“Fine.” He licks his fingers and then starts to reach into the cookie jar.

“Michael Andrew Montgomery, don’t you dare.”

He stops cold at the scolding from Erin and blinks innocently. “No one calls me by my real name but my mom. And only when I’m in trouble.”

“Touch those cookies with your spit-covered fingers, and you’ll be in trouble,” I advise. “That’s just disgusting.”

“Living with girls is so—”

“Say ‘annoying,’ and you can go live with your mom,” I say with a sweet smile. “How is Brynna, anyway?”

“Great. Better if I don’t live with her and Dad.” He laughs and washes his hands, then pulls three peanut butter cookies out of the jar. “I might have a guest over this weekend. Just giving you a heads-up.” He winks suggestively, and I wrinkle my nose at him.

Stella raises an eyebrow. “Who’s the lucky girl?”

“You don’t know her.” He finishes off one cookie and starts on the next. “I just met her today. The woman has legs a mile long.”

“I don’t think Drew abides by the three-date rule, either,” Erin mutters. “I’m going to bed. Goodnight, guys.”

She hurries up the stairs, and when we hear her door close softly, Drew looks between Stella and me. “What did I say?”

“She’s not dating the sports reporter anymore,” Stella informs him. “He was an asshole and just using her because of who her dad is.”

“He’s a sports reporter,” Drew says, as if that explains everything. “Her dad is one of the most famous football players of all time. Did she think he didn’t have ulterior motives? Of course, he was a jerk. But it’s not my place to say that. I’ll buy her ice cream tomorrow. Cherry Garcia usually makes her feel better.”

“You know, you try to make everyone think you’re a tough guy, but deep down, you’re a softie.”

Drew narrows his eyes at me, chewing the last cookie. “Take it back.”

“Nope. Softie.”

Finally, he just shrugs. “Erin’s sweet. She doesn’t deserve a jerk like that guy. Anyway, how are you two?”

“Fine—”

“Good,” Stella and I say at the same time.

“Okay, well, that was a stimulating conversation. I’m going to bed. Later.” He waves and walks out the back door toward the guesthouse.

“I like him,” I say to Stella as we turn to the stairs. “He’s not nearly as annoying as he was when he was a kid.”

“Only sometimes,” she replies.

“This is a big project,” Dad says from across his desk. We have a standing meeting every Thursday morning at ten to go over everything I’ve been assigned. I don’t think he does this with any of the other employees. He just likes to see me.