Right Man, Right Time (The Vancouver Agitators, #3)(25)

“Only old men get bent out of shape about being called old.”

I roll my eyes. “If you don’t like the bar story, then come up with something that doesn’t involve me choking on a fucking sandwich.”

“Fine.” She leans her shoulder against the back of the couch. “Let’s see. Hmm . . . oh, how about this. You were driving and blew a tire. I helped you change it. You were so grateful for my presence and blown away by my sheer beauty that you asked me out.”

“First of all, I know how to change a tire. Second, I own a Tesla. They don’t have spare tires, so we would have had to call a tow truck.”

“Really? That’s stupid.” She taps her chin. “Okay, what about this. You were shopping for a gift for your mom, and you couldn’t decide between a candle and a gift card, so you asked me. I told you to stop being a thoughtless asshole and directed you toward those sentimental Willow sculptures.”

“My mom prefers gift cards.”

She tosses her hands up in the air. “Fine, you come up with something.”

“We met on a ferry. You were seasick, and I held your hair back. After you threw up on my shoe.”

“Or . . .” she says, holding up her finger. “You threw up on my lap, and I guided you to the toilet, where I rubbed your back and told you all was going to be okay in the world.”

“How come you’re the hero in this story?”

“Uh, isn’t it obvious?” she asks. “Women are the true heroes in this world.”

“Really? Because I’m pretty sure I was your hero the other night.”

“Wow, you’re just going to keep bringing that up, aren’t you? What about this? I’m your hero now.”

“How so? You’re getting the better end of the deal.”

“Excuse me?” she asks, her brows rising. “You’re the one who came up with the fake dating cockamamie idea in the first place. If anyone is getting a good deal, it’s you because I’m going along with this deranged plan. Therefore”—she points at herself—“hero.”

“Why can’t we both be heroes?”

That makes her straight-up guffaw. “Have you ever heard of a storyline with two heroes?”

“Miracle.”

“Huh?” she asks.

“The movie Miracle. It’s about the 1980 Olympic hockey team. All those guys are heroes in my book.”

“Never seen it.”

“What?” I ask. “You can’t be serious.”

“Look at my face.” She points at her serious expression. “I am.”

Groaning, I drag my hand over my face. “Fuck, that’s annoying.”

“I’m pretty sure you haven’t seen movies I like.”

“Name one,” I challenge her.

“Okay . . . Pride and Prejudice.”

“With Keira Knightley? Seen it.”

“Okay, what about Two Weeks Notice?”

“I’ve seen every Hugh Grant movie ever made.”

“Pretty Woman.”

“Big mistake . . . huge,” I say, quoting the movie.

“Oh yeah, how about . . . Sixteen Candles?”

“There’s something about Jake Ryan that makes you weak in the knees, isn’t there?”

“Ugh, of course you’ve seen that. You’re old. I need something recent.” She taps her chin. “What about Bridgerton?”

“I got a boner during one of the sex scenes. Chills when their fingers touched in front of the art.”

She grumbles, “God, you’re annoying.”

“What you’re failing to remember is that I was in a committed, long-term relationship ever since I was in high school. I’ve seen everything she wanted to watch and then some.”

“Fine, so you’re well-polished in romance. Still doesn’t mean we can both be heroes.”

“How about no one is a hero, and I saw you in a bar and hit on you, simple as that.”

She taps her chin in thought. “It has merit. I think we could make it work.”

“Well, thank God for that.”





“So what brought us together?” Ollie asks as she blots her pizza with a napkin.

I gave her a quick tour of the apartment, saving the gym for last because I knew she would love it, and she did. She was in total awe and could not wait to work out in the space without being bothered.

She was testing out some of the weights when the food arrived, so we retreated to the dining room to eat.

“What do you mean? We saw each other in the bar. That’s what we agreed upon. We’re not coming up with something else,” I say.

“No, I mean, initial attraction clearly is what got us talking, but how did we hang on to the conversation? Obviously, I know nothing about hockey, so it’s not like we can bond over that. And I doubt you’re a lifestyle guru.”

“Are you?” I ask.

“Maybe not the guru status yet, but I do know a thing or two about the proper way to use a bobby pin.”

I scratch the side of my jaw. “Yeah, I don’t know much about that.”

“But you do know how to create a kick-ass home gym, and that’s hot.”