Page 24 of The Mr. Right Checklist

Fucking Jimmy and his big mouth.

I listen to Chuck’s message next.

Hey, Ry. I just met with Destiny. Give me a call.

I start the car and wait for my phone to sync to Bluetooth before I drive out of the lot, then call Chuck.

“About time you called me back,” Chuck says.

“Sorry. I had to teach a class, and then I went directly into a meeting about that student stalker.”

“How’d it go?”

“Good, I guess. They expelled her and banned her from campus, and they’ve got extra security watching out for me, but man, Chuck. She’s a twenty-year-old kid. I know I did the right thing, because she took it so far, but it feels shitty.”

“That’s because you’re not the coldhearted bastard you pretend to be. You definitely did the right thing. She crossed a line with that latest stunt. Are you pressing charges?”

“No. I’m hoping the restraining order is enough. The administration seemed to think she’d go back home to Pennsylvania. I’m just glad it’s over. How’d it go with Destiny?”

“Ah, yes. Your wedding date.”

“Chuck,” I warn.

“Sorry, man. It’s just so easy to rile you up.” He laughs. “Destiny and I had a great meeting. I took good care of her. She’ll be covered legally. Don’t worry.”

“Thanks, man,” I say as I turn into my neighborhood. “I appreciate your help.”

“Anytime. You know that. She’s really something, Ry. She’s smart, and determined, although it took a few minutes for me to realize she wasn’t just flighty as fuck. She’s all over the place, but damn. She’s a dynamo.”

I feel myself smiling. “Yeah, she’s something, all right.”

“But she’s not really your type. I don’t normally mix business with pleasure, but if you want to back off and let me give her more than legal advice, I’d be cool with that.”

Jealousy sears through me. “What the hell, Chuck?”

“Listen, we both know what you’re up to,” he says in the serious, big-brother tone he’s used my whole life. “You’re not really interested in her. You just want to get all of us off your back.”

I grit my teeth, partially because I hate that he knows me so well. But mostly because that too-bubbly, too-loud, too-pushy, and too-fucking-adorable chatterbox is not my type, and yet here I am, counting down the damn hours until I see her again, and that pisses me off.

“You don’t know shit, so keep it in your pants.” I pull into my driveway and cut the engine. “I appreciate you helping her out, but do me a favor. Send me the bill.” She said she’s got money, but she also thought she could start a business without ample preparation.

“If you’re into her, then this one’s on me.”

I feel a sliver of guilt at Chuck eating his fees when, despite my loss of perspective, this whole thing is a farce. “You don’t have to do that.”

“For the first woman you’ve let into your life in a decade? No worries, bro. I’ve got you covered. But I have to run. Have a good night.”

I pocket my phone and head inside.

Molly greets me at the door, going paws up on my chest. “How’s it going, Mol?” I love her up. “Did you have fun with Destiny today?”

She barks and follows me through the great room, tail wagging, nosing my hand for more pets, which I’m happy to give her. My gaze catches on two boxes on the dining room table. A white box with little paw prints drawn on it and a pink bow on top and a pink box from Sweetie Pie bakery in Sweetwater with a blue bow on top.

“What has she done?” I ask Molly, who follows me into the dining room.

I find a thank-you card perched between the boxes and read Destiny’s loopy cursive inside.

Dear Fletch,