Page 33 of The Mr. Right Checklist

“That sounds dirty.”

He chuckles. “I’m sure it’s meant to.”

“I didn’t take you as the noisy bar type.”

“I come here with my brothers to grab a beer every once in a while, but it’s not usually this crowded or loud.”

“I guess you don’t come on Thursday nights.” I point to a chalkboard hanging behind the bar announcing Thursday-night karaoke. The way he’s watching the people around us, I wonder if he’s uncomfortable. “Do you want to go someplace quieter?”

He arches a brow. “And feed into your Grumpy Gus image of me? I don’t think so. We’re here to celebrate your success, and you love karaoke.”

“Does that mean you’ll sing with me?” I ask hopefully.

“Not in this lifetime, but I look forward to hearing you sing,” he says as the bartender, a rugged-looking Black man, comes to take our order.

The bartender gives me an appreciative glance and lifts his chin to Fletch. “How’re you two doing tonight?” His baritone voice cuts through the noise.

“Great! We’re celebrating. I just got my first client for my proposal-planning business.” I catch Fletch’s amused expression.

“Congratulations,” the bartender says. “The first round is on the house. What’ll it be?”

“Aren’t you the sweetest? What do you recommend? Is there a house drink?”

“Yeah, the Lusty Lizard. It’s great if you like sweet drinks, and it’s strong.”

“Now, that’s a great name for a drink. I’ll take it! I love sweet drinks, and it is a celebration.” I lean into Fletch again. “Have one with me?”

“Sorry, sunshine, but I think I’ll stick to beer.” He orders and asks, “How can we get her name on the karaoke list?”

I’m surprised, and pleased, that he thought to ask.

The bartender points across the bar. “Go see Mac, the bearded guy at that table by the stage. He’ll put her on the list.”

“Great, man. Thanks. Can you run a tab for us?”

I slide off my stool. “I’ll go see Mac.”

Fletch grabs my hand. “Want me to go?”

“No. I’m good, thanks.” I’m touched by his offer, but I want to look over the song list.

It takes a few minutes to get signed up, and I talk to a guy who’s also waiting to sign up, and we share a laugh when Mac asks if we want to sing as a duo. As I make my way back through the crowd, I notice two women standing near the bar checking out Fletch, but Fletch is watching me. Our eyes connect, and I swear that hummingbird takes flight in my chest again. I don’t know what that’s all about. It’s not like he’s my type. He doesn’t even believe in love, and putting love above all else is definitely high on my checklist. So is singing karaoke with a guy who loves it as much as I do, and that’s definitely not Fletch.

But I am happy when I’m with him, and I love working side by side with him, sharing a common goal, and teasing each other. It feels good when we’re together. But too often during the last week or so, it’s felt too good, and I’ve found myself wishing he’d kiss me again. I’ve been trying not to make too much of the way his texts make my pulse dance, and when he calls me sunshine? Whew. I really like that. I’ve also been trying not to snoop when I pick up Molly for our walks. But I did look at more of the pictures on his bookshelf, and my heart warmed at each one. I like seeing the carefree pictures of him with his family and wish I knew how to make him smile that way, too.

I’m sure I feel so close to him because we’re spending so much time together. It probably doesn’t help that I miss my family and haven’t gone on a date in . . . Let’s not go there. I need to get myself under control. Fletch is too good to me to mess up our friendship because of my silly, confused emotions.

When I reach the bar, he steps off his stool and pulls out mine. “Everything go okay?”

“Yup. All signed up.” As we climb onto our seats, I see a bright green drink waiting for me. The joined stems of two cherries are perched on the rim of the glass, one cherry hanging on either side. I’ve never been more thankful for alcohol in my life. I reach for my drink. “I hope this is as good as it looks.”

He puts his hand on mine, stopping me from putting the straw in my mouth, and picks up his glass. “Here’s to you, sunshine, and your bright new future with Get the Yes.”

“I couldn’t have done it without you.”

“You could have. You just might have been sued a few times first.”

I laugh as we clink glasses, then take a sip of my drink. “Mm. You have to taste this. It’s zingy and fruity, like liqueur-infused melon.” I move the straw to his side and hold out my glass.