each other. Another notch on the friendship post.
This was how it should be. She would survive this.
“Oh, there he is!” Tara grabbed Mia’s arm. “He’s here, Mia. He’s here!”
All three of them turned to the ballroom’s entrance. Tommy Gordon had swaggered in and even more shocking, he was—
“Solo,” Tara gripped Mia’s hand hard enough to make dents. “No date. This is perfect.”
Was it? Mia should be overjoyed to see him riding stag but now she wasn’t sure. If he’d brought someone, she’d have an excuse to bail because she wouldn’t be comfortable muscling in. He shook hands with a couple of people, checked his phone, waved at someone, then headed toward the bar.
Turning back, she met Cal’s gaze. Still angry, but this was different. No longer amused. No longer her friend underneath it all.
“Tommy Gordon.” The words were flat and lifeless on his tongue.
“Yep, now you know. I didn’t want to tell you because I knew you’d try to talk me out of it. Say he’s too slick or not for me.”
“That’s ridiculous,” Tara said. “He would be lucky to have you. Wouldn’t he, Cal?”
Cal hadn’t said a word. Actually, he’d said two words: Tommy and Gordon, and neither sounded all that appealing to him.
After what seemed like an age he decided to expand on that thesis. “That’s the guy you like? The one you’ve wanted all this time?” Cal’s eyes burned into her with a ferocity that made Mia very, very nervous. This seemed above and beyond mere disapproval.
“I knew you wouldn’t like it,” she said faintly.
“So you said.” The words dripped acid, so unlike him.
“Cal, I don’t know what’s—”
“You should have told me it was Gordon.”
“Why? Because you’re such a great reactor to bad news?”
He leaned in close, and wow, he smelled incredible. Not even aftershave, which she wasn’t a fan of because Vadim wore it by the bucket load for some sponsorship deal. This was pure Cal.
“He’s a sports agent, Mia. All those guys are skeevy lawyer-types and one step above slime.”
“This is why I didn’t tell you. You’re such a know-it-all—”
“Which you’ve been taking advantage of for weeks.”
She put a hand on his chest and pushed. No go. “So you don’t like him. Big deal. You don’t have to like him. You won’t be dating him.”
“And neither will you.”
She could feel her eyes go wide. Baffled, she shot a glance at Tara who was watching the two of them closely, only missing the popcorn.
“This is none of your business. Quit with the busybody interfering, and let me get on with my plan.” Unless he could give her a really good reason not to do this, she was going in.
A voice in her head said: If you felt that way, you wouldn’t be pursuing Tommy at all. But Tommy, as yet, was an unknown quantity. He had boyfriend potential. With Cal, there was nothing there but the friendship zone, which he’d made clear was their relationship’s destination.
“He’s not right for you.”
“Why? Because he’s handsome and smart and sophisticated?”
“Jesus, who decided handsome and smart and sophisticated was the fucking standard? Maybe you should try looking beyond the image. You hardly know him.”
“I know him well enough. He’s been nothing but kind to me and—”
“Bet he has. MO of a slimeball player. You’re too blinded by what happened with your ex to see it.” He shook his head, then shook it again, as if he couldn’t quite believe her choice here.
Her. Choice.
While Mia’s blood threatened to boil clear through her skin, Cal turned to Tara. “You actually think this is a good idea?”
Tara’s response was surprisingly diplomatic. “He’s got a lot to recommend him.”
Cal scoffed. “I thought you’d have more common sense. Guy’s a jerk.”
Okay, that was it. “You’re the only jerk I see here,” Mia said.
“How the hell am I a jerk?”
“Because yet again you’re doing that puppeteer act you love so much. Pull the strings to force the situation to your liking. You did it with Tara at the wedding and now you’re trying to manipulate me because you don’t think I could land a guy like that.”
“Believe me, his standards aren’t that high.”
Her mouth fell open. Cal Foreman might be a lot of things but cruel had never been one of them until now.
He must have realized he’d stepped in it. “Mia, I didn’t mean—”
“Oh, I got the meaning all right. What happened to there being no leagues, only compatibility? You said I was perfect and beautiful and any guy would be lucky to have me,