YOU KNOW WHAT'S BETTER than sitting at home on a Friday night with your best friend while her fiancé makes the two of you drinks?

Nothing.

Right now, we're sitting on the sofa debating which Chris—Hemsworth, Pine, Pratt, or Evans—is the best Chris. My position is that all the Chrises are created equal, and no woman should be forced to choose.

Paige thinks that Hemsworth is the best, but I'm pretty sure she thinks that because Dallas bears a vague resemblance to him. A very vague resemblance, but I won’t share that with her because who am I to burst someone's happy, love bubble?

“Can we get more drinks, bartender?” Paige yells, but it’s a nice shout because Dallas grins.

“They’re coming, bright eyes.”

Paige giggles.

“Are you sure we need to drink this much?” I ask.

She arches a brow. “Did you agree to do exactly as I say for the next six months, or not?”

“It was in a moment of weakness.” I make a face. “Stupid chocolate truffles.”

“You can always say no to chocolate, Layton.”

“When have I ever said no to chocolate?” I counter.

“Good point.” She smiles as Dallas brings us fresh Pina coladas. “Thanks, honey.”

He winks. “Whatever you need, bright eyes.”

“Oh my Lord,” I groan, envious as anything. “The two of you make me want to puke and smile.”

Dallas gets a panicked look on his face. “Not on the sofa, okay?”

“She didn’t mean literally,” Paige assures him.

I nod in agreement. “Nope, I’m only here to make a list or two.” Possibly three.

“No lists either,” Paige admonishes.

With a gasp of outrage, I shake my pad of paper at her. It’s monogrammed at the top with my initials, and it’s my favorite colors—pink, white, and green. “This is the last of its kind, and we’re going to put it to good use.”

“I doubt it’s the—”

“The last,” I insist, then lower my voice. “My new stuff has my other initials on them.”

Her eyes get all sympathetic. “I see.”

“Yeah, so this one it is,” I say brightly.

“I’m confused,” Dallas says.

Instead of clearing things up for him, I take a gulp of my drink. It goes down smooth until the end. I cough. “Nice kick you added.”

“Anytime.”

“Layton wants to make a list of eligible bachelors.”

“Nuh-uh. That was your idea.” I set my drink down. “I want to make a list of ways to get back at Joe.”

Paige raises a brow. “My rules.”

With a roll of my eyes, I set my pad of paper down, but Dallas surprises us by picking it up and wandering off with it. “Don’t go too far, sugar.”

In a couple of minutes, he returns with a pen and sits in a recliner. “I put Hernandez at the top of the list.”

“I thought you said Hernandez was a womanizer,” Paige points out.

“And? She’s looking for a good time, not another commitment.”

I nod like a bobble head. “He’s right, but my good time only included the maiming and torturing of Joe’s man parts.”

“Maybe next time,” Paige says with a pat of her hand on my arm. “However, let’s take things a little slower and find you a date instead.”

“I can’t go on a date; I'm not even divorced.” Besides, I can't possibly be thinking about dating anyone.” Or can I? Maybe that's exactly what I need to do. The last I heard, my soon-to-be ex-husband and his little tart are living it up in Key West while I'm stuck in Raleigh in below-freezing temperatures and going on job interviews to places that have no intention of hiring me.

My life is so awesome.

“What about Sam?” Paige asks. “He’s sweet, not a manwhore, and—”

Dallas closes his eyes and snores.

“Okay, then.” I blow out a breath. “Tell me more about the other guys.”

“Let’s see.” He eyes Paige until she gets up from her spot beside me and marches to him, grabbing the list out of his hands. “I wasn’t done with that.”

“You are now.” She peruses his list. “Nope. Nope. Seriously, Dallas... you told me about what Smith had gotten up to in Vegas over bye week.”

“And that was?”

“Not fit for mixed company,” Paige says, not taking her eyes on the list. “This one might be a possibility, but she won’t like. I don’t like it.”

Dallas cranes his neck, a smile pushing up the corners of his mouth. “He’s perfectly harmless.”

“The rumors are true?” she asks, her eyes rounding.

Dallas shrugs.

I stand up and move closer to them, trying to read the name of the guy they’re being so vague about, but Paige holds the list away from me with her ridiculously long Amazonian arms.

“Sit.”

“Yes, ma’am.” I stomp back to the sofa and plop down. At least I have my drink to finish. “You never, ever leave me when I’m in need.”

“Drinks aren’t people, honey,” Paige calls out.

I keep staring at my glass. “Don’t listen to her. You’re the best drink ever.”

Paige clears her throat. I peer at her over the rim of my glass. “How would you feel about going out with Aiden McHugh?”

I make a face. “Like I’d rather get my hair wet and not have access to a comb.”

“Damn, that’s pretty bad, bright eyes.”

Paige frowns. “She’s being dramatic.”

“I’m being honest.” It’s true. I hate getting my hair wet without proper preparation first. It’s so flipping thick, curly, and long that it’s a pain to not braid it first. “Anyway, back to the list.”

“We’re having a party Saturday night. I think it would be great to have you and Aiden come together as a couple.”

A warm buzz flows through me as I take another gulp of my Pina colada. “That sounds like something serious couples do, not a woman who needs a rebound.”

Dallas laughs. “Told you Hernandez would be perfect for her.”

Paige smacks his shoulder. “I think Aiden would be perfect.”

I snort. “I think you’re drunk to consider him.”

“He’s safe.”

Nodding, I wink at her. “Whatever you say.”

She sighs. “Now you want to be agreeable.”

“Who cares? At least she’s a nice drunk.” Dallas gets up from his chair and kisses Paige lightly on the lips. “Layton, you can stay or get an Uber to take you home. I’m hitting the sack.”

“Sleepover,” I sing out.

“Goodie. More alone time for me,” he mutters.

“Promise to make it up to you,” Paige whispers loudly. She has to be as drunk as I’m feeling right now, because she’s very private about intimate details.

“Damn straight you will.” Another sweet kiss, that makes me want to cry, is exchanged before he leaves.

“Say I do proposition Aiden... do you think your sister will care?” I ask. Finley and Aiden broke up in college, but I want to make sure.

“Please. She’s dating Captain America’s twin.”

We sigh dreamily in unison, then I turn sober for a second.

“I really don't want to cause problems. Finley’s like the big sister I never had.”

“Trust me; you won’t.” She hands over the list, and I chuck it into my purse. “When do you want to ask him to help you get over Joe?”

“As soon as possible.”

She gasps. “I have the best outfit you can wear.”

“I can’t wear your clothes. You’re a goddess, and I’m the cute but frumpy sidekick.”

“Pretty sure you meant funny.”

“Oh yeah, I did.” I run my hand down my side. “I’m pretty damn hot.”

“And so humble.” She snorts, and so do I.

“A girl has to be able to cheer herself up when her man cheats on her with the stupid wedding planner.” My good mood starts to fade, but I take another drink and keep all my sad, embarrassing memories away. “Tell me about this outfit.”

“It came with sparkly silver pom-poms.”

That did it. “I’ll ask him tonight.”