The next day was Sunday, and I decided my new morning routine would involve an invigorating jog down to the county park and back. Never mind I hadn’t jogged in, oh, maybe five years. Or possibly more. Who could really say? With the girls gone, it was up to me to make sure our mutt, Reggie, got his exercise. This way I could kill two birds with one stone.

I pulled on a t-shirt, shorts, and some athletic shoes, making a mental note to go out and buy some more flattering work-out gear. Maybe I should join a gym. I’d have to ask Jill if gyms were a good place to meet men. Ooh, maybe I’d meet a boxer or an MMA fighter. It would be one of those moments where he’d spot me from across the gym and be so arrested by the mere sight of me that he’d forget to block his opponent’s punch and get knocked out cold. When he came to, I’d be there, stroking his brow and gazing into his punch-rattled eyes. Or not.

Okay, it’s clear by this point that I’m a bit of a romance novel junkie. I should probably reign my expectations in a tad. But if I were going to have an affair, it had to be with someone who had nothing in common with my ex. I was aiming for maybe a bad boy, or at the very least, someone with tattoos and a few scars. I wanted a sexual adventure to kickstart my new future—the one where I wasn’t wallowing over my failed marriage and was, instead, open to new possibilities.

The sex had been Jill’s idea. She reasoned that I’d never be able to fully move on from Mike until I broke the seal and had sex with someone else. The fact that Mike was the only person I’d ever slept with in my entire life gave him a significance that was unhealthy at this point. Her logic seemed sound.

But sex wasn’t everything, so I was throwing my net wide and hoping to gather in a slew of new opportunities. Thus, the revitalizing jog to the park.

I sent a cheery wave to my neighbor Nina who was watering her flowers as I bounded down our street and out toward the main road, Reggie leading the way. Why hadn’t I taken up jogging before this? It wasn’t as if I never exercised, but it was usually in the form of activities with the kids or the occasional yoga class. But this jogging thing felt great—it was internally focused and kind of a rush. My muscles shifted and stretched, and I could practically feel the blood rushing through my veins on its way to my heart and lungs. I was killing it, and surely those celebrated endorphins would kick in any moment.

I turned right out of the neighborhood and headed toward the park where I was sure to find other dedicated joggers enjoying the same satisfying buzz. We’d nod to each other, secretly feeling a bit smug that we were spending our Sunday morning in such a healthy way while the rest of the town was scarfing down biscuits and gravy at a local diner and waiting for their arteries to close in on themselves.

A pain in my side interrupted my thoughts of training for my first marathon. I tried to ignore it. Perhaps I shouldn’t have had so much coffee before jogging. I’d make a note for next time. But the pain worsened with each subsequent stride until my stance was a bit hunched. Holy—ouch! This cramp wasn’t fooling around. I sucked air into my lungs and slowed. At this point, I wasn’t so much jogging as lightly moving from foot to foot as I clutched my side. A woman and her small child passed me with a sympathetic smile and I chose to stop entirely. Who was I kidding?

Reggie pulled at the leash, but I just stared at the cracks in the sidewalk, doubled over and sucking wind. Hmm. Maybe this whole jogging thing wasn’t the best idea after all.

“Ma’am?” a deep voice sounded from the street.

My head snapped up, sending orbs of white floating through my vision. I blinked and held my head.

“Ma’am, are you okay?” There it was again.

Still trying to clear my vision, I barely turned my head before responding absently, “Are you kidding me with the ma’am? Do I look eighty? Way to kick me when I’m down.”

This resulted in a masculine chuckle, and I was finally able to zone in on its source. A City of Sunview police cruiser sat at the curb a few feet from me, window down. A man in a dark blue uniform and reflective sunglasses looked out with one side of his mouth turned up.

Well, shit.

“I apologize, Miss. I obviously need my vision tested.”

Well, in all fairness to him, I had been doubled over and my ass was about the only part he could see clearly. That thought sent the blood rushing to my already flushed face. I quickly brushed sweaty strands of hair from my forehead and fully straightened.

“Sorry, Officer. I was in the middle of … stretching.” I forced my breathing to regulate so I didn’t sound like a panting Labrador.

The officer tilted his head and his half smile became a full one. Now that I could take a good look, I saw that he was actually kind of hot. Well, didn’t this just put the cherry on my shit sundae. A cute man, and here I was sweating like a pig and probably looking like one too.

“Well, I didn’t mean to interrupt your stretching. You just looked like you might have needed some help. It’s my duty and privilege to look after our fine citizens, after all, Miss …” He trailed off and it took me a minute to realize he was asking for my name, not reiterating my preferred title.

“Oh! Watson. Jenna Watson.” I put a hand to my chest in an unconscious gesture to indicate I was speaking of myself. You know, because there were so many other possibilities.

“Nice to meet you, Miss Watson.” He tipped his head and I got a glimpse of his dark hair. “Do you need me to give you a lift home, or are you going to stretch some more?”

There was no need to ask his name. It was clearly Officer Smartass.

My chin lifted and my lips tightened, which only caused his smile to grow. Bastard. “I’m going to continue my jog, Officer. Thanks for your concern, but I’m just fine.” I made a little gesture indicating he could go on with his day. No rescuing needed here.

“Alrighty, then.” Alrighty? He nodded his head again and put a hand back on the steering wheel. “You take care, Miss Watson.” The window slid up, and just before it closed, I heard him say, “Don’t forget to drink plenty of fluids.” Then he pulled back onto the street and rose his hand in farewell.

I was not telling Jill about this.

* * *

“He was flirting with you!”

Of course, I’d told Jill all about it.

“No, he wasn’t. He was making fun of me.”

“That’s called flirting.”

Our waiter set our drinks down on the table between us. I’d opted for a glass of wine while Jill went with a colorful concoction with a suggestive name I couldn’t recall.

“Can I get you anything else?” he asked, directing his question only to my little sister.

She smiled up at him and, had he been a cartoon character, his heart would have burst right out of his chest and landed in her lap.

“No thanks,” she began, taking in his name tag before finishing, “Brandon. I think we’re good, but I’ll let you know.”

Brandon floated back to the bar and I raised my eyebrows at Jill. She fiddled with her straw and did a double take when she caught my look.

“What?!”

“That poor boy is going to have to walk around with a serving tray over his crotch the rest of the night. The least you could do is put your boobs away.”

She looked down at her low-cut top, which revealed generous amounts of cleavage. Jill always was a giver. “This is a perfectly appropriate outfit. We’re at a bar, not Sunday school. He’ll be fine.” She reapplied her lip gloss and smacked her lips together. “And, besides, this brings me back to my point.”

“You had a point?”

That earned me a scowl. “Flirting. You need to learn to do it, and you need to learn how to recognize it.”

I knew she was right. If my phenomenally awkward attempts with Erik and Kyle were any indication, I sucked at it. And I’d thought the cute officer was belittling me, which was the last thing I needed. I had a lot to learn, apparently. I groaned. “I’ve never had to flirt before.”

It was true. Mike had done all the wooing and flirting, and I’d bought it all, hook, line, and sinker. Before him, I’d been a bumbling teenager where flirting consisted of lip-biting, stuttering, and sloppy tongue kisses behind the gym. I hated to think that was the extent of my knowledge on the subject.

“It’s past time you learned. Chug that wine and we’ll practice.”

I looked at her, appalled. “First of all, you don’t chug wine. Second, you’re not allowed to flirt. You have a boyfriend.”

She waved me off. “Hank doesn’t care. He knows I flirt. I can’t help it,” she claimed, as if flirting were akin to Tourette’s syndrome.

I sipped my wine at a respectable pace while Jill scanned the bar. “Ooh. How about him?” she gestured with her chin toward some vague spot behind me.

I whirled around and did my own scan. “Which one?”

“No!” Jill whisper-yelled through clenched teeth. “Stop doing that! Jenna, have you ever heard of subtlety?”

I realized she was probably right, so I dutifully faced her again. “Sorry.”

She rolled her eyes at me. “Pretend to get something out of your purse, and while you’re turned around, sneak a glance at the guy with the black t-shirt. He’ll be at your two o’clock.”

This was beginning to feel like military reconnaissance, but what did I know? I did as I was told, and sure enough, there was a black t-shirt-clad man exactly where Jill had said he’d be. He looked to be somewhere in his mid-thirties and he sat with another man and woman who were clearly a couple. He had wavy brown hair that looked as if he’d missed a few haircut appointments, and his nose was slightly crooked in that way that makes some men even more attractive as it conjures thoughts of manly fist-fights or sports injuries. God, what is wrong with us women? That was about all I was able to take in without being obvious, so I turned back to Jill, impressed with her choice of guy.

However, she was looking anything but impressed with me in return. Instead, she was cringing, her eyes focused on my hand. The same one I’d used to reach into my purse to legitimize my casual check-out of t-shirt guy. Not understanding her expression, I looked down and saw what had so offended her. Gripped in my hand was a super-sized tampon in a brightly colored wrapper.

My wide eyes shot to hers and she shook her head. “It’s a good thing you already have kids ‘cuz this is gonna take a while.”

* * *

After that, I focused mostly on drinking my wine and watching Jill continue to torture our poor waiter. She’s always been naturally outgoing and open. I, on the other hand, am the classic oldest child, always playing the responsible one to her more careless nature. Jill lost her virginity in the backseat of Nathan Mathers’s Ford Explorer when she was sixteen. She immediately told my mom and me, completely unconcerned about both the consequences and our opinions. I, of course, played the big sister card and scolded her, but our mother was more practical and booked the first available appointment with the gynecologist to get Jill on the pill. I had already been dating Mike for three years by that point, and we’d only just crossed the line from “everything else” to intercourse—a fact I knew played a huge part in my less than supportive reaction to my sister’s big news.

Brandon, the love-sick waiter, hovered, and I excused myself to use the restroom, more out of a feeling of restlessness than actual need. Using the tarnished mirror, I reapplied my lipstick and adjusted my top—an emerald green flowing blouse with the shoulders cut out. It was paired with skinny jeans, and I’d been mostly able to hide the horrid red stripe in my hair by securing bobby pins just so. I didn’t look too shabby.

Exiting the brightly lit restroom, the dimness of the hallway momentarily stopped me while my eyes adjusted. A hand grazed my back as a body lunged beside me before straightening with a grunting sound.

“Excuse me. Sorry.” I looked over and saw it was the t-shirt guy with the crooked nose. “I wasn’t expecting you to stop,” he said.

It was then I realized he had narrowly avoided plowing into me as I’d stalled abruptly in the dark hallway. “Oh. It was my fault. I was having trouble seeing where I was going.” I wasn’t sure if that made me sound drunk or just cautious, but there it was. Up close like this, I was able to make out more of his features. He had dark eyes, the color a bit indiscernible in the low light, and a broad chin. And I couldn’t help but notice the tattoo peeking out from the neckline of his shirt and extending to the side of his neck. One look at his arms showed a few more tattoos and a couple silver rings on his fingers. I wasn’t normally a fan of jewelry on men, but it totally worked on this guy.

“They could use a few more lights back here, now that you mention it.” He smiled. It was a good one too.

“Maybe they’re hiding something,” I responded with absolutely zero forethought.

His brow creased. What the hell, Jenna? My comment triggered the worst of images. Next I’d be suggesting we bring in a black light and conduct a CSI-style investigation.

“Sorry.” I pushed my hair behind my ear. “Forget I said that.”

For some reason, that made him smile again. “What’s your name? I’m Linc.”

Of course he was. Guys like this didn’t have normal names like Bob or Matt or Juan. They had names like Linc, or so my romance novels told me. Could this guy be my bad boy? I mean, he had the tattoos, and we were in a darkened hallway in a non-chain bar. Any minute now, he’d call me babe and pull out a cigarette.

“Jenna.” I returned his smile. “Nice to meet you, Linc.”

He leaned against the wall and tucked his hands in the pockets of his well-worn jeans. “I noticed you earlier, you know.”

“You did?” Please don’t let him have seen the tampon!

“Yeah. The waiter’s been hitting on your friend all night and I’ve been thinking to myself he had the wrong girl in his sights.”

Well, that made me blush like a virgin. He was most definitely flirting—even I could tell that.

“All the better for me, though.” He winked at me and it went straight to my belly. Damn, I was easy.

I knew I should respond with something witty but all I could do was smile at him.

“Let me buy you a drink.” He gestured toward the bar with his chin.

“Okay. Thanks.” All I’d done so far was say something creepy and tell him my name, and he still wanted to buy me a drink. Ha! I couldn’t wait to tell Jill.