Love the One You're With(10)

Right? Tell me that’s right.

“So you’re ready to move on,” Julie said slowly.

Grace held up a manicured fingernail. She knew that tone. “No. No setups. I’ve told you both a thousand times. This is the me period of my life. No men. No dating. No sex. Not for six months.”

“And what, after six months you’ll be magically ready to enter a relationship?” Riley asked.

“God, no. But if I wait six months, at least I’ll know I’m not jumping into anything solely because I miss the companionship. I need to figure out how to be on my own.”

It was true. But it wasn’t the whole truth. Grace would never say it in front of Julie, who was over-the-moon happy with her new in-a-relationship status, but Grace couldn’t even begin to fathom being in a relationship. Not in six months, not in a year … maybe not ever.

They hurt.

“Okay, so if you’re all anti-men, then what is with your insistence on doing this story?” Riley asked. “There’s a reason we didn’t volunteer you, you know. How is it that the woman who claims to be done with dating wants to write a story about dating?”

“Oh, come on. You two know better than anyone that doing something for a story is not the same as doing it for real.”

“Actually, Julie doesn’t know that,” Riley said in a loud whisper.

Julie shrugged her perfectly toned shoulders. “Riley’s right. You may think you’re doing it for a story. But if it’s the right guy …”

“Mitchell was a fluke,” Grace said with a wave. “One in a million, and all that. Plus, Mitchell didn’t even know he was part of your story. Whatever turd from Oxford I get stuck with will have his eyes wide open.”

“At least he’ll be a gorgeous turd,” Riley said, waving their server over for another round.

“How do you know?”

Her friend smiled mysteriously. “I have my connections.”

Julie pointed at Riley. “Spill. Now. Grace is going to need all the intel she can get.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” Grace said dryly. “Have you ever read an Oxford article? I’ve been doing my research, and I can see why a woman who picked up the magazine would write a scathing letter to the editor. Their male columnists seem to think all women have a secret desire to make sandwiches and give blow jobs.”

Riley fished an olive out of Julie’s glass, ignoring her friend’s glare. “Wait. We’re supposed to aspire to more than that?”

“The point is,” Grace continued, “If this is a competition to see whether women know men better than men know women, I can do that in my sleep.”

Sort of. She hoped.

Actually, she wasn’t sure.

Her friends looked even more skeptical.

“Okay, back to Riley’s secret intel,” Julie said. “Ri, you know who the guy columnist is?”

“Not for sure, but I at least know who it’s likely to be. When I went out for a coffee run this afternoon, I rode the elevator back up with Camille and Alex Cassidy—who happens to be super young and hot, by the way—and I heard them talking about the article. Alex wants to put Jake Malone on it.”

Julie whistled. “Whew, that is a gorgeous turd.”

“How am I the only one who doesn’t know this guy?” Grace asked, feeling uncomfortably out of the loop.

Riley patted her friend. “You’re loyal to a fault. You were blind to the rest of the male population the entire time you were with Greg.”

Grace knew Riley meant it as a compliment, but she couldn’t help feeling a bit like a dutiful Labrador retriever who’d spent her twenties following after her master. She had been loyal to Greg, of course. But she’d been able to appreciate a good-looking guy. Hadn’t she? She’d had her fair share of celebrity crushes. Such as …

Hell, none were coming to mind just now.

Grace 2.0 sighed in despair.

Note to self: check out more men.

Grace racked her brain for everything she knew about Jake Malone. The name did sound vaguely familiar. He was one of Oxford’s golden boys, if she was remembering correctly. She seemed to recall an elevator ride in the Ravenna building in which two rather smitten-sounding women had been lamenting his lack of attention toward them.

Come to think of it, hadn’t she read an article or two while waiting in the dentist’s office? It was the typical guy stuff: “How to Make Her Orgasm in Thirty Seconds or Less.”

Grace snorted. Please.

Then there was the more innocuous stuff … “The Guy’s Guide to Grooming.” “Claiming the Corner Office.”

He was a good writer if you liked the straightforward, no-bullshit style. But while his cocky, cavalier tone likely appealed to his male reading audience, it reeked of condescension and machismo. She wasn’t surprised that females who read his take on women would complain.