to feel gloomy. “Hey, I for one appreciate you planning this, McCordle. Otherwise, I’d be home watching the Food Network and denying it.”
“Truth is, I’m just jealous I don’t have a woman to bring,” Evan said. “My sleeping bag is a little lonely these days. You know what I’m saying, Jefferson.”
Yeah, he knew, and thanks for the reminder. Ryder wasn’t normally hurting for female companionship, not because he was such a good-looking stud or anything, but because he was a race car driver. Women were always willing to go out with him. But lately, he hadn’t been giving chase, and had been ignoring some obvious invitations from various acquaintances, and he wasn’t sure why.
Hell, yes, he did. He was too worked up over Suzanne and dating anyone else wasn’t appealing. For months, ever since Suzanne had started dragging Ryder into her matchmaking efforts for her friends, Ryder had been preoccupied with Suzanne and hadn’t slept with another woman in longer than he cared to consider.
Which made for a damn cold sleeping bag. “Glad I can be in the lonely hearts club with you, Evan.” He crushed his empty beer can in his hand with a satisfying squeeze.
“Hey, I’m not looking for love.” Evan held up his hand. “Or marriage. But I’d like some reliable booty, if you know what I mean.”
“Is that your pick-up line?” Ty asked him with a grin. “‘Hey, sweetheart, wanna be my reliable booty call?’ No wonder you’re sitting here with us then.”
“No, I don’t say that,” Evan said in clear annoyance that his lothario skills would be questioned. “But I do make it clear I’m not looking for marriage.”
“What do you have against marriage?” Ty asked, looking ready to defend the institution like any recently engaged man would. “Your brother is mighty happy with his wife.”
“That’s Elec. It works for him. But dining in the same restaurant every night doesn’t do it for me. I know myself too well and that’s not realistic.”
Ryder leaned toward the cooler containing the beer and thought about that phrasing . . . dining in the same restaurant every night. That had never even entered his head when he had married Suzanne. He had been thinking that he was the luckiest man alive to get her locked in and signed on the dotted line as his.
“Wait until you meet the right woman,” Jonas said, glancing up from his lap. “Then you’ll change your mind.”
Whatever Ryder thought of Jonas’s choice of a wife, he had to admit, the guy seemed happy. In fact, if he wasn’t mistaken, Jonas had his cell phone in his lap. “Are you texting Nikki?”
Jonas gave a sheepish smile. “Yeah. I can’t help it. It’s so hard to be away from her.”
“That is a guys’ weekend violation,” Ty declared. “Hand over the phone.” He switched his beer to his left hand and held out his right.
“No.” Jonas clutched his phone tighter. “Nikki’s feelings will be hurt if I don’t answer.”
Ty had no doubt that Nikki with hurt feelings wouldn’t be pretty. He pictured the pizza box hitting the carpet. “Let him text his girl. It’s not a big deal.”
Jonas looked wistful and pleading.
Evan looked like he wanted no part of the argument.
Ty looked disgusted, then resigned. “Fine. But if you can text Nikki, I can text Imogen.”
Ryder almost rolled his eyes, but restrained himself. “Text whoever you want. There aren’t rules here, you know. We’re just supposed to be having fun, hanging out. That doesn’t mean you can’t check in on your fiancée. My feelings won’t be hurt if you send her a dirty message.”
He might wish he could send his own dirty text to a certain someone, but he could lament that at home just as easily, and at home he wouldn’t have his friends to talk to. And if he did send that dirty text either here or at home, he’d be shot down like a goose in hunting season.
“Alright, just one,” Ty said, holding up his finger.
Jonas was already typing