Confessions from a (Reluctant) Flirt
Life hasn’t exactly been glitter and rosé.
I don’t like to complain—it’s not really my thing—but sometimes I wonder…
Shouldn’t there be more?
More joy. More passion. More magic.
I’ve done the work. Survived a messy divorce. Buried my parents too young. Raised my baby sister when I was barely more than a kid myself. I played it safe. I rebuilt. And now? I own my own boutique in a gorgeous beach town, have real friends who show up for me, and my sister’s getting married to a guy who actually deserves her.
By all accounts, I should be content.
So why does it still feel like something’s missing?
Enter Montgomery. My new rescue cat.
He’s got a scarred past, a permanent scowl, and zero interest in affection.
Basically, my spirit animal.
Then he showed up.
Tall, devastatingly sexy, dressed like sin and sarcasm, and chasing me with the kind of confidence that makes my knees tremble.
The man I never forgot.
The one I swore was just a one-night memory.
The one I ghosted—on purpose—because I knew better than to trust a fantasy.
Only now, my sister’s fiancé just introduced him at a bar.
As his best friend.
Of course he did.
Now he’s back. Charming my cat. Listening to every word I ever told him during that one unforgettable night. Saying all the right things. Smirking like he knows he’s in my head.
And just when I start to wonder if maybe—just maybe—I could risk my heart again?
He drops a bomb:
He needs to close a major business deal…
…and it depends on buying my store and turning it into a luxury condo.
So yeah. That’s where I’m at.
I might be a little wild. A little messy. A little reluctant to flirt.
But I’ve survived worse.
And this time?
I’m not going down without a fight.