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even have a chance to respond.
    “I’m not being a bitch, Wynee. I’m just speaking the truth. And you and I both know that if I really want someone, they won’t reject me. Maybe I should test that theory out on Justin.”
    I’m waiting for Wynee to flip the fuck out on Tiffany for even mentioning her boyfriend, jump from her stool, and punch Tiffany square in her slut mouth, but she doesn’t. She just laughs. “Sweetie, go right ahead and test it out. Justin wouldn’t touch you with a ten-foot pole, and you know it. But if you want to add some more rejection to your growing pile, go right ahead, give it a shot.”
    Tiffany opens her mouth, but quickly shuts it; then storms off through the double doors toward the kitchen.
    “So,” Molly claps her hands together, drawing Wynee and my attention away from the doors Tiffany just walked through, “why was Lucas behind the bar last night anyway?”
    “Well, he saw me struggling and offered to help me. He’s giving me bartending lessons.” I shrug my shoulders, trying to play off the interaction between Lucas and me.
    “Oh, please!” Molly laughs and shakes her head. “Dani, I may not know Lucas that well, but I know he wouldn’t just offer to help you without getting something in return. So, what does he get out of this whole deal?”
    “I might have agreed to go on one date with him. Just one!”
    “Sure, Dani. Just one.”
    Wynee cuts in, “Tiffany may be a jealous bitch, but she is kind of right about Lucas. He is known for sleeping with random girls and never settling down. He doesn’t do relationships; he just fucks. Just don’t get your hopes up.” She smiles at me and walks away with Molly on her heels.
    I think Wynee was worried her remarks about Lucas would hurt me, disappoint me in some way, but it actually had the opposite effect. I am in no need of a relationship, but I am in serious need of a good fuck, and I think Lucas Wade is just the man to give it to me.

 
     
     
    I feel like shit today. And I look like shit. I know this because that is the first thing my boss says to me when I walk into work.
    “Damn, Wade, you look like shit. Did you even sleep last night?” Chris, my boss, is also my friend. Sometimes. If I fuckup at work, he will rip me in two, but as long as I’m good at my job, which I am, he’s cool and cuts me slack when I need it.
    “Thanks, Chris. How about you keep the smartassness to a bare minimum until I get a few cups of coffee in me.” He laughs and walks out on the loading dock, slamming the door to the office loudly and laughing when he sees me close my eyes and hold my head in pain. Fucker. I fix my first of many cups of coffee and head out to the dock, ready to start my day.
    I work as a dockhand for a trucking company and have since right after college. Most people would ask why the hell I was working manual labor when I had a business degree, but I have never really had a good answer for that. I loved college, loved my business classes, but once I graduated, I quickly realized the business world wasn’t for me. I am not, and never will be, a suit and tie kind of person. I like manual labor, shirts with cut off sleeves, and my work boots. I like being outside in the Louisiana summer heat and sweating my ass off daily. I fucking love my job.
    The day goes by in a blur. I spend most of it on a forklift, dripping in sweat, loading and unloading freight off the dock onto incoming trucks, and making friendly conversation with the truck drivers.
    Chris has been trying to get me to get a CDL certification to move up to a driver for a few years now, but I keep putting it off. My mother says it’s because I refuse to fully grow up. She’s right, and I know it. I have partially grown up. I have a good job that pays the bills, my own apartment, my own truck, and I go see my mother at least once a week. I’ve settled down in those ways. But in my mother’s mind, settling down means having a real relationship. I don’t