Sidequest for Love by L.H. Cosway

I frowned at the mention of my boss/ex-crush. It had been over a year since I’d confessed my feelings for her, and aside from my current predicament managing Callum’s social media, I was completely over her. Unfortunately, Grandma still liked to check-in with me about the whole thing since I hadn’t had a girlfriend in the interim. She thought I was still pining, but I wasn’t. I’d moved on to an entirely new crush, but that was something I’d yet to discuss with my grandmother for various reasons.



“Things are fine with Leanne,” I replied. “I told you, it’s all in the past now. We’ve moved on from it.”



“Hmm, well, if you ask me, you’re a much better catch than that Callum. All those tattoos won’t age well. You mark my words.”



“I’m not sure the vast majority of the female British public would agree with you, Grandma, but I appreciate the sentiment.”



If you looked up “sexy, tattooed bad boy” in the dictionary, you’d find a picture of Cal.



“The vast majority must be blind if they can’t see what a fine gentleman you are. You’ll make some young lady very happy one day.”



I shifted, uncomfortable by all the fine gentleman talk. If my grandma knew the thoughts I’d had about Leanne, she might want to reconsider her words. Rosie grinned at me, enjoying my embarrassment, so I decided to turn the tables on her.



“What about Rosie? Do you think she’ll make some man very happy one day, too?”



“Oh, yes,” Grandma exclaimed. “Rosie is a smart, beautiful woman.” A pause as she studied my sister. “She could have men knocking down her door if she’d only put herself out there.”



“Grandma!” Rosie exclaimed, cheeks reddening.



“What?” Grandma retorted with a twinkle in her eye. “You know I’m right. You’d rather stick your head in a book on a Friday night than go out dancing. You might encounter some dashing heroes in the pages of a fantasy novel, but you’ll never meet a real one.”



“Real heroes are few and far between these days,” Rosie shot back. “If you ever tried those dating apps, you’d agree with me.”



“Have you ever tried them?” I questioned.



Rosie stiffened. “Well, no, but from what I’ve heard, I’m better off steering clear.”



At this, my phone buzzed in my pocket. I pulled it out and saw I had a new message from Annabelle. Remember the new crush I mentioned? Well, Annabelle was the lady I was currently pining after. Sadly, the entire situation had become far more complicated than I’d ever intended. Let’s just say my decision-making skills had been lacking when it came to Annabelle.



I was thinking about you a lot today.



I couldn’t help it. Her message piqued my curiosity. I typed a quick reply.



Oh?



It’s probably because I had a dream about you last night.



Now my curiosity was at optimum pique-age.



What was the dream about?



We were camping and there was only one sleeping bag…



I swallowed tightly. My cheeks heated against my will.



Did we share it?



We did.



I hope I kept you warm. x



Grandma cleared her throat as she placed my dinner down in front of me, and I quickly shoved my phone in my pocket. It was rude to text at the dinner table, even if the conversation was as interesting as the one Annabelle had started. Man, I really needed to come clean to her.



I just had to figure out how to do it without completely destroying our relationship and rendering myself unemployed.





2.



Afric

Okay, so … one thing you should know about me: if I’m rude or argumentative with you, it probably means that somewhere deep down in my psyche, I actually like you.

I’m not saying it’s a good thing. It just is what it is. Most people don’t understand that teasing is my special brand of affection, and you know what, that’s my fault. How can I expect virtual strangers to interpret the deep-seated issues in my head and translate Fuck off as Let’s be friends?

Being the second youngest of eight siblings meant I grew up fast. Winning arguments while also making my brothers and sisters laugh was big currency. And making them laugh often meant insulting one of them.

Maybe the fact that I’d spent most of my life not taking insults personally meant I was ill-equipped to understand people who did.

Neil Durant was one such person.

Yes, after our first meeting, I discovered his surname easily enough by surreptitiously quizzing Michaela. I then proceeded to look him up online. What? There was just something about him that rubbed me the wrong way enough to want to torture myself. For some reason, I needed to know what he was about. It was an itch that I couldn’t resist scratching, and I didn’t know how to explain it.

Sadly, though, when it came to social media, Neil went bare-bones, which only made me more curious.

Neil was my opposite; neatly dressed, professional, and reserved. And yet, behind all that, he had a look in his eyes that spoke to me. It drew me in. It was the look of a person who’d lost in life enough times to know that things didn’t always go your way. There was nothing I disliked more than people who always got what they wanted, having no idea that it wasn’t normal. I hated trying to explain a bad experience to someone who’d never had it happen to them. I felt like they were judging me, thinking that whatever happened, I’d somehow brought it upon myself and that it wasn’t the way of the world to lose far more often than you won.