Seattle had come out of a long winter and cool spring, and was now firmly entrenched in summer. The energy was different during the hot months. The skirts were shorter and the nights were longer, and for him, the workdays were longer, too. He hadn’t left his desk until well after seven thirty—hadn’t gotten here until well after eight thirty. Given the hellacious week he’d had at the office, it didn’t surprise him that he wasn’t as upbeat as usual.

“Sure thing.” Shelly was petite, wearing a ball cap with her ponytail sticking out of the back. Her lashes were thick, and her lips were shiny with gloss. Cute as she was, he didn’t plan on asking her out. Even though she was his type, from her shapely calves to her low-cut V-necked T-shirt with the bar’s gold-and-red emblem on it. Even though she’d been offering her smiles freely and borderline flirting back with him, Gage wasn’t feeling it.

His best buddy Flynn and Sabrina, his other best buddy turned Flynn’s girlfriend, had taken off a few minutes ago. Gage hung around at From Afar, finishing his beer after a long week and what felt like a longer workday.

He’d been friends with Flynn, Sabrina and Reid—who wasn’t in the country at the moment—since college. Sabrina being in the mix was nothing new. Her being in love with Flynn and vice versa: totally new.

Gage had said yes to the after-work beer, not thinking it’d be any different than any other hangout they’d had before. It had been different, though, since the couple couldn’t keep their hands or eyes on anything in the room but each other. But he couldn’t begrudge his friends. A few months back, Flynn and Sabrina had slipped from the friend zone to the in-zone. Flynn was the happiest he’d been in a long while.

“Here you go, sweetheart.” The cute blonde winked at him and moved away to greet another patron.

If he wasn’t mistaken, that lifting feeling in his chest was relief at his decision not to dance the dance with her. Flirting was easy—hell, second nature—to him. Asking her out wouldn’t be an issue. He had it down. He’d heard yes more times than no, and often heard “Yes!” shouted with exuberance later the same night in his bed.

Over the past few weeks, however, he’d noticed he was tired of the game. Going out on a few dates, a round or three of spectacular sex (or okay sex—but even okay sex was pretty damn good), and then finding his way out before things progressed to anything serious… If they got that far. Lately, he’d grown tired of the awkward parting in the middle of the night or the next morning. Tired of the walk of shame.

Thirty years old was too young to be this jaded.

You’re just tired after a long week. Don’t analyze it to death.

He leaned forward to pull his wallet from his back pocket, ready to pay and take his gloomy self home, when he noticed a stunning vision striding toward him. He froze, the scene unfolding in slow motion.