Growing up, Karen’s advice had been, “Sex is an extension of a loving relationship.” Unlike Libby, who’d apparently done way more experimenting growing up, Alice had only ever had sex inside a relationship. Even the virtual sex with Tim had occurred after hours of conversation. Friends with benefits was something utterly foreign to her, but then again, up until a few weeks ago online dating had fallen under that banner too.

Dan was correct—they’d known each other all their lives, although they were hardly close friends. Every year when she’d come home for a vacation, they invariably ran into each other and enjoyed a quick catch-up. One Christmas, she’d enrolled Lawrence in Dan’s “Learn to Surf” classes. As it turned out, it hadn’t been her best gift. Her ex had complained bitterly that Dan spent more time flirting with her than teaching him. At the time, she’d rejected Lawrence’s accusation, but it had been true. Alice knew that flirting was as natural as breathing for Dan and it meant nothing, so she’d allowed herself to enjoy his compliments. Plus, Dan had always been easy on the eyes—if the sun-bronzed surfer look was your catnip.

It had never been hers. Historically, Alice, like Libby, had been attracted to dark-eyed, dark-haired men, and both had been betrayed. But she’d just asked blond-headed Dan for honesty and surprisingly he’d delivered. Still, did she really want to go down this rabbit hole just to scratch an itch?

You haven’t had sex in over six months. Dan’s athletic, experienced and you know him. He’s much safer than meeting a random guy online.

“If we do this, we’d need rules.”

Dan immediately grabbed a napkin, wrote Rules of Engagement and underlined it.

“Don’t you think we should have sex first before we worry about rules? We might not be compatible.”

“The fact you’re considering this means we’re compatible.” He clicked his pen and wrote, 1. No strings. 2. CCC.

“No dick pics.”

“Crikey, Alice. You’re lucky I’m here to save you from dating apps.”

She stifled a bubble of laughter, protecting her attempt at a business-like manner. “Yeah, right. Just write it down.”

As he wrote down the number four he said, “No sleepovers.”

It was code for no cuddling or spooning—no ambiguity. Was she really prepared to give up intimacy for sex? “Sure. But as I’m currently living at home due to financial constraints, we’ll need to use your place. I promise to get up and go as soon as the job’s done.”

“Job?” He gave her a pitying look. “And to think I pegged you as a romantic.”

“We both know this has nothing to do with romance.”

“Sure, but it doesn’t mean we can’t have fun. Just tell me what you like and don’t like, and I’ll do the same.”