More Flirts! 5 Romantic Short Stories - By Lisa Scott Page 0,3

her brain.

Luckily, she could usually push her mom’s voice away. She slipped into a cute dress, because a flirting teacher should look flirty, right? She was meeting Stone at the Brownstone Bar. Monday was ladies night and there would be plenty of women used to lame pickup lines if that was all Stone could manage.

She put her hair up in a ponytail. Then let it down. Down looked sexier, because if worse came to worse, she’d have to pretend to be interested in Stone to get some of the other ladies looking his way, wondering what he had. And the better she looked, the better he’d look to the rest of the gals in the bar. Not that Stone needed a lot of help looking good. If she could keep him quiet, it just might work. He was the kind of guy who looked like a hot, manly man—until he started talking. Once the words came out of his mouth, his cute quotient fell. It was mean to say, but there it was.

She put on another coat of lip-gloss and smacked her lips together. She certainly hoped she could help him. He seemed sweet enough, and deserved a great gal. Could she find someone in his same intellectual stratosphere? She shrugged. Someone smokin’ hot would do.

Kyla got to the bar, and scanned the room, but she didn’t see Stone. There was no mistaking the time and date, they’d made the plans yesterday for crying out loud. She sat down and ordered a beer. The bartender gave her the look most bartenders gave her when she walked in a bar alone.

“I’ll have one for my friend, too,” she said, when he brought her the beer.

“Is she as hot as you?” the bartender asked.

“Yeah, he is,” she said.

He gave her a nod of understanding, grabbed another beer for her, and made his way down the bar to a blonde with her breasts pressed up against the counter.

Kyla drummed her fingers and checked her phone for the fifth time. It was ten after nine, and Stone was supposed to have been there at nine. Finally–after she finished her beer and shooed away three different guys who’d approached her–Stone walked in, snow flakes sparkling in his hair like stars.

Or dandruff.

He spotted her and shook his head like a dog, and pushed through the crowd to her. She tried not to sigh. This was going to be harder than she’d thought.

“Hi,” he said, sitting next to her. “Sorry I’m late.”

“Mistake number one. Never ever show up after the woman. You should be here first to take charge, to show you’re in control and will take care of her.”

He scratched his head. “What about traffic or wrong turns? There are a lot of variables that could keep a guy from getting there first.”

“Those are the rules.” She handed him a beer. “And that way, you can order drinks first, too.”

“But how will I know what she likes? Isn’t that presumptuous?”

“It shows a woman you’ll take care of her.”

He blew out a breath.

“But you look good.”

He looked down at his fitted long sleeved tee that showed off his lean muscular frame. “Thanks.”

Kyla was impressed that he didn’t even take a moment to ogle the mural of the naked mermaid on the wall across from them. Most guys did. Many even posed for pictures with ‘Naked Nellie,’ as they called her, usually making rude gestures. Her breasts were placed at the right height for a lot of fun. Depending on how busy it was, the bartender might pull out an old Polaroid camera and snap a shot to hang up on the wall by the restrooms. Stone didn’t seem to notice Nellie.

Stone smiled at Kyla. “How should I start?”

“Nice and easy. You want to start nice and easy. Forget everything you did back at the perfume counter. Wipe that right out of your brain.” She rubbed his forehead with two fingers. “You’re going to want to let the woman ask a lot of questions about you. Talk about yourself. Guys like to do that. Let her know all about you, your studies, your earning potential. This is the time to brag about yourself.”

“Don’t I want to break up the conversation and ask about her?”

She shook her head. “No. Women are used to letting men take the lead. All the women’s magazines tell us to. If you don’t, we’ll assume something’s wrong. And that’s what my brothers do. They talk non-stop about themselves while the women just smile and