Page 1 of Forty, Flirty & Fall Inn

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GONE PHISHING

LUKE

“Wait, you’re calling us to tell us you’re chasing a catfish at midnight on a Friday?That’s either peak determination… or wildly unhinged.”

One of my best buddies Grayson Dixon’s voice echoes through my car’s Bluetooth as my tires grip another slick mountain curve.Pines line either side of the narrow road, tall and ghostly in the mist—like arboreal monks judging my life choices.

“I’mcallingto tell you I’m not making it to The Summit tomorrow,” I say, ignoring his commentary.“Tell the others.I’ll Venmo my share for Callum’s group gift.”

“Oh, so this is the bail-and-vanish call,” Overbearing Best Friend #2 Connor Reeves cuts in, his baritone dropping into the chat like an unsolicited calendar invite.“Very on-brand.”

“I have a legitimate reason,” I mutter, squinting through the rain-smeared windshield.“I think someone hacked my SecureMatch profile.”

A beat of silence.

“Shit,” Grayson swears.As the founder of the dating app for mature professionals who don’t give a damn about meeting up on apps where choreographed dances dominate, I’m guessing this is the last thing he wants to hear.“I…haven’t heard anything about this kind of thing from my guys.”He clears his throat.“But to be clear…is this an actual cybersecurity emergency or another compatibility spiral?”

“It’s purely professional curiosity,” I snap.“Someone’s tampering with my data.Forcing my profile to match with the same woman.Over.And over.”

My fingers tighten on the steering wheel.“And I don’t like being played.Not in life.Not in code.Not by a stranger using algorithmic witchcraft.”

“Alright, Mr.Nobody’s Mark,” Grayson says.“Where’s this trail to the hacker lead?Silicon Valley?The Cayman Islands?”

“A B&B in Alder Ridge.”

“That’s not a real place,” Connor says.

“It’s a small town near Snoqualmie Falls,” I clarify.“Forty-ish minutes outside Seattle.Population: mystery.Elevation: red flags.”

“Oh no,” Connor says.“Tell me Nana Sterling didn’t finally outsource your love life to a mountain witch with broadband access.”

“My grandmother is eighty-nine, not a Bond villain.”

“She keeps dossiers on your exes and an encrypted spreadsheet tracking your emotional availability.I wouldn’t put it past her.”

“Anyway,” I redirect, “Callum’s engagement party gift—get him the limited-edition Glenfiddich or the cufflinks.Not both.”

“Already handled,” Grayson says.“What isn’t handled is your date situation for Callum’s engagement shindig.Or lack thereof.The party’s in four weeks.Time’s a-ticking.”

“And here we go,” I mutter.

“It’s not just about optics,” Connor says.“It’s a group event.You bring someone who can make small talk and not call the wedding ‘an overpriced networking opportunity.’Like last time.”

“I’ve got bigger concerns than finding a placeholder for a catered photo op.”

“Bigger than being the last unattached man standing?”Grayson asks.“Let’s review.Connor’s married.I’m married.Alex has Mac.Callum’s halfway to being a husband and national treasure.That leaves you.The lone wolf.The terminal bachelor.The emotionally unavailable encryption key.”

“Jesus,” I mutter.

Being close since our days at Stanford have done nothing to soften the punches my closest friends throw.

“Unclaimed Pokémon, if we’re branding,” Connor adds.“But like… a rare one.With trust issues and impeccable grooming.”

“Limited-edition emotionally stunted startup founder,” Grayson chimes in.“Likes: ghosting women and watching C-SPAN at 2x speed.”

“You guys done?”I deadpan.“Because I’m adding time to this drive just to avoid Lakeview Cemetery, so forgive me if I’m not in the mood for a roast.”