by K. A. Berg
Here we go. My mom and her worries.
“It’s okay, Mom. I promise you, we are safe, careful, and not in any danger.” Amelia tries to pacify her.
“How are you doing, Sweet Pea?” my dad asks as he wraps me in his warm hug.
I smile up at him. “I’m doing good, Daddy.”
That’s the truth too. I know he thought Scott’s actions would crush me, and they did, but honestly, I haven’t really thought about him often this last week. Not really much at all over the last month. I have to say, I’m shocked myself at how easy it has been to move on from him. I guess you can only hurt someone so much in such a short amount of time before they become numb to it and begin forgetting about you since you brought them nothing but hurt.
To stop the hurt, stop thinking about the reason causing it.
Life goes on.
My phone vibrates in my pocket, and something tells me that it’s the man who has been helping my life go on these last few days.
“You look good, darling,” my mom adds as we head inside.
The table is set for dinner, and the scent of my mom’s chicken pot pie fills the house.
I follow my nose straight to the kitchen. “It smells amazing in here, Mom. Do you need any help?”
“No, everything is ready.” She shoos us out of the kitchen and into the dining room. “Why don’t you sit, and I’ll bring everything out?”
I pull my phone from my back pocket before sitting and see Ryan’s name on the Home screen.
Ryan: You’re doing some pretty hard thinking over there. How long are you going to torture me?
Me: I haven’t decided yet.
Ryan: How about just a drink then?
Me: I don’t know. I’ll think about it.
“Hmm … what’s going on here?” Amelia asks, leaning over my shoulder. “Who’s that?”
I haven’t told my sister or Mercy about talking to Ryan. For some reason, I feel the need to keep this to myself, but it doesn’t seem like that’s going to happen now.
“No one,” I say, sticking my phone under the table, hiding it between my thighs.
Amelia takes the seat next to me, and her troublemaking smile spreads on her lips. “It’s hot bar guy, isn’t it? You said his name was Ryan, and I doubt you know many Ryans. Your whole life was Scott until a month ago.”
“Shut up, Amelia,” I hiss at her.
My dad joins us and looks between the two of us. “What are you girls arguing about now?”
“Nothing,” I answer while Amelia says, “I was just asking Danielle about her new boyfriend.”
My father chokes on his water. “New boyfriend?”
“Who has a new boyfriend?” Mom asks as she enters the dining room with a baking dish filled with pot pie.
“Danielle does.”
I smack Amelia’s arm. “I do not.”
“She does too. She’s just being shy about it,” my sister continues lying to my parents. “Mercy and I met him. He’s nice. He’s a bartender.”
“Bar owner,” I correct her before I think about the implications.
Amelia has a smug look on her face. “Excuse me. Danielle’s new boyfriend is a bar owner.”
“He’s not my boyfriend.”
My father shakes his head and sighs. “It’s like the two of you are still children. Do you ever stop bickering?”
I cross my arms over my chest and glare at Amelia. “Yes, when she can stop sticking her nose where it doesn’t belong.”
Mom starts dishing out the pot pie in heaping portions. “Well then, what is he, darling?” she asks as she hands me back my plate.
“Isn’t it too soon for a new boyfriend?” my dad grumbles.
“He’s just a guy I met. It’s nothing to get excited over. I’m not even sure I like him.”
Amelia chuckles. “Oh, you like him all right.”
“Why would you give him your number if you’re not sure if you like him?” my mom asks, finally taking her own seat.
I glare at Amelia. “I didn’t. I’m pretty sure this one over here and Mercy gave him my number.”
Amelia gasps, and I toss her a smug grin of my own.
You want to tell the parental units about Ryan? Then, I’ll throw your ass under the bus too. I know that she is just as involved in this as Mercy is. I don’t know how or when they pulled it off, but one of them gave Ryan my phone number. There’s no other way he could’ve gotten it.
“Amelia Jane Jacobs,” Mom admonishes her. “Why on earth would you give your sister’s phone number to some man without her permission? Do you know how dangerous that could be? There are some crazy people in this world. I know I taught you better than that.”
She holds up her hand, stopping my mom from continuing. “Relax, Mom. It wasn’t random. I’ve met him. We know where he works, and he was nice enough to take care of precious Danielle here when she threw up all over him and his office.”
“You bitch,” I mumble low enough so that only she can hear.
She laughs under her breath. “I can keep going all night.”
My mom asks, “Why were you sick in his office, Danielle?”
Amelia’s smug smirk is back again. “Yeah, Dani, why were you sick in his office?”
“Amelia, Mercy, and I ate at some street fair last weekend, and the food didn’t sit right in my stomach. We stopped at the bar for some drinks, and I got sick.”
My mom looks horrified. “Why wouldn’t you go to the restroom? How’d you wind up getting sick in his office?”
Lying is not my thing. I’m not good at it, and I want to hit my sister upside the head right now for getting me into this mess.
“Someone was in the restroom, Mom. I didn’t throw up in his office because I wanted to.”
My mom nods as if she’s satisfied with my answer. “If he was a gentleman after all that, maybe you should think about dating him.”
Christ, not her too.
“Yeah, sure, Mom,” I say just to get her to lay off, “I’ll think about it.”
Chapter Eighteen
Ryan
Danielle: I just thought of something …
Me: Which kind of drink you’re going to have with me?
Danielle: Ha-ha … no.
Me: What you’ll eat for dinner?
Danielle: Again, no.
Me: Damn, I can’t win with you girl. What did you think of then?
Danielle: You own that little love nest above the bar.
Me: I do.
Danielle: Is that your home? Or just where you take girls from the bar, so they don’t know where you live?
Me: It’s exactly what I told you. A place for employees to crash if they’re too tired to make it home.
Danielle: So, everyone does have access to it?
Me: Any of my employees can stay there. Why?
Danielle: Because I’m not sure I can think about a drink or anything else with you while I’m still pretty salty that you left me alone up there where I was totally naked and anyone could’ve walked in.
This is what’s been bothering her . . . stopping her from going out again? She gave me Chlamydia and she’s mad I ran down to the bar? I was coming right back. If anyone gets to be salty about that night, it’s me!
Me: The only person who has their own key is Roxy, who was downstairs, working at the bar, and knew we were up there. No one had access to the loft that night but me. If employees want to stay the night, they need to ask for the extra key from the bar.
Me: Now that we’ve cleared that up, should I ask again?
Danielle: I’m not sure. You still ditched me. Who knows where you’ll leave me naked and alone next time?
Me: Look at who is assuming I’ll sleep with her on the first date.
Danielle: Since when is drinks considered a date?
Me: Since when isn’t drinks considered a date?
Danielle: Since forever. Drinks is not a proper date. It’s a get-to-know-you thing, and I think we already know enough about each
other to be past drinks. So, it’s not a date.
Me: I asked you to dinner first and you declined. I figured drinks would be less intimidating.
Danielle: You downgraded me from dinner to drinks. It’s insulting.
Me: Then yes to dinner with me.
Danielle: Not now. You better think bigger now if you want me to say yes.
She’s freaking nuts! And for some reason, I kind of like it.
“What the hell is so interesting on your phone?” Evan asks, drawing my attention from Danielle’s text. “You haven’t heard a word I said.”
He’s not wrong. I kind of tuned him out about ten minutes ago. I should be paying attention to what he’s telling me though because it’s important. He just got a new listing contract for a space, and he thinks it’d be the perfect location for another Cohen’s.
I’m not even sure why I care this much or why I’m still trying to convince her to see me again. This isn’t me. I’m the guy who women flirt with after they’ve loosened up. I’m the one who the girls take home at the end of the night and then brag about to their friends.
Chasing women hasn’t been a thing for me since high school. I haven’t had the time. The bar has been my main priority since it opened. I’ve put everything I have into this place, which is the reason I’m standing here right now looking to expand.
But with Danielle, something about her intrigues me and I want to know what it is.
But at this moment, I should be listening to Evan about this property and its details. I should be thinking about Roxy and the idea of her buying into Cohen’s. Focusing on figuring out if a second location is even a possibility.
Not what kind of date I can plan to get this woman to go out with me.
“Dude!” Evan shouts.
“What?” I ask, my voice dripping with exasperation. Not toward Evan, but myself. “I’m sorry, man. What were you saying?”
“I was saying that with the square footage of this place, you could have two bar areas and double the seating you have now. What’s going on with you?”
“Nothing.”
“Bullshit,” he counters. “I’ve known you long enough to tell when something is bothering you.”
Evan and I met in college. Junior year in Operations Management. We were paired for a project and became friends by the time it was over. He’s been with me through a lot, including the start-up of Cohen’s.
“It’s nothing really.”
Evan is not going to want to hear about my problems concerning Danielle. He doesn’t even like her, despite not having met her. I’m not in the mood to listen to his theory that she’s crazy.
Maybe it’s me who is crazy.
“It’s about a woman, isn’t it?”
“Why would you say that?”
“Because this is a Ryan I’ve yet to see. You’ve also never had woman troubles. Two plus two equals relationship issues, my friend. Did you knock someone up?”
What the hell is wrong with him?
“Seriously? No, I didn’t get someone pregnant, and if I did, why would I hide that?”
“True, you’re not a pay her off kind of guy.” He taps his finger to his chin, thinking of some other explanation. “Did you get another STD from someone? Please tell me it’s not a forever one.”
“No.” I shake my head. “It’s nothing like that.”
“Well, what then? Because my imagination can keep going over here.”
“I’ve been trying to get this woman to go out with me. She’s been noncommittal.”
“You?” he questions in astonishment. “Are having trouble getting a girl into bed?”
“No,” I shake my head. “I said I was having trouble getting her to go out with me.”
He looks confused. “Since when do you take someone out on a date?”
“There’s a first time for everything.” I shrug not having a better answer for him.
“Wow! This is . . . is . . . different.” Evan isn’t sure what to do or say. “Okay, okay, so a date huh?”
I run my hand through my hair. “Yeah.”
“How bad do you want to go out with this chick?” he asks earnestly.
If that isn’t the million-dollar question. I’m not entirely sure what the hell I want to do when it comes to Danielle. “It’s hard to explain. It’s like there’s this niggling in the back my mind that keeps bringing her back into my thoughts. It’s like the urge I get when I think about doing something most people wouldn’t because it could end badly. Like skydiving. She’s like something new I want to try my hand at. See if the risks are worth the rewards.”
And that’s the truth of it. I don’t know what could happen between Danielle and me, but some part of my mind won’t let go of the notion of trying to find out.
“I kind of like her already if she’s making you work for it.”
Oh, the irony. I doubt he’d feel that way if he knew who the woman in question was.
“What if you take her to the Dodgers game on Thursday?” he suggests.
“I already invited you.”
“We can catch another when they come back into town.” He shrugs, not at all incensed by the idea of giving his ticket to the game to a woman I want to win over. “Chicks love the whole baseball thing. I bet you could rope her in with that.”
I don’t know Danielle well enough yet to know if she’d be into a baseball game, but it can’t hurt, and I’m sure that has to qualify as a date.
Me: Do you have plans Thursday night?
Danielle: I still haven’t made up my mind.
Me: Forget drinks. What about a baseball game?
Danielle: What about it?
Me: Is that considered a good date?
Danielle: It depends on who is going.
Me: You and me.
Danielle: Hmm … I’ll think about it.
“What’d she say?” Evan asks.
“She’ll think about it.”
He laughs. “It’s fun, watching you squirm. Where did you meet this one?”
“I met her at the bar.”
“You need to stop meeting women where you work, man,” he advises. “Last chick you took home from there gave you an STD and came back to cause a scene.”
I do my best to suppress the laugh that wants to come out, but I don’t really succeed.
Evan’s brow furrows. “What’s so funny?”
“Nothing.”
He narrows his eyes before his face falls. “Please tell me you are not trying to get chlamydia girl to go out with you.”
“Okay,” I say. “I’m not trying to get Danielle to go on a date with me.”
He groans. “I can’t believe I just offered my ticket to the game for her.”
I laugh some more. “Too late to take it back now.”
“What the hell is wrong with you?” He throws his hands up. “You dodged a major bullet with that chick. You wrapped everything up and got out without any permanent damage. I get that you like to do crazy shit, but this is fucking extreme. The woman is unstable.”
“You’ve never even met her.” I point out.
“I don’t have to meet her to know this is a bad idea. There’s no talking you out of this, is there?”
"Nope.”
“I hope this doesn’t blow up in your face, man.” He sighs defeatedly. “But when it does, I’ll have my popcorn in hand, watching the explosion.”
I roll my eyes. “Thanks for always having my back, Ev.”
Chapter Nineteen
Danielle
I can’t believe I’m doing this. The last time I went on a first date was six years ago. Six! And even then, I didn’t go on a ton of first dates. I sort of found Scott, and we stuck. Now, I’m going out with this guy and I have no idea what to expect. What do people talk about on first dates? Especially, people who have shared chlamydia?
I guess I could ask him if he took a probiotic after the azithromycin. I didn’t at first, but I’m so glad I did. A strong antibiotic like that can really mess
with gut –
Shut up, Danielle! You will not ask him if he got constipated!
I take a deep breath and try to pull it together. As I take one last look in the mirror, my phone goes off again. Mom, Mercy and Amelia have been pinging me non-stop. I get that they’re excited for me, but this is not helping me manage my anxiety. I function best when everything is planned out and I’m not hit with anything unexpected. Everything about Ryan is unexpected and it scares the crap out of me.
But not enough to make me walk away.
Ryan’s waiting for me at the bottom of the stairs as I make my way outside.
He smiles at me. “Don’t you look appropriately festive for the occasion?”
Suddenly, self-conscious, I look down at my outfit. Mercy and Amelia insisted on planning my outfit—denim shorts and a blue-and-white jersey tied into a knot in the front, plus a matching hat. Baseball isn’t my thing, so I really had no idea what to wear. It was easy to let them drive that bus. “I think I look cute,” I reply.