A Date for Good Luck

by Dover, L. P.

  When I get out of the shower, and after I dry off, I spend some extra time on my beard, making sure it’s nice and trimmed. Hope made a comment about it yesterday, and the last thing I want is for it to be a turn off for her. I know some women dig the beard. The longer, the better, but it’s not for everyone.

  After I dress in khaki shorts and a polo, and after I make sure my clothes for tonight are hanging nicely in my garment bag, I call the garage where I park my car. It’s a two-block walk from my apartment and cheaper than the parking structure right across from my apartment. Growing up in a blue-collar family taught me the value of a dollar, and while I have done very well for myself, I like to save as much money as possible. I never want to be like my dad, living paycheck to paycheck. I remember when I was younger, my mom would do odd jobs to help, but my father didn’t want her to work. While I’d love it if my wife stayed home and raised our children, I know it’s unrealistic to think this way.

  It’s the day after St. Patrick’s Day, and you would think the streets of New York City would be covered in green, white, and gold everything, but it’s not. Sure, there are some things lingering, but the sanitation crew works through the night to make sure all the trash is gone. The walk to my car is easy. As soon as I arrive at the crosswalk, the light turned. No one spilled their coffee on me, and I wasn’t assaulted by random shoulder slamming, which usually happens because someone is paying attention to their phone and not where they’re walking. I’m also trying to keep a wide berth because I don’t want to hit anyone with my clubs.

  When I arrive at the garage, I show the attendant my pass. He walks me to my car and opens the trunk, so I can put my bags in there. This isn’t how all garages operate with their monthly users. It’s part of the package the garage offered when I bought my parking spot. At the end of the year, it’ll expire, and I’ll be like everyone else, climbing many flights of stairs to retrieve my car.

  As luck would have it, there’s a traffic jam on my way out to the golf course. I turn the up the radio and roll down the windows of my Camry. My head bobs to the music, while my fingers tap against the steering wheel to the beat. The weather is meh. It’s nice for March, but still a bit on the chilly side. However, anything above forty and I’m in shorts.

  By the time I arrive, I’m about forty minutes late. I rent a cart, load my clubs and cruise the course until I run into Stewart and the rest of the party. I’m not surprised to find them on the second hole, teeing off. Behind my sunglasses, I roll my eyes at them. Normally, Stewart and I can get in a decent game in about three hours or so. But with all the guys playing and already drinking, it’s going to take all day. I contemplate staying in the cart and being their caddy, but Stu wouldn’t appreciate it.

  “Where have you been?” Stewart asks as I get out of the cart and reach for my driver.

  “Got stuck in some traffic, got here as soon as I could.”

  “Should’ve left earlier,” he says. This is classic Stewart. He was probably here when the doors opened. That’s not me. I’m not always late either, but typically fifteen minutes early. It’s the best I can do.

  “Rough night,” I tell him. “Someone was having a party in my courtyard.”

  He shakes his head. “I don’t know why you insist on living there when you could live on the Upper East Side in a penthouse.”

  Because I don’t want to waste my money, and I don’t want to be a pretentious asshole. I’ve had this conversation with Stu many times. Stewart likes to flaunt his wealth. That’s his choice. I want people to like me for me, not my bank balance.

  I take my turn at the tee and watch my ball sail off into the trees.

  “That was rough,” one of the groomsmen says while laughing. I shake my head at his ridiculous pun.

  “If you were on time, you’d have gotten some practice swings in,” Stewart says sharply. I grip my club tightly. My hand cramps, and I ease up. The last thing I want to do right now is break my club. I remind myself Stewart is under some stress with the wedding. Hallie expects everything to be perfect, and there isn’t a single thing Stu wouldn’t do for her. So, I’m going to bite my tongue and not say something smart ass in return.

  Instead, I take my driver and head to my cart. What I don’t expect is for Stewart to follow and slide into the passenger seat. “You okay, man?” I ask him.

  “Perfect.”

  I study him for a minute before I release the brake and head toward the tree-lined area where my ball is. He stays in the cart, which is fine with me. I step on a couple of twigs and move the brush away from my ball, so I have a clean shot. However, I take my time. Not because I’m trying to win, it’s because I want to think about Hope and what she’s doing right now. If I remember correctly, Hannah told me the bridal party had appointments at the spa today, which makes me incredibly jealous of whoever is rubbing Hope down. I want to be the one to pour oil on her skin, to knead her flesh with my fingertips.

  Wouldn’t you know it, it’s not my club that I have to worry about, but a legit fucking boner while I’m trying to hit the damn ball out onto the fairway. “Mother fucker,” I mutter to myself as I swing. I don’t even check to see where the ball lands, Stewart is anal enough to watch it for me. I go back to the cart and slide my iron back into my bag and get behind the steering wheel. “Where am I?”

  He points and tells me one of his co-workers has to hit next. Of all the men, I’m the only childhood friend of Stewart’s. The rest are co-workers, cousins, and family members from Hallie’s side. Their wedding is enormous, ten bridesmaids and groomsmen. I think, if they had their way, Hallie and Stu would’ve had fifteen or twenty standing next to them. Their wedding is going to be one for the record books.

  Everyone in the wedding party takes their turn. However, by the fourth hole, some of the guys are drunk, I’m frustrated, and Stewart is upset. I decide to call it a day and do my best man duties and make sure everyone can get to the house safely. I don’t want to remind Stewart that I thought a game of putt-putt would’ve been better for something like this, but the words are sitting on the tip of my tongue. Especially after the jabs he took earlier when I was late.

  I end up with four guys in my car, yammering away about some case they have. I’m certain they shouldn’t be talking about their clients, but what do I know. These guys are loud and a bit obnoxious, and it’s evident they need to get out more.

  When I pull into the driveway of the Coldwell family home, there is a line of cars. Stewart’s parents have hired a valet for the weekend, which I don’t exactly understand, but whatever they can do to show the guests they have money.

  Tweddle Dee, Dumb, Dumber, and Dumbest stumble out of my car and head toward the house. Me, I linger because Hope is across the way, dressed in a short, black evening dress, and helping her mother with bags. She slides her long, wavy blonde hair over her shoulder, exposing her bare skin, and all I want to do is kiss every square inch of her. I have every intention of going over there, but I want to watch her first for a minute. Fuck, she’s perfect, and I’m not saying this because we slept together. I’ve thought of her this way since high school, but she’s always been out of my league. Blue and white collars don’t always mesh well.

  As I walk toward their car, Hope sees me and smiles. I take this as a good sign. I lean into her, kiss her on the cheek, and then make a big show when I greet her mother. “Mrs. Dunn, there is no way you’re Hope’s mother. You don’t look a day over twenty.”

  Mrs. Dunn blushes. “Oh, stop, Kellan.” She hands me a couple of boxes to carry. “How are you?”

  “Doing well,” I tell her.

  “How’s work?” she asks, without looking at me. Hope and I are, however, gazing at each other. I wink, and she smiles. Color me naïve, but I think there is something between us.

  “Work is great. I hope you’re happy with my services.”

  Hope looks at me, wide-eyed, and then at her mother. “You use Kellan for investments?”

  Her mom smiles. “I had some
money to invest, and Kellan works on Wall Street. Win-win.”

  “But he does hedge funds,” Hope points out.

  “I can handle investments too. Those are actually easier because I don’t have to constantly watch the market.”

  “A man of many talents,” Hope says.

  Once again, I lean into her. “I’d like to show you a little more,” I whisper. She turns her head slightly into me. I use this to my advantage and press my lips to her skin. I move away quickly when I hear Mrs. Dunn scream, “ouch!”

  “Here, let me help you.” I go to her aid and finish getting the rest of their stuff out of the backseat.

  Mrs. Dunn is talking animatedly as we walk toward the house. I notice Hope and I are the only ones carrying anything. We both hang back and put some distance between us and her mother.

  “Last night . . .” I begin.

  Hope sighs. “You promised, Kellan.”

  “I promised not to say anything, and I won’t, but I have to tell you, I don’t want it to be just one night, Hope.”

  She stops dead in her tracks. Her mouth opens but closes suddenly when Hallie yells out for all the Hamptons to hear, “I’m getting married tomorrow!”

  5

  Hope

  “I’m getting married tomorrow!”

  The sound of Hallie’s scream echoes so loud I have no doubt the whole city can hear it. She rushes toward me, all decked out in her silver, sequin party dress with her blonde hair pulled high in a ball of curls. We spent the entire morning at the spa getting our nails, hair, and makeup done. We’ll be doing the same thing tomorrow before the wedding. All this pampering has to cost a fortune, but I haven’t had to pay for any of it.

  Kellan steps away just as Hallie reaches for my arm and squeezes me. She looks over at Kellan and then back to me, her breaths coming out as pants from excitement. “I didn’t interrupt anything, did I?”

  I quickly glance over at Kellan and he nods behind Hallie’s back, but I glare at him which only makes him smile. “Of course not,” I answer, daring Kellan to contradict me. His smile widens, but he turns his attention to the house, still holding those boxes my mother gave him.

  Hallie notices the computer bag on my shoulder and sighs. “Seriously, Hope? You couldn’t leave that thing in Arizona for one weekend?”

  Kellan peers down at the bag and lifts his brows. Rolling my eyes, I focus on Hallie. “This is a busy time for me. If I can squeeze in a few minutes of work, I’m going to do it.”

  Hallie throws her hands in the air. “You’re supposed to have fun. The rehearsal’s tonight and tomorrow’s the wedding. I don’t want to see you on that thing.” Stewart’s mother walks out of the house and waves for Hallie to join her. Hallie gasps. “Oh, gotta go. Carol needs me for pictures.” She takes off, leaving me and Kellan alone again. I didn’t want her to go. Being alone with Kellan is dangerous. Last night was amazing, but I can’t let it happen again. Do I want it to? Of course, I do. Being with him last night reminded me of everything I’m missing. Who wouldn’t want to be with a man like Kellan? He’s ruggedly handsome, sweet, funny, and an all-out great guy. I’m already enjoying his simple touches way too much.

  “No comment on what I said before we were interrupted?” he asks, smirking mischievously.

  We’re almost to the door and my mother is just inside. I have no clue what to say. Before I can even reply, my mother walks out and takes one of the boxes from Kellan. “Come with me, young man. I’ll show you where these go.”

  Kellan smiles and starts to follow her but lowers his voice as he walks by me. “We’re not done talking, Hope.”

  For now, we are, and I breathe a sigh of relief. He wants more than just last night, but what do I want? Well, I don’t want to want things I can’t have. Yes, Kellan was mine last night, and yes, he wants more, but I don’t know if I can give that to him. At least, not without losing a piece of myself in the process. One night is fine, but two? I’m already in the danger zone of losing my heart. I can’t afford that right now, not when I’m only in town for the weekend.

  Kellan disappears inside the house and I walk in, completely in awe of the splendor. I set the box of wedding favors on one of the foyer tables and look around. There are flowers all in the main entryway and living room, making the whole place look like a garden. Everywhere you look, something shimmers and sparkles. Stewart’s mother has an extreme fascination with Swarovski crystals. The lamps, chandeliers, table trinkets, you name it. I bet she has over a million dollars’ worth of crystals in the living room alone. The last time I was here was the summer before college when Stewart had us all over to hang out. Kellan had his girlfriend with him, Hallie had Stewart, and the rest of Stewart’s friends were by the pool with me and Hannah. Those were good times.

  There are people milling about, mostly the caterers as they set up the large dining room for the rehearsal dinner. I can smell the food and it makes my stomach growl. After last night with Kellan, it’s definitely made me have an appetite. I don’t think I’ve burnt that many calories in a long time.

  With no one around, I use the time to sneak off undetected. Instead of going up the stairs, I hurry down the side hallway away from the dining room. I remember there being a library that Stewart said no one ever used, but I can’t remember which room it is. Luckily, all the doors are open. I hurry down the hall, past a couple of guest bedrooms and bathrooms until I reach the last door on the left. Found it.

  Inside the library, the walls are stacked high with shelves, full of old and new books. I love the smell and breathe it in; it’s relaxing. There’s an alcove in the corner that overlooks the backyard. I sit down by the window on the plush, burgundy cushions and pull out my laptop. Once it’s fired up, I log into my accounts and get started. There’s so much work I have to do it’s insane. Just taking a weekend off will put me about a week behind.

  About an hour passes without interruption, but then I hear her voice echoing down the hall. Shit. I save my work and shut my laptop as fast as I can, shoving it into my computer bag just as my mother walks into the library. She spent the day with us at the spa as well, along with my Aunt Beth. I swear, my mother could seriously pass for a woman in her thirties with her sleek, platinum blonde hair and perfect skin. Everyone says I’ll look just as youthful when I’m her age. I can only hope so. If only she didn’t like to hound me about my life choices.

  “There you are,” she calls out, sounding exasperated. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

  I stand and straighten my dress. “Just been in here taking a break from the crowd.”

  She stares at me, clearly not believing any of it. “Uh-huh, I bet. Were you working?” Her gaze averts to my computer bag sitting on the floor and then back up to me. “You were, weren’t you?”

  Groaning, I roll my eyes. “I can’t help it. I’m so behind right now. You have no idea how much work piles up on me this time of year.”

  Pursing her lips, she shakes her head. “And what does this new boyfriend of yours say about you working all the time?”

  I shrug. “He understands.”

  Her eyes narrow. “I’m starting to think you’re lying to me about this guy.”

  Grabbing my computer bag, I huff. “Jesus, Mom. You’re killing me. No wonder I don’t like to come home. All you do is rag on me about finding the right man and getting married. Why can’t you be happy that I’m successful all on my own?”

  Her lips do the little pouty thing she always does when she doesn’t get her way. “Honey, I’m very proud of how successful you are. I just want you to be happy.”

  I walk toward her. “I am.”

  Her pout disappears and is replaced with a sly smile. “Good. Then you’ll be even more happy when your date gets on a plane and comes here. I want to meet him. Not unless he doesn’t exist. If that’s the case, then I should probably get on the phone and get my friend’s son here. You remember Joshua Buchman, right?”

  Oh, dear God, not Josh. He was the biggest do
uche bag in high school. Not to me, since our mothers were friends, but to a lot of other people he was entitled and a complete jackass. He graduated two years prior to me and was captain of the water polo team. I have no doubt his parents paid his way into Harvard because there’s no way in hell he got there on his own with his grades. Now he was in politics and probably even more of an insufferable tool than before.

  Anger overcomes me and I’m about to tell my mother exactly what I think of her plan when Kellan saunters into the room. “There you are, sweetheart.”

  My mother turns to him and then to me, her brows furrowed. “Is he talking to you?”

  Kellan winks at me behind her back and gives me a look to play along, but I have no clue what to do so just smile and nod. “Yep. Right on time,” I say.

  He comes up to me and drapes his arm over my shoulders. My mother stares at us, her eyes lit with excitement. “What’s going on here?”

  “Yeah, Kellan,” I say a little nervously. “What’s going on?”

  He kisses the side of my head. “I think it’s time we tell your mom the truth. She deserves to know. There’s no reason to keep her in suspense any longer.”

  My mother gasps and claps her hands. “Are you two together?”

  Kellan and I look at each other and I can see that he’s loving every minute of it. At least with his plan, I don’t have to worry about Josh Buchman showing up as my date. I plaster on a huge smile and turn to my mother. “Surprise. We were going to wait and tell everyone tomorrow at the wedding, but you kept hounding me.”

  Kellan cleared his throat. “And when I heard you saying something about another guy being Hope’s date, I couldn’t have that,” he said to my mother.