Brew Ha Ha Box Set: Books 1-4

by Bria Quinlan

  That meant I was way over thinking this.

  I pulled out my favorite pair of jeans, a Guess t-shirt, and a pair of wedges it was just warm enough to wear. I grabbed a light jacket and my purse, checked the directions so I didn’t look like a tourist in my own neighborhood, and headed out.

  This was going to be great. It felt very sophisticated. I wondered if they served popcorn. What did sophisticated people eat at the movies? I mean, films. Whatever. Should I have brought a snack? Maybe I could still grab some peanut M&Ms to sneak in. Should I grab Max something too? No. No, Max would have to bring his own snacks. Plus, if he didn’t pull out snacks then I’d know this wasn’t a snack type place.

  Which, really? Everywhere should be a snack place.

  About a block down the street, I saw a guy sitting on his stoop, reading his phone. Of course it was Max. Shocker.

  I pulled to a stop in front of him annoyed he’d obviously been waiting on me even though I’d told him I’d meet him there. This is exactly what I’d been trying to explain to Jenna. He was too much like Jason. Everything had to be his way. He was orchestrating things how he wanted them without necessarily going against what I’d said.

  I stood there, watching him, his head still bent over his phone.

  He finally glanced up, no crease between his eyes this time. But, getting what you want is far more relaxing than not getting what you want.

  “I’m not waiting on you. I’m texting my brother. I’ll meet you there.”

  And then he went back to his phone.

  Seriously.

  Was this reverse psychology?

  “Okay. I was thinking of stopping at CVS. See you there.”

  “’kay.” Type. Type. Type.

  I nodded which of course he didn’t see and headed down the street.

  “Kasey.” His deep voice stopped me in my tracks even though, when I turned back, he was still looking at his phone. “Other way.”

  I glanced down the street. Yup. I’d headed back toward my place.

  Trying not to huff, I pivoted and strode past him.

  I got about the same distance beyond him the right way, when I heard my name again.

  “Could you grab me some Junior Mints while you’re at CVS?”

  I gave him the sweetest smile I had, knowing at this point he had to be screwing with me.

  “Sure. Anything else?”

  “Nope.” He went back to his phone. “Thanks.”

  I fumed the entire way to CVS while trying not to fume at all. What did I care if he wasn’t waiting for me? It was a really nice night out. Who wouldn’t want to sit outside to text a friend? It was obviously someone he was happy to chat with; the phone was dinging every time he stopped. It probably wasn’t even his brother. It was probably a girl. Some really cute girl who didn’t mind that he scowled at her all the time.

  Or, maybe he didn’t scowl at her. Maybe he only scowled at me. Not exactly the way I wanted to be special.

  Not that it mattered. It was good that he was texting some girl. Then Jenna could stop worrying about him finding a nice girl or trying to set us up. Which would be great because then I wouldn’t be distracted by her attempts and could focus on my career.

  Exactly.

  I got to CVS and grabbed my M&Ms and glared at his Junior Mints before breaking and grabbing them, too.

  The theater was on the same block. I headed toward it wondering if Max was still texting his super hot girlfriend and if I should head in to get us a seat. I stood in front of the building checking out the movies playing. Besides the French film, there was some Sundance winner, a blockbuster action movie, and a midnight sing-along for The Sound of Music.

  Well, that narrowed down what I’d be doing one night. Midnight showing or not, it wasn’t something I’d miss. I was a sucker for that movie. Every year when it was on growing up, I’d watch it with my mom. She used to try to explain to me how hot Christopher Plummer was, but I was too busy reenacting “Sixteen Going on Seventeen.”

  “Ready?” a deep voice asked from behind me.

  I guess this was close enough to count as meeting there.

  “Yup.”

  We headed down the building to the box office, side by side.

  “So, this should be good.” Max tossed a grin my way. He really was excited to see the film. “I’ve been looking forward to this since the actor talked about doing it during his down time. Did you know he spoke fluent French? His father apparently is some French diplomat who had an affair with his super-model mother during a national summit thing.”

  Wow.

  “Nope. Didn’t know that.” I’m not even sure how I would know that.

  “How confident are you feeling in your French?” He asked as he pulled the door open for me. “Mine is pretty good, but the Parisian speakers lose me. If you get a little lost, just let me know. Je serai votre guide français.”

  I froze, trying not to panic.

  “The movie is in French?”

  “Yeah. Of course. It’s a French film.”

  Crud.

  Crud, crud, crud.

  “Right.” I glanced around as if help would come out of nowhere. “French.”

  Max stood there a long moment, watching my panic and probably thinking I was an idiot.

  “Kasey, I’m kidding.”

  “It’s not in French?”

  “Oh, it’s in French all right. It is a French film. But there are subtitles. You don’t need to know any French to enjoy it.”

  “Right. Right. I knew that.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “I did, but, you know…I thought you were going to some special non-subtitled showing with your fancy French-talking self.”

  “Nope. Just normal subtitled showing.”

  “Good. Because I totally love subtitles.” Kasey, shut up. Stop saying things that weren’t true or that you don’t know are true. Maybe I did love subtitles. I’d know in thirty minutes.

  Dear universe, please let me love subtitles.

  Max just looked at me, what may have been a slight tip up in the corners of his mouth, and shook his head. “Sure, Kasey. Subtitles.”

  At the ticket box, Max pulled out his card and offered it to the cashier. “Two for Ecrit Sur la Côte d'Azur , please.”

  Um, no. Not a date.

  “One.”

  Max looked at me, the crease coming back. “I can get it.”

  “I know. But so can I.”

  “You got my Junior Mints.”

  “Did I?”

  He squinted at my handbag, his inability to see through leather obviously bothering him. Finally, he nodded as if he’d found what he was looking for.

  “Yes. You did. You’re not the kind of person to just blithely decide not to do something you said you would.”

  Darn it.

  And a compliment.

  Double darn it.

  “Fine. I got your Junior Mints. But that doesn’t mean you’re paying for my movie.”

  “He can pay for my movie,” an annoyed voice said from behind me.

  I glanced back, wondering why all of forty-five seconds was bothering this guy.

  “Really, lady. Let the guy buy your ticket. It’s not like he’s asking for sex.” Annoyed guy swung toward Max. “You’re not expecting sex, right?”

  “I’m not even expecting her to walk home with me and we live almost across the street from one another.”

  “This is exactly why I said I’d meet you here. I can buy my own ticket.”

  “You don’t even have a job.” He all but threw his arms in the air. I swear they twitched like he was going to before he caught himself and anchored them at his sides.

  “Yes. I do. I own my own business.”

  “Oh, boy.” The guy behind us shook his head.

  “You’ve owned your own business for the week since you lost your job.”

  “Oh, honey.” Annoyed guy’s wife reached out and laid a hand on my arm. “You lost your job? You should absolutely let this
nice young man buy your ticket.”

  “I don’t need him to buy my ticket.” Why was I explaining myself to strangers now?

  “Of course you don’t,” she said with a ridiculously sweet smile that was probably genuine.

  Now I was the one fighting not to throw my hands in the air.

  “Thank you, sir.”

  I spun back around as the cashier handed Max two tickets.

  “Max!”

  “You can buy next time.”

  As if I was going to hang out with him again with all the havoc he was wreaking.

  We made our way toward the theater and he veered, changing direction toward the concession stand where there was definitely popcorn. This place wasn’t as schwanky as I’d expected. Apparently foreign films were just like American films only with subtitles…and probably actual plot lines.

  “Popcorn?”

  I turned back to Max, giving up my study of the normal theater with fancier posters.

  “I’ll get it.” I reached into my purse, to hand the woman my card before Max could out maneuver me again.

  He was obviously smarter than I was giving him credit for, because he put his wallet back without a word.

  “What size do you want to get?” he asked.

  “Whatever size you want.” I wasn’t going to own up to the fact that I didn’t really want popcorn since I’d gotten my M&Ms.

  “You’re not one of those girls who’s going to say we can’t have butter, are you?”

  “You can have all the butter you want.”

  Max’s cop instincts must have kicked in because he leaned against the counter, crossing those arms again. The teen girl behind the counter’s gaze dropped to where his biceps tightened under the hem of his t-shirt.

  “You’re not going to have any popcorn, are you?”

  “I’ll probably have some.”

  “What, like a bite?”

  “Probably more than a bite.”

  “I swear, Jeannine. We need to stop coming to this theater.” The voice behind me was already too familiar.

  I turned around and sure enough, there was annoyed guy and his wife…Jeannine.

  “Just let the man buy your popcorn. Stop being such a controlling woman. If he wants to spoil you a bit, enjoy it now. What is wrong with this generation?”

  Next to him, Jeannine rubbed her hand up and down his arm. “I know, Dale. But, not everyone treats each other as well as we do. Maybe he’s the kind of guy who is going to be like, I just took you to the movies when she asks him to take out the trash so then she has to do it herself just because they saw a movie.”

  “You’re not that kind of jackass, are you, son?” Annoyed Dale was now looking at Max as if he was going to light into him next.

  “No, sir.”

  “You’re not taking my trash out.” We were going to make that clear right now or he’d be over tomorrow to make sure the moving boxes were on the curb.

  “Seriously, girl, whatever your name is. You’re taking this independent woman thing too far.” Annoyed Dale crossed his arms and oddly looked like an older version of Max for a moment.

  “We’re not even dating. We’re just seeing a movie.”

  “Mmm-hm.”

  I shook my head and turned back to the counter. “Medium popcorn with butter. Also, a diet Coke.”

  “No diet.”

  “It’s not for you.”

  “You’re not getting me a drink too?”

  Oh, for the love of stars.

  “Fine. And a normal Coke.”

  “Thank you.”

  “See,” Jeannine chimed in. “That wasn’t so hard. But, honey, if you really don’t have a job, maybe let him pay next time.”

  I tried not to grit my teeth as I answered, “I have a job.”

  “Mmm-hm.”

  At this point, Max was actually smiling. Why was it he only smiled when ridiculousness was taking over my world?

  Max took the drinks off the counter and waited for me while I got the popcorn and napkins. I followed him into the little theater and waited for him to walk to the front row. I hated the front row and so I knew that’s where he’d go. But instead, he turned down the first set of seats and said, “Back’s ok, right?”

  “Sure.”

  Thank goodness. We finally agreed on something and it was pretty darn important in my view of the world.

  We sat there, two of the only people in the room, as we snacked on all the junk food we’d brought with us.

  I scrambled for something to talk about before the silence got intensely awkward. Kind of like every interaction with Max.

  “Do you come to these a lot?” Yeah. Original.

  “Not a lot. No one likes to come with me and most of these movies are the type you want to talk about with people later. Dane won’t sit still that long and Ben would rather hang with Jenna.”

  “You know, you could bring Jenna, too.”

  “She doesn’t like foreign films. She says the subtitles give her eyestrain.”

  I looked up at the screen wondering if that was a real thing.

  “But,” he continued, “after about ten minutes you don’t even notice them. You just start reading along and watching the action at the same time.”

  I love how he was still talking to me as if I’d never seen a subtitled film before. It was basically calling me a liar. Not that I hadn’t lied, but still. He didn’t know that.

  The lights dropped and the screen filled with the first trailer. I handed Max the rest of the popcorn and eased back in my chair ready to—hopefully—enjoy the next ninety minutes.

  On the upside, in a dark theater Max couldn’t mock or scowl at me, so it had to be better than the walk here.

  Before the lights came back up, I shoved the tear-drenched tissues back into my bag, hoping Max didn’t notice.

  That was by far one of the most moving things I’d ever seen. I couldn’t believe I was missing out on all these potentially amazing stories because I’d never seen a foreign film before.

  Mom had held on to her bitterness and used it as an excuse to not try new things. The new things were behind her because of giving up on them to marry my dad. It was easier to not move forward.

  Then, Jason had always said if he wanted to read, he’d get a book.

  So, yeah.

  We stood, Max picking up our trash and stuffing it in his empty popcorn bag. I should have known he wouldn’t leave it sitting there. Jason always had and made fun of me for cleaning up after us. I don’t care if someone is paid to do it. My trash is my trash.

  We made our way out of the theater behind the small group of people who thankfully did not include Annoyed Dale and his wife, Jeannine.

  “So, are we walking home together, or should I give you a head start and pretend I don’t know you.”

  “Don’t be silly.”

  Max just quirked an eyebrow at me and held the door open. “So, were those tears of empathy from how Simone ended her days or of joy that it was finally over?”

  So, not so sneaky with the tissues. Bummer.

  “The way she handled situation after situation that was thrown at her. And with such grace.”

  “And, the subtitles didn’t bother you?” Again with the eyebrow.

  “Fine. That was my first movie with subtitles. Are you happy?”

  Max shrugged and then stuck an arm in front of me when we reached a crosswalk as if I were a three-year-old who might stumble out into traffic without him.

  I restrained myself from pushing his arm out of the way. Or him into traffic.

  “Not happy. Just…” Max looked both ways and stepped out into the street, his gaze purposefully ahead, shoulders straight back. “Just because I’m a cop doesn’t mean I’m an uneducated bumpkin.”

  Oh.

  Well.

  Um.

  So…

  Crud.

  I took a breath trying to figure out how to answer this. It wasn’t that I thought that exactly, but the conversation ha
d definitely been me trying to show him how different we are. Yes, I was a marketing manager with a master’s degree from an excellent school who went to upscale wine bars. My peers dated doctors and lawyers.

  I didn’t know how to explain that he would very much fit in with my life as I grew up, but that I was here to become a successful city girl.

  “You’re a snob,” he said, his gaze still straight ahead.

  Well, I guess not answering didn’t help either.

  “I’m not a snob. I’m really not. My dad was a senior manager at the plant one town over. My mom stayed home. It’s just…I saw that life. I’m looking for office hours and educated conversation and—”

  “So you’re saying a cop can’t possibly have educated conversation?”

  “No, that’s not what I’m saying. But, you have to admit that people’s jobs typically fall in line with their interests. I’m not into, um, cop stuff.”

  “Cop stuff?”

  “Um, guns?”

  “Guns.” His voice flattened and I couldn’t tell if it was because he was annoyed or trying to keep the amusement out.

  “Are you not interested in guns?”

  “Only if they’re aimed at me.”

  “Oh.”

  “Kasey, I get it. You’re not sure who you are and that makes you feel pretty unsure about who other people are. But, don’t go pasting labels on people until you know them. Most people don’t fit in one box.”

  “But, that’s the thing. I don’t want to be in a box.”

  “For a girl who doesn’t want to be in a box, you sure do put yourself in one. And others.” He waved me off as I started to reply. “You’re working so hard at trying to be what you think a successful woman in the city is, you’re bypassing finding out who you are again. But this time it’s your own doing.”

  With that he stopped walking and stopped our non-argument argument. I hadn’t realized he’d walked right by his place again and stopped at my door. He gave me a smile, a full one, and finished with, “Just make sure you know what you really want and not what you think you’re supposed to want before you go chasing anything else.”