Winter Bloom (Dating Season Book 4)

by Laurelin Paige

  “I’d be interested in grabbing a drink right now.”

  “Really?”

  “Unless you have other plans.”

  “I don’t.”

  He takes the cash from my hand and…slides it into my front pocket. “You don’t really think I’m going to let you pay for the sweatshirt, do you?”

  “Let me buy you a drink then?”

  “We’ll see,” he says. “Ready?”

  Probably not. I can only imagine what the universe will decide to throw at me. Instead of leading me to the venue bar, he guides me out the back door. Belinda grins at me, and I return it. To boldness!

  I look up at the full moon. “You’re not a werewolf, are you?”

  He laughs. “Not that I know of. Although, if I were, I’d probably wait for the third date to tell you. Are you?”

  “Probably,” I say. “If that’s possible, it’ll happen to me.”

  He chuckles. “I’ll take my chances.”

  “So, where are we going?”

  “There’s a speakeasy a few blocks from here. Ever been?”

  I shake my head, and on the walk over he explains the themed bar and the secrecy involved. It’s a little hard to concentrate because he takes my hand as if it’s the most natural thing in the world, and we continue a few blocks until we reach a darkened brick building.

  “It’s down here,” he says, guiding me down a narrow alley to a blue door lit by sconces on either side.

  “This is all so cloak and dagger,” I say.

  “Don’t laugh at the secret code.” He knocks out shave-and-a-haircut, presses a doorbell twice, then knocks two-bits.

  I do laugh but stop when a bald guy opens the door.

  “Hey, man. Come in.”

  Inside, it’s magical. It’s like stepping back in time to the Prohibition era. Suspender-clad servers mill about the large candlelit room filled with chattering people. A glossy mahogany bar stretches the length of the back wall. We order the fanciest drinks I’ve ever seen—obscure liquors and exotic juices and hand-carved ice cubes, and trade sips.

  One topic leads naturally into another the way the best conversations do, full of circular references and running jokes and sparkle. Everything about this night is sparkly. I haven’t felt this comfortable talking to a man about anything and everything under the sun since Austin, and honestly, I didn’t start with conversations this amazing with Austin.

  We have decent chemistry too. His hand ends up on my leg and every time he caresses my thigh, goosebumps race across my skin. Not only is he an artist, which I love, but he’s super responsible. He owns a recording studio and makes a great living at it, plus gets to gig with his band. And he seems fascinated by me and my ambitions. It’s a surprise to discover how late it’s gotten when a server dressed like a cigarette-girl in a flapper dress, putting empty glasses into the tray she’s wearing, tells us it’s last call.

  Logan slips the dame his card without even glancing at the bill, in a move nearly as classy as this gin-joint. On our way out, I realize that not once did I wonder what internet expert rule I might break. I’ve taken to Prohibition life like a fish to boozy water.

  “Speakeasies are my new favorite thing,” I say outside.

  “I think you might be mine,” he says.

  Well, that’s probably the best thing any guy has ever said to me. Still under the spell of that ol’ black magic, I tiptoe up and press my lips to his. They’re warm and soft and what ensues is definitely a kiss. The kind of kiss that blows your skirt up.

  He groans and spins me around so my back is pressed against the brick. My inner monologue goes mute when his knee wedges between my legs.

  “God, I’ve been wanting to kiss you all night,” he says and then his tongue dips into my mouth.

  Against the brick, we have a hot and heavy make-out session and I can practically hear the jazz soundtrack getting louder. I grind against his thigh as he breaks the kiss to suck a path down my neck.

  “Fuck,” he says. “We should stop before I lose all control.”

  He sure knows how to talk to a lady. He kisses me once more, like he can’t get enough. Threading his fingers in my hair, leaving me breathless. When we pull apart, his choppy breath fogs the chilly air.

  That was…glorious. And I initiated it, for once. I’m so delighted that I give him an impromptu invitation to join me at the co-ed bachelor/bachelorette party I’m throwing Charlotte and Mr. Charlotte-to-be in Denver.

  My good deeds just don’t stop tonight, and I’m the recipient of all of them. This might be the beginning of something beautiful, dollface, I tell myself.

  Four

  My streak of good luck continues unabated, because I’ve discovered the one thing Lucy doesn’t excel at—karaoke. And when I say she doesn’t excel, I’m being kind. At an alarming decibel, the kind that summons dogs and breaks glass, her voice screeches a Britney Spears song into the private room at Fun Affairs. She rolls her drunken hips, popping out her booty as she sings. And I woo-hoo because, even if my ears are bleeding, I owe her a woo-hoo. She’s no Britney, bitch, but it’s really about the dance moves, anyway. Fight me.

  I finish my lemontini as she saunters up to Austin, doing this weirdly shrill riff with her voice, and whips her glossy hair in a frenzy around his surprised face.

  It is, indeed, a fun affair. Woo-hoo.

  I’m sure I’m being overly dramatic, but in hindsight, I should’ve picked a place with a less triggering name for me.

  Life: 1 million, Chloe: 0.

  Everyone is having fun, though. Charlotte is thrilled. This place has it all: bowling, giant Scrabble, big Jenga, private karaoke, multiple bars, scratch restaurant, and craft cocktails. It’s 25,000 square feet of good times with an industrial mountain lodge vibe.

  This place is gigantic enough that I should’ve been able to avoid them and any mention of their future living together plans, but Lucy is more inescapable than ever. Like now, when she pulls me out of my seat to perform with her.

  I’m not what anyone would call a good dancer, but I drop it like it’s hot for my stint in hell. The giddy look on Charlotte’s face as she pulls out her phone and films us is worth it, I guess. She cheers when I do a spin move and twerk. I’ve never twerked before and probably never will again. Austin grins as he watches, and I avoid his stare, focusing on my ridiculous performance. Lucy belts out the rest of the song and finishes with a literal mic drop. I mouth an apology at the DJ as I moonwalk offstage.

  “Oh my God,” Charlotte says. “That was…incredible. I’m going to save that video of you forever. You probably shouldn’t ever run for office. Or piss me off.”

  “What’s a little blackmail between friends?” It’ll be another reason to walk the straight and narrow. Austin makes a move toward us, but Lucy intercepts him and they spin off together. The two of them are like magnets. Maybe that’s what happens when you take the leap into living together?

  When our small group leaves the karaoke room and Charlotte requests a picture in the photo booth with her bridespeople, Lucy sticks her head in. “Peekaboo,” she says.

  She crawls into the booth and sits in Austin’s lap. It’s really hard to grieve someone when they’re very much alive, flaunting their love, squished up next to you in a photo booth. It’s like some kind of zombie crush resurrected. The darn thing won’t die, but I refuse to let it eat me limb by limb.

  “Smile, Chloe,” Lucy says, arms around Austin’s neck, as I fuse myself to the wall and stare at the camera.

  I do my best to force my lips upward as awkward images of us flicker on the screen and then I bolt from the booth. The pictures that slide out of the slot are horrendous. Lucy’s beautiful face is front and center, and I look constipated. Perhaps I overestimated my luck streak.

  “What’s next? Big Jenga?”

  “Hm,” Charlotte says. “Mr. Charlotte-to-be is engrossed in giant Scrabble. Want to head over and check it out?”

  And that’s how I end up in a Scrabble to
urnament with the dilemma of all dilemmas on the enormous board in front of me.

  I glance at my last two letters. I could end this game with many things—hat, hot, hit—and let Lucy win. That would be the right thing to do.

  Or…

  I could blow these tiles off the board with a triple word score and also semi-pay restitution with the word a husky voice whispers in my ear... “Harlot.”

  I win the game and whip my head to Logan with a smile. “You made it.”

  “You cheated,” Lucy says with a cute pout. She points at Logan. “You told her the word.”

  “He did,” I say, not wanting to be a cheater a second time. “You win.”

  “Yay,” Lucy squeals.

  Charlotte scrunches her brow, but forgets the loss as I introduce Logan to the guys.

  “I didn’t know you two were dating,” Lucy says. “I feel like a proud mother, bringing my babies together.”

  I know what she means, but the metaphor is disturbing. Can’t I ever have nice things?

  “I feel like it was the pottery class,” Logan says with a stare so intense, I blush.

  Charlotte’s chocolate eyes burn a hole in me but I ignore her because there’s fun to be had. We file into the Jenga room full of lemon-yellow chairs and humongous stacks of wood and the conversation flows easily.

  Logan fits in like he’s been with us forever.

  “So you’re a musician?” Austin asks Logan.

  “Yeah. Drums.”

  “Cool. Guitar,” Austin responds. “Battle of the bands?” He nods to a stack.

  “Sure. I’m up for a game.”

  Lucy follows them over, and while they’re engaged in a precarious game of Jenga, Charlotte pulls me aside. “You’ve been holding back on me.”

  “Well, we had one date, and I invited him to come tonight but he wasn’t sure he could make it, so I didn’t want to put it out there.”

  Charlotte is aghast. “But you haven’t had the three-week honeymoon phase before introductions. You’re leveling up.”

  See, Austin and Lucy, I’m leveling up too!

  “It’s weird how easy it’s been with him,” I say. “So far, I’ve done everything right. Hopefully, I can keep it up.”

  “When things are right, they’re supposed to be easy,” Charlotte says. “This is what I’ve been saying.”

  “Well, don’t get too excited. I’m not looking for anything.” Am I? I don’t know what I’m doing, really. It’s just happening.

  “Too late. I’m already excited. I’m the Bridezilla, so you can’t disappoint me.”

  We amble closer as Austin focuses on a piece near the top of their stack. He reaches in and then withdraws, studying it with narrowed eyes. Lucy massages his shoulders as Logan takes my hand and pulls me into his lap. Austin glances up at us, easing the wood out, and the tower crashes to the table.

  “Shit,” he says, staring at the remnants scattered about. “Rematch?”

  “Nah,” Logan says, caressing my back with lazy motions. “I’ll keep my victory.”

  Honestly, I feel like the victorious one. Things do come naturally with him and I’m not in a panic wondering if I’m doing something wrong. Sitting in his lap feels totally normal. No racing heart, no second-guessing myself. Just comfortable togetherness.

  After chicken and waffles, we gather at the bowling alley. Logan talks to Charlotte and her near-Mr. about their nuptials and Austin extricates himself from Lucy to step beside me.

  “This probably brings back terrible memories.”

  My eyes widen that he would have the nerve to bring up Finn. I almost tell him it’s too soon, but it’s been almost a year, and actually, the memory is funnier than painful. Time and perspective have wisened me, I suppose. “Only if Logan’s stepmother shows up. I’m making fresh memories.”

  “Not in the gutter this time, one hopes.” I laugh out loud at his double entendre.

  A lane opens up, so we put on our ugly shoes and roll.

  I’d like to say the idea of fresh memories with Logan improves my game, but it is, in fact, the gutter for me again. However, he’s so good, we win anyway. “Obviously, you’re not a golfer,” he says to Austin.

  “I don’t normally roll on Shabbos,” Austin returns, but he isn’t smiling. He leans over to kiss Lucy, who asks if they’re doing a bit from Happy Gilmore. I’d be judgier if my own education in classic stoner movies hadn’t been so recent.

  “They’re very thorough,” I tell her, earning smirks from both the guys.

  They decide on a rematch, so Charlotte and I grab a drink.

  When we’re out of earshot she says, “What’s with the extra PDA tonight?”

  I look over as Lucy and Austin make out for luck. It is weird, yeah, because they don’t normally do that. But it’s also annoyingly romantic that they can’t keep their hands to themselves now that they’re planning the garden they’ll plant this spring.

  “I guess that’s what people do when they’re in love.”

  We order our drinks and find a couch to watch the action. The bowling and the PG-13 action.

  “I’ve never seen them like this.”

  “Yeah. Maybe it’s the alcohol?” I’m no stranger to the drunk-kissing myself. Clearly.

  “Maybe.” We sip our drinks and watch Logan and Austin’s showdown. “Should we make bets? Who do you think will win? Austin’s in rare form.”

  “When did he become so competitive?”

  She shrugs. “Maybe he feels threatened.”

  I tilt my head. “How?”

  “Because there are no red flags with Logan, so he can’t protect you from whatever he perceives as a danger to you. Think about it. He’s always right in the end. It’s like he has some kind of boyfriend radar. But he’ll be hard-pressed to find something wrong with this guy. You met him organically and anyone can see the chemistry between you. He’s lost his role. I’m sure he’s feeling out of sorts about it.”

  It started out romantic. He wants to rescue me from all my bad choices! But that’s the kind of faulty thinking on my part which led me to where I am. Doing guilt-dances as Lucy shrieks a Britney Spears song. What Charlotte means, and what I need to automatically remember is, “The big brother thing. Aren’t I lucky to have him looking out for me?”

  “I think it’s more white-knight syndrome.”

  I sigh. “I want to ask the difference, but I think we’ve had too much to drink.”

  “Possibly,” she says with a smirk. “Time will tell.”

  We rejoin the group, and they are tied. Logan watches Austin take his turn, leaving two pins in the right corner.

  “Hey,” he says when I walk up next to him. “Kiss for luck?”

  He leans down and brushes his lips against mine. The gin and lime clinging to his lips reminds me of our first kiss, how it was better than a deck with six aces.

  “Dammit,” Austin says, as his ball rolls into the gutter. He’ll be in good company there.

  “Babe,” Lucy says. “It’s not over yet.”

  “Oh, yes, it is,” Charlotte murmurs as Logan glides up to the line and bowls a strike.

  “Good game, man,” Logan says, clasping Austin’s shoulder.

  Austin agrees and congratulates him, though now that Charlotte’s mentioned it, he does seem to be overly watchful of Logan. Big brother, I remind myself. Nothing like the one I’d always wanted as a kid, but beggars can’t be choosers, unless they want to be rat bastards, as Granny Mae would remind me. I decide to put it out of my mind for the rest of the night.

  Logan gets along with everyone—even Austin says he’s a good guy. Not that his opinion is important, but it kind of is. He’s my friend, so it matters to me. The truth is, we’ll always be connected somehow and I have to accept his new future with Lucy. I won’t lie and say it doesn’t sting when she finally brings up the dreaded topic in the bathroom.

  “It’s going to be strange living together, but not really, because we’ve had sleepovers. But he’ll bring his th
ings and cook every day, and it’ll just be different. In a good way. He’s so neat, but I am too, so that’ll be fine. But now we’ll grocery shop together. He’ll be there every day when I wake up and when I go to sleep.”

  “Yeah.” I’ll miss the cooking, but maybe Logan will take pity on me and cook something while he wears his Good Lookin’ apron.

  She combs her fingers through her silky hair, meeting my gaze in the mirror. “But what about you? Will you get another roommate?”

  “I haven’t decided yet.”

  “You don’t have much time.”

  Thanks for that reminder. “I know. I’ll figure it out.”

  It’s a tough decision. On one hand, I don’t know if I can afford it on my own, but I do have extra income coming in, so maybe? On the other hand, I don’t really want another roommate to ease the financial burden. The idea of going through strangers to find a good fit doesn’t appeal to me. I could find a cheaper place, but I’m attached. I need another hand with better options.

  “Maybe you and Logan will end up living together.” She waggles her perfect brows.

  “No. That’s not on the table.”

  “You never know. He seems really into you. Are you into him?”

  “Yeah,” I say, honestly.

  “Good,” she says on our way out of the restroom. “Because that would be so awkward, since I work for them. Don’t break up and get me fired, haha!” She laughs and I do too, even if I have a slight panic attack that something will go wrong and I’ll have to atone for that too. No pressure, jeez.

  When the party starts breaking up, Logan pulls out his phone, ready to call an Uber to go back to Boulder. I know I should probably go back to the internet rules here and let him leave, but I don’t really want to say good night to him yet.

  And not for any nefarious reasons, either. I feel like I’ve only gotten a few moments here and there to actually be with Logan tonight. That whole comfortable feeling…I’d like a little more of it.

  Bold New Chloe has an idea. I cover the screen of his phone.