by Kendall Ryan
“Plans? Sort of. Jack set me up with a guy from work, actually.” Excited, I find myself smiling. I haven’t been on a date in eons. I can almost hear Jack’s voice clearly in my head, correcting my assumptions about tonight’s meet-up.
“Don’t jump to conclusions. It’s not a date,” he would say. “You’re just meeting one of my friendlier bartenders for a drink. Very casual.”
Apparently, I’m pretty damn lonely if I’m allowing Jack to set me up with one of his employees. What if we have nothing to talk about? What if he’s a total waste of space and I’m left struggling to carry the conversation? I hate carrying the conversation. As I lather shampoo into my hair, an idea occurs to me. “Do you want to come hang out at the bar with me tonight?”
There’s a long pause. I wait and finish rinsing my hair.
“Sure.”
I turn off the water and peek out of the shower. Cam turns to meet my gaze, the only thing between his eyes and my naked body a flimsy curtain. I give him my prettiest smile. “Want to help me pick out an outfit too?”
“Okay.” His voice is gruff, and his gaze darts from mine to the worn wooden floor.
Moments later, we’re in my room, me perusing my closet in my underwear, and Cam sitting at the foot of my bed, staring down at the floor, being useless.
“Sexy underwear definitely isn’t necessary,” I mutter, thinking aloud. “It’s not like he’s going to see any of that on the first date.”
“What qualifies as sexy underwear?” he asks. I look back at him with my eyebrows raised. Interestingly, there’s no humor in his expression. He seems legitimately curious.
“Well . . .” I pause, considering my next words. “Sexy usually means lace or silk.”
“So those aren’t?” he asks, gesturing to my own dull, uninteresting ensemble.
“These are cotton!” I laugh. “I got them from the supermarket. Oh, Cam. Have you ever seen a woman in her sexy underwear?” Teasing him is almost too easy, though it’s usually split between Jack and myself. And since Jack is busy at work, I guess I’ll have to pick up the slack.
“I consider all underwear sexy.”
We’re two single people, alone in a bedroom, talking about lingerie. Shouldn’t this be weird? I brush the unfamiliar thought away. Cam is my closest friend. Talking to him about this stuff is . . . well, natural. Isn’t it?
“Regardless,” I say, “I think a guy should put in a little effort before he gets any of this.” I gesture vaguely around my body’s private parts. Assuming the conversation is over, I turn back to my closet, rifling through the endless array of colors and fabrics. Why is it always so hard to find something to wear that is both casual and subtly sexy?
“Good,” he says. “I agree completely.”
The only sound is the scrape of hangers in my closet as I eliminate certain options. I can feel Cam’s body heat behind me, and I turn, surprised to see he’s joined me inside my walk-in closet.
I face him, suddenly aware that I’m standing almost naked in front of him.
His gaze drops from mine, moving over the swell of my modest cleavage to the boy shorts stretched across my hips. “Trust me, speaking strictly from a guy’s point of view, these do look sexy on you.”
My brain short-circuits. Did Cam just call me sexy?
No, he said my underwear are something a guy would find sexy. Even though they’re cotton.
“Good to know,” I manage to say, my voice coming out a little higher than I intended. I clear my throat.
His large hand reaches out and he selects a couple of hangers. “Here. Wear this.”
I accept the outfit and turn to put it on while he makes his way back to my bed.
“So, when do you deem it appropriate to put out? Are you a third-date kind of girl, or what?”
“Cam!” I gasp. I can’t help the smirk that tugs on my lips as I turn to face him.
“I’m curious.” He smiles, and his chiseled features hold a look of amusement and mischief. Or maybe it’s just simple fascination. This is a topic we’ve never covered before in all our years of friendship.
“Definitely not the first date,” I state matter-of-factly. “Maybe the second?”
“Really?” His voice is not at all judgmental. Only impressed.
“What? It’s been a long time. Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve even been fingered?”
He laughs incredulously and shakes his head. Maybe our lack of boundaries is peculiar, but to me, it’s the mark of an unbreakable friendship.
“I’m not sure I want to know every last detail,” he says. “Let’s leave some of the mystery alive in our friendship, okay?” I’m still smiling at the ease of this encounter as he continues speaking. “Although, I do appreciate when a woman makes me work for it,” he says, his mouth still curled up in amusement.
I smile, thinking about Cam working to win over a girl he likes. He’s been single for so long, I’m sure it would do him good to settle down with someone. But whenever I bring up the topic, he steers the conversation elsewhere and falls back on the same old excuses of never enough time or I work too much, or the infamous cliché of I’m married to my job. Eventually, he has to find someone to fall in love with, doesn’t he?
• • •
A half hour later, we’re sitting at a high-top table at Jack’s bar, Easy Goings. I’m wearing dark skinny jeans with a V-neck top and a leather jacket that Cam helped me pick out. Although he approved of nearly every outfit I modeled, we agreed that this was the best “casual pub meet-up” look.
“Do you want to get some appetizers?” I ask him, flipping through the menu. Although I look at the options, I already know I’ll order the same thing I always do—fried pickles. I look up, waiting for Cam’s response. “Cam?”
“What?” He seems to be assessing something behind the bar. His pretty brown eyes are narrowed in concentration.
“What on earth are you looking at?” I ask him as I follow his gaze to the mirror behind the bar.
Oh. He’s been looking at my reflection.
“Order whatever you want,” he says, glancing away from where our gazes meet in the mirror. “You know I’ll eat just about anything.”
“God, I’m actually nervous. Which is weird, right? But what if we have nothing in common?”
“Then he’s not worth your time.” Cam runs his thumb comfortingly across my knuckles. “Don’t worry about it.”
“Thank you,” I whisper, squeezing his hand. One of the bartenders delivers our drinks, and Cam places an order for fried pickles. I didn’t even have to tell him what to order; he just knows me that well.
“So, tell me about the qualities you’re looking for in a guy.” Cam grins at me. Our love lives aren’t normally a topic we cover in such detail, but I like that he cares enough to ask.
I think it over for a moment before responding. “Someone loyal. Kind. And funny. Definitely funny. Gotta make me laugh. So, what’s your type?” I ask, returning the question.
“Confident,” he says with zero hesitation. “Not too easily stressed by the small stuff. Comfortable with herself and her path in life.”
My eyes widen.
“What?” he asks, no doubt bracing himself to be teased.
“I just . . . That was very specific.”
He smiles, humming thoughtfully to himself. Even he seemed surprised by his own answer. “I guess it was specific. Someone who can eat her body weight in doughnuts is also a huge plus.”
I chuckle and roll my eyes. “Jackass.”
Our order is delivered, and I waste no time digging in.
Cam reaches out to tuck a lock of hair behind my ear. “But I also know whoever she is, she’ll have to get your seal of approval.” He smiles, leaning his chin against his hand. He looks so lovable when he’s all relaxed like that. Suddenly, I’m overcome with the desire to show my affection to this man, so I do the only thing I can think of, considering what I have to work with in my arsenal of affection. I push my pla
te of half-devoured pickles toward him.
“You can have the rest. You’ve barely touched them.” To that, he just smiles at me, flashing his sweetest smile. “Come on,” I say. “I feel like you’re only pretending to like them, so I don’t feel weird ordering a plate.”
“Hey, jackasses, don’t get too comfortable. Ben just got here.” Jack pulls over a nearby stool and hops up on it. “What’s going on?” he asks, grinning at us.
“I’m a little nervous that—”
Jack cuts me off with a hand in front of my face. He gestures to the appetizer plate between us and looks at Cam, his eyes wide, and shakes his head dramatically. “Dude. You let her eat fried pickles? Tonight of all nights?” He then drops his voice. “You know they make her gassy.” Cam snickers into his beer, not disagreeing with him.
“You know I can hear you,” I mutter, annoyed at how well my best friends know me.
As Cam attempts to contain his laughter, the familiar sound reminds me that I can never be mad at these goons for more than a second.
“I’m heading to the bathroom,” I say, swatting Jack’s hand away.
“Don’t fly away!” Jack calls after me. Another fart joke. Fantastic.
“I’m freshening up, you jerks!” I hold up my lipstick tube like a classy middle finger.
“That’s awesome, but I stock canned air freshener in the ladies’ room just for you, Nat. You may want to use it as body spray or some shit while you’re at it.” Walking away, all I hear is the laughter of the two Neanderthals behind me. God, I both hate and love those twits.
In the ladies’ room, I take in my reflection in the mirror, following the soft lines of each curve peeking out of the jacket Cam helped me select. He was right. I smile, all dimples and rosy cheeks. He’s never steered me wrong. I do look good tonight.
With a touch more lipstick and maybe another cocktail, I can get through this date.
Here’s hoping.
Chapter Three
Camden
“Are you Natalie?” A guy with a scruffy five o’clock shadow and trendy black jeans stops beside Natalie’s bar stool. In four seconds, I’ve sized him up, and I can already tell this guy won’t be good enough for her.
Her face lights up in a smile. “Ben, I presume?”
He nods, his gaze roaming over her curvy frame, and his mouth presses into a smirk. “The one and only.”
If this dude wants to hold Natalie’s attention, he’s going to have to up his game. His pickup lines are cheesy as hell, but rather than scoff at his lame attempt at flirting, Natalie only giggles.
The fuck? I narrow my eyes.
“Oh, and this is my friend Camden.” Natalie places her hand on my shoulder and flashes me a quick grin.
“Hey, man. Nice to meet you. You’re the new bartender here, right?” I offer him my hand, and he gives it a firm shake.
Ben nods. “Yep. What about you? You work around here?”
“I’m a doctor, actually. Pediatrics.”
Natalie smiles warmly as I say this, and pride blooms in my chest.
Ben all but ignores me, his gaze moving back to Natalie.
And trust me, I get it. She’s dressed in a pair of jeans that hug her every curve, and a pale blue V-neck top that ghosts over her breasts in a rather distracting manner. Every red-blooded male in this place has noticed her, and just because what we have is strictly platonic doesn’t mean I’m the exception to that rule. She’s beautiful. Exceedingly so. We’ve never gone to that place in our relationship, but that doesn’t mean I don’t know the effect she has on a man. Of course I do. I’d be a fucking idiot not to.
Ben signals the bartender and orders himself a craft beer, pausing to ask Natalie what she’d like. One point for manners, I suppose. She orders a second glass of chardonnay.
Wine occasionally gives her a headache, and I chew the inside of my cheek to stop myself from pointing this out to her. She’s a big girl; she can handle it.
When their drinks are delivered, Ben leans closer, smiling as he asks her what she does for a living.
Natalie launches into an explanation about her work doing digital marketing for a nonprofit agency. It’s a topic she’s so passionate about, I feel my lips curving up into a grin. I’ve heard her give this same spiel at various outings over the years, but her enthusiasm for what she does never gets old.
When I glance their way again, Ben has narrowed his eyes and is looking at me. I blink and focus my attention on my drink instead. He thinks I’m cock-blocking him, but it’s the furthest thing from the truth. If Natalie wants to take this guy home tonight, I certainly won’t stop her. I might check in with her first, make sure she feels safe and has protection . . .
Shit. I scrub a hand over my face.
I need to butt out. I don’t want to be that guy. This is her business.
Just because I’ve taken a vow to be celibate doesn’t mean Natalie has. She’s free to date whomever she pleases, as long as he treats her right. Picking up my drink, I plaster on a smile and face them. “Well, you two have fun. Nice to meet you, Ben.”
I don’t miss the way Natalie’s mouth turns down in a frown. Then again, there’s very little I miss about her—period. The way her hair turns golden when it catches the light, or the slight dimple in her left cheek when she laughs. Hell, even that fried pickles give her gas.
“You sure you have to go?” she asks, watching my eyes for signs there’s something wrong.
“Yeah. I’m going to go talk to Jack for a few minutes and then head out.”
“Have a good night,” Ben says quickly, obviously happy to be rid of me.
Natalie’s eyes stay on mine for a second longer. Gripping my drink in one hand, I stuff the other into my pocket to keep from doing something stupid, like reaching out and hugging her good-bye. Then she gives me a small, sweet smile, and something strangely possessive stirs inside me.
Let her enjoy her date. Don’t be a dick.
No one wants a third wheel on their first date, I tell myself. This is the right thing to do. I stroll away, heading to the back of the bar toward the offices. The truth is, I’m not ready to go. It’s still early and I could hang out, but the truth is, even if I hadn’t made the pact with Jack, the last thing I’m in the mood for is looking for a hookup tonight.
I finish my drink in a single gulp, letting the alcohol burn a path down my throat, then set the glass on the end of the bar on my way toward the back hallway. I find Jack inside his office, his head down as he looks over a pile of invoices.
“Hey,” I say, slumping down in the seat in front of his desk.
“What’s up, man? You taking off?”
I nod. “Ben’s here. He and Nat seem to be hitting it off.”
“Yeah?”
I shrug, my look saying everything he needs to know. Well enough to completely ignore me, so yeah.
“Cool.” Jack leans back in his chair. “You sure you’ve gotta go? It’s early.”
Rubbing one hand over the back of my neck, I sigh. “Got nothing better to do. It’s not like I’m going to look for a woman to take home tonight.”
He grins. “You’re still into this bet?”
“Absolutely. No way I’m doing your laundry for a fucking year. I plan to win the bet. Easily.”
Jack chuckles as I rise to my feet. “Have fun with your hand tonight.”
I flip him my middle finger on the way out. “Ditto, fucker.”
• • •
The next morning, I wake up early and go for a jog to clear my head. Unfortunately, the thought that pervades my entire jog is the way Natalie looked in her underwear yesterday, and the comment she made about not being fingered in forever.
When I get back from my run, breathless and sweaty, Jack is still sleeping. His work schedule is pretty much the exact opposite of mine, which works well for our living arrangement. While my days are filled with early mornings, his are dominated by late nights. We stay out of each other’s way, and while we get along fine
, having the extra space is a nice perk because it’s almost like living alone.
I head into my private bathroom and turn on the water for a shower. Stripping off my damp T-shirt and gym shorts, I take stock of what I see in the mirror. Six foot two, a muscled physique thanks to plenty of time spent at the gym, messy brown hair, some leftover scruff on my jaw. I flex my chest muscles, pleased with the definition I see there, and wonder what Natalie sees when she looks at me. Does she see her buddy from high school, still picturing me as a gangly teen who hadn’t grown into his height yet . . . or does she see me as I am now, a man?
I’ve tried to stop myself from thinking of her, but it’s been fruitless. Last night, after I came home, it was hard falling asleep, wondering how her date was going. I thought she might text me when she got home from the bar, or at least before she went to sleep to tell me how it had gone. But she didn’t, and now one very unwelcome thought pervades my brain.
Did she take Ben home with her?
As far as I know, Natalie’s not the type for a one-night stand. But she has been complaining lately about her lack of a love life . . . so, who knows. There’s one thing I know for certain—the thought of her sleeping with Ben makes my skin crawl. I remind myself what she said yesterday, that she doesn’t sleep with a man on the first date. But there’s always an exception to that rule, especially if alcohol and hormones factor into the equation.
Yet something inside me needs to know for certain. I’m almost laser-focused on needing to know what happened with the two of them.
As I lather up under the spray of warm water, I hatch a plan. Dressing quickly in a pair of jeans and a T-shirt, I’m out the door in fifteen minutes flat.
• • •
“Be right there!” Natalie calls out when I knock on her front door a short time later.
I know I shouldn’t care if she hooked up with Ben last night, but part of me—this weird, possessive part I’ve kept well hidden—needs to know.
Fuck, what’s wrong with me?