Michael: I’m so sorry. Got a flat tire and can’t make it.
Michael: Sorry I didn’t message you earlier.
Great. It’s been so long I’ve been on a real date, I don’t know if I’m being stood up or if he’s being truthful. Michael is enigmatic at best, but he didn’t hesitate to want to see me.
I sigh. I’ll give him the benefit of the doubt this time.
Caitlin: Sorry to hear that. Raincheck?
His response is immediate.
Michael: Yes. As soon as possible.
I tuck my phone into my purse.
It’s been twenty minutes since I strolled into Dirty Martini’s, less than that since Jonas took the stool next to me. Ten minutes since I’ve forgotten to be annoyed with my date standing me up in the first place. Being with Jonas is too much fun, and so familiar.
There are only two occupied tables in the restaurant, a gay couple who are on martini three and getting more handsy by the moment, and a table of four women in my favorite semiprivate booth. More than once Jonas and I have called Tucker over to tease him about which girl he wants to take home for the night.
He’s at their table now, one hand on the back of the booth, his other hand on his hip, smiling down at all the women who are practically drooling for him. If they think he’s hot, I wonder if they’d find him even more attractive if they learn he’s studying to be a marine biologist.
For a young guy, he’s got looks, manners, smarts, and a really freaking decent head on his shoulders. Plus, he can mix a mean martini. Tucker is essentially the perfect guy.
He heads back to the bar, shaking his head, and if I’m not mistaken, his cheeks are slightly pink. It can’t be from the heat because with the bar being so empty, it’s still a bit chilly in here.
“What’d they do?” I ask, leaning forward on my elbows when he’s close enough so we can’t be overheard. “Offer to make it a four-on-one?”
He glares at me, but it lacks heat. “Shut up, Caitlin.”
“No way. Come on, tell me. Which girl over there is the lucky winner tonight?” I give them all a good look, even though by now I’m pretty certain I know Tucker’s type. He might go for the girls at the bar who flirt a little bit, but he’s never been one to take home an assertive female, one who’s blatantly clear in her attraction to him. No, Tucker likes the sweet quiet ones who get embarrassed easily. “It’s the brunette, isn’t it?”
I glance at the girls again, and catch the one woman’s gestures. She tucks a chunk of thick bangs behind her ear and nibbles her bottom lip, but it’s her eyes that keep sliding in our direction. Mostly to Tucker’s ass before she quickly glances away.
Tucker leans forward and swipes a hand through his thick blond hair. It falls back to the side. “You’re a pistol, aren’t you? Why do you think it’s her?”
A lady never throws another woman under the bus. It’s the secret girl code. There’s room for all of us in the world to be successful and help each other out. I don’t need to embarrass her more. And based on how sweet she looks, telling Tucker she’s checking out his ass would definitely do that.
I take a sip of my drink and give him a goofy look. “I know you. You like the quiet girls. The ones who blush and make you work for it. The two at the edge of the table are a bit too,” I tap my finger to my lips, trying to find the right word, “brassy for you.” I take the finger and swirl it in the air at him. “One of them made you blush. What’d she say? Did she ask if you think you can compare to her rabbit?”
He barks out a laugh. It might be a choke. I’m not one to filter my thoughts much, and Tucker taught me long ago he can handle whatever flies out.
“Jesus. No. But she did imply that foursome you were talking about might be possible.” He dips his head, brown eyes gleaming. “Or at least a twosome.”
“With the sweet little brunette included?”
“Trust me.” He slaps his hand on the bar. “She’d be all I need if I was looking tonight. And I’m not.”
“I knew it was the brunette. And why not tonight?”
He rolls his eyes dramatically. “Because it’s Sunday.”
“And you can’t bang a girl on the Lord’s Day?”
“No, you freak.” He shakes his head. Sometimes I surprise myself with what comes out of my mouth. “Because I don’t get out of here until one and I’ve got class at eight. God, Caitlin. The Lord’s Day?”
I shrug, and my cheeks hurt from smiling. Who would have thought getting stood up could be so much fun? Leave it to Tucker and Jonas to get my mind off it so easily. “Well, what else is special about Sundays?”
He peers at me strangely as if trying to figure me out, but it’s useless. I’ve long since quit trying to figure out my own self, so Tucker has no shot.
“Weirdo,” he mumbles again and points to my glass. “Need a refill?”
I slide the glass his way. “Always, choirboy.”
He laughs and shakes his head, turning away, and it’s the perfect time for a refill because Jonas is returning from the kitchen where he left to go get us food a few minutes ago. He’s carrying two wood platters, and my mouth waters. Not from the food, even though his charcuterie boards are a thing of beauty, but it’s the man holding them that grabs my attention like a meteor shower. His black hair is swiped to the side looking messy, and his short-sleeve Dirty Martini’s shirt curves over his chest showing absolute perfection before it’s tucked into faded, distressed jeans that hang low on his hips. They’re belted with a thick black leather belt and dark silver buckle, but there’s that bulge in his jeans that brings all sorts of memories to my mind.
Next up: ordering a bucket of ice to dump on my head.
I clap my hands together and bounce on my chair as Jonas gets closer, sliding both of the boards onto the bar. “Oh. For me?” I bat my eyelashes playfully. “You shouldn’t have.”
He gives Tucker a strange look before coming back to me. “You drunk already?”
“No, she’s not. But I think she took some drugs before she showed up,” Tucker says, already done shaking and mixing my drink. He pours the appletini into my glass and sets the mixer down on the bar. “I made extra. That’s all yours.”
“Oh goodness.” I take a sip, moaning over the deliciousness. “It’s like Christmas. Food and all the martinis I can drink? And just so you know, the only drugs I take are goofy pills. Not my fault you two don’t have a sense of humor.” I pop a chunk of sausage into my mouth and close my eyes. Dang. It’s just the right amount of garlic and spicy.
Jonas really knows his meats.
I snort and take a drink to wash away the dirty thought.
“Hey Jonas?” I bump him on the shoulder to get his attention. He’s on his second beer and chewing on a chunk of cheese. “Did you know that Tucker works for the church?”
“What?”
“Ignore her,” Tucker says. “I am.”
Jonas leans toward me, arms crossed on the bar. His head tilts in an adorable way, eyes playful, hand scratching along his jaw. “He does?”
Man. It really sucks I’ll probably never have another shot at him. I’m not even still sure I want a relationship, but this whole dating thing has really twisted my head. Granted, I haven’t given a whole lot of guys a shot at winning my heart over the years, and I don’t regret it, but Jonas is the one guy who, when I’m ready, might be able to handle me.
I’d like for him to handle me in a lot of different ways, which makes my reburgeoning crush on him a really bad idea.
I wave my hand. I’m being silly and weird and there’s always a risk of taking it too far. “I’m just kidding.” While we eat, I give him the quick story of Tucker not willing to shag a girl on Sundays, and then conversation stills.
I’m always comfortable with Jonas. Even when we spent time together, we didn’t always spend it talking. Obviously there were other things on our minds back in those days, but hanging out with him at the bar has always been easy. But there’s something different about it now. Flirting with him has always been like second nature. Which is probably why I’m being weirder with Tucker. Spending so much time around Corbin and Trey has made giving guys a hard time the natural thing for me to do.
Perhaps it’s the drink and the loneliness and the fact the guy I was interested in ditched me.
I sigh and take a sip of my drink. “I should probably get going.”
“Why?” Jonas asks. “I don’t mind hanging out. In fact, I’m having a good time with you.”
His smile shoots a warmth to my chest, and it spreads outward. Wrong! Wrong. Wrong. It’s so wrong for me to feel this way about him when he’s made it clear to me I’m now, forever his friend.
I don’t know if I can handle this anymore. I push off my stool and grab my purse.
“Caitlin—”
Is that hurt in his eyes? I have to be imagining it. “I’ll be back, I need the restroom.”
“Oh. Okay. But you’ll come back and hang out?” His grin trembles, and he gestures toward the food he’s brought out. “Someone has to help me eat this.”
“I’ll stay. At least until the food is gone.”
Turning on my heel, I hitch my purse strap over my shoulder and hurry through the bar. This is madness. I should probably leave. I don’t know if spending time with Jonas is good for my heart anymore. It hurts, this unfamiliar pain in my chest like someone’s stepping on me whenever he’s near.
And he still hasn’t even mentioned that he and Ashley broke up. Not that it’s my business, but why did he lie about it when he was at my place?
I use the restroom and head back to him slowly, trying to figure out what in the heck is wrong with me, when I pull to a sudden stop halfway back to Jonas.
Ashley. She’s here. Her hair is pulled into a high ponytail, and beneath her coat, I can see her blue scrubs. Jonas is now on his feet, hands limp at his sides, and while there’s only a few feet between them, there might as well be a mile based on both of them looking so tense. Ashley adjusts her glasses, says something I’m much too far away to hear, and then holds out her hand.
With her other hand, she adjusts her glasses and looks away from Jonas toward a wall. Her outstretched hand moves to the bar, and she places something on it before shoving her hand into her coat pocket.
More talking. More awkward, tense gestures. It occurs to me I’m stuck, standing in the middle of the mostly empty restaurant. Behind me, the women at the table are talking, their high-pitched voices an irritating buzz in my ear, but I can’t move. I can’t stroll up to Jonas and Ashley in the middle of whatever they’re discussing, and there’s nowhere to go.
Awesome.
Jonas takes a step toward her, and her back straightens. Lips tremble. She lifts her hand and turns. And as she does, she faces me. Her eyes widen for a moment, and she nods.
I lift my hand lamely in the air, and I’m still frozen to my spot, gawking at them like an idiot, when she spins on her heels and hurries out the door. She’s gone so quickly she’s practically vanished into thin air.
What the heck? Movement at the bar grabs my attention, and I watch Jonas. He’s looking right at me, lips pulled to one side. I can’t keep standing here. But, yay—isn’t this just a pile of awkward I’m stepping into?
“You okay?” I ask, as I get closer to him.
Jonas’s back is straight and tight, a muscle popping in his jaw. He reaches out to the bar and grabs something. It’s gold, dull, and takes me a second to realize it’s a key.
“Ashley and I broke up.” He tucks the key into his pocket and sits down at the bar. Dropping his head into his hands, he shakes his head, pushes back his hair.
I drop my purse on the bar top and slide into my chair. “I know. Sara told me a while ago.”
His head whips toward me so fast it’s clear I’ve surprised him. “Right. Yeah, it was a while ago. She was just returning my key. God, I feel like a dick.”
My curiosity gets the better of me. I can’t help it. She’s the girl he met that he liked enough to try to get me to take things further. What was it she had that was so special, and why didn’t it work?
I reach for my martini and spin the thin stem of the glass with my fingers. “Why did you two break up?”
And why didn’t you tell me?