by Nikki Ash
“So, what do I do then?” Why does meeting someone have to be so damn difficult?
“Let the guy come to you.”
“Okay…”
We return to the table, and Chase goes back to his beer while I look around. There are a lot of different people here. Couples dancing, women dancing with women. Men, who look similar to Chase, nursing a beer. I look at one man in particular. He’s sitting in a booth next to a woman. They’re not talking, both just people watching like Chase and I are… and it hits me.
“How is anyone going to know I’m available?”
“Huh?” he asks, a V forming in the center of his brows.
“How is anyone going to know I’m available?” I repeat.
“I heard you. What do you mean?”
“Well, we’ve been sitting here for a little while and no women have approached you… It’s probably because we’re sitting together. They’re assuming we’re together. Maybe we should separate? Or I should come back when Lexi can join me.” I clearly didn’t think this whole thing through. If Lexi were here, guys would know I’m single.
“How about you stop focusing on meeting a guy and we dance?” Chase suggests, standing and taking my hand.
“But—” My argument is thwarted the second Chase pulls me into his arms and forces my hands to wrap around his neck. His hands slide down my sides and land on the small of my back. He bends and leans in so his face is close to mine. I can feel his warm breath against my ear, and it sends chills racing down my spine.
“You look beautiful tonight,” he murmurs, pulling me in closer to him. My heart accelerates at his compliment. I should be focusing on finding a guy to get to know, but suddenly all I want to do is dance with Chase.
And that’s exactly what we spend the next several songs doing. We’re both sweaty—from the packed crowd, the hot lights, and the dancing—but I don’t even consider leaving the dance floor—or Chase’s arms—until he suggests we take a break and get a drink.
I follow him off the floor and over to the packed bar. “Do you want a lemon drop or water?” he asks.
“Water.” I’m thirsty from all that dancing and alcohol isn’t going to quench my thirst.
“Okay, be right back,” he says, before cutting into the crowd.
I’m standing by myself for a few minutes, people watching, when a male voice speaks close to my ear. “Are you single?”
I twirl around and come face to face with a blond-haired, blue-eyed man. He’s dressed in a white button-down collar shirt with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows and dark wash jeans. He’s cute, and when his lip tugs up into a half smirk, he’s even cuter.
I open my mouth to tell him I’m here with someone when I remember why I’m here… and that even though I was just dancing with Chase, I’m not here with him. “I am.”
“Patrick,” he says, extending his hand like a gentleman.
“Georgia,” I say back, shaking his hand.
“Can I buy you a drink, Georgia?” he asks, his hand still holding mine.
“She already has a drink,” a deep voice says before I can answer.
Patrick glances between Chase and me, and I can’t see Chase because he’s slightly behind me, but whatever he sees causes him to jump to conclusions, because the next thing I know, he’s nodding and bowing out before I can explain.
“Hey!” I swivel around and slap Chase on the chest.
“What?” He hands me a bottled water.
“You totally just…cockblocked me!” Mind you, I don’t have a cock, and I had no intention of having sex with that guy, but I don’t know how else to describe what he just did.
“That guy looks like a douche,” Chase says, shrugging and cracking open his water. He brings the bottle up to his lips and tips his head back, swallowing the entire bottle in one long guzzle.
“How would you know?” I ask, trying to sound annoyed but kind of distracted by the way his Adam’s apple bobs up and down while he drinks.
“I could just tell.”
“Well, my theory is correct. As soon as you were gone, he came over. Going out just the two of us obviously isn’t the best idea.”
Chase doesn’t agree or disagree. “Want to dance some more?”
Well, tonight’s apparently a bust anyway, and Chase is a good dancer… “Sure.”
I walk through the art gallery, amazed and in awe of the transformation. What was once a vacant, run-down building in the Arts district, is now filled with beautiful art from various artists, including Lexi. Lexi’s plan is for the gallery to cater to all types of art, but every month a different theme and artist will be featured. A large portion of the proceeds will go toward raising money to help autistic children and adults, especially those who are low income or homeless.
I stop at a piece I haven’t seen before and smile. On what looks like an eight by ten canvas, is a graffitied drawing of a woman standing with her back to the world, staring out at the ocean. She’s holding her surfboard in one hand and her daughter’s hand in the other. Seeing Lexi’s art on display fills my heart with warmth. One day, someone will buy this painting and hang it up in their home or office. My sister’s talent will finally be shared with the world—and not just in the form of graffiti on building walls.
“Lexi’s sister,” Aiden says, calling me over. “I painted this.”
“Wow. It’s beautiful.”
Aiden is the reason this gallery came about. He’s twenty-four years old and autistic. His stepdad used to hurt his mom and him and when he turned eighteen they kicked him out. He was homeless, living on the streets. Every day my sister would make sure he was taken care of the best she could, but she felt helpless. They became close and she wanted to save him. Now, he’s living in an assisted living facility and works at the gallery.
“Thank you, Lexi’s sister,” he says, turning back to his painting. Lexi has various artists coming in to paint the gallery. Instead of it feeling stuffy like many do, she wants it to feel like you’re immersed in the art.
“I called you last night,” Lexi says, walking out with Abigail on her hip. The second she sees me, a bright smile lights her face, making my heart skip a beat.
“I was out with Chase.” I take Abigail from Lexi and give her kisses. “I missed you, sweet girl.” We move into her office and sit on her couch.
“You and Chase are close, huh?” Lexi asks, raising a brow.
“He was supposed to be my wingman.” I roll my eyes. “Of course every guy just assumed we were together.”
“And how about the women?”
“They were hot, but I don’t swing that way.” I wink playfully, making Lexi laugh.
“I meant for Chase.”
“He didn’t get hit on. We had a drink and danced. One guy actually did approach me, but Chase scared him off, saying he looked like a douche.”
“Did he…?” Lexi’s mouth twists contemplatively.
“Yeah, so now I’m not sure how I’m going to meet someone. I don’t really have girlfriends, and you’re busy being a mom to this cute little angel.” I lift Abigail up and blow raspberries on her belly.
“I could have Mom watch her. It’s been a while since I’ve been out.”
“I wouldn’t ask you to do that.” I wave her off. “I’ll eventually meet the right guy, when the time is right.”
“You’re not asking. It’ll be fun. All these years I was waiting for you to finally go out and have a good time, and now that you’re doing it, I’m at home.” She pulls out her phone.
“Hey, Mom,” she says. “Georgia is here and we were talking about going out one night this week…” She laughs. “Yes, that’s why I was calling… Okay, love you, bye.”
She hangs up. “I think I just made her life,” she jokes. “She’s so excited to take Abigail.” Lexi tends to keep her daughter close. I don’t blame her, though. The way she found out she was pregnant and the months following were hard on her. I think she just feels so blessed to have her, she doesn’t want to
let her leave her sight.
“She’s going to take her for the night since Alec is working.” She grins. “This’ll be fun. The Scott women are going to paint the town red!”
I crack up. “In case you forgot you’re no longer a Scott.”
“Pfft, semantics. I’ll always be a Scott. I’m excited for tonight.”
“Me too. I feel like I’m finally making strides to overcome my social anxiety. I didn’t freak out at all last night when Chase and I were out.”
“Maybe Chase has the right touch.” She winks dramatically.
“Or maybe I’m just finally getting past my issues.” I shrug, refusing to acknowledge that she may be right. I thought the same thing last night in bed before I pushed it to the side and fell asleep.
I hand her back Abigail. “Want to come over and we can get ready together?”
“Yes.” Lexi beams. “This is so exciting. It’s like my little Georgia is all grown up. I get to pick out your outfit and do your makeup.”
“Sounds good.” I stand and so does she. “I’ll see you tonight. I’m making the guys dinner… this new fettuccine recipe I found and want to try out. I’ll save some for us.”
“Yeah, I heard about your fabulous lasagna.” Lexi side-eyes me. “Alec said we should hire you to cook.” She rolls her eyes. “He won’t let me use the oven when he’s not home. He said the guys at the station we’re zoned to won’t be as nice when the neighbors call.”
“That’s funny,” I say with a laugh. “Hey, maybe I should open a restaurant,” I joke.
“You made one meal,” Lexi deadpans. “I would make a few more dishes before you put on your official chef hat.”
I spend the rest of the morning making the dish, and once it’s done, I have to admit, I’m a damn good cook. After putting some aside for Lexi and me for dinner, I put the remainder of the pasta into one container and the homemade biscuits I made into another one, and then head over to the station.
“Oh, shit,” Carter says as I walk up to the entrance. “Is that food you’re carrying?” He grabs the containers from me.
“It is, but before you get too excited, you better taste it to make sure it’s good.”
“Thought I was your taste tester,” Chase says, walking out from nowhere. His hair is wet like he just showered, and he’s in the middle of pulling his shirt over his head, so his hard body is still on display. The shirt comes down and I internally pout.
Or at least I think I do…
Chase smirks, as if he knows exactly what I’m thinking, and my cheeks heat up.
“You are the taste tester,” I tell him, “but you have to be a good boy and share.” I playfully pat him on his stomach and note just how hard his abs are.
The other guys hear us and join in, grabbing plates and silverware. I open the containers and distribute some onto each of their plates. Chase is the first to take a bite, and I swear his eyes roll to the back of his head.
“It’s official, Georgia,” he says. “You’re an honorary member of station 115.”
I laugh. “And what does an honorary member get?”
“The right to cook for us forever,” he says with a smile, while shoving more food into his mouth.
“Wow, I’m so lucky,” I say, sarcasm dripping in my words. “But you better enjoy it while you can, because tonight Lexi and I are going out. She’s going to be my wing-woman, and when I meet the man of my dreams, I’ll be too busy cooking for him to cook for you guys.”
Carter, Thomas, and Luke laugh, but Alec and Chase don’t.
“What do you mean you’re going out tonight?” Chase asks, dropping his fork onto his plate.
“Mom’s going to watch Abigail. We’re going to hit the clubs. I’m hoping she’ll be a better wing-woman than you.”
Alec groans. “I think you guys should wait until tomorrow night. We can all go, make it a group thing.”
“I agree,” Chase adds.
“I’m down,” Luke says.
“Me too,” Carter agrees.
“Then it’s settled,” Alec says before I can even argue. “I’ll let Lexi know. Tomorrow night we’ll all go out.” What the hell just happened? I went from planning a girls’ night out with my sister to it being turned into a group hang?
“Want some pasta?” Chase offers, like they didn’t just railroad my plans.
“No.” I pout. “I have some at home. But you enjoy. I need to go.”
“You just got here,” Chase notes. “Stay a while.”
“I have work to do. Bye!” I give him a false smile, and after saying bye to the other guys, take off, annoyed as hell at the turn of events.
Chase
“Did you see how pissed she was when she left?” Luke says with a shake of his head.
“Yeah, but oh well,” I tell him. “Those women are crazy if they think we’re going to let them go out without us.”
“Yeah,” Alec agrees with a sigh. I’d bet he’s thinking about the shit that went down last year with Lexi. She was alone on the beach and was attacked. It was a fucked up situation and since then, he hasn’t let her out of his sight other than to go to work. And I don’t blame him. Underneath the thin layer of wealth and glamour, LA is a scary fucking place. I know that firsthand.
The rest of the shift flies by. We thankfully don’t have any major fires—only one incident where a woman smelled gas, and after checking it out, we caught a leak—and at eight o’clock we change shifts. The guys all agree to meet at Boulevard, a new club that recently opened that Luke’s brother is the bouncer at.
When I walk in the door, Georgia is standing in the kitchen in a racerback tank and yoga pants. She’s dancing to whatever music is blasting in her headphones and shaking her peach of an ass while she blends something together.
I probably shouldn’t do it, but I can’t help myself as I quickly approach her and wrap my arms around her to scare her.
She shrieks, and her hand flings around to push me away. When she does this, the top to the blender flies off and pink explodes everywhere.
“Oh my God!” she squeals, quickly grabbing the top and shoving it back on the blender before shutting it off. “Chase!” She turns back around and slaps my chest. We’re both covered in…
“What is this?” I swipe my finger across her cheek and pop it into my mouth. “Mm, strawberry shake?”
“I found a healthy recipe. I was making one before I go for a run. It’s a protein shake.”
“Well, it tastes delicious.”
She glares. “I wouldn’t know.”
I swipe some more, this time off her neck, and push my finger past her lips. “Good, right?”
Her tongue darts out and swirls around the tip of my finger, and my eyes go straight to her mouth, imagining a different appendage of mine is in between her lips.
Her eyes go wide, as if just realizing what I did, and pulls her face back, her lips gliding off my finger and leaving it glistening wet.
She clears her throat. “Yeah, it’s good. I need to clean this up.”
“I’ll help,” I croak, sounding like a horny fucking teenager. When she swivels around, I quickly adjust myself and think of old, smelly men, so my semi goes down.
We get the area cleaned up, and since there’s still plenty of smoothie left, she pours us each some into a cup. The shake is delicious, but if I’m honest, the entire time I’m drinking it, I’m wishing I were licking it off her body.
Afterward, she invites me to join her on her jog. We spend the morning running to the pier, walking along the beach, and then run back.
“We should do this every day I’m off,” I tell her when we get home.
“For sure. I’m going to shower. Alec and Lexi are coming over for dinner before we go out, and I’m making a new dish. I need to do some work stuff, but after, want to watch a movie?”
“Sounds perfect.”
The more time I spend with her, the more time I want to spend with her. It’s crazy that we spent months living together and
I never bothered to get to know her.
It’s because you were too busy fucking anything with a vagina to get over your ex-wife…
And now that I’m thinking about it, since the day Georgia and I started hanging out, I haven’t even thought about hooking up with any women, nor have I dwelled on my divorce. For the first time it feels like I’m actually moving forward. I’m no longer bitter toward the way things ended, or the years I felt were wasted. With Georgia, I’m enjoying myself again. And not in the fake way I do when I stick my dick into some woman I don’t know, but in a real way. Georgia and I laugh together, talk about shit. It’s nice having someone to connect with.
I’m cleaning up my room, when my phone rings. “Hello,” I answer without looking to see who’s on the other end.
“Chase, I need you.”
I close my eyes, listening to her slurred words. It’s my mom, and she’s drunk. Which makes no sense because the only time she ever gets drunk is… Shit! I pull the calendar up on my phone and the realization of what today is has sharp pains shooting through my chest. How could I forget?
“I’ll be right there,” I tell her before hanging up, grabbing my keys, and flying out the door. My mom and I aren’t as close as I wish we were, but she’s still my mom, and I love her and would do anything for her.
About fifteen minutes later, I arrive at my childhood home. It’s located in a rougher part of LA, where the movies and television shows don’t show because people would realize that the majority of LA isn’t really all that glamorous.
Parking my vehicle in her driveway, I run up to the front door, and without knocking, go inside. I find my mom lying in her room with a bottle of vodka in her hands. The room is dark and smells like sex and alcohol. I gag a couple times, then open the windows, letting the light and air in.
Ignoring the fact that her sheets are probably full of sex as well, I edge onto the bed and pull her into my arms. There are only two days a year my mom gets drunk: the day my sister was born, and the day she died.
“Chase,” she slurs. “You came.”
“Of course I came,” I tell her, cursing myself for forgetting the date. I always make it a point to visit my mom the night before and spend the night so she doesn’t get like this. If I’m not here to stop her, she’ll drink until she’s sick and has to be hospitalized—it’s happened more than once.
