by Lexi Scott
“I hope you like hot dogs all the way, Ally,” Maren says, trying to hand one over.
Ally frowns. “Thank you so much, but I’m doing paleo right now.”
“Doesn’t that mean you eat meat?” Maren asks, glancing at the hot dog in her hand.
“Oh, yeah. Just, um, real meat. Like steak and chicken breast. Hot dogs are mixed meat pumped with so many chemicals.”
“These are kosher, all beef,” I say.
“Are they?” Maren asks, taking a bite of hers. “Mmm. They’re delicious.”
“I know for sure because my father double-checks every time we come. It’s a huge relief, actually. There’s nothing worse than being the lone Jewish kid starving at a baseball stadium.”
“Oh, you’re Jewish?” Ally says in an overloud way that lets me know this deal is sealed; Ally may or may not go home with Jason, but there’s absolutely zero chance she’s going home with me.
Not that that fact bothers me at all.
Maren puts down her hot dog and stares at Ally like maybe she realizes this girl isn’t the woman I’m destined to spend another day with, let alone the rest of my life.
“I am,” I say, trying not to judge the look of surprise on her face.
“That’s great,” she says hurriedly. “I mean, it’s great to have strong faith. I’m actually a devout Roman Catholic.”
“Cool,” I say while Jason side-eyes Ally and Maren chews on her hotdog.
I pull my phone out as Ally focuses on the game a little too attentively.
Cohen: Looks like that June wedding is going to be at Our Lady of the Angels. It’s gonna break my rabbi’s heart.
She tugs her phone out of her pocket with one hand while she pops the last bite of hot dog into her mouth with the other. And she nearly chokes when she reads my text.
Maren: Ok that was weird. But you’re both from religious families. There are tons of blended households.
Cohen: I’m fine with marrying a goy… but I don’t see myself with a girl who can’t appreciate a good stadium dog. ;)
Maren: Wanna split the extra one?
Cohen: Is that even a real question?
Maren breaks the hot dog and passes my half over wordlessly. The Angels play as shittily as I expect, Maren tries hard to spark up conversation between Ally and me, and Jason drains his own beer and the extra one Paleo Ally won’t touch.
“This game blows. I can’t believe how bad the Angels suck tonight. Let’s go have some drinks and appetizers over at O’Brien’s,” Jason finally whines.
Maren glances at me and Ally and shrugs. “You guys want to leave?”
“O’Brien’s has an amazing steak salad!” Ally yips and jumps up and down like a lap dog excited for its afternoon treat.
“Cool. Let’s head out.”
“I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but O’Brien’s shut down a few months ago,” I tell them.
“What else is nearby?” Maren asks, her eyes trained on mine.
“Oh no! They had the best steak bites,” Ally says. This girl really wants red meat something serious.
“My place isn’t far,” I say. “And I have a house full of food. Some of it’s got to be paleo or whatever.”
Which might be a lie. As a side effect of the breakup, I tossed all of Kensley’s wheat germ and tempeh—damn, I hate these stupid fad diets—and, instead, stocked up on comfort foods like corn dogs and frozen pizzas. Probably doesn’t meet Ally’s paleo needs, but I really want to get Maren over to my house—even with her asshole date—so I’ll offer up whatever I have on a silver platter.
“Your place? Yeah. That’d be cool, right, Ally? Jason?”
Maren makes an effort to stand close to Jason and smile like she’s enjoying his company. She flat-out told me she can’t stand him, so I figure this is all for show, to keep the date moving along. If I know that, why does it bother me so much?
I guess I wish she’d accept that he and Ally are going to wind up together so she and I can ditch them and spend some time getting to know each other better.
When she glances at Jason, his eyes are fixed on Ally’s rack. Maren sighs and moves away from him. He doesn’t even notice.
“My place it is,” I say, not able to suppress my grin.
I reach over and clutch Maren’s tiny wrist. I may be reserved and slow to take chances, but Jason is an asshole and Maren is my friend. Now that I’ve met her, there’s no way I’m letting her get treated like crap on this blind date from hell.
I’ve never felt more possessive about a girl, and some wild alpha side of me feels like it’s been set free.
Chapter Seven
Cohen
“Holy shit, Cohen, this is your house?” Maren kicks her shoes off and carries them the rest of the way, her mouth hanging open, her eyes huge. “Like, you told me you lived near the beach… You didn’t say on the beach. This is incredible!”
“Thank you,” I say, feeling a swell of pride. “Glad you like it.”
She sinks into the sand a little with each step and looks even tinier than she did at the ballpark, but every move she makes is electric. Maren’s the kind of person who brings an energy with her wherever she goes.
“Yeah, man, this is pretty impressive,” Jason says. He’s the last person on earth I give two shits about impressing, but I can tell he feels stupid that he ragged on me about my finances. Asshole. “I bet you get a ton of play having a place like this.” He laughs, proud of his stupid joke.
I pause with my key in the door. Jason’s wrong, of course. Kensley was the only woman I’ve ever had here. Well, other than my sisters or Whit, but none of them count for obvious reasons.
I bought this place with the money I made from last year’s expedition with Deo. Deo’s dad does that sort of thing for a living and had a good tip, so Deo and I sailed up the coast to Northern California in our crappy boat and dove for treasure like a couple of pirates.
We sure as hell didn’t expect to make out as well as we did, but, in the end, it set us both up pretty nicely.
Whit and Deo are spending a fortune on their upcoming wedding, and I bought this place and socked a good bit away. It feels awesome to be able to do it, even if financial security is “boring” according to Kensley.
“So, this is home,” I say as I push the door open.
It immediately feels strange to have other people here. Jason marches over to the shelves of my alphabetized DVDs and starts pulling them out haphazardly and cramming them back in wherever there’s an open space. He’s clearly not grasping the fact that those spaces allow for more DVDs to be filtered in when I buy them without my having to reorganize them all again. He’s just made several hours of work for me in the two minutes he’s been here.
I hate him more and more with each second that passes.
Ally hunches awkwardly in the corner near the ship’s wheel that’s mounted to the wall. Her expression might pass for bored, but she can’t hide the annoyed look she’s shooting Maren’s way.
Maren.
She’s sitting at the island in the kitchen, hair mussed from the braids she’d pulled out earlier and the humidity in the air, big smile on her face, head tilted back, just checking things out, chill as can be.
“Can I get you a drink?” I ask her.
She’s the only thing that doesn’t feel out of place right now. I figured it’d feel weird as hell having another girl here for the first time since Kensley and I split. But Maren fits right in. Probably because we’re friends. Longtime friends, technically, if you count all the hours we’ve logged on the phone.
Yep. Just friends.
“I’ll have a shot of Jager if you have it,” Jason pipes in from across the room as he crams the Godfather boxed set in between Pineapple Express and Pulp Fiction.
I cringe.
“Sorry, dude, haven’t kept that around since I was in college,” I say, wishing he and Ally would go the hell away and leave me here, alone, with Maren.
Who’s got one eyebrow ra
ised and is shaking her head.
“Jager?” she mouths behind Jason’s back and rolls her eyes.
I nod back, wondering who the hell thought this guy was a good match for Maren. She’s fun and smart and kind of quirky. Jason is 100 percent a predictable dudebro. What grown man shoots Jager on a first date with a beautiful girl?
I’d sure as hell never need a drop of alcohol in me to appreciate Maren.
Fuck, I need to stop thinking like that. There are many reasons it makes really good sense to stay firmly in the friend zone with Maren. Chief among them the fact that she’s obviously not into me— The girl is practically throwing me into Ally’s totally uninterested arms.
“I’m feeling like classing it up after all that stadium beer. How about wine?” Maren asks. “Ally! Would you like wine?”
“I don’t drink, thank you,” she calls back from the living room.
I grab a chilled bottle of Pinot Grigio and pass her a heavily poured glass.
“No hot dogs, no beer, no wine? She definitely isn’t the girl for me,” I murmur quietly.
“So I was wrong about the whole engagement and marriage thing,” Maren whispers back, sipping her wine. “But this isn’t the worst blind date, right? I’ve been freaking out, imagining what terrible thing could happen to make this one the one that blew all the others away.”
“It’s fine,” I say, keeping my voice low. “Though I did have to sit through half an Angels game.”
“Not as bad as a lap full of vomit,” Maren says, her eyes sparkling.
“Well…” I smile at her laugh.
She runs her palm across the zebrawood countertop and gives a low, appreciative whistle. “So. I have to be honest. This is freaking incredible. All of this, Cohen. I’m super impressed. I always figured you had your shit together, but this…? You should be really proud of your home.”
I shrug, happy that she’s impressed, but not wanting to come off like an arrogant ass.
“Thanks. Though it was a lot of luck that Deo and I made out the way we did on that dive last summer. Otherwise, I’d still be squatting at Mama Rodriguez’s place.”
Maren lets out a chuckle around the gulp of wine she just drank. “Please. C’mon, Cohen, we all know you’re only working for your folks to help them out of a bind. If it weren’t for the economy tanking, you’d be off doing something you love.”
“I can’t say I never get restless or think about doing other things. I’m actually always on the lookout for anything that will gain me more experience, which I’ll be able to use if and when my parents ask me to take things over at the store in the future. The distant future, I hope. If a great opportunity comes by, I’m going to take it. But it won’t be because I hate working for my parents. Crazy as they are, I really do love them.”
Her eyes are wide and this soft blue, like the ocean in the spring, right when the bite is gone from the water, and they flick to my face over the rim of the wineglass.
Her words are half muffled behind it. “I know you do. It’s one of the things I like best about you.”
Something. I need to say something in response, but all I do is nod like an asshole while she puts the glass down and runs one finger around the rim in quick, nervous circles.
“Ahoy?” Ally calls from across the room, pointing to the ship’s wheel. “What is this thing for?”
“Yeah, man, what are you, a pirate or something?” Jason makes a hook with his finger and squeezes one eye shut, and he and Ally explode into laughter like twin hyenas. I don’t get what’s so hilarious.
Which is a relief. Something tells me not quite grasping their humor is a good thing.
Maren shakes her head, and I just smile at her, loving that there’s this feeling when she’s in the room, like she belongs here.
I remind myself we met for the first time today. On a screwed up blind date. I gotta turn that kind of thinking off and fast.
“It’s like a talisman,” I explain, and leave it at that.
Or I intend to leave it at that. Except Ally and Jason stare back at me, blinking. Stumped.
“It’s, you know, for good luck, or hope. It’s supposed to bring good fortune,” I say, hoping they’ll understand at least one explanation.
“Right, and he lives at the beach, so you know, it sort of goes with his entire lifestyle,” Maren pipes up, her voice dripping with annoyance. “Are they for real?” she whispers to me.
“We need to ditch them,” I murmur back, and I like the conspiratorial way she smiles over her wine glass.
“If you say so.” Jason shrugs, then gives me a smirk. “Hey, if it’s supposed to be a good luck charm, maybe it’ll help you bag a hot babe. How about that drink?”
I hand him a glass of Maker’s Mark. There’s no way I’m wasting the Pappy’s on him.
“Well, I think it’s absolutely beautiful,” Maren says in a dreamy voice, cupping her glass close to her chest and looking at the ship’s wheel like she’s feeling exactly what I’m feeling: that she wishes we could hop a boat and sail away from these assholes.
“Hit me with another, bro,” Jason says without looking my way as he taps his glass with his knuckle. My fist curls around the neck of the bottle tight enough that I have to force myself to loosen it.
If I need to kick this prick’s ass later, it’ll be easier to do without a bloody palm.
“Uh, maybe you want to slow down, Jason? You drove here, remember?” Maren says, worry shadowing her eyes.
Jason ignores her.
“Sure thing,” I say in a tight voice as I hand him his drink and offer one to Ally, who declines again. I hand her a bottle of water anyway.
I fill my own glass with bourbon and toss it back quickly while I watch Jason eye my entertainment unit. Ally is on the couch looking somewhere between bored and pissed.
How can I get these asses out of my house and my life?
“You guys want to go out back?” I ask, but Jason’s already walking across the room and picking up one of my gaming controllers.
“You got the new Call of Duty?” he asks, and Ally perks up.
“Yeah.” Deo and I play. Not obsessively.
Well, sometimes obsessively. It’s just not necessarily something I drag out when I have a girl over. For one thing, there are only two controllers. I point that out.
“That’s all right. We can switch off,” Jason says, flicking on the TV and grabbing a controller. “You wanna play, man?” he asks reluctantly, eyeing Ally.
How kind of him. To offer to let me play my own game at my own house.
“Uh, no thanks. Help yourself, though.” I glance at Maren, but she’s looking like she might be making a wish that involves huge holes and getting sucked into them. She opens her eyes wide and gestures to the back door with the tilt of her head.
“Get over here, Al,” Jason orders, and Ally giggles, plops too close to him on the couch, and takes the controller he holds her way, bumping his shoulder as the game loads up, the volume turned on high.
We watch in silence for a few minutes. Jason was wise enough to drag the Maker’s Mark over to the couch, so, with a cheap girl at his side and some cheap liquor in his glass, the douche seems like he’s content to make a night of it in front of my video game console.
I look over at Maren. Though her face is a polite blank, her eyes dance with amusement.
“Hey, you want some fresh air? My head’s pounding,” I say.
“I’d love to go walk,” she says, grabbing my arm. She jumps a little when Jason screams with triumph as he and Ally score a helicopter and blast through the CG landscape.
“C’mon.” I reach for an extra hoodie on my way out, and, sure enough, Maren shivers the second we step onto the sand and feel the first whip of ocean breeze. I hold it out to her wordlessly.
“What’s that?” she asks, staring like she’s never seen outerwear before in her life.
“This is a hoodie, which I guessed you’d need because that Angels shirt, besides hurting my soul,
isn’t going to keep you very warm.” I press it closer to her. “The Angels find so many ways to suck, don’t they?”
She yanks the jacket away and inspects it. “I was afraid for a second it might be a Dodgers jacket, in which case, I’d have to freeze to death, because I’d never let it touch my body.” She slides her arms in the over-long sleeves and flips the hood up over her tousled hair, grinning at me. “Thank you.”
“For not grabbing the awesome blue hoodie that was right next to that one?” I ask with a wink.
She’s still smiling, but it looks like it might slide off her face at any second. “Seriously, thank you for thinking to grab me a jacket. That was sweet.” When I shrug, she pokes me with her elbow. “I guess you’re pretty nice. For a Dodgers fan, of course.”
We walk along the wave line, jumping to the side to avoid getting too soaked.
She presses her hands deep into the jacket pockets and says, “So, about Ally—”
“Hey,” I interrupt. “Let’s not talk about Ally or Jason or this wreck of a blind date.”
“That bad, huh?” She shakes her head. “I’m so sorry—”
“Don’t.” I’m not usually a big interrupter, but I have to cut her off here.
“What?” I can’t see the exact color of her eyes in the near darkness, but I can tell they’re shining.
“Don’t apologize.” I let my feet sink into the damp sand as a fresh wave gets ready to break in.
“But I planned this whole thing. I called you up and convinced you to go. Admit it, I pretty much dragged you kicking and screaming.” She flops the sleeves of the hoodie over her hands and covers her face. “I invited you on another terrible blind date.”
“What?” I shake my head. “Listen, there were no gross bodily fluids and no threat of a huge, angry ex beating my ass in, so I’d actually say this blind date went pretty damn well, all things considered.”
“You did get a great lunch,” she concedes, dancing into the shallow waves, then out a little farther.
“And if I had to watch the Angels, at least I was able to enjoy seeing them suck royally. That’s never a bad thing.” I stuff my hands into my pockets, and breathe the salty air in. “Plus, now I’m out on the ocean, shooting the breeze with a cool girl. There’s nothing bad about this at all.”
