Chapter Two
LOUIS SPLIT A look between his two best friends over the rim of his beer.
Russell looked impressed by his story. Ben, as usual, looked as if he had just short of one hundred follow-up questions.
None of which Louis had any desire to answer.
He wanted to piggyback his hangover with a newer, fresher one and attempt to forget the kiss that had launched a thousand boners, thank you very much.
Which is how he found himself in the Longshoreman less than twenty-four hours after tying one on within its four ancient walls.
What was that saying about returning to the scene of the crime? Never do it? Well, too late.
“Wait ... I’m confused. How did she grab the twenty with a big, furry paw?”
Russell groaned. “Leave it to you to get stuck on logistics, Ben. Louis made out with a rabbit. Just appreciate that for what it is.”
“It wasn’t a make-out,” Louis lamented. “It was like a ... ha ha you wish this was a make-out, dickhead.”
“Bring her home to Mom. She’s a keeper.”
Ben leaned back in his chair. “How did she get past your doorman?”
Russell’s forehead hit the wobbly pub table, rattling the empty pint glasses. “Next he’ll point out that it’s not even Easter.”
Louis ignored them both. Kind of rude of him, really, considering they were both nursing their own hangovers and were still here keeping him company.
“Look, she caught me at a bad time. One minute I’m sleeping under my coffee table with a coaster stuck to my forehead, the next I’m talking to a life-sized rabbit.
” He massaged the bridge of his nose. “I didn’t even find out her name. ”
“Trixie.”
“Jessica.”
“You two are a couple of gems.” He drummed his fingers on the table. “She seemed more like a Denise. Or a Janet. The kind of name a girl has when you can already sense she’s your future ex-girlfriend.”
Russell nodded his shaved head. “If you had ex-girlfriends. Which you don’t.”
“Right.”
It was true. He didn’t usually date girls exclusively.
Or ever. Not because he had some kind of rule against it, but he’d been an unwilling witness to his parents using their extramarital relationships against each other, and he’d just been soured on the whole idea from a young age.
As long as he remained accountable only to himself, he couldn’t hurt anyone.
Turn bitter and vindictive. Unfortunately, that unspoken policy had left him feeling kind of .
.. lousy lately. All right, just since this morning.
When he’d delivered the worst first impression in history.
“Are you saying you’re in the market for an ex-girlfriend?” Ben asked, pausing in the act of cleaning his glasses. “You realize the present tense of ex-girlfriend is girlfriend .”
Louis crossed his arms impatiently. “I didn’t realize I’d enrolled in one of your English classes, Professor Ben. Should I grab a number two pencil?”
His friends exchanged a look. “So testy tonight, our boy,” Russell said. “And over a girl, no less. I might have to track this girl down and buy her a carrot cake.”
“Listen, I don’t want a girlfriend. Or an ex-girlfriend, for that matter.” Louis downed the last of his pint. “But if you figure out a way to track her down, I’m open to suggestions. She and I aren’t done.”
Ben sighed toward the ceiling, but there was an eagerness to it.
He’d gone into teaching for a reason. He loved having all the answers.
“This is easily solvable. Ask the girl who sent you the telegram which agency she used. There can’t be that many.
I didn’t even know singing telegrams were still a thing. ”
“Yeah, how’s that conversation going to go?” Russell laughed. “Oh, I know. ‘Hey, girl who wrote a song about my dick? I’d like to introduce that dick to another girl. Show a dude some love?’ ”
“You are an actual idiot.”
“Both of you, please. Shut up.” Louis rubbed a hand over his unshaven jaw, considering his friends a moment.
So different from him. Different from each other.
How had they ever become friends, again?
Ah, yes. Through the power of beer. Its magical qualities really knew no bounds.
Ben, the newly minted college professor at twenty-five, and Russell, the construction worker, oldest among them at twenty-seven, but far from the most mature.
Louis, the ... asshole . Jesus, he’d actually tried to bribe the girl with twenty dollars when she was clearly hard up for cash.
She must have written him off as a self-entitled prick before she’d even made it down the stairs.
He’d just been so desperate to see her face.
Associate it with that husky voice, that sharp sense of humor.
So he’d momentarily morphed into his father.
All in a day’s work. He quickly shook off the disturbing thought.
“Hang onto your seats, because I have another, equally pressing problem.”
“I’m all bunny ears,” Russell deadpanned.
“Funny you should say that.” Louis lowered his voice. “After she left, I started, you know, thinking about her in that bunny costume. Getting her out of it, mostly. I couldn’t stop thinking about it, actually. And I might have—”
“You didn’t.”
“Oh, God. You went on the Internet.”
Louis squeezed his eyes shut. “So much bad porn, guys. People with cotton tails. Carrots going places they should never, ever go. I’m pretty sure I’ll die with these images tattooed on my brain.”
“Happens to the best of us.” Russell leaned forward. “All you need is a good porn cleanse. Replace the bad with good. Do it soon, though. Bad porn festers if left out too long.”
Ben gave them both a disgusted look. “Do you two really need porn to get off? How about you try using your imaginations?”
Russell and Louis stared at him blankly before Russell finally broke the silence. “Porn. Cleanse.”
Louis nodded. “On it.” Even as he spoke the words, he knew nothing would help until he saw her out of the bunny costume.
He’d put everything he’d had into that kiss, and she’d walked.
It was fucking with his head. Making him jumpy.
Where was she now? Why had this talented knockout been reduced to singing shitty telegrams for a living?
And dammit, wasn’t showing up on the doors of complete strangers a dangerous job?
He’d been able to make out her slim form even through the furry costume.
If someone wanted to drag her inside their apartment, stopping them would be impossible.
The memory of her shoving him up against the wall blew through his mind.
Okay, so she wasn’t completely helpless.
And shit, now he was back to being turned on with no way of satisfying the craving.
There had to be an explanation for this.
Girls came and went for him. He appreciated them, treated them well, then he got the hell out.
A system that never failed him. Afterward, he spent zero time dwelling or rehashing.
None. Yet he’d only shared a ten-second kiss with this girl and he suddenly felt restless. Anxious.
Truth be told, he’d liked her before she’d even taken off the stupid mask.
She’d had this mixture of confidence and vulnerability that had arrested him the second she’d started speaking.
Even with his shittastic hangover, he’d wanted to keep talking to her all day.
Figure her out. Then she’d taken off the mask and he’d been screwed. Not in the way he usually preferred.
Big green eyes flecked with gold. Lips that looked like she’d just sucked a cherry Popsicle.
Good Lord, he got hard thinking about the way those lips had felt moving with his.
The way she’d kissed him until he’d gotten worked up, then pulled back, leaving him dangling over the side of a cliff.
He’d been so stunned by his own reaction that he’d let her take off without a word.
A rarity for him. He always, always had something to say.
He was a goddamn lawyer. A framed piece of paper on his office wall said so.
Of course, she didn’t know that he was gainfully employed.
He’d been shirtless and unshaven at eleven in the morning on a fucking Thursday.
He’d offered her tequila before asking her name.
If she hadn’t written him off as a clown, he’d be disappointed.
In his defense, he’d been celebrating a victory for his firm the night before.
One of his pro bono clients, a small business owner from Queens, had lost his family-owned convenience store in the recent hurricane.
He’d been unable to get assistance to rebuild, financial or otherwise, thanks to the uncooperative insurance company and a landlord who wanted to lease the space out to a more lucrative business.
Louis had worked on the case for weeks, in between the paying clients he was required to take on.
As of yesterday, the man had the funds he needed to rebuild, his family’s livelihood intact.
Okay, so he’d gone a little overboard last night and slept late this morning. He didn’t make a habit of it. Much. Dammit, if for no other reason, he wanted to track the girl down just to correct her misconception of him. All right, maybe he wanted to kiss her again, too. A lot.
He could accomplish it with a couple of phone calls.
“He’s considering it,” Russell said, breaking into his thoughts.
“I’m considering what?”
“Calling the girl who sent you the telegram to get the name of the agency,” Ben explained.
“No. I can’t do that. Zoe was a nice girl.” Louis racked his brain for a single memory of her. “I think.”
Russell shrugged. “Tell her you thought it was an amazing gift and want to send one to your mom.”
“To my mom. In the south of France.”
“She doesn’t know your mother’s geographical location.” Russell set his empty pint glass down with a thunk . “Come on, man. Desperate times. Save the bunny, save the world.”
“You’re a jackass.” Louis signaled the waitress for another round. “And speaking of your donkey brethren, I’m a little too well acquainted with them after I clicked the wrong link this afternoon.”
Ben and Russell shivered.