Chapter 7
Maybe this was a mistake.
Not my helping Aubrey; I’d walk through flames for that woman.
But choosing to set up a blind date when those have never, ever gone well for her.
I can’t help but feel like I set her up for failure tonight, and as I sit at the table directly behind them now, listening to every word that comes out of Leo’s mouth, I’m positive I’m going to need to grovel big time after this.
All I have to defend myself with is that Jett assured me his cousin was good shit.
I know my teammate well enough to recognize that he wouldn’t have lied to me, which means Leo’s either an excellent actor or he’s had a life-altering changeup since the last time Jett saw him. Either way, all I see are red flags.
The low lights in this place make it more challenging to see through the dark tint of my sunglasses, but there’s not a chance in hell I’m taking them off right now.
I chose this restaurant tonight because I know the owners, and they’re always doing the team a solid by making sure we aren’t photographed or accosted by ball fans.
Still, I won’t risk taking off my sunglasses and catching any unwanted attention while Aubrey’s here.
She’s never minded the cameras or fans in the past, but if there’s anything that makes me feel guiltier than guilty, it’s when we’re alone together somewhere and we’re interrupted because of who I am.
Tonight would be no exception, especially after she’d had to deal with Leo and his mindless dribble.
I take a swig of my Dr Pepper and focus on the words being exchanged behind me. The moment he started pressuring her to drink tequila, I’ve been ready to get up and take her away from him.
“How does it taste?” he asks, his voice having dipped into a low rasp over the course of the last half hour.
“Fine. It’s just pizza.”
I smirk at Aubrey’s short answer.
“Just fine? For thirty dollars, it should be better than that.”
“I’m not complaining.”
Leo hums tightly. “I just have higher expectations, I guess. Especially when I’m out with a woman and plan on paying.”
“That won’t be necessary—”
“I always pay. Money isn’t a problem for me.”
I bristle in my seat, pressing my fingers hard enough into the side of my glass I’m surprised when it doesn’t shatter.
“I’ll be paying for my dinner.”
A beat of silence. “I see. So, you don’t believe me, then.”
“Believe you about what?”
“Photography is a real career, Aubrey. I didn’t go to law school, but I’m still successful.”
“Okay, I’m going to stop you there. I’m really not in the mood to deal with your projections. Successful or not, I’m still paying for my own meal. The only time I allow a man to pay for me is when I think there will be a second date.”
“You’ve already decided that I’m no good, then? Has this all been a joke to you? You’ve wasted my time!”
Aubrey sucks in a breath, and I stand, grabbing my jacket from the back of my chair before tossing money onto the table.
Her tone dips to glacial levels when she does the same. “Watch it.”
“And this is why I prefer speaking to women in my studio rather than outside of it.”
“I’m not sure that’s something to be proud of.
There’s a reason your cousin had to set you up on a blind date, and it isn’t because women have a hard time respecting successful men.
I’d suggest working on that larger-than-life complex you seem to have before attempting this again.
And for the record, drinking tequila by itself is fucking gross. ”
“I’m not the only one who was set up here. Maybe if you considered not being such a judgmental cunt, you wouldn’t need to be put on these dates, either. It took you all of two minutes to decide you didn’t want to give me a chance. I saw it!”
I round the table faster than I realize.
My knee knocks into the side of it when I catch the flicker of pain in Aubrey’s steely gaze, feeling it cut at my middle.
Leo goes to stand, but I grip his shoulder before he can, shoving him deeper into his seat.
Anger spears through me as I plant my other hand on the table and lean into him, my jaw pulsing.
He’s far bigger than me, but in this position, he’s forced to tip his head back to stare at me.
With surprise colouring his expression, I speak slowly, each word spiked.
“Your cousin vouched for you tonight, and because I care about him, I’m not going to make you choke on the rest of your food.
But if you speak one more word to Aubrey, now or in the future, I won’t let that stop me from teaching you a lesson in respect. ”
I step back and grab Aubrey’s purse from the ground before draping an arm around her shoulders and guiding her away from the table without another word.
She doesn’t speak, but her breathing is heavy, giving away how deeply those words have affected her.
Her armour is near impenetrable, but she has her weaknesses the same as everyone else.
“I’m still paying my own bill. He doesn’t get that win,” she says before we get too far.
With a quick nod, I release her. My best friend grabs her wallet from her purse and, with a lift of her chin, walks toward the bar.
I don’t move a muscle as she calls the bartender over and gets handed a card machine.
My chest tightens with regret when I steal a look over my shoulder to the man sitting alone at the table, scowling as he tips his glass of tequila back into his mouth.
Fucking asshole. And I set her up with him.
“Let’s go,” she says, returning to my side with a blank expression.
“You up to go somewhere else, or do you want me to take you home?”
Some light sparks in her eyes when they dart up at me. “Where?”
“Do you trust me?”
“Is that a trick question? Because after tonight, you’ve lost some credibility.”
I try to let that slide off, but shit—it’s the truth. “I know. Just let me make it up to you.”
“Fine. Yes, I trust you,” she mutters.
And that’s all I need.
“He wasn’t even completely wrong about me! I started judging him the moment he sat down!”
Aubrey shouts into the room as she brings her sledgehammer down on a broken desk.
The splintering of its wood cuts through the air before she heaves the hammer over her shoulder and glances at where I’m standing.
The blue, full-body coveralls they make us wear at the rage room are too big for her and scrunch awkwardly at her middle, but I think this is my favourite version of her.
The wildness in her blue eyes makes them more vibrant, nearly an entire shade brighter as she watches me expectantly.
Her round cheeks are flushed, and her always-glossy lips are parted as she exhales heavily.
She’s put her hair up in a messy ponytail with pieces hanging out all over the place and has let her role of the fearless, quick-tongued lawyer slip away.
Instead, it’s the playful, open-hearted version of my best friend that I see in front of me.
Being here together reminds me of what we were like ten years ago, which is exactly what we needed tonight.
“Everyone judges, Bree. If you think he wasn’t doing the same to you, you’re wrong,” I say, kicking a work boot at the stack of dinner plates in front of me. “And that doesn’t excuse the way he spoke to you.”
“He wasn’t as obvious about it, at least.”
“Good for him. That doesn’t change my perspective.”
She presses her lips together while smashing the screen of an old box TV. “Your team is zero for two.”
“And you’ve got full permission to punish them accordingly.”
“Jett really didn’t know that his cousin was such a weasel?”
She pulls in a breath and swings her sledgehammer into a coffee table, watching with a grin as it shatters. I move to stand beside her and join in, feeling the pull in my muscles when I swing.
“No. He wouldn’t have put you on a date with someone like him.”
“I know,” she groans, resting her sledgehammer on the ground. “That’s the only reason I haven’t already called to ream him out.”
“He still deserves his ass kicked. Just maybe not as badly as Wes.”
Her eyes narrow at the corners before she kicks her foot out and jabs her heel into the side of a tire. “Yeah, he’s the one I’m waiting to talk to at dinner next week.”
I pull my lips back in a wince. Our monthly team dinners always have a tendency to get a little crazy, and with the events of the last two weeks, I’m expecting this next one is going to set a new baseline for insanity. I can’t say the guys don’t deserve what they have coming for them.
“Tonight is just as much my fault as Jett’s,” I admit, already shaking my head when she opens her mouth to argue. “It’s true. I shit the bed as a dating coach tonight. We need to go back to the basics, not more blind dates.”
“And how do we do that?”
I lean my sledgehammer against the pieces of the broken desk. Truthfully, I don’t have a damn clue how to do this, but for her, I’ll figure it out. At least I know what not to do now.
“You’re going to go out with me, and we’ll see if we can figure out the best ways for you to react to certain icks without immediately closing yourself off. Plus, it’ll give me a chance to see what types of men you prefer.”
She stares at me for a beat, not buying it. “That’s not going to work. I think it’s pretty clear that you don’t ick me out.”
“No, but I can change that and then help you figure out how to work through your reactions without sending men running home to their moms with tears in their eyes.”
“I doubt it’ll be that easy.”
“Oh, it won’t be. I’m sure you’ll accidentally tear me up, but I’m the best person to do this with because I won’t get offended.”
She tucks a chunk of fallen hair behind her ear, chewing on her lip. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah, Bree, I am. We can consider any insults that come payback for the terrible date and coaching tonight.”
“Alright, but I’m going to be royally pissed if you push me and I snap back and hurt your feelings.”
“You won’t.” With a crooked grin, I grab my sledgehammer and rest it over my shoulder. “What about after team dinner?”
“As long as I’m not half-asleep by then.”
I jut my chin toward her abandoned sledgehammer. “It’s a date. Now, pick that up and help me finish destroying this room before our time runs out.”
“Thank you, Finn,” she blurts out.
“Don’t thank me yet. Save that until we’ve made even an inch of progress.”
Her laugh is a welcome sound, and I can’t help but let my smile stretch. “Just shut up and take it.”
“You’re welcome,” I sing, already stepping in front of an untouched five-drawer dresser.
“Wanna bet on who can do the most damage?”
“You’re on.”
She joins me and lifts her sledgehammer into the air, her stance similar to the way Kellan stands before swinging his bat. I clear my throat to avoid laughing at her.
“Loser has to buy beer for the team next week,” she adds, completely focused on the dresser.
“I hope you have enough room in your tiny trunk.”
“It won’t matter.”
“We’ll see. Five.”
“Four.”
I tighten my grip on the wooden handle. “Three.”
“Two.” Her eyes pierce into my cheek for a beat.
“One.”
The crack and smash of our sledgehammers into the wood is music to my ears. Yet it’s her howled laughter that matters the most. And if I soften my blows, who’s to know?
Certainly not her.