Chapter Seven
Wells
A long day at work during tourist season is usually the best distraction from anything I don’t want to think about, but just like surfing followed by hours of work yesterday, work did nothing to keep my mind off Victory today.
I swear the fucking universe is paying me back for a lifetime of messing around.
Poker with the guys should be just what I need to take my mind off Victory.
We’ve got an endless supply of cold beer, and the guys are in great moods.
That’s a recipe for a perfect night, but I’m so frigging frustrated, I can barely sit still.
“Wells, are you going to pick up those cards, or are you waiting for them to saunter into your hand?” Archer asks gruffly. With his short dark hair and neck tattoo, the barrel-chested vintner looks more like he belongs in the military than working at his family’s winery.
Shit . “Sorry.” I pick up the cards, but I don’t give a damn about the game. I try to focus on the guys heckling each other and the music we’re listening to, but for fuck’s sake, nothing is helping.
“What’s going on with you, Wells?” Grant asks. “You’ve been out of it all night.”
“Nothing. It was just a long day.”
“I hear ya,” Brant says. As a boatbuilder, he’s always worked his ass off. “Have another beer. It’s not like you’re driving home.”
“Want to talk about it?” Jamison offers, taking off his glasses and wiping them with the hem of his shirt.
While Brant is the charmer in their family, as my sisters pointed out, Jamison has a serious demeanor, and with his wavy brown hair and chiseled features, he’s got plenty of women vying for his attention, though he seems oblivious to them.
All these guys are like brothers to me. We’ve gotten into trouble together, played heinous pranks on each other, and have been there to pick up whoever needs it when they fall.
I trust them with my life, but I’m too frustrated to talk about what’s going on with Victory. “Nah. I’m good. Thanks, man.”
“You won’t be good after this hand,” Fitz says. “I’m going to wipe the floor with all of you.”
“Dream on, little brother,” Grant says.
“Put your money where your mouth is.” Fitz places forty bucks in the center of the table.
That gets my attention, and I look at my cards again. I’ve got three jacks and two useless cards. “I’ll see your forty and raise you ten.” I put fifty bucks in the middle.
“Game on .” Fitz throws in another ten.
“You’re both going to wish you kept your money in your pockets.” Grant tosses his money onto the pile.
“I’m out,” Archer says.
“Too rich for my blood.” Brant tosses down his cards.
“Fifty it is,” Jamison says as he puts his cash in the middle.
“Jamison’s in? It’ll be my pleasure to take your money, Remington,” Fitz says with a smirk.
Jamison takes a pull on his beer without reacting. The guy has mastered his poker face.
We discard our unwanted cards, and after picking up the replacements, we do a second round of bidding, but we all hold at fifty.
“Full house,” Fitz says as he lays down his cards.
“Bastard.” Grant lays down three queens.
“Shit. You got me, too.” I lay down my cards, and we all look at Jamison.
“You know, Fitz, when you said it would be your pleasure to take my money, I thought your bar for pleasure was pretty low. But you’re right.” Jamison lays down four twos and an ace. “It feels pretty damn good taking your money.”
“Damn, done in by deuces,” Brant says, and we all laugh.
“It was a pity hand,” Fitz says. “I know Jamison needs to get pleasure any way he can, since he’s not getting laid.”
Jamison chuckles, but he’s too cool to respond.
“Are you going to let him put you down like that, Remington?” Archer asks.
Jamison eyes Fitz. “I don’t get involved in playground games.”
“He’s too busy building a new dating app with his buddies,” Brant announces.
“Really?” Fitz lifts his chin. “Is it different from what’s out there now?”
“Yes, sir,” Jamison says. “In addition to the typical data used to match people, like location, age, gender, and interests, among other things, ours will use astrological data to find potential matches.”
“You mean like zodiac signs?” Fitz asks.
“Sure, among other things,” Jamison says. “Like the user’s birth chart, their moon sign and rising sign compatibility, and more complex astrological calculations that analyze aspects of different planetary positions in your natal chart, for example—”
“Whoa, dude.” Fitz waves his hands. “That’s more than I need to know or can understand. But you can use me and Wells as your test subjects, right, Wells?”
“Fuck no” comes out before I can stop it, and I push to my feet too aggressively, sending my chair skidding back.
Jamison catches it before it hits the floor, and as he sets it upright, he looks at me with concern.
“What the hell, Wells?” Archer barks.
“Sorry. I’m just in a shitty mood. Count me out.” I head into the kitchen with my empty beer bottle to grab another.
“What do you mean count you out?” Fitz asks as he and the others head my way.
“Yeah, when do you ever give up a chance to meet women?” Brant asks.
I shrug and scratch my knuckles. I notice Grant watching me like a fucking hawk. Damn it. He knows all my tells, and scratching my knuckles has been a nervous habit since I was a kid. I grab a beer from the fridge and turn my back to him as I open it.
The bastard walks around me so I have no choice but to look at him.
He’s wearing that all-knowing expression he’s had for as long as I can remember.
The one that says he’s not going to let up until I spill my guts.
He used it on me when our father moved out and got me to break down like the fucking sad, confused kid I was.
“ What? ” I bark.
“Whatever it is, you don’t have to carry it alone,” Grant says like a true military dude.
“Yeah, man. We’re your friends,” Brant adds. “Let us help.”
They’re all looking at me, like an immovable brute wall. “A’right. Fine . I met someone in New York, and after we hooked up, she blew me off.”
Archer laughs.
I glower at him.
“Sorry, man,” Archer says. “It’s just that you’re the king of blowing women off, and now the tables are turned. It’s fucking funny.”
“It fucking sucks ,” I correct him.
Grant puts a hand up, silencing Archer. “What’s the big deal?”
“I fucking like her. That’s what the big deal is. We got together two nights in a row and had an amazing time, but both times she left like a bat out of hell afterward. I don’t think she takes me seriously.”
“Do you blame her?” Brant asks. “You don’t exactly have a history of long-term relationships.”
“No shit.” Jesus.
Fitz lifts his chin and says, “Is this…that woman you met at the bar Friday night?”
I’m grateful he didn’t call me out with Victory, but I can’t lie to him. “Yeah.”
“So what happened that makes you think she doesn’t take you seriously?” Jamison asks.
“Jamison, you haven’t seen our boy Wells in action in a while,” Archer says. “This guy can’t talk to a woman without coming on to her.”
“Bullshit.” I level Archer with a dark stare. “Do you know how many people I talk to at the restaurant every fucking day without coming on to them?”
“Families, sure, but single women?” Archer shakes his head. “We’ve all seen it, Wells. Shit, you joke about it.”
Jamison’s brows knit, and he says, “If that’s the case, it sounds like he can’t hide it. She probably knew what she was getting into when she slept with him, right?”
“She did,” I say sharply. “And I did, too. I thought it was just going to be one night of fun. But then we hooked up again, and now I can’t get her out of my head.”
“So let her know,” Jamison says.
“I did , but she’s a few years older than me, and her life is a little complicated, which I totally get.” I grind my back teeth and admit the worst part. “But she called me a fucking boy toy.”
The guys crack up.
“Thanks a lot, assholes.” I take a pull on my beer. “Remind me never to bend your ears again.”
Jamison stops laughing and studies me. “You really like this woman?”
“Yes, I do.”
“Then fix it,” Jamison suggests.
“How do you propose I do that?”
“If you want a different outcome, you’ve got to change your approach,” Jamison says. “If you come across as a guy who’s only good for sex, then she’s right to think that’s who you are. Have you tried getting to know her?”
“Yeah, Wells. That’s what I did with Indi,” Archer says about his wife.
“What are you talking about?” I snap. “You and Indi were fuck buddies for months before you got serious.”
Archer smirks. “I was getting to know what she likes in bed. That’s important.”
The guys laugh.
“All I can say is, if you’re that into her, don’t give up,” Brant says. “I had to co-parent a puppy with Cait for her to see me for who I am.”
“I don’t want a fucking puppy,” I grit out. “And I know she’s interested in me. We’ve got a great connection. It’s just that she thinks I’m—”
“A fuck boy,” Fitz supplies unhelpfully.
I glower at him.
“Let’s work on your approach, Wells,” Jamison says. “Pretend I’m her. What’s her name?”
There’s no way I’m giving them her real name. “We’ll call her Cupcake.”
They crack up again.
“Is she a porn star?” Brant asks.
“ No . She’s a businesswoman.”
“No woman wants to be called Cupcake,” Jamison says.
“It’s just for now ,” I argue. “I don’t really call her that.”
“Fine.” Jamison thrusts out his chest and lifts his chin. “Pretend I’m a woman. You see me at a bar. What do you say to me?”
I walk over to him, trying to put Victory’s face on him, and say, “Hey, sweet thing—” I throw my hands up. “I can’t do it. You’re a dude.”
“Use your imagination,” Jamison says.
I shake my head and huff with frustration.
“I know what the problem is. Jamison makes an ugly woman.” Archer strides over.
“I’ll be the chick.” He leans one hand on the kitchen counter, pretends to flip long hair over his shoulder, and sticks his chest out.
“Okay. My boobs look fantastic in a tight black dress, and I’ve got a great ass and long legs.
” He clears his throat and speaks in a higher voice. “Hi, handsome. I’m Cherry.”
“Hey, sweet…” I shake my head. “I can’t do it. You give off way too much dick energy to be a woman.”
Now we’re all cracking up.
“A’right, you idiots, that’s enough.” Grant shoves Archer out of the way. “Get your fantastic boobs out of here.” He crosses his arms, staring me down. “Jamison is right. You’ve got to change your approach. Both times, you said ‘sweet thing.’ That says you want to sleep with her.”
“I do want to sleep with her,” I say.
“I know ,” Grant says exasperatedly. “But you need to put that aside and get to know what makes this woman tick. What she’s interested in and what she likes.”
“Outside the bedroom,” Jamison clarifies.
“I already know what she likes. Work, music, whiskey, family, anything challenging, my sense of humor, dancing, dirty sex—”
“I said outside the bedroom,” Jamison says.
“Yeah, and?” I laugh.
“You’re hopeless,” Jamison says.
I hold my hands palm up. “I can’t help it if she likes having dirty sex with me outside the bedroom. What am I supposed to do with this information anyway?”
“Use it to get to know her,” Jamison says. “To find some common ground other than sex.”
“You say that like good sex is a bad thing,” Archer says.
“No, I don’t,” Jamison insists. “I say it like there’s more to a woman than what she has to offer sexually.”
“No shit. That’s why I’m interested in her. For all the other things about her. She’s smart, and strong, and snarky, but she won’t give me the time of day to show her as much. Shit . Never mind. This is useless. Let’s just get back to the game.” I head over to the table.
“You sure?” Grant says. “I’m sure we can figure it out if we try.”
“Thanks, but I’m good.” I feel Grant watching me as we take our seats.
“Women are complicated creatures, but you’re a great guy, Wells. She’ll come around.” Brant claps a hand on my shoulder. “And if she doesn’t, a puppy works wonders.”