3. Cuddle For One
THREE
CUDDLE FOR ONE
Trey
I’ll admit, Rylee was never on my radar until four days ago. She’s not a damsel in distress, but a damsel who will karate chop you in the jugular if you cross her and, damn, it’s hot. Our verbal sparring is some of the best foreplay I’ve ever had. It’s something I haven’t had in a long time. After I walked away, a former hook up rubbed herself against me, vying for my attention. Oddly enough, I wasn’t interested. Instead, my mind was still on the feisty brunette behind the bar.
The leather executive office chair is cool against my back. I kick my legs up on the mahogany desk, crossing one ankle over the other. After graduation, I got a junior agent position at Harbor Highlands’ largest and fastest growing real estate and development firm. Throughout the years, I’ve been able to climb the ladder to managing director at The Blue Stone Group.
I pull my phone from my pocket, unlock the screen, and click on my messages.
Trey
Hey, what are you doing tonight? Catch up with beers at Porter’s?
Bennett
I can’t. I have a table I need to finish sanding and staining before the weekend.
Trey
That sounds boring.
Bennett
The thrilling life of running a business.
Trey
Again, sounds boring. I’ll ask Seth.
Bennett
Good luck with that.
Trey
Hey, what are you doing? Beers at Porter’s?
Seth
Currently, I’m cleaning puke off my shirt.
Trey
Have you already started drinking?
Seth
No. The baby isn’t feeling well. Parisa’s sick too. I think the flu’s going around.
Trey
Fuck that. Stay home and away from me.
Trey
I mean, hope everyone gets well soon.
Seth
Thanks asshole.
Trey
Anytime.
My feet drop to the floor with a thud. Sitting up, I rest my elbows on the desktop. Well, shit. My number one and number two are out. I guess this is a solo mission. Wingmen only slow me down, anyway. Decision made. For the rest of the afternoon, I busy myself with checking and answering emails, along with making a few phone calls. Anything to keep my thoughts off Rylee for the last few hours of the workday.
At 4:45 p.m. I’m pulling into the parking lot of Porter’s. I throw my SUV in park and jump out. The moment I open the door, a wave of laughter and conversation greets me, filling the room with lively energy. Immediately, I’m hit with the scent of grilled onions and beer, making my stomach growl.
Every corner is bustling with customers. Some sit at tables and others are shooting darts or playing pool. Luckily, I find an empty stool at the far end of the bar and take a seat. My foot bounces on the foot ring. The new bartender, Nora, is at the opposite end of the bar serving a group of college kids. Glancing over my right shoulder, I scan the bar for anyone else who’s working. Most importantly, Rylee.
Jake pushes through a swinging door from behind the bar and my heart and something else shrivels up. While he'll be perfect for someone, I am not that someone. He jerks his chin in acknowledgment, and I return the gesture. A few minutes later, he stops in front of me, resting his hands on the smooth wood.
“What can I get you?”
I glance at the lineup of beers on tap. “I’ll take an IPA.”
Jake grabs a pint glass and pours me a beer while I work up the courage to ask if Rylee’s working. Honestly, I’ve never had a girl consume my thoughts like this before. It’s a little unnerving, actually.
When Jake passes me the full glass, I immediately grab it and take a gulp. The icy liquid hits my throat and for a brief second, it gives me something else to think about. Too bad it doesn’t last long. Jake twists around and it’s now or never.
“Is Rylee working tonight?” I spit out as casually as I can.
“It’s her night off.” Jake’s gaze lifts to mine, eyebrow raised. “Why?”
Shit. Abort. Abort.
“No reason.” I swallow another big gulp of my beer to buy myself a few seconds to recover and to think of a change of subject. “Can I use the backroom again next week? For another SBL meeting.”
He eyes me warily, jaw clenching before answering, “Fine. But if you use another gavel in my bar…”
“Heard loud and clear. Speaking of which, can I have that back?”
“No,” Jake says matter-of-factly. Then he’s shuffling down the bar to serve drinks for other waiting patrons.
Alright. Thursday. Only three more days. I can wait. I pull out my phone and send a group text to the other SBL members.
Trey
Meeting is at Porter’s again. Same time. Tim, you better show up this time.
Darren
Cool. I really want to try those mini beer-battered corn dogs. At the last meeting on our way out, I saw a table with those. They smelled delicious.
Owen
Yes! I heard they make their own honey mustard dipping sauce.
Darren
Only ketchup for me.
Trey
Guys…
Miles
What’s really good is dipping them in just a little bit of honey. No Mustard. Just honey.
Tim
Were those the things on a stick? I’ve seen them there. Those looked good.
Trey
Enough about the corn dogs.
Darren
I think those were the Tot Kabobs. No stick is required for the corn dogs.
Tim
You know what I really want to try, the Italian nachos. Instead of salsa, you dip them in marinara. Whoever thought of that… Genius.
Shit. This went sideways, fast. I swear herding cats would be easier than keeping these guys on track.
Trey
Thursday. Porter’s. See everyone then.
I mute the group text to let them finish playing Betty Crocker and tuck my phone into my pocket. Since my original mission was a failure, let’s try Plan B. I swivel my stool around and take in the crowd. There is a plethora of women here and I’m sure I could have my pick of any of them. No reason to waste my effort in coming here tonight. I make a sweeping glance over one face and then another. Soon enough, I’ve scanned the entire bar, twice over, and nothing. They’re all just faceless women. None of them are the feisty brunette that seems to have embedded herself into my thoughts. I huff out a deep breath. Spinning around, I guzzle the rest of my beer, throw some cash under my glass, and push it toward the rail. I guess I’ll be cuddling with myself tonight.