8. Dating Advice
EIGHT
DATING ADVICE
Trey
My fingers curl around the edges of the round pub table and I roll it on its edge of the base from the corner of the backroom, so it stands at the head of the small rectangular table. While I wait for the rest of the guys to arrive, I pull out my phone. With a mind of their own, my fingers type out Kyle Hart on social media. It doesn’t take long to find him as he’s the only one in Harbor Highlands. He works as a financial advisor at a mediocre firm. His side part comb-over screams douche. While one social media page is set to private another one isn’t, and he has no qualms about posting pictures of himself cuddled up with a variety of different women. While I’ve been with my fair share of women over the years, I’m not posting pictures of them like a trophy collection. First impression, this guy is a piece of shit.
“Hey, Trey. What are you doing?” Darren says as he sets a beer down next to me.
His voice startles me, and I fumble to exit out of the app. I was so distracted I didn’t even realize he was here. “Uh. Nothing. Checking my stocks.” Or stalking someone’s ex-husband. Quickly, I tuck my phone into my pocket. “Thanks for the beer.” I lift the glass and take a giant gulp. I pull out gavel two point oh and smack it on the wood.
Squeak. Squeak. Squeak.
The plastic toy hammer draws everyone’s attention as I smack it against the wood. Everyone takes their seat with Tim and Darren on one side and Owen and Miles on the other.
“Tim, it’s so good you could join us.”
“Yeah. It was a hectic week.” He rubs the back of his neck.
“What happened?” Miles asks.
“Julie got a flat tire, so she wasn’t able to pick up Mallory and James from school, so I had to do it. Then school was canceled because of a water break and since I already had the kids, Julie told me to keep her for the night and that turned into the weekend.” He blows out an exasperated breath and his shoulders deflate.
“I admire that you can stay friends with your ex,” Owen says. “It never works out that way with mine.”
“I wouldn’t say friends. She’s still sleeping with her boss, but we stay cordial for the kids,” Tim adds.
“It always ends badly with my exes.” Darren swallows a gulp of his beer.
“Exes are exes for a reason,” Miles says.
“Good, now that we got all that out of the way.” I grip the edge of the table.
Miles’ eyes light up. “You guys will never guess what happened. I met a girl.”
“No way. Where did you meet her?” Owen asks.
“At the library. She was sorting books while I was searching for something new to read. I’ve seen her around a few times, but never worked up the courage to say anything to her. Then, out of the blue, she asked me if I needed any help. I panicked and pulled a random book off the shelf. I tell her I got it. Then she asked if I had a son. I glanced down at the book I was holding, and it’s titled So Your Son is a Centaur .”
The entire table bursts out laughing, and I can’t help but join in because that’s pretty funny. This is the first time I’ve heard Miles talk so much. Usually, he’s the quiet guy who keeps to himself. Maybe he just needed to find himself a girl. I slam the plastic hammer down on the table and it squeaks. “Okay. Let’s move on. Darren last week you were telling us—”
“What happened after that?” Tim asks.
“I told her I don’t have a son or a centaur. Then she released the sweetest laugh,” Miles says.
“I dated a girl who had the best laugh. It was infectious,” Owen’s eyes gloss over as he reminisces.
I roll my eyes. We’re not here to talk about girls and how they sweetly laugh. That’s not the point of SBL. This is the opposite of SBL.
Miles continues, “So I shoved the book back on the shelf and then asked her if she wanted to go to dinner sometime, fully expecting her to tell me no or she has a boyfriend, but she said yes. Now, I don’t know what to do. Where do I take her? What should I wear?”
Darren rubs his chin. “That could be hard. You don’t want to go too extravagant and appear pretentious, but you also don’t want to seem cheap.”
Miles points at Darren. “Exactly. What do I do? I have to let her know by tomorrow.”
“You can take her to Le Uve,” Owen says.
“Isn't that too elegant, though? I was thinking maybe The Lake Café.” Miles presses his lips into a firm line.
“But their menu selection is limited. Do you know if she has any dietary restrictions?” Owen asks.
This is not how guys’ night is supposed to go. I need to step away. “I’ll get drinks.” As I drop the toy hammer, it emits a high-pitched squeak. I’m not even sure if anyone heard me and I don’t care. Somehow our single guys’ meeting has turned into gossip and relationship hour. It’s pretty much the opposite of everything being a single guy entails. Once I’m at the bar, I throw myself onto a stool.
Nora sees me first and nods in my direction as she elbows Rylee. As soon as she lifts her head, our eyes connect. As much as I want to flash her my signature dazzling smile, continue our verbal sparring, and flirt with her until a blush covers her cheeks, I don’t have it in me.
She saunters my way and stops once she’s in front of me. “Why do you look like someone kicked your puppy?”
“They went rogue.”
She grabs a pint glass and pours me an IPA. Once it’s full, she slides it my way. “The Boy Scouts went rogue?”
I swallow a gulp as the hoppy liquid flows down my throat. “I don’t know what happened. One minute I was starting the meeting so we could talk about our run of the mill topics like sports and cars, but then it turned into a Dear Abby column with terrible dating advice.”
“Why does all this guy talk have to be centered around sports and other masculine topics?”
“It’s called Single Bros Life. Emphasis on single. We’re not here for relationships.”
“Is that because the longest relationship you’ve had is with that beer?” She points at the pint glass in front of me.
I bark out a laugh and then lift the glass to my lips for a gulp. “Maybe so, but I’ll also treat this beer like it’s the best damn beer I’ve ever tasted.” I toss her a flirty wink.
She shakes her head, but the corners of her lips tip up into a smile. Quickly, she leans down, so her dark brown hair flows over the side of her face and digs in a cooler so I don’t notice, but I noticed. And hell, I wish I could read her mind right now because if it has anything to do with me and how I’d treat her, I’d gladly show her. In the meantime, I’ll mess with her a little more. I lower my voice so it’s deep and seductive. “Sometimes you need to roll it around on your tongue, so you experience all the different tastes. Depending on the beer, one taste is never enough. Instead, I want to spend alllll night enjoying the taste.”
Her head shoots up, cheeks stained pink, with a can of whip cream in her hand. Her finger slips and presses against the tip, sending a spiraling spray of the fluffy cream hissing into the air.
“Shit,” she mutters as a deeper shade of pink covers her cheeks. “Chad must have forgotten to replace the cap again.”
I bite back a laugh, my mood slightly lighter, as she scrambles to clean up the mess. If I had to guess, my words played a part in the volcanic eruption out of the whip cream can, much like my dick from the night in the parking lot.
After the couple minutes it took for her to wipe off the sticky mess from behind the bar, her gaze connects with mine as she diverts her attention back to me. “So, everyone’s expected to just stay single?”
I shrug. “That’s the plan.”
She leans in, her nose wrinkling in curiosity. “There wasn’t a weird oath like blood brother’s type of thing, was there?”
I huff out a laugh. “It’s not a cult.”
She holds her hands up in defense. “Just checking, because it was kinda teetering on the edge.” She leans against the bar. My gaze lifts to hers. “Look, these guys seem to be your friends, I'm not fully sure why,” the corner of her lips tip up into a playful smile, “but be a friend to them. If they’re seeking advice, give it to them. And the advice can’t be don’t date.”
“That defeats the entire purpose of the group.”
“Sometimes things change.” She shrugs her shoulders.
“I was hoping it wouldn’t be today,” I mumble and rise to my feet. “Can I order a round of beers?” Change sucks. I hate change. Things were going just fine. Everyone was happy and single, or so I thought. Wordlessly, Rylee pours the beers and sets them on a tray for me. Maybe she’s right. These guys have been with me for years. Every Christmas I get a card from Miles’ parents and how do I know it’s from them? Because it’s signed Miles’ Mom and Dad.
When I return to the backroom, I set the tray of beers on the table and pass them out. “Take her to The Boat House. Be sure to call to make reservations. They’ll probably tell you they’re all booked, but tell them you want the Trey Wilson special. They’ll hook you up.”
Miles beams up at me. “Really? Thanks. I really appreciate it.” He pulls out his phone and types out a note to himself.
I give him a curt nod. Clearly, a date with this woman would make him happy, so I’ll be happy for him. Once I’m behind the makeshift podium again, I take a swig of my beer, working up the courage to ask the next question. After swallowing, I set my glass down. “Anyone else have dating problems they need solved?” My gaze flits to each and every guy, they all shake their heads, and we continue with the rest of the meeting.
* * *
A squeak fills the room as I hit the hammer on the table. “Thanks for another great meeting. Next week, same time, same place.” Everyone stands, but Owen stops and turns toward me.
“Are they still remodeling? That’s like three weeks now. I thought you were just putting in some new flooring and a bar?”
“Uh. Yeah.” I shove my hands into my pockets. “They ran into a few snags, so it’s taking longer than usual.”
“That sucks. Well, I can’t wait to see it.” Owen throws his hand up in a wave as he strolls toward the exit. Tim and Darren are close behind him.
Miles lingers off to the side until everyone is out of sight. In a few steps, he’s joining me at the pub table, hands shoved in the pockets of his khakis. “I know tonight got a little off topic, but I really appreciate The Boat House recommendation. She’ll really like that place.”
“Don’t worry about it. I hope the date goes well.” I nod and give him a tight smile.
“Thanks again.” He turns around and strolls away.
Fuck. I’m going to regret this. Before he’s out of earshot, I yell, “You’ll have to tell us how it goes.” He’ll be bursting to talk about it along with everyone else.
Embrace change.
He glances over his shoulder, a small smile covers his mouth and he nods, before meandering through the crowd until he reaches the exit.
Since the night’s still young and Rylee’s still here, I finish moving the tables to their original spots and make my way to the bar. Luckily, as I approach, a man and woman vacate their stools, and I score a spot at the end of the bar. Within seconds our gazes connect and a small smile graces her lips. Even though the evening started out like shit, her smile shoves all that away.
I’m out of my element with her. She’s constantly on my mind and all I want to do is be around her. Truth be told, I want another round of our night in the parking lot, but she clearly said it was only one time. Call me an asshole, but women don't turn me down so this is uncharted territory, and they never gave me a map. But if life has taught me anything it’s that sometimes you need to make your own map.
Rylee stops in front of me. “Beer?”
I wave my hand. “Nah. Two beer limit during the week.”
“That’s commendable.”
“I try.”
A smile flirts on her lips as she fills a glass full of water, tosses a slice of lemon in it, and slides it my way. “You seem like a lemon kind of guy.”
“I do appreciate the refreshing taste.” She flashes me another one of her dazzling smiles. So, I shoot my shot again. “Have dinner with me.”
“I thought you don’t date.”
“Relationships. I don’t do relationships. It’s totally different from a date. Plus, it’s only dinner.”
“I don’t think so.” She pulls the lever down, filling a pint glass.
“So, you don’t eat?”
A laugh springs out of her as she passes the glass to a customer two seats down from me. “I eat.” Her hand rests on her hip. “But dinner sounds too… datish and I don’t date friends.”
“It would be a friendly meal shared between friends.”
Nora saunters behind her and fake coughs into her fist. “Just do it.”
I point to Nora. “Yeah. Listen to her.”
“It sounds like terrible advice, if you ask me,” Rylee quips.
Since this isn’t working, I try another tactic. “Word on the street is you like to listen to people's problems and tell them what to do? You did it with Bennett and Van. Maybe I need some of your wonderful advice.”
She narrows her gaze at me, knowing exactly where I’m going with this. “Do you need someone to listen to your problems?”
“I do actually. Thanks for asking.” I sit up in my seat. “I just don’t know what to do.”
Rylee dramatically wipes a rag along the top of the bar, encouraging me to continue.
“There’s this girl I know—”
She stops and the rag that was once in her hand hits me in the chest.
“Hey, that’s not what a good bartender does. I don’t recall Bennett and Van getting towels thrown at them.”
She crosses her arms over her chest. “I like them more.”
I bark out a laugh. “Where was I before I was rudely interrupted? Oh yes. There’s this girl and no matter what I do, she keeps turning me down. It’s like she’s immune to my charm.”
“You want my advice?” She leans in.
I inch closer to her until we are face to face, fourteen inches of wood between us. “Yes.”
“If I were you, I’d give up.” A slow tight-lipped smile spreads over her lips. “It seems like a lost cause.”
I rub my chin, pretending to consider her words, then square my gaze with hers. “Nah. I don’t give up that easy. Plus, she hasn’t told me no. I’m wearing her down.”
She presses her lips together and nonchalantly shrugs a shoulder.
“Same time next week. Have a good night, Rylee.” I rise to my feet. Her gaze never leaves mine. I’m unsure why she’s keeping me at arm’s length, but I’m determined to tear down her walls, even if I have to do it one brick at a time.