Valentine’s Day, The Wrong Holidate

Valentine’s Day

BEN

The dark bar top is now gleaming as much as thirty-year-old wood could gleam. I might have fancied up Red's Place to make Red Poppy, but the original bar top is one thing I didn't touch. Not only is it too beautiful to destroy, it has too much history. The scrapes and scores marring it are part of this place. One carving, in particular, is the reason I could never part with it. I take my rag to the end of the bar and wipe over the deep mark where it says Poppy's spot.

Uncle Red said he’d been furious when he caught his sister carving up his brand-new bar top before Red's Place even opened. But when he saw what she wrote, he couldn't be mad at her.

When I told her I wanted to open a bar, she promised she would be my first customer. And she was. She always supported me, so if she wanted her own spot, then I'd let her have it. I still wish she'd let me make her a sign instead of tearing up that pretty cherry finish.

After she died, Uncle Red said he'd never been so happy she left her mark. No one has sat in that spot since. I moved the garnish tray in front of it, and the barstool has a permanent ribbon over the seat that says Reserved .

I toss the rag into a bin and look out over the room, letting the silence settle around me. In a few hours, it will be filled to the brim for Valentine's Day. We aimed our marketing toward singles and came up with a wristband system that acts like an icebreaker for those looking to meet someone. The idea has gotten a lot of social media attention, so I know we'll be slammed. And after New Year's, I made sure we’ll have all hands on deck tonight.

At the thought of that eventful evening, a smile forms as my mind instantly brings up the image of Lainey Langford. The moment she pushed herself to the bar, she’d grabbed my attention, even if I expected another pushy drunk woman. I suppose you'd call her hair dirty blonde, but all I could think was how it reminded me of the shades of autumn—an earthy brown covered in golden leaves. Those honeyed highlights brought out the tints of the amber in her rich brown eyes. And don't even get me started on how she looked in that black dress. Yeah, the red dress woman had model looks, but she didn't hold a candle to Lainey. The plunging neckline had me constantly wondering how that slinky fabric was staying in place—and how I wished I was the person taking it off her.

I pull out my phone and check her post, seeing what dates she suggested for tonight. Of course, she mentioned dinner with lots of restaurant options, ranging from upscale to hole-in-the-walls. She also suggested other options like a chocolate-making class, wine tasting, and a sunset dinner cruise on Lady Bird Lake.

I don’t celebrate Valentine's Day. My parents never did. Mom always said they didn't need a day designated to make them celebrate their love, so I never gave much thought to the holiday past forced participation in elementary school.

However, I'd be willing to do every cliché in the book if it meant spending time with Lainey .

I open my texting app and bring up her contact, smiling as I read through our Groundhog Day texts. There's something between us. Fuck...that kiss. I recall it with complete clarity. Sweet. Spicy. Sexy. Intoxicating.

The fact that she demands pleasure from her partner? Damn , I love that about her. When you can get in sync like that with a lover, it's the best fucking kind.

And I really, really want to have that kind of sex with Lainey.

I don't understand why she's keeping me at arm's length with all the chemistry between us. I’m not used to women turning me down. Not sure if it has to do with the fact she has to date for her job or because our parents are still dating—and I don't see that stopping any time soon.

My dad called me today to help him plan a "traditional" Valentine's date, so I made reservations at a swanky restaurant and ordered red roses to be delivered to Kathleen's house this morning. He asked me to pick out a good red wine and come by the house to see if it looked romantic enough. The idea I'm helping my dad get laid makes me a little queasy, but the man has smiled more in the last month than he has in five years, and I’m doing my best to be supportive. But that doesn't mean I'm going to stop talking to Lainey, so I type out my message.

Don't keep me in suspense about tonight's date. What's the plan?

I press send, and the back door opens, the voices of some of my employees filtering in. Janice emerges from the back hallway first. Jan has her thick, dark hair piled on top of her head, with her trademark cat-eye makeup and red lipstick on. She’s wearing a vintage rock band t-shirt and jeans, which she’ll change out of and into the Red Poppy uniform of a black button-down with red suspenders .

"Hey, sweetie," she says as she takes in the room. "Looks like you already did our job."

I shrug. "Don't worry, there's plenty more to be done. I couldn't take all the fun."

She joins me behind the bar and gives me a tight hug. I’ve known Jan since she started working for Uncle Red ten years ago. Being twelve years older than me, she’s always been like a big sister. "Gonna be a good night. Don't worry."

I nod and squeeze her back. I can't seem to quell my nerves before opening on big nights like this. Hell, I still can't quite believe this is all mine. That I created something people show up for, let alone like and enjoy. I haven't even been out of college a year—even if I am older than most college graduates.

"The Valentinis are going to be a huge smash. We'll have to keep an eye on how they’re hitting." Jan has always been supportive of the changes I’ve made and has been a crucial part of making Red Poppy what it is. "We might have to enforce a two or three drink limit. It packs quite a punch."

Creating signature cocktails is one of my favorite parts of my job. Twists on martinis are my specialty, which is why Red Poppy is mostly a martini bar. They really draw people in—especially when I make them shirtless. I’ve reluctantly done two videos since New Year’s after Lainey mentioned I should do more. The Valentini one added interest to our mingle night and blew up my DM’s. All the attention is definitely a stroke to my ego, but it’s a bit much. The image is a little too close to my college days and not exactly how I wanted to portray myself as a business owner.

Nora, Tyler, and Bonnie mill around the room, heading over when I motion them for our staff meeting. I go over everything we need to take care of before we open the doors in just over an hour. The DJ I hired should be arriving any minute. Thankfully, the weather’s mild enough for me to put him on the outdoor patio. As we wrap up the meeting, my phone buzzes in my pocket, and I pull it out to see Lainey replied. A little thrill zips through me as I excuse myself to my office.

Lainey

Are you going to bug me every holiday?

Obviously.

Lainey

Maybe someone needs to get a social life.

Don't worry, my social life is just fine.

Okay, that might be an exaggeration. My focus has been all Red Poppy since I graduated college last May. For the first time in a long time, I’m content. I’m a pro at pretending. It started when my mother got sick right after high school, and I pretended college was too hard so I could drop out to be with her. I pretended to be cheerful and positive when I was fucking scared shitless. When the cancer took her two years later, the last person I wanted to be was grieving Ben. Motherless Ben. So, I went back to college at twenty and became Frat Bro Ben. And I rode that cliché for four years. Some thought I was a god. Others thought I was a douchebag. Almost everyone thought I was a good time—which is exactly what I wanted.

Stop avoiding the question.

Lainey

If I tell you, I'd be spoiling it for you

I love spoilers!

Lainey

Fine. I let my date pick. Dinner, then cocktails, and listening to live music.

Solid choice, but I wouldn't have picked that.

Lainey

What would you have done?

Dinner at home in sexy lingerie, of course.

Lainey

Yeah, that option was for committed couples, not blind dates. This is a fine first date for Valentine's.

I suppose. Tell me about the guy.

Lainey

Software engineer, avid rower, likes to read.

Hmm, nerdy but athletic. Another solid choice. You'll have a decent date but won't want a second.

Lainey

You don’t have to poo-poo on all my dates.

Yeah, I do.

Don’t you want to know why?

Dots float across my screen. Stop. Start again.

Lainey

Fine. Why?

He'll be too boring.

Lainey

He sounds pretty well-rounded. We've had some good text conversations so far.

Not as good as ours. Trust me, this guy isn’t as interesting as his profile.

Lainey

I knew I shouldn’t have asked.

Fine. Sorry. I hope your date goes well.

No, I don’t. I hope it’s an epic fail. Preferably one that sends her in tears to my bar looking for a shoulder.

When is your reservation?

Lainey

5 p.m.

I roll my eyes. Is this guy sixty? Who goes to dinner that early for a date?

Lainey

I can practically feel you biting your tongue. It was the only time slot left. It is Valentine's Day, you know.

I wasn't biting my tongue. But you have a point. I'll retract my eye roll.

Lainey

What are you doing tonight? Working or got a hot date?

Ben

Working. All the singles love to drink on Valentine's Day. Though first I have to stop by my dad's to drop off wine and make sure everything is romantic enough. Pretty sure I'm helping him get laid tonight.

Lainey:

*gif of woman shaking her head with her eyes closed and hands over ears singing lalalala*

Stop!! I'm still traumatized from NYE.

I was going to bring a nice Cab. Maybe I should bring over something really wretched. Like sweet raspberry wine.

Lainey

My mom loves raspberries.

Well, damn.

Lainey

I still can’t believe she’s letting him call her Kathy. Thought she hated that nickname. Though she did say he was the only person that could. You might as well bring the good stuff. It's Valentine's, after all. I have to finish getting ready. My date will be here soon. Happy V-Day, Ben.

Disappointment fills me that we're done. I text her back to have a good night, but I don't really mean it. The thought of her liking this guy enough to kiss and take home makes me want to do something stupid like stalk and sabotage their date.

I get distracted with the bar until my dad texts about the wine. I need to get over there before the night gets going. I imagine we'll be open for a couple of hours before things really start picking up. With traffic, it takes me almost forty-five minutes to get to my dad's house. I let myself in and immediately notice almost every available surface is covered with candles. Instead of romantic vibes, it looks like the power went out. Where did he even get all of them? Only a few are lit. Did my dad realize he went too far and stopped? I have a feeling when they're all lit, it'll be a bright, roaring inferno instead of a golden glow.

I find an empty spot on the kitchen counter and set the wine down.

"Hey, Dad," I call, but no one answers.

Music or maybe television noise comes down the hallway from his bedroom. I head that way, and the door’s ajar, so I push it open.

"Hey—"

The sounds register a second before my eyes comprehend what I'm seeing. And what I'm seeing is Kathleen riding my dad like he's a bucking bronco.

"Oh, shit!"

They both stop and stare at me just before Kathleen lets out a scream. I stumble back, trying to get the hell out of the room. I spin and smack my head right on the edge of the door.

"Ow, fuck!" I grab my forehead and immediately feel liquid.

"Are you okay?" Kathleen yells.

"Fine. Fine. I'm going to, um, go.” I wave a hand behind me blindly. “Uh, carry on."

I race down the hallway, almost tripping over a box of candles. My head’s already throbbing and blood’s dripping into my eye. I stop long enough to grab the bottle of wine. At this point, I need it more than they do. I get in my car and immediately flip down my visor. A huge gash gushes blood at the top of my forehead.

My stomach rolls. I look like something out of a horror movie. I grab some napkins out of my console and wipe my hands, snatch my phone to take a selfie, then press my makeshift bandage on the wound. Using my free hand, I text Lainey.

We have another holiday medical emergency on our hands.

It doesn't take her long to respond back.

Lainey

Please tell me you're kidding. Are our parents high again?

Nope.

*selfie pic*

Lainey

OMG, what happened?

I was running for my life after seeing your mom ride my dad.

Lainey

WHAT?

Yep. You saw my dad's boner, and now I've seen your mom's boobies.

Lainey

*gif of woman covering her head in embarrassment*

Mostly side boob...thank God.

Lainey

*gif of Jim Carrey gagging*

I'm pretty traumatized. I think I need stitches. Probably shouldn't drive.

Lainey

Are you trying to hijack another holiday from me?

Technically, my dad hijacked your last one.

Lainey

I'm in the middle of my date, Ben. Again.

And I'm your excuse to get out of it.

Lainey

What makes you think I want to get out of it?

You're texting me in the middle of it.

Lainey

You caught me on a bathroom break. I wouldn't text at the table. That's rude.

Lainey, come on. Admit it. It's not going well.

Lainey

Ugh. Will you stop being right! Do you know how annoying it is?

It's a gift.

Lainey

He ordered oysters after I said I didn’t like them and wasn’t interested in sharing. Proceeded to pressure me to eat them. He only reads non-fiction. Has talked about a true crime book almost the whole time, and I’m pretty sure he sympathizes with the murderer. Trying to decide if my job is worth being the victim of a copycat killer.

I laugh then wince at the spike of pain shooting through my head. I make the mistake of lifting the napkin only for more blood to ooze out. A gag works its way up my throat. I reapply the napkin. Hell, I definitely need stitches. A cold sweat breaks out on my forehead.

Well, I'm your perfect out. I'm not kidding about the stitches. Did I tell you I hate needles? And blood. I'm really queasy.

Lainey

Where are you?

My dad's driveway.

Lainey

Send me the address.

I do and she sends me back a text saying she'll be here in twenty minutes.

Lainey

Be prepared to hand over that good Cabernet you were talking about. And chocolate. This Valentine's will not die in vain.

Dea l

I text Jan to let her know what’s going on, then lean back in the seat and close my eyes. My head hurts like hell, but I get to see Lainey, and that makes the thought of getting stitches worth it.

"Oh my God, are you about to faint?"

Fighting off mortification and the black hole threatening to swallow me isn't easy.

"No," I reply weakly. It doesn't even sound convincing to me.

Lainey shakes her head, but she takes my hand in hers. "Look at me."

I turn my head toward her.

"Don’t move," the doctor orders.

"Right." I catch the sight of the needle in his hand, and my stomach lurches.

"Close your eyes," Lainey says gently. "It’s better if you don’t watch."

I do as she says and concentrate on her hand in mine. How her thumb is making sweet circles in my palm.

"That feels good." I slightly move my hand in hers.

"Hmm." Her hand shifts and she opens my palm and draws on it with her fingertip. It tickles a little but mostly feels really sensual. The pattern changes to something more deliberate, and I realize she's making letters. I concentrate on each one: M-O-M-B-O-O-B

A laugh bursts from me and the doctor sighs in frustration. "Unless you want a scar down the middle of your forehead, you have to be still."

"Sorry." I open my eyes long enough to glare at Lainey, who’s biting back her own smile. She mouths sorry before I close my eyes again .

"You'll look like a sexy Frankenstein after all this," Lainey says.

"You think I'm sexy, Lainey?"

"Look, you can't talk,” Dr. Elliott snaps. “You're moving your forehead when you talk."

He'll probably give me a scar for being so annoying.

Lainey traces on my palm again. T-R-O-U-B-L-E

I manage to grab her hand and concentrate on making letters without looking or scrunching my forehead. A-L-W-A-Y-S

Then, I go for it.

I point to her, back to myself, and scribble B-E-S-T-K-I-S-S on her palm.

She makes this contented hum I take as agreement and write M-O-R-E.

"Trouble." She laughs softly.

I open my eyes and glance at her without moving my head. I see the interest in her expression.

Her hand folds around mine again. "Almost done."

I close my eyes and focus on the gentleness of her hand as the doctor finishes up. He gives directions on how to take care of the stitches and when to follow up to get them removed. He's clearly aggravated with us and exits the room as soon as possible. When we're alone, Lainey and I look at each other and burst into laughter.

"He hates me."

"Oh, yeah. You're the worst patient ever."

"I wouldn't have been if you hadn't spelled out mom boob."

She giggles. "I mean, I'm completely repulsed by the thought of my mom screwing your dad, but it's seriously funny.”

"I have two words for you: Dad. Boner."

Her smile falls. "So not cool. "

A nurse comes in. "Okay, Mr. Kelley, here are your discharge papers. You're free to go."

I take them and glance at Lainey, who’s looking at me with a furrow in her brow. "What?"

"Nothing." She shakes her head and looks away. As we walk back to her car, an unsettled feeling stirs in my stomach. Her walk is agitated. Her expression’s contemplative but her skin seems pale.

“Something’s wrong,” I say once we get inside the car. “What happened?”

She looks at me. Her expression is blank, but purposely so. “Nothing. Just thinking. What’s your address so I can put it into my phone?”

She’s lying, but I decide not to push. "Take me to Red Poppy."

Emotion floods her face like I've lost my mind. "The doctor said to take it easy for the rest of the night and watch for signs of a concussion. He didn't say go to work at a busy bar on Valentine's Day."

"I need to check in on them. I brought in extra help, but we have a Valentine's special going on. It's going to be busy. You can stay and make sure I don't pass out. Drinks on me."

"You want me to play nurse while sipping on cocktails? Sounds like a brilliant idea." Her voice is dripping in sarcasm.

"Let me see how things are going. I promise not to push it, okay? And you can sit and watch all the singles hit on each other."

She hums. "That does sound fun. What about me, though? I'm single."

I don't like the idea of watching her get hit on in front of me, but what am I supposed to do? "You can pick your poppy, Lainey. What you want is up to you."

"What do you mean pick my poppy ?"

"You'll see. "

Our conversation seems to have distracted her from whatever was bothering her. When we arrive, I have her park in my spot in the back. Since we're not going through the front, I steer her to my office where the extra bracelets are kept. The elastic bands are different colors and have a poppy design on them. I grab a handful and show her the one I hope she chooses first. "Lavender means taken or not interested. Red means interested in women. Blue means interested in men. If you're interested in a combination, take all colors that apply." I wiggle the bands at her. "Pick your poppy, Lainey."

She looks at me. "So, everyone here picks a band, and that makes it open season to hit on someone?"

"Pretty much."

"What about the orange ones?" She points to the ones left on my desk.

I grin at her. "We were going to do a Down to Fuck band but thought it might lead to trouble once people were deep into their drinks. In the end, it didn't seem too romantic."

She laughs. "I have to admit seeing this orange band in action would have been really fun."

"Alright, so which will it be?

Her gaze touches them all, and my stomach is in knots.

Pick lavender, pick lavender, pick lavender .

Her fingers graze the blue one and my stomach sinks. Then she snatches up a lavender one. My gaze jumps to hers.

She shrugs. "I've already had one date tonight. I'd much rather watch this experiment than participate."

I do my best to appear cool and collected, but I can feel the wide-ass grin on my face as I place the lavender band on her wrist. "Here you go. Not that this is going to stop men from hitting on you.”

“Why would you say that?”

“I have eyes and see the way you’re wearing that dress. ”

A blush seeps into her cheeks. She’s wearing a red sweater dress. Nothing about the dress itself is sexy. It’s all in the way it fits her, hugging her curves in all the right places. Her above-the-knee boots make me want to see her wearing nothing but them.

“Thanks. I don’t think other men will agree. From the look my date gave me, I guess this dress wasn’t revealing enough. I have every faith in your pale purple band.”

“Further proof your date was a tool. I bet you get hit on within an hour.”

Her brows raise. “A bet?”

“Yeah. I’ll do a Bare-chested Bartender post if I lose. You can pick the humiliating sexual thing I do.”

“And if you win?”

“You owe me a favor.”

Her eyes narrow. “What kind of favor?”

“Whatever I need.”

She tilts her head. “I would be an idiot to take that bet.”

“No, it makes you adventurous. You know you want to. I can see it in your eyes.”

She smirks. “Fine. You have one hour.”

“Then let’s get you a drink."

We enter the bar, and it's packed. The room’s already decorated in red, gold, and black, but we added a bunch of hearts and extra red lights and rearranged the furniture so there’s plenty of standing room. People seem to be mixing and mingling more than usual, which means the music plan with the DJ is working like we hoped. The bar area is jammed with one empty barstool at the end. I need her close by so I can watch as I win my bet, so I go to the barstool at the end and rip the ribbon off. "Sit here."

When I round the bar, my staff’s staring at me like they've seen a ghost. Yeah, my scalp and forehead don’t look the best with the stitches, but it’s not that gnarly.

"It's not as bad as it looks," I say, but that doesn't seem to jar them out of their stupor. I look at Jan, whose gaze bounces to Lainey and back to my hands. Oh shit. I’m holding the Reserved ribbon. I let Lainey sit in Poppy's spot. Fuck. I didn't even think twice about it. Lainey’s expression is rife with confusion.

"Should I move?" she asks.

I swallow. It's not obvious why the chair is reserved unless you notice my mom's carving, which is too hard to see in the dim light. When I don't answer right away, she starts to slip off the stool.

"No!" She stills at my outburst. "You're good. Please sit."

She nods slowly and scoots back on the seat, her gaze darting between me and my staff. I turn, and they're still looking at me with shocked expressions. "Those drinks are about to be watered down. Let's get back to work."

My order seems to snap them out of their trance, and they jump back into action. I pull out a martini glass, add ice water to chill it, and grab a shaker to make Lainey's cocktail, not wanting to think about the significance of what I just did. I cut my gaze to her, but her focus is glued on my hands, her eyes sparking with interest. I shake the drink. Her gaze moves over my arms, and she bites that damn bottom lip. I'm no stranger to women watching me as I mix drinks, but I've never enjoyed it more than having Lainey watching me.

I dump the ice water and pour the drink. "Your Valentini, ma'am," I say, unable to contain my smile as I hand her the glass.

"Mmm, clever." She takes a sip, and her eyes light up. "This is really good. What's in this?"

"Strawberry basil vodka, pomegranate juice, blackberry liqueur."

She gives a moan of satisfaction as she takes another sip, and all I want to do is jump over this bar and kiss her until she moans for me . Instead, I turn to Jan and get a quick update on how things are going. It's mostly smooth sailing so far, but the bar is drowning, so I start taking care of Bonnie's patio orders. Lainey and I keep stealing glances at each other and pretending we’re not.

It doesn’t take long before women start lining up in front of me. For every drink I hand over, I get a phone number on a napkin. Any time I try to glance at Lainey, she’s looking elsewhere, her demeanor stiff. Is she jealous? Mad?

I gesture toward Jan, and we switch places. Ten minutes in, we switch again. This usually breaks up the attention. Not only has it done that, but a man has closed in on Lainey. He eyes her band, but it’s not going to deter him. I glance at the time. Oh yeah, I’m about to win our bet just under the wire.

Seeing her glass empty, I start making her another drink, but address the man, "What can I get you?"

"I'll take a Red Bull and vodka and a Valentini for the lady." He nods toward Lainey. She blinks and looks between him and me, and I know her annoyance is more because she knows I won. I ignore his order for now and pour the Valentini I'd already mixed into a glass and set it in front of her. "Too late.”

"Let me get that for you," he tells Lainey.

She holds up her wrist to show him her poppy. “Thanks, but I'm good."

"From what I can tell, you're here alone. What’s the harm in a drink and some conversation?"

I knew this guy would push it.

I grab a band from the bowl behind the bar, then set his drink in front of him. "The lady is taken."

I lift my wrist with a lavender band on it. The man looks between us with an annoyed sneer before he pushes away from the bar .

“ Now you put a band on?” She shakes her head. “I guess it makes sense. You already have the numbers of half the women here.”

“Jealous?”

“No.”

I actually believe her. No, there’s something more to her agitation. I almost wonder if she’s about to bolt on me.

And I can’t let that happen.

“Good. Because all you need to worry about is the fact that I won our bet.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she says, then takes a sip of her drink. “The bet should have been how many numbers you’d get in the first hour. Or how many times you’d call a woman sweetheart or beauty. I can’t believe no one gets bothered by that.”

Her voice is tight and annoyed. Okay, yeah, she’s really pissed. Doesn’t she realize this is just a game? Flirting is practically a job description of a bartender. I lean in close. “Because I know which ones like it, even want it.”

Her mouth tightens, telling me she doesn’t like my answer.

“I had a line of women waiting specifically for me. Why would I disappoint them? Give them a smile, pay them a compliment, and they walk away feeling good. What’s wrong with that?”

“You’re playing with their emotions. Giving them hope when there is none.”

These women aren’t looking at me with hearts in their eyes. They’re looking for a good time. A bragging right. I traded Frat Bro Ben for Bare-chested Bartender Ben. “Trust me, they’ve forgotten about me as soon as another man talks to them. I’m just the shiny object behind the bar.” There’s a bite to my voice that surprises me. Or rather, I’m surprised I let it out.

She blinks at me, her brows furrowing as her mouth parts, but I’m called away before she can respond .

After another hour, the constant noise and music has my head pounding. I take a credit card from someone and turn to run it through. I squeeze my eyes shut and let my head hang for a minute. When the transaction processes, I turn around to see Lainey behind the bar.

"What are you doing?"

"Give him back his card. You're done. I already cleared it with your other bartenders."

I blink at her but return the card and let Lainey take my hand.

“Wait.” I turn back and grab the reserved ribbon and give it to Jan. She immediately nods in understanding.

Lainey leads me to my office and immediately goes to the small sofa along the wall and sits. "Come on, put your head in my lap."

I grin. "Really?"

She rolls her eyes. "Get your mind out of the gutter. I'm going to give you a head massage."

Now the head that’s throbbing is below my belt. "Sorry, Lainey, that did nothing to get my mind out of the gutter."

"Seriously?"

I shrug. "I'm a guy."

I do my best to fold myself on a couch that’s much shorter than me and rest my head on Lainey's lap. Her fingers gently tease through my hair, and I immediately moan. I don't even understand how something can feel so erotic and comforting at the same time.

"Does your cut hurt?"

"My whole forehead is throbbing."

She moves her fingers through my hair, careful of my injury, then gently massages my temples. I close my eyes and get lost in the sensations. My body relaxes, and soon I feel myself being pulled under .

No idea how long it is before I open my eyes and blink a few times. I look up to see Lainey still holding me, one hand on my chest while the other is typing on her phone. She glances down, a gentle smile on her lips. "Hey. Feel better?"

"How long was I out?"

"About an hour."

"Wow, I'm sorry." I slowly rise so I'm sitting next to her.

"It's okay.” She goes back to her phone, her brows bunching in concentration. “Just finishing notes for my post.”

I wait, loving how adorable she looks as she focuses. A few minutes later, she sets down her phone. “I hope you don’t mind if I use the pic of you getting stitches. I think if I tell my boss I had another failed date, I could be out of a job. And I can’t lose another job in less than two months.”

I raise my brows and wince at the sharp twinge of pain. “Another?”

Her mouth flattens. “They never seem to work out. Either it’s not what I expected or what they promised. Or I hate it. Or I screw something up. I can’t seem to hold on to a job for very long. But this one is guaranteed for a year, as long as I stop fucking up these holidates.”

It doesn’t escape me that this was probably a big admission for her. No one likes to talk about their failures. While I love our flirty banter, I love that she allowed me to see this vulnerable side of her, too. The urge to lean over and press a soft kiss to her lips is overwhelming.

Fuck, this woman has me all tied up. When have I ever cared about a woman being vulnerable with me?

“You can use me anytime for your holidates.”

She shoots me an amused grin. “Thanks.” Her gaze shifts to my wound. “How's your head?"

She raises her arms to stretch and my gaze zeroes in on her chest. The memory of her breast in my hand has my palm itching to feel its full softness again. Except this time, I want to bare it and sink my teeth into her hard nipple.

My cock jerks, and I look away. Fuck. "Just sore, no headache. Thanks for taking care of me, Nurse Lainey.”

She laughs. “It would be nice to have a holiday that’s not hijacked by a trip to the hospital.”

"To be fair, stitches were not in my plans."

"What about your plans? Do you spend every Valentine's Day working?"

"I usually worked here when my uncle ran it. This is Red Poppy's first Valentine's, but I don't usually make holiday plans."

She tilts her head. "Why not?"

"Usually never dating anyone."

She stiffens, and that same uneasy feeling returns from earlier in the hospital parking lot and after I won our bet. She clears her throat, "You went to Central Texas University, right?"

"Yeah."

"I heard of a Ben Kelley at CTU when I was there. My junior and senior years."

My stomach clenches. Fuck. While I was busy being Frat Bro Ben, I didn't really think how his reputation might follow me. Now, I'll probably never see Lainey naked. "Um, that was probably me."

"I heard you had sex with four girls in one night."

I wince. Damn, my reputation is shit.

Her mouth drops. "Wow, it's true."

" Technically , it was three. And it was more in a twelve-hour period."

She narrows her gaze. " Technically three? Yeah, that’s not suspicious at all." She shakes her head. "So, what did you do? Jump from woman to woman with a water break in between?"

I want to laugh, but she seems really pissed. I can’t tell if she’s judging me or what .

“Are you slut shaming me, Lainey?” I ask it with a bit of a laugh, but it kind of stings. After her talk about being open about your pleasure with your partner, it doesn’t seem like her to judge.

Her expression softens, and her cheeks redden. She looks down at her lap. “No. At least, I don’t mean to. I’m all for a healthy sex life. It’s just…I’m thinking of those women and how they probably felt. I know how I’d feel if I was only a fucktoy.” I flinch at that, and she shrugs. “I shouldn’t jump to conclusions. That’s not fair. Sorry about that.”

I let out a long sigh. She’s not exactly wrong. On one hand, I’d felt like a sex god at the accomplishment. But I also felt like shit because everything blew up, and those girls were hurt. But I hate that she thinks I’d treat them as fucktoys. At least, that’s not how I looked at it at all.

“They weren’t fucktoys, Lainey. Yeah, I’ve had a lot of casual sex, but I’ve never thought of any woman that callously.”

She glances at me, her brown eyes searching my face. Eventually, she nods.

I slump back into the couch. “It was the night the Toros played the Tigers, and we had an all-day tailgate at the frat house. This girl and I had been flirting hard, and eventually, we moved things to a room. Afterward, she had to leave with her friends. Then I went to the game and ended up standing next to these two girls. They said if we won, they’d have a threesome with me. If you remember, we won by a field goal.” I shrug. "When a guy is offered a threesome, he doesn't turn it down."

I pause and wish I could decipher her expression. She seems a bit amused, but not fully. “Why do I have a feeling that’s not the end of the story?”

“Yeah…so we went back to the house. We immediately hit my room and afterward they passed out in my bed. I went back to the party and ran into the first girl and ended the night with her.”

I take a breath. This is when my stomach usually churns with shame. “The next morning wasn’t great. The two girls saw me come out of a room with the other. So yeah, they were embarrassed and pissed. Hell, I was embarrassed, but I put my charm on and tried to smooth things over before the whole frat got wind of it. Even though I wore a condom, we agreed to all get tested and report back. In the end, it wasn’t the best feeling.”

“So, technically three because it was twice with the same girl.” She lets out a soft laugh, but it’s not a true amusement.

“Yeah, but I didn’t correct anyone when they said four.”

“Why not?”

"Look, I'm not going to lie and say that night isn't up there in the top five of my amazing sexual moments, but the morning after felt so cringe. I honestly try not to think about it. But Frat Bro Ben was going to milk it for all its worth. He had a reputation to uphold."

“Frat Bro Ben?”

I give her a crooked smile. "That's me."

Her expression turns contemplative. It feels like she's cutting straight through the bullshit and seeing me. Just Ben. Not that I really know who Just Ben is anymore.

I wonder if I’d met her in college if it would have been the same. Would she have seen through the fa?ade? Would I have dropped Frat Bro Ben for a chance to be with her? The clench of my stomach tells me no. I would have let Frat Bro Ben reign. I wasn’t ready for her.

But I am now.

"It's who I needed to be at the time,” I confess.

She continues to watch me and after a moment, her body relaxes, and I realize how tense she’s been this whole time. I still don’t understand why. It doesn’t feel like jealousy. Is she freaked out by my body count? Or did someone hurt her?

“So, Frat Bro Ben never had a Valentine's date. What about Ben Kelley?”

I want to press her on why this bothers her so much, but I’m actually thankful for the subject change. I’m so tired of Frat Bro Ben. I’m not that guy anymore.

"I never grew up celebrating it. My mom said every day she and my dad didn't kill each other was celebration enough. She had a sarcastic sense of humor. They were completely in love until the day she died, so it made sense to me. However, I could get behind the sexy lingerie striptease."

Her brows pop up. "Sexy lingerie striptease?"

"I thought sexy lingerie was a Valentine’s must for women." As her expression grows more skeptical—and amused—I raise my hand. "Stop. Don't say a word. If that's not a thing, it just proves this holiday is stupid."

She laughs, and it’s a real laugh—and fucking music to my ears. "And the striptease? Is that also a must?"

"If not a must, then a big fucking bonus.” I give her a completely put-out look. “Well, it's settled. There's no reason to celebrate this day. It’s officially ruined for me."

She's pressing her lips together in an attempt not to laugh, but her brown eyes are practically dancing. She's cute as hell. She releases her lips, and my gaze dips to them. Her lipstick has worn off and her mouth’s a sexy shade of faded pink that I desperately want to taste again. I want to kiss her until that pretty pout’s swollen and wet. Until she’s begging for more.

Her lips suddenly part, and her breath hitches. My gaze jumps to her eyes and her dilated pupils. As the air cracks and sizzles between us, I know what I want for winning tonight’s bet.

“Lainey, I believe you owe me a favor.”

Her throat works through a swallow. “What do you want? ”

Everything.

That thought should scare the shit out of me. Instead, what’s coursing inside me is that same feeling you have right as the roller coaster crests the first incline. I’m more excited than afraid—and ready for the ride of my life.

“I want you to give me my first Valentine’s present.”

Her breathing increases, and I can practically see her mind working ninety miles an hour on what she wants to do. If she says no, I won’t push it. But I seriously fucking hope she doesn’t.

She stands directly in front of me, her decision apparently made. She bends forward and takes hold of the hem of her dress.

I sit up, my heart slamming against my chest. "Really?"

"You deserve at least one Valentine's Day, um, tradition." She slowly pulls up her dress. "You can't laugh. Getting this dress off isn’t going to be sexy, and I've never done this before."

Holy fuck. "Laughing’s the last thing on my mind right now."

No, my body is at full attention. She hasn't even shown me anything, and my cock’s already straining against my zipper.

She smirks and pulls the dress over her head, letting it fall at her side. Damn, she’s gorgeous. She’s wearing a black half-sheer bra and matching panties that don't leave much to the imagination. I soak her in—her dark nipples erect and straining against the translucent material, the hint of her pussy appears mostly bare, but there's a strategically placed piece of lace concealing the part I really want to see.

"Turn around." I don't even recognize my voice.

She hesitates. "Okay, listen, I don't have one of those perky round asses. Flat bottoms run in my family."

"Lainey, turn around."

She casts me a doubtful look but does as I demand. The back of her panties is all lace cut in a boy-short style. No, her ass isn't overly rounded, but I don't give a fuck. Her ass looks fantastic in those panties.

She looks over her shoulder. "Well?"

"Do I look disappointed?" I hold her gaze as she takes me in. I lean back and reveal the obvious bulge in my pants. Her throat moves through another swallow. "Lainey, you're fucking gorgeous. Never doubt that."

A softness fills her deep brown eyes at my compliment before she faces me again. She takes a step, then lowers herself down onto my lap, straddling me. I ball my hands into fists. I want to touch her so badly, but don't know if I should.

"I think this might be more of a lap dance than a striptease," she says as she lowers all the way down.

"You don't hear me complaining." My voice comes out rough.

Her lips quirk up as she moves her hips against mine. “Is this what you want?” Her voice is smoky and sexy as fuck.

I groan. “God, yes.”

She grinds down on me and, fuck...I’ve never had a lap dance feel this good. “I want to touch you.”

She takes my hands and places them on her hips. I grip her tightly and pull her down hard on my cock. She shudders, and I guide her hips up and down, loving how I can feel how hot and wet she is even through my jeans. She moans and starts moving on her own, taking her pleasure. If we keep going like this, I'm going to come in my pants.

The sudden ringing of my phone stops us. We stare at each other, breathing heavily, indecision hanging in the air. Do I answer or ignore it? Finally, I pull it out of my pocket, fully intending to turn it off, but it's my dad calling.

"You should answer it." She nods at the screen. At my hesitation, she says with a mischievous smile, "Maybe it's a heart attack for real this time. He has been active tonight. "

I scowl at her and swipe to answer, even though it's the last fucking thing I want to do. "Hey, Dad."

"Are you okay?" Panic is evident in his voice.

"Yeah, I'm fine."

He emits a harsh sigh. "Oh, good. There's a trail of blood all through the house and a bloody handprint on the front door. Kathy and I just saw it."

I don't even want to think about how long my dad has stayed in his bedroom with Kathleen. So much for the dinner reservations I made. "Yeah, I was a bit in a hurry to get out of there."

My dad clears his throat nervously. "Yeah, um, sorry about that. Are you sure you're alright? It’s a lot of blood."

"The cut was deep. I had to get stitches."

"Damn it, did you drive yourself to the hospital?"

"No.” Thanks, Dad. I’m a little smarter than that. “I called Lainey, and she helped me out."

Lainey's eyes go big, clearly surprised I mention we’re together.

"Lainey? Kathy's daughter?"

"Yeah."

He relays the news to Kathleen, and I hear her whisper, " Why? How does he have her number?"

"From New Year's," I answer, wanting to regain control of this conversation and return to enjoying my prize. "Thought I'd share my awkward parent moment with her, and she graciously offered to take me to the ER."

Kathleen continues her not-too-subtle whispering. "Are they still together? I thought Lainey had a date."

My dad repeats the question as if I can’t hear. Unfortunately, Lainey doesn’t miss her mother’s words either. She jumps off me, grabs her dress, and pulls it over her body.

Shit. No, no, no.

"She, uh, went home after the hospital. Look, Dad, I'm at the bar, and we're slammed. I'll talk to you later." I hang up before he can respond. "Lainey—”

"Can you get a ride home?"

"Yes, but I’d rather you take me home.”

She cocks a hip, and I feel the best thing that’s happened to me in a long time slip away. "Our parents are dating.”

“So?”

“So, I’m not going to mess that up. That," she points to the couch, "was your Valentine's Day gift."

I want to argue that was inevitable. There's a pull between us, and the fact our parents are dating isn’t going to stop it. I can tell there's no use arguing tonight though, so I nod. "Thanks for the best Valentine's Day present I ever got."

She cocks her head at me. "It's the only one you've gotten."

"I stand by what I said."

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Valentine’s Day

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