CHAPTER 6 BOWER #2
“What the hell do you think?” I ask as I move toward the dining room and take a seat.
“And please, don’t rub your youth in my face, because from your fresh eyes and clarity, I can already tell that you’re not as affected by copious amounts of alcohol consumption as I am, and I can’t stomach that thought right now, so please, spare me. ”
“Do you want me to pretend to be hungover?”
“Please.” I sip my coffee, letting the caffeine run through my veins and awaken me.
“Oh fuck,” he says, hobbling toward me, hunched over and looking absolutely ridiculous. “What the hell did we do last night? I’m so hungover.”
I stare at him.
Blink.
“It’s a little dramatic.”
“Just mimicking you.”
I flip him off, which makes him laugh.
“Other than what seems to be one hell of a hangover, did you sleep okay?” he asks.
“I did, although…” I chuckle. “For a second, when I woke up in your bed, I had a minor heart attack that we might have done something stupid.”
“And what would that be?” he asks as there’s a knock at his door. He retrieves what I’m assuming is our food before stopping in the kitchen and grabbing a bottle of ibuprofen.
As he dishes out the food, I say, “You know…fuck.”
He pauses and glances at me, a question heavy on his breath.
“I know.” I roll my eyes. “That would never happen, but for a second I thought it did, and I panicked until I realized that, in fact, we didn’t do anything.”
“No, we did not,” he says, before sitting down and undoing the foil of his breakfast tacos.
“Gabby would have had a heart attack. Probably disown me.”
“You think so?” he asks, looking genuinely curious.
Oh yeah, sleeping with her brother would be a huge slap in the face of the promise I made her.
“Of course she would. I don’t think she’d be happy at all if her best friend slept with her younger brother of eight years. That’s grounds for divorce.”
“You two aren’t married.”
“Spiritually, we are. You weren’t invited to the wedding.” I wave my hand at him. “It was more of a two-person thing. Either way, glad we kept our clothes on.”
“Yeah, good thing,” he says and then takes a bite of his taco. He chews for a moment and says, “But when I’m gone, feel free to sleep in my bed.”
The temptation is real, because I don’t think I’ve slept that well in quite a long time. I want to say it’s the mattress-sheet combination that had me dozing off without a second thought. Not the man I slept on.
Definitely not the man.
But…my place should be ready.
Although, one more night won’t kill me.
“I might take you up on that.”
He smirks and then says, “Speaking of last night, were you serious about the book club thing?”
“Uh, yeah. More than serious. I want a reading buddy, and if you’re up for it, I’d love for it to be you.”
He nods. “Okay, because I was thinking of a possible idea that could help me with this zoo business.”
“You came up with an idea at this hour? After nearly drinking the night away? Are you made of metal or something?”
“Clearly not if I woke you up from stubbing my toe.”
I chuckle. “True, but still, how could you possibly have come up with an idea already and this is your first cup of coffee?”
“Built differently.”
“Apparently.” I finally take a bite of my taco and moan as the bacon’s grease hits me in the right spot. “Oh motherfucker, that’s great.” I slap the table and stare down at my taco. “Dear God, if you were a human, my tongue would be down your throat right about now.”
“Uh…do you two need a room?”
“Quite possibly.” I moan again as I continue to chew. “This is marvelous. A-plus. Compliments to the chef. Give me ten more.”
“Seriously? Do you want me to order you some more, because I can.”
I shake my head, even though it’s tempting. “No, this is great. Thank you.” I pull my hungry eyes away from my taco for a moment and say, “So, you had an idea.”
“Yes,” he says while wiping his face with a napkin. “I was thinking that I could work this book thing into the whole PR debacle that we have going on.”
“Can you explain the PR thing to me? I feel like it’s not making a lot of sense.”
“Sure. So San Francisco has three major sporting teams: the Foghorns, which is football, the Rogue, which is hockey, and then there’s the Bombers.
The Foghorns haven’t been able to see a playoff game in I want to say ten years.
They’re losing the spirit of their fan base and quickly.
The Rogue are a new expansion team that’s filled with every unlikable player throughout the league and led by owners who just want to win, so they signed problematic but skillful players.
The only one who is not problematic is OC.
The city doesn’t seem to agree with the team right now, giving them a lack of fan base.
And then of course, you know about the Bombers’ cheating history before I was on the team. ”
“Naturally.” I sip my coffee as he continues.
“The owners of each team came together and decided to help each other out by hiring a PR team led by a woman named Gretchen, who is trying to bring us out into the public in a positive light.”
“And the zoo is one of those ways.”
“Exactly. Now it’s helped with Graydon because he’s taken it upon himself to do this whole social media thing with his zookeeper.”
“Who he likes, right?”
Bennett nods. “More than likes her. He’s working through his feelings, but from what we can see, he’s totally into her and it’s only a matter of time before he finally figures out that he wants her, at least that’s where I think he’s at.
I honestly can’t keep up. Either way, he’s doing well, bringing good PR to the team.
OC is a hot mess. I’m unsure how he’s succeeding.
And then there’s me. I don’t think the zoo has had an impact at all, and I don’t know, I was thinking about talking to Gretchen about switching things up, and I thought books might be an effective way to do that. ”
“Oooo, yes. You could help show that reading romance isn’t just for women.” I pause for a second and then say, “But you know what? You might need to actually read a romance first before you use it for PR. Because what if you go all in on a book club and then realize you don’t like romance?”
He nods. “That’s a really good point.”
“I tend to make them.”
Smirking, he says, “Okay, then what book should I start with?”
“I have a baseball series that’s right up your alley. We’ll start there.”
“Sounds good.” He winks, the gesture causing my stomach to lightly flutter.
And I mean lightly.
Which only means…I need to start dating, and I need to start dating now.
“Gabby, why is it so hard to find someone compatible?” I ask as I walk around Adalade’s stunning Victorian house. Her boxes and furniture have been delivered, and the unpackers are currently at work while I direct them and manage.
“Have you tapped into the dating pool of San Francisco?”
“Uh, yeah. I’ve been here for five days, on the app for three of those days, and not a single human that I could see myself matching with. Sure, I might be being picky, but I don’t want any duds. I can’t be wasting my time. I’m twenty-nine, for God’s sake.”
“You’re thirty-two,” she deadpans.
I pause in my pacing. “Can’t you just go with it every once in a while, indulge in my delusion?”
“No.”
“Not helpful. Anyway, the guy is either my type but has nothing in common with me, or there are some things in common, but he still lives with his mother. I’m not going to be fucking mother lovers.”