The Wrong Holidate

New Year’s Eve

LAINEY

No, not tonight.

I swipe my mom's call away. It's after 10 p.m. on New Year's Eve, and I refuse to have her hijack my night. I told her going on a blind date was a bad idea.

My phone lights up with another call.

"I told you I wasn't going to bail you out, even if it was horrible," I say to my ringing phone and swipe the call away again, feeling only a smidge of guilt. While it’s nice she’s walking away from bad dates instead of making relationships out of them, I’ve already helped her out of three dates over the last two months. Not tonight of all nights, when I have my own date and staying on it is literally part of my job.

Dating for work might be unconventional, but it’s part of a new series called Holidating in the City for the online magazine What’s Good, ATX . I’ll be visiting different places around the city and meeting new people. Plus, it’s a guaranteed job for a whole year. Surely with all this variety, I’ll stick it out that long. I really do think I finally picked the right job.

As long as my mom doesn’t ruin it.

Right on cue, my phone buzzes with a text message this time. I refuse to look at it. I’m not dealing with her terrible taste in men and broken red flag radar. Instead, I glance around the swanky hotel ballroom, looking for my holidate, David, who went to get us drinks forever ago. What's Good is hosting a party downtown and partnered with several local distilleries and restaurants, which I've already featured in videos and pictures so I can enjoy the rest of the night focusing on David.

David’s my neighbor so, technically, he’s not a blind date. We’ve flirted whenever we see each other but have only exchanged small talk. When I learned he didn’t have plans for New Year’s, I knew he’d be my perfect holidate. He checks all the right boxes—good job, gorgeous, funny, and smart. And I have every intention of kissing the hell out of him at midnight.

My phone buzzes again.

That is, if my cockblocking mother would leave me alone. What the hell could be so important? Shit. My stomach suddenly twists with worry. What if something is really wrong? I sigh. And look.

Mom

Answer my call!

My date is having a heart attack. I'm at the hospital. I need you!!!

Fuck. My. Life.

I drop my hand with the phone in it and quickly look for David. I finally spot him at the bar, chatting with Mona, one of my coworkers I haven't really gotten to know yet. She's laughing at something he said and puts her hand on his arm, letting it slowly drag down toward his wrist.

Oh. Hell. No.

My phone rings again. I reluctantly turn away from David and Mona and take the call, making my way to the patio so I can hear .

"I'm here," I answer, burrowing into a spot against the wall that gets me out of the cold air.

"Lainey," my mom sobs. "Oh my God, it's horrible. I'm so afraid he's going to die."

"You're already at hospital, right?"

"Yes."

"Okay, just be there for him. That's all you can do. Does he have family?"

"A son. He's a widower, and his son is all he has. His son works at a bar in South Austin, and Mike doesn't think he has his phone on him. It could be hours, and he really needs his son here. Lainey, you have to help."

Oh, no.

"Mom, what can I do? I don't know who this guy is. There has to be someone else you can call."

"There's no one," she says so theatrically that I pull the phone away from my ear and look at it. My mom can be dramatic, but this is a bit much. I press the phone back to my ear to hear her say, "I know the bar. You need to go and find him."

"Are you serious? Mom, I told you already. I'm on a date. For work . This is my first assignment for my brand-new job. I can't just leave. Call Harper."

“Why would I call your sister when I can call you? You’re already out.”

I roll my eyes. Because, of course, I’m available over my married with a kid sister—who I know for sure is staying at home tonight.

"What if he dies, Lainey?" This wail’s even more drawn out than the last one. "If it was me, wouldn't you want someone to find you?"

I sigh. Great...lay on the guilt.

"Mom..." It's on the tip of my tongue to complain, but what good would it do? I'm still going to help. Because she's right, I'd want someone to find me if the roles were reversed. Plus, my mom is usually not this over the top, so she must truly be worried.

"Fine. Text me the bar and what hospital you're at, and I'll do my best."

"Oh, baby, thank you so much. His name is Ben."

"Do you have access to your date's phone? Can you send me Ben's number? I can keep trying it."

"Alright, I'll do that. Bye, honey. Love you." She suddenly sounds way less dramatic.

"Love you, too."

I end the call and sigh again, defeated, before heading back into the party to find David. Thankfully, he's not at the bar with Mona. I glance around and find him doing the same with two champagne flutes in his hands. I wave to catch his attention and make my way to him.

"There you are," he says, and his face falls as my expression registers. “What's wrong?"

"My mom's date had a heart attack."

"Oh my God, that's awful. Did he die?"

"No, but she needs me to help locate his son. I'm really sorry, but I have to take off for a while."

His brows bunch in confusion. "Are you serious?"

"I really wish I wasn't." I take the champagne flute from him and down half in one gulp. "She's afraid he's not going to make it, and he really wants his son there."

My phone buzzes, and I glance at all the information my mom sent me. Wonderful. The bar is a good fifteen to twenty minutes from here, and the hospital is way north, more than half an hour from the bar. Why isn't this guy's phone in his pocket?

"I have to go south to this bar. "

"Ah man, that sucks." He gives me this pitying smile that immediately rankles. Shouldn't he be offering to come with me?

"Um, so you want to stay? I hate to leave you here not knowing anyone—"

"No, it's fine. I'm having a good time with everyone," he says and glances back to the bar where he was earlier—with Mona. Then his gaze comes back to mine, and I see realization register. "Oh, you want me to come with you?”

Is that an offer or a question?

"No, no. It's fine. It's New Year's. You should stay. I have just under two hours before midnight. I'll try to make it back."

He immediately looks relieved that he doesn’t have to leave, though he tries to mask it with faux concern. “If you’re sure.”

I resist the urge to kick his shins. Jeez, I really can pick them. I suppose I’ll give him points for pretending. Then he surprises me by closing in and pressing his hand on my lower back. "Hurry back. I'd really like to spend midnight with you." He brushes his lips across my cheek, and even though he just waved a big red flag, my body lights up. See, this is what happens when you’ve been celibate for far too long. You go colorblind. Because I’m seriously considering downgrading his red flag to yellow for a little midnight action.

I kiss his cheek and promise to get back as soon as possible. Getting a rideshare on New Year's Eve is costing me a fortune. My mom is so paying me back. No, this Ben guy is paying me back. This is all his fault as far as I'm concerned.

It doesn't take as long as I thought to get from downtown to the bar—probably because everyone’s already at their parties having fun. On the way, I text Ben a few times, but he never answers. When I arrive at Red Poppy, it hits me why I’ve heard of this place. It used to be a dive bar called Red's Place but has been recently revamped into a swanky bar with speakeasy vibes. It's actually on my list of places to check out for work. They kept the original sign that says Red with its old-school look and block lettering and Poppy in cursive, giving the moniker a more modern and feminine look. Through the windows, I can see it's packed, which probably isn't going to make my task easy. I ask the driver to wait and thankfully he agrees.

Inside, pushing myself up to the bar is a nightmare, and I get a lot of evil looks along the way. There are two men behind the bar, but they're on the far end so I approach the woman bartender that's closer.

I lean in over the bar as she's busy making a drink. "Hey, I need to talk to Ben."

She barks out a laugh, lifts two bottles of booze, and starts pouring them into a glass. "You and every other woman in here."

Oh-kay.

"Look, it's important—”

"Lady, I don't have time for this. Ben's at the end of the bar. If you want to talk to him, go over there." She turns away to deliver her drink and doesn't come back.

Great. I head back into the crowd and force my way to the other side. There are two guys, but one’s clearly the barback, so I focus on the other guy making drinks. And, Holy Sexiest Man Alive , he's gorgeous. Bright blue eyes, deep brown hair, and facial hair that looks more like he didn’t bother to shave for a week instead of being intentional. He’s wearing a black button-down with red suspenders, though his are off his shoulders and hanging at his sides. The look is ridiculously sexy on him. The shirt is straining against his biceps as he shakes a shaker. Damn, who knew that would be so sexy? If this man takes after his dad, then I absolutely see why my mom was interested.

The thought of his father springs me back into action. I wedge my way to the front of the bar as several people start cussing at me. "Hey! Ben!"

He glances my way and quickly notices all the angry people around me. "Sweetheart, you need to wait your turn,” he says as he pours the martini he made.

"I don't want a drink."

His jaw ticks as if he’s annoyed, but then he looks at me, and his expression is pure sex. He raises the hem of his shirt, showing off his flexed abs. "That’s all you get tonight. You can leave your number on a napkin.” He winks and nods toward a stack of red napkins with a pen sitting on top.

Um, what just happened?

“Now, please move so all these people you cut in front of can get their drinks." He turns to the computer to input the order he just delivered, acting like he didn’t flash his abs out of nowhere.

"Hey, asshole. Your dad's having a heart attack and is in the hospital."

Ben freezes, and his gaze snaps to mine, his face paling. Okay, maybe that wasn't the best way to tell him.

"What?" He comes back to the bar and leans closer to me. "Are you serious?"

It's on the tip of my tongue to say as a heart attack , but I’m not that tactless. "I'm your dad's date's daughter. My mom called and they couldn't get a hold of you. He's in the ER now."

Ben runs his hand through his hair as his eyes turn glassy. He looks around frantically, seeming not to know what to do. Finally, he rushes to a spot in the back of the bar and pulls out a phone. He quickly looks over it, then rushes over to the woman bartender and starts talking to her. Her gaze flicks to me, and her shoulders slump. She nods and gives him a hug.

He comes back to me. "Meet me out front." His expression leaves no room for argument.

I fight through the crowd and go to my Uber to tell him I'll be another minute.

"Which hospital?" Ben asks as he joins me outside. "Do you know if he's okay? "

I check my phone and there's nothing new from my mom, but I see an unread text from David. "North Austin Hospital. No update, but I'll text my mom that you're on your way."

"Is this your ride?"

"Yeah."

"Okay, let's go." He opens the backseat door and gestures for me to get in.

"Whoa, I'm going back to my party and date. I found you. My job is done. Don't you have a car?"

He looks at me like I’m crazy. "I let the DJ block me in. Are you actually going to delay me even more while my dad might be dying?"

Jeez, I’m really being a bitch.

"No, of course not. You can have the ride. I'll order another."

His brows bunch. "You're not coming?"

"No, why would I?"

"To deal with your mom."

I want to tell him to just send her home, but considering how hysterical she was on the phone, she might be a bit much for this guy to deal with while worrying about his dad.

I slump as the realization I won’t be making it back to the party weighs down on me. "I suppose you're right."

I slip into the backseat, and Ben joins me, giving directions to the driver. I text my mom to tell her we’re on our way then read David's text. It's a group picture with his message saying they're all missing me. Mona is cozied up next to him and he has his arm around her waist.

Seriously. Fuck my life.

I text him back to have fun and that I probably won't make it back with a bunch of crying emojis.

"Which one is your date?" I glance up to see Ben looking at my phone. I raise my brows in question, and he shrugs. "Distract me. Please. "

The pain etched on his face makes my heart twist. This man is seriously worried about his dad, and all I can think of is my ruined New Year's Eve. What is wrong with me? I blow the picture up and point out David. Ben winces.

"What?"

"Sorry to tell you, but he'll be banging the girl in the red dress tonight."

"Well, if someone had kept their phone on them, he would have been banging the girl in the black dress." I gesture to myself.

"No, he wouldn't have." His voice is very matter-of-fact.

"What? Why would you say that?"

He rolls his head to look at me. "Because if he was really into you, he'd be with you now." He points at my phone. "And he would have said he missed you instead of the whole group. And he wouldn't have his arm around another woman. My guess is he'd already zeroed in on Miss Red Dress before you left."

He looks at me expectantly, but I stay silent, which is enough to tell him he's right. He picked up on the red flags I went colorblind for because I was horny for a midnight kiss. My red flag radar is as busted as my mom’s.

"Let me guess. This was more of a group hang than an actual date?"

"No, I asked him out. He didn't know any of those people before tonight. It's kind of a work thing."

His eyes narrow as he seems to process this information. "The party is work-related, or you date for work?"

I sigh. "Both, kind of. Those are my coworkers. I work for What's Good, ATX, and my assignment is to go on dates featuring Austin businesses and sights for each holiday. David's my neighbor, so I thought he would be a good first holidate."

He studies my face as he contemplates this. "So, are you upset you’re missing time with your date or because you’re bailing on your job?”

I hesitate a second too long, and he raises his brows at me.

“Did you see him? Do you really think I don’t want this date to end with a kiss? Or more?”

He chuckles and shakes his head. "It was never going to work out like you wanted.”

His laugh takes away the pain in his eyes, which I love, and distracts me enough that it takes a moment for his words to register. “What do you mean?”

“You would have gotten a decent kiss at midnight to see if he was horny enough to take the risk of sleeping with you but would have decided it's not worth it.”

A choked sound comes from my throat as I stare at him.

He shrugs. “You don’t shit where you eat, and this guy doesn't want a one-night stand to turn into a stage-five clinger with the chick next door."

My jaw drops. He grins, takes his thumb and rubs it along his bottom lip. Déjà vu washes over me. I’ve seen him do that before, but it was way more sexual. Suddenly, it clicks, and it all makes sense—the flash of abs, the napkins with the pen, and why Red Poppy was on my radar. He’s social media famous because of videos where he makes cocktails in a sexually suggestive way. They’re total thirst traps.

A sly smile pulls across my face. “You're the Bare-chested Bartender."

He winces and glances away.

"Oh my God,” I snigger. “That’s why you raised your shirt at me, which was really weird, by the way. How many numbers do you have behind the bar?"

He looks back at me, now sporting a cocky expression. “That stack was twice as high at the beginning of the night.”

I roll my eyes as my fuckboy radar goes off. “That’s gross. ”

“By the second hour we were open, I lost count of how many times I was asked to lose my shirt. The ab peek was a quick way to give the women, and some men, what they wanted. They freely gave over their numbers. And in a few days, they’ll be added to the Red Poppy’s newsletter.”

I bark out a laugh. Not that I believe for one second he doesn’t take advantage of having all those numbers. “Probably not the response they’re expecting. As icky as those videos are, they’re marketing gold.”

“Icky?”

Okay, his videos are hot. I might have watched them on replay a few times, but I’m not about to admit it. “You slapped a watermelon like it had been a bad fruit, then went all Watermelon Sugar on a wedge.”

Amusement dances in his eyes before his gaze roams down to where the hem of my dress hits my thighs. “Like that one, huh?”

As if he was talking directly to my pussy, it answers in a rush of tingles. Damn, he’s making me want a different kind of midnight kiss.

I squirm in my seat, and his gaze jumps back to mine. I swear he’s promising to give me that kiss with those gorgeous eyes. It’s tempting, but he’s the kind of guy who keeps his red flags hidden behind his charm, and you don’t see them until it’s too late. The kind of guy I learned the hard way to stay far away from.

“My point is you should do more of them.”

It takes him a minute to remember what we’re talking about. His mouth tightens briefly and he shrugs.

I hum at that. "By the way, I definitely wouldn't be more than a stage-two clinger, tops. Totally worth the risk."

An amused smile lifts his lips just before my phone buzzes. I look down and see my mom responded.

Mom

He's calmer knowing Ben is on his way

I show my screen to Ben. He stares and stares as if he can’t comprehend what he’s reading then suddenly his face cracks with emotion. He folds over, cradling his head in his hands, as he takes in deep shuddering breaths. This has to be horrible for him, and I've been terribly selfish. I put my hand on his back and rub up and down his spine, then give the spot between his shoulder blades a deeper massage. His body immediately relaxes, and after several minutes, he leans back. I go to put my hand in my lap, but he surprises me by taking it and lacing it with his.

"What's your name?” he asks. “Sorry, I've forgotten what your text said."

"Lainey."

"Thank you, Lainey, for coming to get me. Sorry it ruined your night."

There's something about the warmth of his hand in mine that soothes me, and I accept the fact I’ll ring in the new year in a hospital. I relax fully into the seat and settle into our mutual comfort.

"It's okay. What's another New Year's gone wrong? I guess it got you out of working and fighting off all the ladies."

"Except I hate leaving my employees in a bind."

I jerk to face him. "Wait. Red Poppy is yours?"

"Yeah."

I stare at him, and I can feel my jaw falling again. This guy owns Red Poppy? But he's so young. "How old are you?"

His mouth twists in amusement. "Twenty-five."

“We’re the same age. And you own a bar? Are you a young billionaire or something?"

He laughs. "I wish. No, my Uncle Red used to own the bar. Well, technically, he still does. I've bought into it as much as I can afford for now, and I run it exclusively. Uncle Red retired and offered the bar to me instead of selling it outright."

"So, you're responsible for the re-brand. He didn't care?"

"No, he knew things were changing, and it wasn't going survive much longer as it was."

He's right, especially in that area, which is quickly becoming a trendy spot for a younger crowd than what Red's Place was probably drawing in. "I like the new name. Any reason you picked it?"

"Poppy was my mom's name. Redford was her maiden name, which is where my uncle got his nickname, he’s actually Gary."

My heart melts as I remember my mom mentioning her date was a widower.

"She passed five years ago on December twenty-first after a two-year battle with breast cancer." He swallows hard. “I don’t think I can handle losing another parent in December.”

I squeeze his hand. “You won’t.” I have no right to say it, as we have no idea how bad things really are, but I need to reassure him somehow.

"Thanks."

We fall silent and he leans his head back against the seat, closing his eyes. His thumb gently rubs my hand. It should be weird since I’ve known this guy for less than thirty minutes, but it’s actually nice. Plus, I like that I can give him comfort. So, I stay silent and let him hold my hand.

As the car pulls up to the emergency entrance, Ben lets go of my hand and scoots closer to the door. I text my mom that we're here. Inside, I hang back as Ben talks to the nurses. A woman who looks like she's trying not to laugh eventually leads us back to a curtained area and leaves us there. Ben pulls open the curtain, and we both stop and stare at our parents making out. Not just that. Ben's dad's hand is groping my mom's boob, and there’s a clear tent in the blanket.

Ben looks at me, his eyes wide with an ashen tint to his skin.

"I think he's okay," I whisper.

My words break our parents apart.

"You're here!" my mom says with a nervous giggle as she fumbles with her shirt.

"Ben!" His dad says as he sits up, thankfully making his boner less noticeable. He immediately tears up and reaches toward him.

"Hey, Dad." Ben walks over, takes his hand, and leans down, giving him a half-hug. "Um, you seem to be okay."

"Right as rain," he says with a wide grin. This does not look like a man who was supposed to be knocking on death's door an hour ago. Did they give him some sort of pain medicine or something? "Hey, do you have any food on you? I really could go for a hot dog. No, nachos!"

"Yes, we definitely need nachos. And maybe a burrito," My mom proceeds to try to roll her r's as she says burrito over and over. She and Ben's dad suddenly burst into laughter.

What the—

"Oh my God, are you high?" I ask, my question like a pin drop.

They stop laughing and stare at us with big, guilty eyes before bursting into laughter again. I throw my arms up in exasperation. I can't fucking believe this. I left my job and date to run all over Austin—all because my mom got high with her date. At least this explains my mom’s odd behavior on the phone.

"Dad? What the hell? Lainey said you were having a heart attack."

After his dad gets his laughter under control he says, "Turns out I was having a bad reaction to a gummy."

Ben blinks at his dad .

"Two gummies, actually.”

"You had two ?" Ben’s eyes practically bug out of the sockets.

"I didn't know they took a while to kick in. Or that half of one was plenty."

Ben covers his face with his hands and mutters a curse.

"I started having chest pains and seeing things. It was actually really horrible. I thought I was dying. We didn't know if maybe the gummy had something else in it. So, we rushed here."

"Are you fucking kidding me?" It takes a couple of seconds to realize I actually blurted that out loud. Everyone turns their gazes toward me. I look at my mom. "You didn't think to tell me you were high on the phone?"

"Lainey," she scolds in that warning voice that tells me I'm being rude. "It felt very serious in the moment. The doctor said we did the right thing by coming in. These kind of bad reactions can be dangerous. But now we're so relieved, we're a little delirious."

"You're not delirious, you're still high. And horny, apparently, since you decided to grope each other in the hospital room."

"Lainey." My mom’s cheeks turn apple red.

I look at Ben's dad and he has a matching blush. "I really am glad you're okay, but if you don't mind, I'm going to try to salvage my New Year's."

He nods sheepishly, and I turn to leave the room. I can't believe pot gummies ruined my night—and I wasn’t even high. Now I have no midnight content for my New Year's Eve post, which hopefully doesn't get me fired. To add insult to injury, my mom has gotten more action than I have in more months than I care to count—in a freaking hospital room.

Fuck. My. Life.

I exit through the sliding doors of the emergency room and pull out my phone to order a ride. Maybe I can get back to my party and kiss David. Or get there in time to see David kiss Mona.

The rideshare app doesn't show any rides nearby. I order one, but I have no idea when someone will accept. I look at the time and realize there's no use in hoping, it's almost midnight. Not even the rideshare drivers want to spend the new year driving a sad stranger around.

I use my phone camera to snap a picture of the emergency room sign, which I guess I’ll use for my post. Then I go to the bench in a darkened corner and plop down.

“Hey.”

I look up to find Ben standing in front of me, his hands stuffed into his pockets. We stare at each other for ten seconds before he bursts into laughter.

“Oh no. Not you, too. This isn’t funny!”

“It’s fucking hilarious, and you know it.”

I sigh and sag further into the bench with a grumble. “Maybe.”

He gives me a look that makes me laugh. He joins me on the bench, and we let the laughter take us. When I finally stop, I say, “It would be funnier if it hadn't been such a shit year.”

No relationship that got past date three. Four jobs I hated. And this overwhelming feeling that I’m never going to get it right. Never going to be happy.

“Starting this year alone in a hospital parking lot doesn’t feel too promising for the next 365 days."

Ben doesn't say anything but pulls his phone out of his pocket and starts swiping. A moment later, I hear a countdown starting over the phone. One minute to midnight.

He puts the phone down between us, stands, and holds out his hand. "You're not alone." I look at him but don't move. "Dance with me."

"Here? "

"Come on, Lainey. Would you rather bring in the new year sulking on that bench or dancing with a handsome stranger?"

I raise my brows. "Someone thinks highly of himself."

"I know you've drooled over my thirst trap videos."

“Charming shirtless bartenders aren’t my thing.”

“Liar,” he says with a seductive smile. This guy is everything I avoid, but it seems resisting him is beyond my willpower tonight.

I take his hand, and he immediately pulls me into him, wrapping his arm around my waist. We sway together as our gazes stay locked on each other. He really is handsome. Ridiculously so.

"Your date is an idiot. That girl in the red dress has nothing on you, Lainey."

My heart lurches at his compliment. It's not that I don't think I'm attractive, but Mona is gorgeous. Like red carpet kind of beautiful. "Do I need to show you the picture again?"

"Nope." His hand shifts on my back, pulling me tighter against him. His face is so close I feel the fan of his breath on my skin. His eyes roam my face, and with every sweep of his gaze, my body gets hotter and hotter. "I know what I saw and stand by what I said."

I swallow the sudden emotion in my throat. I want him to kiss me more than I want to breathe. Not because it's New Year's, but because he’s made me feel more with those sweet words than my last orgasm.

Vaguely, I hear the countdown. Three...two...one .

Blaring applause and a chorus of Happy New Year's come over the speaker as Auld Lang Syne starts to play.

"Happy New Year, Ben."

I hate that this moment is almost over, and I’ll have to step away from the solidness of his body.

"Happy New Year, Lainey. "

He stops dancing and leans in. Anticipation tightens my belly. He lingers a breath away from my lips, as if asking permission. In answer, I run my hand up his neck and sink my fingers into his hair, adding just enough pressure to encourage him to close the distance between us.

And he does.

Fireworks explode. In the air. Inside my body. His lips move over mine in a soft caress—sipping, tasting. It's a slow, tender torture and maybe the most seductive kiss I've ever experienced. He presses his hand into the small of my back, pulling me fully against him.

He doesn't hold back anymore.

His kiss is no longer sweet, it's ruthless. And it doesn't take long before it's out of control. We're grasping at each other, seeking more. Suddenly, he picks me up and moves us around until he's sitting on the bench, and I'm straddling his lap. I hear the slit in my dress tear.

I grind against him, and we both groan.

"Fuck, Lainey. You feel so damn good." He trails kisses along my jaw, down my neck. His hand cups my breast, sending a shock of heat all through me.

"God, yes. Don't stop."

"Never." He takes my mouth again, and I grind on him like a sex-starved woman.

A loud ping jerks us apart. It takes me a few seconds to realize it's the rideshare app on my phone.

I check the screen. "My ride will be here in twenty minutes."

And our heated moment bursts. I stare at him as this awkwardness settles over us. I’m suddenly very aware I’m straddling him on a bench in a hospital parking lot. We untangle ourselves from each other and stand, straightening our clothes. What is wrong with me? I just dry-humped my mom’s date’s son mere minutes after she was being groped by his dad. My mom has always been a fuckboy magnet, and considering tonight's circumstances, Ben’s dad is probably no different. Is this situation like father like son or like mother like daughter?

What I do know is I have no desire to get wrapped up in any of it. I take a big step away from him and wrap my arms around my suddenly cold yet still aching body. “So, I'm glad your dad is okay."

I swear a look of disappointment comes over his face before he clears his throat. "Thanks. Me, too. I guess I should go back in and see about getting him home."

"Oh, shit. I guess I should see about my stoned mother."

He cracks a grin. "Probably."

We both turn toward the sliding doors, but before I can take a step, Ben grabs my wrist and pulls me back into his arms. He kisses me again—quick but potent.

“Thanks for the fireworks, Lainey."