Shaw shakes his head.
And that means I need to give him hell. “You’re losing your touch, man. You need to retire and live life as a monk.”
He lets his head hang, forlorn. “I know. What is wrong with me?”
“Everything,” Charlie says in mock seriousness. “Do you need me to give you some lessons on how to win the ladies? Everyone knows paramedics have better game than firemen.”
I clap Shaw on the back. “You couldn’t close the deal. Clearly, it’s time to accept you’re an ugly, old bastard and you have zero game.”
“Same as you.”
“Of course. I’m hideous. I also need to jet.”
Charlie lifts a hand to wave. “I need to deal with some paperwork. See you guys later.”
“Catch you next time,” I say as Shaw and I take off.
“Speaking of closing the deal,” Shaw says as we leave the firehouse and head down the street, “are you ever going to close the deal with Arden?”
I stop in my tracks, bristling at the mention of the woman I very much want. I narrow my eyes. “What are you talking about?”
He sets a hand on his stomach, laughing. “Do you actually think I don’t know that you have it bad for her?”
As a matter of fact, I was hoping so.
“I don’t have it bad,” I deny, even though he’s as right as the Earth rotating around the sun.
“You can lie to yourself, buddy. But I’m not fooled. You should do something about it.”
I sigh as we turn the corner. I could keep up the ruse, but he’s already seen through me. What’s the point in pretending? “Fine. Fine. You win.”
He pumps a fist. “Called it. Even though it was patently fucking obvious, Twenty-Three,” he says, using his nickname for me, my number when I played pro ball.
“Like wearing-a-billboard obvious?”
He nods several times. “But that’s because I know your style. Maybe it’s not obvious to her. Which brings me back to closing the deal. Are you or aren’t you going to let the woman know you have a thing for her?”
I drag a hand through my hair. “I’d like to. But then what if it goes south?”
“South? The direction most relationships go?”
I laugh mirthlessly. “Yes. Isn’t that the truth?”
“Sure seems to be.”
“Hell, I went out with a woman who works at the retirement home, and now I get the cold shoulder from her when I go to visit my pops. I was a gentleman too. I made my intentions clear from the start. Nothing serious. But she wanted more, and now she scowls at me.”
“You can withstand a scowl, surely?”
“Yeah, I can handle scowls.” I take a deep breath. “But I don’t want Arden to scowl, you get me?”
Shaw nods, and we stop at his blue pickup truck, parked near the station. “I hear ya. Some women are special. You don’t want that to happen with your bowling buddy. But look at what happened to your major league career. You went for it, and you had no regrets, Twenty-Three.”
I was recruited out of college by the Texas Rangers and played minor league ball for three seasons with that organization. A relief pitcher with a killer curveball, I was called up to the majors and played there for one glorious season before my shoulder fried like a circuit board left in the sun.
Retirement came swift and early, but I didn’t let it get me down. I had choices. I’d parked all my major league money in a mutual fund so I could let it grow. I had no interest in lamenting what didn’t happen. I wasn’t going to be that guy clinging to one great year and never moving on. I’ve seen Eastbound and Down, thank you very much. And while Danny McBride is funny as fuck, there was no way I would become a washed-up baller clawing my way back to the pitcher’s mound. Instead, I moved on, since the world only spins forward.
When I was a kid and my pops asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up, I always had two answers—ballplayer and a fireman.
I always wanted both.
I’d done all I could on the first one, saved some good money from that year in the show, and it was time to head into career number two.
I’ve had no regrets—I’ve loved being a firefighter just as much.
Don’t look back.
Take your chances.
Go for it.
I need to fucking go for it with Arden, even if it means blowing out my shoulder.
The trouble is, in this analogy the shoulder is our friendship, and I honestly don’t want to see it blow up.
But that’s the chance I have to take.
She’s the woman I can’t get out of my head.
She’s no Darla. She’s no hairstylist. She’s the one I want for more than a one-and-done date. I want more than a casual thing with her.
I want all in.
“Pops, when you met Nana, did you know right away you wanted to take her out?”
My grandpa scrunches his forehead like it hurts him to think. In some ways, I suppose it does.
“I knew I wanted her to type memos for me,” he says, then winks, and that makes me happy, his awareness.
I laugh, patting his arm. “You old fox, falling for your secretary.”
He shrugs as if to say what can you do? “Emily could write memos like nobody’s business, Gabe.”
I smile, loving days like today when he’s here, fully present, remembering. “So you went for it?”
“Do I look like a fool?”
“No, sir. You do not.”
Nor do I want to look like one.
Tonight, I resolve to bowl a game with the guys like I promised, find a way to get Arden the hell out of the bowling alley, and let her know I want to take her out.
Again and again.
When I exit Pops’s suite, I glance down the hall, peering left and right. I breathe a sigh of relief when I don’t see Darla.
But that’s stupid.
It’s not like she’s going to ambush me with tears or rage. Hell, we went on one date. That was all. Sure, she wanted another and said as much, but I wasn’t feeling it, so I said thanks but no thanks.
I have to deal with running into her, if it happens.
And when I reach the main floor, it does. She’s turning the corner, heading straight toward me.
She lifts her chin proudly. “Hello, Gabe.”
“Hello, Darla.”
She walks past me, looking straight ahead with a cold, stony-faced, I-don’t-even-notice-you stare, and I make my way to the parking lot, ready to move on. No more ladies’ man.
I’d like to be a one-woman man.
12
Arden
I survey the scene at Pin-Up Lanes. Retro tunes play overhead, and a stream of people smile and toast, having a good time.
My friend Finley from the next town over is here, and she and her new guy Tom are bowling. I stroll by her lane, tapping her on the shoulder after she finishes her turn.
“Hey, you. How’s your show going?” Finley’s a TV comedy writer.
“I have more than one hundred viewers, so I'd say it’s going better than my last show,” she says, her light blue eyes twinkling.
“Oh, please. I’m sure you had more than that.”
“I wouldn't be too sure about that,” she says dryly.
“Well, I’m glad the new one is doing better then.” I tip my forehead in Tom’s direction. “And how’s the new man?”
Her grin is infectious. “He makes me laugh and he makes me happy. And, well, I kind of can’t take my hands off him.”
I smile. “I suppose that’s how it should be.”
“I’m a big advocate of wanting to get your hands on the man you like.”
We catch up briefly on her life, when Tom comes over after taking his turn. He pecks a kiss on her cheek and says hello.
“You guys look like you’re having fun, so I’ll let you keep it up.”
I wander past the crowds, and find Vanessa at the bar.
“I’d say your Celebrate Summer Party is a huge hit,” I tell Vanessa from my perch at the bar, as I scan the crowd for Gabe. My purse is in Vanessa’s back room. My list is tucked safely inside a book in the bag. My plan is solid.
“Thank you. I’m pretty damn proud of this event, myself. Can’t believe I pulled it off.”
“I can. You’re kickass at everything you do. Do I need to remind you of how we used to wander past this bowling alley when it was that dilapidated, lamely named ‘County Lanes’? It smelled like bacon grease and half the lanes were broken, and you said, ‘I’m going to fix that up and add some style.’”
Vanessa laughs, and I swear the memory of her determined teenage self flickers in her eyes. “I loved bowling and retro clothes as a kid. I guess it just worked out.”
“It didn’t just work out. You made it happen.”
She lifts a glass and toasts. “To us. The Kickass Girls of Lucky Falls,” she says, using the name we bestowed on our trio when we were younger. “Well, minus one, but Perri’s surely out kicking ass and taking names.”
“And she’s doing that literally,” I say, raising my Riesling and clinking it to Vanessa’s water glass.
I take a drink of the crisp wine. I’ve deemed it the ideal pairing for going out on a limb. It’s fresh and bright, with an effervescent aftertaste. It’s ready to show off its flavors.
I’m ready too.
Tonight is a perfect night for a proposal. Gabe has finished his shift, he’s relaxed, and we’ve already planned to play a game or two here at the event. The Celebrate Summer fundraiser benefits the first responders in the county—the police, firefighters, and paramedics who have been tasked with harder than normal work thanks to the fires that raged for days in vineyards and across once lush, rolling green hills. That’s why the bowling alley, complete with karaoke bar, darts, pool tables, and twenty lanes, is stuffed to the gills. The first responders here have earned so much well-deserved support.
“You can’t beat the view tonight,” Vanessa says, her eyes drifting over the crowd and finding the pack of men from the station at lane twenty, including Gabe, Jackson, Charlie, and Perri’s brother, Shaw. Vanessa’s gaze lingers on Shaw for a beat longer than usual. Maybe two beats longer, come to think of it.