Another Shot At Love (5 page)

Roxanna scooted two shot glasses toward Lexie, the liquid inside sloshing around, a little spilling on the scarred wood table. She gestured to Lexie’s ring. “Seriously, Jeremy is such a show off. If I were interested in the whole marriage debacle, I’d be insanely jealous right now.”

“When you meet the right guy and fall in love, you’ll change your mind about marriage.” Lexie wore a wistful expression. “The wedding will be perfect.”

“You’ve been imagining your fairytale wedding since we were seven years old, so I’m sure you’re right.” I smiled, then knocked back a shot of tequila. I bit down on a wedge of lime and cringed as the sour juice flooded my mouth. “You were such a wedding Nazi back then and you never let me be the bride. I think we had that wedding march perfected even before Roxanna came around.”

“She’s just lucky I never wanted to play the bride,” Roxanna winked. “When’s the wedding?”

“Early next spring. I’m hoping Jeremy will want to have the wedding and reception at the vineyard. Can you imagine? It’ll be gorgeous!” Lexie crossed her legs and leaned into the table, her eyes sobering as she lost her smile. “The engagement party is less than three months from now. At the country club.”

Reality set in like dead weight on the bottom of my stomach. I knew what country club she meant—the one where both Jeremy’s parents and Brent’s parents were members. The one where Brent was a member. The thought of having to fake nice around him in a room full of his close friends and family made the contents of my stomach curdle.

I couldn’t catch a break.

And then another queasy thought occurred.

“Oh God,” I breathed. “Please tell me I’m not the maid of honor and Brent’s not the best man, Lexie.”

The answer was just as obvious as the worry wrinkle between Lexie’s eyebrows. I was probably wearing an identical wrinkle between my own brows.

“Oh crap,” I muttered and clenched my jaw together.

“You’re over him, remember?” Lexie’s tone lacked conviction. “It’s going to be fine.”

“Of course I’m over him. That doesn’t mean I wouldn’t mind hitting him with a bat. Better yet, never seeing him ever again for the rest of my life has a nice ring to it.” I sounded pouty and I was. The whole purpose of avoiding any place Brent hung out was never to see him again. I’d always known Jeremy and Lexie were headed for a big fancy wedding, but I thought there’d at least be another year to get over wanting to strangle my weasel-of-an-ex-boyfriend.

Lexie shifted uncomfortably in her chair while I knocked back my second tequila shot. She said, “You’ll be bringing your own date to the wedding, so seeing him again won’t be a big deal.”

“Um, except there’s a huge problem,” I said and went for one of Lexie’s tequila shots. Roxanna had taken both of hers already, so she didn’t have one for me to steal. “I don’t have a boyfriend, or even a semi-boyfriend, or even a boy who is just a friend that I can take.”

The thought of getting out the old yearbook and beg guys I hadn’t seen in years to be my pity date made me want to throw up all over Lexie’s pretty shoes.

“That’s why, as of today, you are officially dating again,” Roxanna said and stole Lexie’s remaining tequila shot. She clinked the shot glass I held in my hand and we both knocked the drinks back. I didn’t even cringe this time—the bite had worn off. I would be the one with a hangover tomorrow, not Lexie.

“Is he bringing Stripper Barbie?” An image of Brent’s slut girlfriend flashed into my mind. I gagged as I pictured her the way I’d seen her last; all dark roots and silicon boobs bouncing as she rode him reverse cowboy. “Oh God, I think I’m going to be sick.”

“Yeah, she’ll be there.” Lexie covered my hand with hers. “I’m sorry. I told Jeremy to find a new Best Man, but you know how those two are attached at the hip. And both of their parents would throw a fit if Brent wasn’t in the wedding.”

I did know. Brent and Jeremy’s friendship was the reason I’d met Brent in the first place. I should have followed my instincts back then and ignored his advances. If I had, he wouldn’t be my ex. He wouldn’t be anything. Just the guy with the cheesy pick-up lines I’d laughed about with Roxanna. And I wouldn’t have been witness to his cheating performance.
Lucky me.

There was nothing left to drink on the table—Roxanna and I had finished everything off. The neighboring table had four full, frothy drinks. The jabbering women, all suits and closed-toe heels, probably wouldn’t even notice if I snuck one and downed it. Something told me I needed it more than they did anyway. They were all laughing. Probably, their ex hadn’t cheated with Stripper Barbie.

“How the hell are we going to find you Mr. Perfect before the engagement party?” Roxanna asked, and I turned to face her. She whipped out her cell phone and scrolled through her contacts. “You really didn’t give us much time, Lex.”

“But you said you know lots of guys Gen can date,” Lexie reminded her. She took a twenty dollar bill out of her wallet and set it on the table, giving me an apologetic smile. “I’ll buy your next drink.”

“My next drink? As in one?” I frowned at my empty glass. “You owe me more than one now that you’re forcing this reunion with Brent on me.”

She nodded. “The next three. Now, promise me you won’t be mad when I tell you the next part.” Lexie’s eyes pleaded with me, making my chest tighten. Whatever my twin had to say, it wouldn’t be pleasant.

“I’m not promising anything. Spit it out.” I pinched my lips together and braced myself for whatever it was that would probably ruin the rest of my night.

As if it could get any worse!

“Well, I called Cat and she said—”

“Wait a second,” I interrupted Lexie. “Cat knew about your engagement
before me?
”

“She wouldn’t care that I told her over the phone,” Lexie explained. She recrossed her legs and gave me her be-reasonable-look. She looked a lot like our older sister right then. “Just hear me out.”

“This ought to be interesting,” Roxanna mused, and Lexie narrowed her eyes.

“You aren’t helping,” Lexie chastised, then turned her attention back to me. “Catherine and Mom are concerned that you are still in love with Brent—”

“Are you
serious?
” I shrieked. A few faces turned towards us so I lowered my voice. “What the hell gave them that idea?”

“Well, it’s not like you’ve dated since the two of you broke up,” Lexie pointed out. When I opened my mouth to protest, she held up her hands. “Hey, I’m not judging; I’m just telling you their opinion. Catherine’s worried you’ll take Brent home from the engagement party if you go solo.”

“Like hell I will,” I practically snarled.

“Like hell she will,” Roxanna agreed with just as much passion.

“I don’t think you will,” Lexie said, but her eyes told me different. “I told them you wouldn’t. I mean…you wouldn’t, would you?”

“Hell
freakin’ no
, I won’t,” I insisted. “And he’s bringing a date. I sure as hell am not going home with the two of them for a kinky three-some.”

“
Okay.
” Lexie looked tense as she ripped at the damp napkin her martini had been sitting on. “So, Catherine mentioned she knows a few single guys—”

The warmth drained from my face. “
No way
is Cat setting me up. She’s mentioned about five million times I should date a cop. If one of Tony’s copper friends ends up on my doorstep, I’m going to freak out.”

I loved Tony, but Tony was a cop. He hung out with cops. His best friends were cops. I wasn’t into cops. At all. Cops carried guns. I didn’t like guns or handcuffs or anything to do with the little pink tickets they handed out.

“I told her no cops,” Lexie said, and I relaxed a little. Being set up on dates by our older, controlling sister wouldn’t end well. It was just something that I knew.

I looked to Roxanna for help. “I need a date. Please tell me you know someone.”

“I can set you up.” Roxanna chewed her bottom lip. “I’m not sure any of them are your type for much more than a one night stand, though.”

“I’m willing to take a chance,” I said, but Lexie shook her head.

“Catherine’s already arranged your first date,” Lexie said. “You’re meeting some guy for dinner. Son of a friend’s cousin, something or other. If you say no, she’ll have a hernia. You know that. And she’s pregnant. You don’t want to be the reason she goes into early labor, do you?”

“You are such a shit with your guilt trips.” I narrowed my eyes at her. “Catherine setting me up on blind dates? She and I have never agreed on any of the guys I’ve dated. Ever.” I groaned and dropped my head into my hands.

“She never approved of Brent, so maybe she’ll have a better luck at finding you Mr. Perfect than you had,” Lexie said.

“She’s got a point,” Roxanna agreed.

“Ouch.” I blinked against the alcohol buzz making my thoughts fuzzy. It hadn’t settled well in my stomach, either—which was the result of all the bad news.

“You can’t go alone, that’s for sure,” Roxanna said and lifted her hand off the table so the waitress could set her drink down. “You’ll look lame. And you know what Brent will think.”

I didn’t want Brent to think anything when it came to me. And he had a big enough ego already.

“I better be in the wedding,” Roxanna said to Lexie, who rolled her eyes.

“Of course you are. I couldn’t stand to hear you complain for the rest of our lives if you weren’t.”

Roxanna stood so she could lean over the little round table and kiss Lexie’s cheek. “I knew it was a good thing I didn’t run you over with my scooter. Best friends forever, bitches.”

I raised my glass and clinked it against theirs. No matter how shitty things were going to get in my near future, at least I had Lexie and Roxanna, and tonight. Even if it resulted in a massive hangover tomorrow.

Chapter Two

My most recent date from hell sat across from me in a fast-food restaurant that smelled of burnt marinara, where grease hung in the air like a sticky film of humidity.

You are being dumped in a shitty Italian restaurant. Perfect.

Richard had been another one of Catherine’s choices for a date to the upcoming engagement party, and I wasn’t happy about it. This guy was all wrong for me. Also, he’d dumped me only four seconds after showing me to a wobbly, plastic table beside a group of giggling teenaged girls who enjoyed eavesdropping more than their overcooked pasta.

With a sigh, I wadded up my straw wrapper, pinching it into a tight ball between my thumb and forefinger—anything to keep me from strangling the guy across from me. I wasn’t searching for Mr. Perfect anymore—what I wanted was normal. Plain and simple.

However, after four really crappy blind dates, I had to wonder if there were any normal single men left in this city. A disappointing thought, because that meant there was a good chance there weren’t any Mr. Perfects left either. This close to the engagement party, there wasn’t any time to start date-shopping out of town.

I couldn’t catch a damn break if it bit me in the ass. And nothing was biting.

“I know how much you wanted this—” Richard waved his finger, pointing back and forth between us with a sympathetic expression stamped on his face, “—to work out.”

His shoulders were drawn up as if he’d sucked in a lungful of air to inflate his undefined chest and I peered at him, astounded. He was serious.

“Right…” I was too shocked for a more profound response.

Our first date, we’d gone Dutch—I was taking this modern dating stuff seriously. I hadn’t wanted him getting the idea I was interested in anything serious. He’d paid for his chicken strips, I’d paid for my bacon cheeseburger, and then we’d gone our separate ways. Definitely, there hadn’t been enough time during that lunch date for him to get the idea I wanted us to “work out.” Most of lunch he’d spent describing in detail his video game addiction, while I sat speechless, wondering about the helmet he’d mentioned a few times. Apparently, he wore it in order to get pumped up for online gaming tournaments. I’d left with the certainty Richard was not, and never would be, the man for me.

That was three days ago. I knew I’d never call him again—ever. And after three days of silence on his end, I’d assumed we were both on the same page. Apparently, though, in those three days he’d convinced himself I was dying to tie the knot and he’d been letting me marinate in the idea. I’d been so surprised by his dinner invitation, I’d accepted, but only to let him down easy. I’d planned to tell him we weren’t compatible, but with more tact—outside in the parking lot, far from prying eyes and eavesdropping teenagers.

“I know how much you dig me,” Richard said, and I told myself not to get too worked up. The guy clearly had issues. Like maybe we weren’t even from the same planet. I’d been watching these alien documentaries lately, and I was hooked. Richard fit the alien abduction or body host type.

I chewed my bottom lip. This couldn’t be happening to me.

The high school girls were still giggling, as if they’d just witnessed the most amazing thing since Jersey Shore.
Really, who needs cable when you can get reality drama for free, over a plate of overcooked pasta?