Page 14 of Third Time Lucky

LUCY

I did it. Against my better judgment and because I was afraid of turning myself into a total liar after claiming to Ash that I had a date, and him reminding me when I drunkenly called him last night, I texted back Tanner (not Tucker – oops) and asked him to meet me at a bar, which is where I am now.

‘What do you do for work?’ Tanner asks.

‘Graphic design. You’re an attorney?’

He nods. Getting words out of this man is like pulling teeth, and I’m tempted to remind him that my eyes are a bit north of where his gaze keeps falling.

‘What kind of law?’

‘Divorce.’

‘Wow. That must be stressful.’

‘Not really,’ he says, knocking back the rest of his drink. ‘I help people get what they deserve.’

‘Interesting way to put it… so you’re a retaliation lawyer?’

He chuckles. ‘I like that.’

Huh. I bet that’s a detail Madi doesn’t know about this guy. He’s a divorce lawyer. Or maybe she did and thought: he hates marriage, he’s the perfect guy for Lucy to joy ride.

‘Did a bad marriage send you that direction?’ I ask.

‘Nope. Just a hopping business. The average length of an American marriage is eight years. So, safe to say people jump into loveless marriages all the time and leap back out practically as fast. I’ve had one client five times, and he’s engaged again .’

The roll of his eyes tells me he’s not on board with the engagement.

‘But his wedding failures just keep adding to my bank balance, and a guy’s got to make a living.’

How classy.

‘Maybe sixth time’s a charm?’ I suggest.

‘I’ll cross everything for him,’ he says, not sounding serious at all.

He raises a hand, getting the bartender’s attention, then lifts his empty bottle, turning it upside down to prove he needs another.

We sit awkwardly, waiting for his second beer. This place is a dive. The food is greasy. And the drink menu is lacking because they only serve canned and bottled brews and have zero fruity drinks to cloud my mind and help me see past this man’s boring personality.

‘Can I get you anything?’ the woman delivering his beer asks, glancing my way.

‘I’m good,’ I say, a Coke sitting in front of me.

He didn’t offer to feed me; he just asked what I wanted to drink. Something in the form of a double was my first thought. But that wasn’t an option because I refuse to go back home tonight and risk Ash still being there to see me drunk – again – so soda it is.

He takes a big sip and then leans my way. ‘Have I told you that you’re gorgeous?’

I nod. ‘Twice. Thank you.’

It’s about the only thing he’s open with – that I am beautiful. It must be his ‘line.’ Tell a woman she’s beautiful enough times, and she’ll start paying attention to you – eventually. But I’m more than just a pretty face.

I glance at my phone, willing it to ring, but it only sits there silently, its screen black – taunting me. Even checking my email, likely filled with unwanted sales ads, would be more interesting than this conversation.

‘I heard you almost needed a divorce,’ he says out of the blue.

No, she didn’t tell him about Vegas. Dang it, Madi.

‘It was a close call,’ I admit. ‘Had we made it another fifteen minutes, an annulment would have been necessary, but luckily, a friend saved me.’

‘Interesting,’ he says.

‘It was more humiliating than interesting, but yeah.’

‘I’m sure there were red flags,’ he says as if I’m an idiot.

Sadly, I don’t entirely disagree. I’ve thought about this a lot. Red flags. Green flags. And invisible flags. I see none of them. Love makes you blind – that much I know.

‘Riddle me this,’ I say, earning his attention. ‘Considering your profession, you probably know a lot about bad relationships. Got any advice on how not to let that happen in the future?’

Maybe he’s got wisdom. It can’t hurt to find out.

‘My advice is always to keep things casual,’ he says before setting his beer on the table, his gaze finally meeting mine, but it’s strange, like he’s trying to read me or hear something from across the room.

‘ Or if you insist on wedded bliss, marry the friend – seems like he’s got your best interests at heart. ’

I cock my head, confused. The first part I get, that’s his vibe. But marry the friend? Huh?

Finally, my phone buzzes in front of me. That took forever. I snatch it from the table before he can glimpse Madi’s face.

‘Hey,’ he says, holding up a hand before I can answer. ‘Real quick, is this going anywhere?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I live right around the corner.’ He nods toward the front door, waggling his eyebrows.

For a second, I’m stunned. He wants to take me back to his place?

I’d bet money he doesn’t even remember my name.

But he can’t be that brazen. He probably just wants to show me his law book collection…

not. What a piece of work. He’s spent twenty minutes with me, and he’s ready for me to drop my dress on his bedroom floor and give it up. Absolutely not.

I answer the call, ignoring his question indefinitely. ‘Hello?’

‘Seriously?’ she says. ‘Didn’t you guys just get there, and you already hate him?’

‘Loathe.’

She sighs heavily. ‘Not even for a stress relief?’

‘No, thank you.’

I smile sweetly at Tanner, who, for once, is looking me in the eye. Wouldn’t want him to know I’m looking for a way out of this mistake.

‘Fine, I’m five minutes away. Can you wait that long, or do you need me to call in a bomb threat?’

‘I think you’ve done enough.’

‘Oh my God, Luce. I was kidding!’ she laughs. ‘Please, don’t be mad. I’ll pay for dinner and drive you home. He was only a suggestion.’

A suggestion. Next time, text those to me; don’t invite them into my life unexpectedly. I’ll tell her that later.

As I hang up, Tanner is downing his drink in one swallow. That’s a bit of an ex-frat boy giveaway.

‘Emergency?’ he asks.

Wow. He’s done this before.

I nod. ‘My hamster. He’s not got long, and I’d hate for him to be with strangers after all he’s done for me.’

The smile he first greeted me with slowly grows on his face, reminding me that while he isn’t engaging in the slightest, he is handsome – a waste of a good face.

‘Your hamster,’ he says with a laugh. ‘That was good. Honest opinion?’ he asks as he stands, tossing a fifty-dollar bill onto the table.

‘Uh— sure?’

‘I read people – family gift – and I don’t think you’ve got to worry about the next one breaking your heart. It seems pretty guarded,’ he says. ‘However, take off your blinders because I predict the third time will be a charm for you.’

He reads people? What in the heck does that mean?

‘You predict ?’ I ask with the most disbelieving tone ever.

Had he been interesting like this ten minutes ago, maybe I wouldn’t have had to drag my imaginary hamster into this.

He nods. ‘I’m never wrong.’

I’m not buying that for a second.

‘Shall I set a reminder to text future you so you can keep track of your bet?’

He shakes his head. ‘Completely unnecessary, I’ve got no question about it. You hate love, but you also crave it – always keeping an eye out for Mr Right – and I am not him. Your third try is the one that will end the way you want.’

How offensive that I’m this easy to read.

‘What if there is no number three? Maybe I’ve permanently given up at two?’

He chuckles. ‘Good luck with that,’ he says, giving me a military salute and heading out the door.

My jaw drops in confusion. What does any of this mean? He has a family gift of reading people? Is he some kind of psychic? If he were, he wouldn’t have had to ask if this was going anywhere.

But I don’t have time to think about that because a vaguely familiar man has danced through the bar as he made his way to my booth and is now sliding in across from me still rocking to the beat, staring at me like he’s got something to say.

‘May I help you?’

‘You like Flock of Seagulls?’

‘No. But I’ve felt like running away since I walked in here, so perfect mood music.’

‘You’re Lucy Gray, aren’t ya?’ the stranger asks, grinning at me oddly.

‘Perhaps…’

‘I’m here!’ Madi says, rushing through the front door and stopping when my table guest turns her way.

‘Well, well, well,’ he says, his attention averted.

Madi stops in her tracks, her gaze on him.

‘I was hoping this would happen when I saw her sitting here. Hello there, gorgeous,’ he says, arm resting on the back of the booth as he stares all heart-eyed at Madi.

Her jaw drops open as she glances between us. ‘Shut. Up! Aaron !?’

Aaron? Oh my gosh. Wasn’t that the name of Ash’s friend in Vegas?

‘What up, girl?’ he asks, scooting in and pulling her into the booth with him.

‘Do you know who this is?’ Madi asks me, setting her purse on the table and staring at the man beside her. ‘Vegas! Your friend’s friend, what was his name?’

‘Asher,’ Aaron and I say in unison, causing his head to snap my way with interest.

‘It is you!’

I shrug, glancing around the bar. Surely, Ash isn’t here because he should be at my house right now cooking without me.

‘He’s not here,’ Aaron interrupts my thoughts. ‘And for the record, he’s my brother.’

His brother? I guess I knew he had siblings, but I never met or knew them.

‘But, despite his absence, I hear you saw him recently?’

My God. If one more person reads my mind tonight…

‘Who are we talking about?’ Madi blurts.

‘Turns out sample meal number three was Asher’s. He started last night.’

Number three? No. Dang it, Tanner. Now I’m going to see threes everywhere. This’ll be fun to overthink.

‘The hot private chef is Asher?!’ she asks, her jaw dropping as she looks between Aaron and me. ‘Your brother?’

Aaron nods proudly.

My jaw drops with her words. Hot? What are you doing? You can’t say that in front of his brother, he’ll tell him.

Aaron’s eyes are on me, and he is interested in every word. ‘It’s him. Also, he will be thrilled as fuck to hear someone call him hot.’

‘No!’ I blurt out, causing him to jump. ‘You can’t tell him that because when I said it, I was talking in general, hoping our “new chef” was easy on my eyes so I could enjoy watching him cook for me.’