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“Don’t be a dick. We’re groomsmen. I think we’re obligated to stay put until after the first dance. Besides, Reese and June paid an exorbitant amount of money for catering. The least you can do is eat it and smile.” I scold him for the umpteenth time today. He’s been a pain in the ass since he left his house. It’s obvious why Reese placed me in charge of getting him here and sat us at the same table. As his boss, he’s much more likely to listen to me than anyone else in attendance. We were also the only two dumbasses incapable of securing a plus-one for our friend’s wedding. Truth be told, I didn’t even try.
“Fine. As soon as I clean my plate, I’m out of here. This joint is crawling with chicks who think a wedding is a great place to meet their future husband. I’m not interested and don’t have the energy to go through a long, drawn-out rejection. I hate tears,” Hank flatters himself and sinks deeper into his delusion. Once upon a time, that statement held some truth to it. He used to be the biggest man-whore at Fort Bragg. And he didn’t discriminate—soldiers and civilians kept him busy 24/7. Then he fell in love with a colonel’s daughter and gave up that life for good. But it all went to shit while we were overseas, and he hasn’t recovered since. In his mind, he’s still a twenty-four-year-old lieutenant fighting off the barrack bunnies. Those days are long gone.
Fed up with his conceit, I roll my eyes and groan, “No one wants you, man. These girls are looking for young bucks, not a thirty-eight-year-old divorced man who lives in a studio apartment and works for his friend because he’s too shell-shocked to hold on to a regular nine-to-five job. Get a grip and try to enjoy yourself. Better days are still ahead.”
His jaw drops, widening in sync with his eyes. “That’s a low blow, Ford. I take care of myself. I’m still in my prime.”
I nod and pretend to agree for the sake of keeping the peace. I’m pretty sure thirty-eight means we’re past our prime, but there’s no sense in thinking too hard about it. War ages you. Life kicks you in the ass. We’re not the men we once were, but maybe we’ll get better with some work.
“Do you think you’ll ever do this? You’re the only one of us who’s never walked down the aisle,” Hank mumbles through a mouthful of spinach puffs while pointing to the bride and groom.
Reese and June stare into each other’s eyes, blissfully in love and seemingly overjoyed to be husband and wife. I’m happy they’re happy. I want the best for my friends, and Reese deserves to settle into a quiet life with a nice girl. Unfortunately, his honeymoon coincides with our busy season, but I’ve volunteered to pick up the slack while he’s gone. It’s the least I can do.
There was a time when marriage and family were my fondest wish. Not anymore. I left those dreams in Iraq, along with my soul and sanity. A man needs something to offer his woman. And I’m still working on that. I’ve spent years building my business from scratch, hiring fellow veterans and giving my friends a chance to earn a good living using brawn over their battle-scarred brains. With help from friends like Reese and Hank, Tribeca Movers has gone from two trucks to ten in five years, and we’ve developed a reputation for professionalism and impeccable customer service. It’s not easy building word of mouth in a city like New York, but we’ve succeeded.
I make a comfortable living and would make a good provider, but women need more than that. They need a man who’s emotionally available and sensitive to their needs. Frankly, that’s not me. I’m a work in progress, and I don’t want to drag a poor, unsuspecting girl into my messed-up world. Maybe one day, but not now.
“Are you going to answer me?” Hank asks as he cuts into his steak. I drop my gaze to the setting before me, surprised I was so lost in my head that I didn’t realize I’d been served.
“What was your question?” I act clueless and hope he drops the topic.
He doesn’t. Hank glares as he chews, waiting patiently for me to reply.
When the silence becomes awkward, I unravel the cutlery and place the linen on my lap. “I don’t know, man.” I begrudgingly answer but refrain from providing details.
“I get it. You’re set in your ways, and the older we get, the harder it is to change your routine. Women make things better, but they also complicate the shit out of everything. As much as I complain about relationships and marriage, I miss the feeling of being smack-ass in love. It sucks when it’s over, but it’s amazing while it lasts.”
I shift in my seat, uncomfortable with the strange direction this conversation has taken. Love isn’t a subject I ever contemplate. I’ll admit I’ve never been smack-ass in love. My last relationship was years ago, shortly after I retired from the military. We liked each other and enjoyed spending time together, but I never wanted to make things official. I never considered it for a second.
“Marriage isn’t on top of my priority list. Business is booming, and the guys count on me for their livelihood. I'll stick to what’s working and circle back to love when things slow down. Besides, shit like that happens when it happens. You can’t force it.” I shove a piece of steak into my mouth and chew slowly, diverting my attention from Hank to dinner.
As we eat, the table grows louder with conversation. Guests who’ve taken advantage of the open bar slur congratulations to the bride and groom and mingle. The woman seated next to me asks me how I know the couple. I tell her Reese and I have been friends for over a decade, and she informs me she attended college with the bride. We chitchat, but I focus on my food, unsure if she’s flirting and unwilling to lead her on.
“Did you come alone?” She leans into my shoulder and bats her eyelashes. I don’t care to ask her name, but someone on the other side of the table calls her Sela.
I shake my head and continue to eat, refraining from giving her eye contact. Sela’s a pretty woman, but she’s not my type. Do I have a type? I must have preferences I’ve yet to discover. My father used to say you never know what you like until you find it in the girl who steals your heart. If that’s true, then it’s no wonder I haven’t got a clue. “I’m here with my friend.”
“No girlfriend? A big, strapping man like yourself must have had a long list of women dying to be your date.” Sela lays it on thick, smiling wide and twirling a lock of hair around her finger.
I chuckle nervously, feeling ridiculous for stonewalling a girl who’s probably only flirting with me out of boredom. “My date had a last-minute emergency, and we weren’t planning to stay long anyway.” I jab my elbow into Hank’s ribs, hoping he endorses my escape plan.
He hesitates, probably as payback for my earlier comments. Refusing to play games, I give him the stink-eye and groan quietly, an unspoken threat of dire consequences if he doesn’t comply.
“Are you done yet? We should get going,” Hank declares with a hint of urgency, loud enough for Sela to hear over the music.
I nod and push my chair back, unfolding my legs to stand. “It was nice meeting you, Sela. Hope you enjoy the rest of the evening.”
She quickly stands and places a business card in my hand. “Call me sometime. I’d love to get to know you.”
I fake a smile and stuff the card in my pocket to avoid hurting her feelings. She’s too pretty to chase a man who hasn’t shown any interest. The room is packed with younger men who would probably be far more compatible than me, but that’s not for me to decide.
“That girl would have totally given it up if you’d taken her out on the dance floor a few times,” Hank jokes as we exit the hall, enjoying a good laugh at my expense.
I shrug my jacket off my shoulders, folding it over my forearm as we walk to the parking garage. “Not interested. I’m not investing time in something that won’t last. I’ll turn my schedule upside down when I find the right woman. But that’s not her.”
CHAPTERTHREE
“Ford, you better have a damn good reason for dragging me here at this ungodly hour. Are we seriously picking up from three separate locations?” Hank holds the invoice for today’s client and shakes it with annoyance. Tensions are high. He’s here two hours early, as is everyone else assigned to my crew. Most of us aren’t used to getting started until 9:00. This is a special case, and there is a reasonable probability of achieving a high return on our investment. “Since when do we go to Westchester County?”
