The Girlfriend Game by Sierra Hill
Twelve
Kendall
I get to the coffee shop five minutes early so I can buy my coffee beforehand and find a table. It’s not nearly as busy this time of day as it is on weekdays, but there is a constant flow of people in and out. My eyes are glued to the front door as I wait anxiously for my Mountain Man to arrive.
I also can’t help but surreptitiously glance around the room to make sure that asshole from a few days ago isn’t around again. I will be grateful to never see him again.
As I wait, I decide to call Kerry to tell her I’m meeting up with Mountain Man and where I’ll be today, but also to check in on Conrad.
“How’s he doing?” I ask when she answers with a cheerful greeting.
Kerry heaves a heavy, exasperated mom sigh. “You know boys. They don’t miss a beat. He’s already asking when he’ll be able to play baseball again with his friends.”
I snicker because Conrad is the biggest wiggle worm boy I’ve ever known. He’s always going, going, going and has more energy than any kid ever.
“How long does he have to wear the cast?”
“The doctor said up to six weeks and then they’ll check it again. But pretty much the entire summer break. This is going to complicate all our summer plans. No swim lessons or baseball league or camp. Ugh,” she groans with irritation. “I’m not sure who will be more miserable. Him or me.”
“Hang in there, Ker-Bear. At least the other two can keep him company.”
She snorts. “Yeah, right. You think twelve-year-old Cannon is going to want to have anything to do with his little brother this summer? And Conrad and Celeste have that love/hate relationship. She doesn’t understand why her big brother is so mean to her when all she wants from him is his love.”
My heart squeezes tightly at the thought of my sweet little five-year-old niece getting picked on by the boy she adores.
“Isn’t that what every girl learns early on with boys? That boys only pick on the ones they love?”
We laugh together until I notice a man walking through the door. A tall and attractive one that looks an awful lot like Zeke. His eyes scan the shop, like he’s searching for someone too. He has a bouquet of beautiful lilies in his hand. And then his eyes land on me.
For several beats, the world stops as our gazes connect and we simply look at each other, a strange tingling sensation zipping down my back. I hold my breath as I see a mix of surprise, amusement, and then a dash of confusion flashing through his brown eyes.
“Ker? I’ve got to go.”
“Ooh, is he there?” She gasps airily.
“I’m not sure, but I just saw one of my clients walk in. I’ll call you later after my date.”
I swallow down the lump that immediately forms in my throat over the word date. It feels so formal when this is supposed to be as informal as it gets with no expectations whatsoever.
“Okay. Bye. Good luck. And have fun!”
I say goodbye, shoving the phone into the pocket of the backpack I brought with me, zipping it up before lifting my gaze to see Zeke suddenly standing at my table.
“I’m surprised to see you here again. Are you working today?”
I laugh nervously, a bit embarrassed to be caught here in my workout clothes by a client. I hoist my cup of coffee in the air, as if that explains everything.
“Hi, Zeke. I’m just here for a quick cup and meet up with someone before going to Green Lake.” I leave it at that, intentionally being evasive because it’s not necessary to share my personal details with a client.
He stands tall, anxiously shifting from one foot to another. I now know enough about him to recognize some of his nervous tics. His legs bounce, fingers tap, and he gets very twitchy when he’s working through something.
“That’s cool. Me, too.” He swivels his head, turning from side-to-side again, his eyes scanning the room. “Well, I should let you go. I hope you have a good weekend.”
He gives me a lopsided smile that makes him look both boyish and sweet and I wave goodbye.
“You, too, Zeke. See you next week.”
And then I watch as he lumbers over to the counter to get in line, extracting his phone while he waits. I do the same, wondering if Mountain Man sent me a message or is running late.
The minute I grab my phone, an incoming message appears in my notifications.
Mountain Man: I’m here.
My head pops back up in excitement and I scan the room for the man I’m supposed to meet. I don’t see anyone fitting his description, except Zeke.
Shaking my head in confusion, I type out my response.
The Other Sister: I’m here, too. Where are you? Already got my coffee.
Mountain Man: I’m in line. How about you?
And the sensation that I was trying to ignore and the coincidence that seems unbelievably implausible hits me with the force of a hurricane-sized wind. The air in my lungs suddenly depletes and I’m gasping for breath the moment I lift my head and my eyes zero in on Zeke. He’s turned back around and stares at me with a wide-eyed and befuddled expression.
Didn’t Zeke just mention that he’s meeting someone here, too?
Coincidence? Maybe.
But he also holds a bouquet of Stargazer lilies. My favorite flowers. Flowers that I recently mentioned I liked to Mountain.
Zeke also happens to be wearing the same clothing Mountain Man said he’d be wearing. A Pilot’s T-shirt, hat, and black shorts.
Oh, dear Mother of All Dating App Disaster stories.
Why must this happen to me?
My Mountain Man date can’t possibly be my client, Zeke Forester.
What cruel joke is the universe playing on me that it has given me my fantasy man in the form of the one and only man I can’t date?