“If I could take back the fact that I fell off a ladder and shake your hand instead, I would,” I say.
“Whoa,” Matt interrupts. “Did you say you ‘fell off a ladder’?”
“Sadly,” I admit.
“I think we are destined to be friends,” Matt says.
His smile is easy and open, his posture relaxed. I like him immediately.
“I’d love to be your friend,” I say.
Matt clamps a hand on Penn’s shoulder, releasing a hearty laugh. “Guess she likes me, big guy.”
“She just met you,” Penn says. “She doesn’t know if she likes you yet.”
“Um, I just met you too,” I say. “So who knows? Maybe I like Matt better than you. He has said a number of sentences to me without propositioning me.”
“I can tell you right now that I definitely like you better than him,” Matt cracks.
Penn’s jaw drops. He looks between the two of us like he’s shocked. As we laugh, Penn shoves Matt. Matt winces as he loses his balance and grabs the edge of a nearby table.
“Fuck you,” Matt groans, clutching his side.
“I forgot. Honest,” Penn says.
Matt looks up at me. There’s pain written across his handsome face. “I injured my spleen. Sympathy is appreciated.”
“He fell off a kiddie ladder. One lower than yours, even,” Penn interjects. “Don’t feel sorry for him. He’s just trying to capitalize on you saying you might like him more than me.”
“Penn! He’s in pain.” I make a face at him before turning to Matt. “You poor thing. You fell off a ladder. I did that today, and I know how terrifying it is.” I hold out a hand. “Let me help you.”
“Are we really doing this?” Penn asks, straight-faced.
“Doesn’t look like you are doing anything,” Matt says.
Penn quirks a brow. “I’m warning you . . .”
“You are too easy to rile up, Etling,” Matt says.
“And you are too easy to injure. Remember that,” Penn tells him.
I roll my eyes as I realize my hand is still dangling in the air. Matt takes it just to annoy Penn. I help him stand and dust off his shirt.
“There you go. You feel okay?” I ask.
It’s hard to keep a straight face when Penn is this close and my interest in Matt is clearly bothering him. It’s even harder when Matt plays along.
“I think so,” Matt says, making a show of holding his side. “It’s hard to get anyone to take me seriously around here.”
“I’ll take you seriously.” I toss him a wink.
Penn moves so he’s standing closer to me. It’s like he knows his testosterone permeates the air and makes my head foggy. I turn to look at him in time to see a waitress sidling up to him. She’s petite with long blonde hair and a pretty smile.
“Need another drink, Penn?” She looks up at him as if he could ask for anything and she’d get it, or do it, right there.
My gaze whips to Penn. He’s looking at me. I can’t help but feel a little bit satisfied.
“Nah,” he says. “What about you, Avery?”
The waitress follows Penn’s line of sight to me. “I’m sorry,” she says. “I didn’t see you come in. It’s been crazy here. Can I get you something?”
“I was going to grab dinner but haven’t seen a menu. Maybe a burger? I heard they were great,” I suggest.
“We have great burgers and tenderloins, and breaded mushrooms to die for. Let me grab you a menu so you can make an informed decision.” She pauses. “My name is Alexis. Don’t listen to anything these punks tell you about me.”
I laugh. “Deal.”
She turns to go. Penn’s head turns to follow her.
My stomach tightens as I watch him watch her. His expression is mostly neutral . . . until he catches me watching him. He runs a hand through the hair I just cut, the dimple in his left cheek shining.
“What?” he asks.
“Nothing.” I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. “I’m going to go grab a seat with Harper. It was good seeing you, Penn. Nice to meet you, Matt.”
“Oh no,” Matt says. He shakes his head from side to side. “Uh-uh. That’s not gonna fly.”
“What are you talking about?” I ask.
He quirks a brow. “You have to sit with us. We’re friends now.”
The two of them stand shoulder to shoulder like two linebackers protecting the end zone. Only in this case, the end zone is my self-restraint.
A warmth spreads in my stomach as they silently challenge me. For some unexplained reason, though our interaction can be measured in minutes, I feel like I’ve known them forever and better than I know all my old friends in California. It’s so odd. Alarm bells should be going off. But they’re not.
“Maybe I like sitting with Harper,” I say.
“She looks like she’s on a date,” Matt says. “But I could be wrong. What do I know?”