And right now, they won’t shut the fuck up about Hawaii and what I should do to Danielle when we get there.
“If you need some pointers, I’m willing to share a few tips.” Dean adds weights to the leg press.
“Don’t take advice from him,” Owen says. “He’s married. And we all know what happens to your sex life when you get married. It disappears.”
“I disagree,” Archer starts, and we all round on him. Dean acts like he’s going to puke, and Archer rolls his eyes. Archer is married to our baby sister. It’s an unspoken rule he’s not allowed to bring anything up that makes us think their relationship is more than PG. Even though they have one kid and are trying for another.
“Notice Dean didn’t object,” Owen laughs. “Proof that most married couples become boring.”
“So what then?” Archer asks. “You’d just date forever and not get married and settle down?”
“That’s the plan.” Owen shrugs, turning away and picking up another weight. “It’s worked well for me so far. And settling for just one pussy for the rest of your life? No thank you.”
I don’t bring up what he told me just last night and how I know he’d give anything for another chance with Charlie. For the next five minutes or so, we all lift and stop talking to each other. And then things pick right back up as we rest between reps.
“You really think you can pull this off?” Dean asks, stretching out his hamstrings.
“I don’t see why it won’t,” I tell him, pulling one arm across my chest. “Her sister already bought it, and that ring I borrowed from Quinn looks legitimate.”
“But then what?”
I shake my head. “I don’t know. We go back to how things were.”
“No, dude,” Owen says firmly as he checks himself out in the large mirror. “You’re going to fuck her so good she’ll be begging for more.”
I roll my eyes. “And I wonder why you’re single.”
“Whatever happens,” Dean goes on, “enjoy the time off in paradise.”
“I plan on it.” Going anywhere with Danielle would feel like paradise. We go back to lifting and then finish our workout. Archer and Dean go their separate ways, and Owen and I stop into town to grocery shop and run a few other errands before we head home as well.
Ever since we opened Getaway, we knew we’d be working our asses off until it took off enough to hire more employees so we could take more days off ourselves. We’re definitely to that point but still work like we did when we were new. Well, I do at least. Owen shows up, complains about having to work, but doesn’t mind as much as he makes you believe. He’s working tonight, and I have the night off before going back tomorrow. Maybe we should hire another bartender or two as well as a few weekend waitresses.
I plan on spending the rest of the day finishing the thriller I started—I’m only five chapters away from the end and shit’s about to go down—and then take Dex for a walk. I’m on my last chapter when Danielle texts me.
It’s info on the hotel we’re staying at, along with the flight numbers. We have two layovers, but we’re lucky enough that we were able to get any tickets this close to the wedding. I click on the hotel link.
“Shit,” I mutter. This place is fancy, and the beaches are endless. It really does look like a paradise.
Just a minute later, my phone rings, and it’s Danielle.
“Miss me?” I answer.
“You know it, Dawson,” she says right back. “I assume you got the hotel info.”
“I was looking at it and then someone had the nerve to call and interrupt me.”
“Geez, that person sounds like a jerk.”
“The biggest.”
“Other than being rudely interrupted, what are you doing?” she asks.
“Trying to finish a book.”
“How close to the end are you?”
I flip through it. “Twenty pages.”
“That’ll take you like ten minutes,” she laughs. “Want to finish it and then come over? I made a bunch of pies and need someone to help me eat them.”
“Pies?”
“I got suckered into a charity bake sale for the 4H group. I’ve never made a pie before, but my grandma was the best pie baker in the county. Or at least Grandpa says so. Now I have to live up to the expectation she set.”
“Eating dessert in the name of charity? That’s basically torture.”
“I know, right? And I’m about to make a fresh pot of coffee to go along with it.”
“Damn, you’re evil. I’ll be right over,” I chuckle. “But I’m finishing the book first.”
“Thanks. And that’ll be perfect timing. I have two more pies in the oven.”
“How many pies did you make?”
She pauses as she counts. “Eight.”
“Who the fuck has eight pie-pans?”
A giggle comes over the phone, and it’s one of the best sounds in the whole damn world. “I love how that’s your main concern. We have five pie-pans, and then I went out and got those cheap ones. I was going to make every pie in my grandma’s recipe book, but I’m eight in and there’s still two more pages of recipes. I didn’t know this until this morning, but she always wanted to open a bakery. Grandpa told me she spent years saving up the money and found the perfect location and everything. Then she got sick,” Danielle says, voice thinning. Danielle’s grandma died before she got the chance to meet her.