Ben scrunched his face up. “You have a point,” he said. “I might not have anything you want, except maybe... free time.”
I had to give him that. “True. You sure as hell have a lot more free time than I have.”
“So if you win, then I’ll watch Declan for you. I’ll watch him once a week, you can pick when, so long as I’m not working.”
“Seriously?”
“Seriously.”
“Should I even trust you with him?”
“Eh, you know, I’ll make sure he doesn’t play with matches or run out into traffic. That about covers it, right?”
We both laughed. The thing was, I did trust Ben, probably more so than anyone else. In some ways, he was like a big kid himself, and Declan adored him. They’d both have a ball if this bet thing worked in my favor. Which it would, I knew.
“I’m going to need proof, though,” Ben continued. “You know, it can’t just be your word.”
“My word’s not good enough?”
“it is, my man, but you know... a bet like this, some sort of proof is needed. And, I’m giving you a deadline. You have until the end of the summer. Until Labor Day.”
I smirked. “I don’t need the end of the summer.”
“Well, consider me generous, and I’m giving it to you, anyway.”
“And who said chivalry was dead? And hold up—what is it you get if I don’t win? Which isn’t going to happen, by the way, but I’m curious what it is that you’re looking to get out of this whole thing.”
“Ah...is someone conceding already?”
“No. But if you’re making a bet, it’d be foolish not to know what’s on the line—even if you’re sure that you’re going to win.”
He raised his eyebrows. “That doesn’t make sense,” he said. “If I knew that I was going to win a bet—if I was as certain about it as you seem to be—then I wouldn’t need to know. Because it would be completely irrelevant, since there would be no doubt in my mind that I was going to lose in the first place. So I think it’s fair to say there’s at least a tiny part of you that isn’t 100 percent sure you can win this bet. Which is fine; it shows you’re mortal. And the thing is—after talking to her, I am pretty sure there’s no way in hell you’re going to win this bet. You’re a handsome fucker and all, but I just got a vibe from that chick that makes me think it’s all hands off.”
“I think you missed your calling as a psychologist,” I said. “A relationship expert. You could get one of your own talk shows, like that Dr. Phil guy and whatever his name is that came after him. Audiences of swooning women. They’d eat that shit up.”
“A bullshit artist is more like it,” Ben said, grinning. “If I win, you’re going to treat me to tickets to a postseason game of my choice.”
“The Sox?” I asked.
Ben shrugged. “Maybe. Though maybe not. Maybe the Celtics. Maybe the Pats. Maybe the B’s. Maybe all of them!”
“I’m not agreeing to buy postgame tickets for all four teams. I doubt all four would even make it into the postseason the same year. One team. It can be your choice, but it’s not going to be all four.”
Ben scrunched his eyebrows up as though giving it serious thought, as though he might actually refuse. Then, he grinned and held his hand out. “Deal,” he said.
We shook on it.
I’m generally not the sort of guy who would wager a bet like that. I was never the sort to kiss and tell, and unlike some guys I went to high school and college with, I didn’t keep a tally of all my bedroom conquests. I myself wasn’t even entirely sure why I had agreed to such a thing, other than I did enjoy a good bet, and Ben had always brought out the competitive streak in me. When we were younger and used to race BMX together, I never really cared if others beat me, but it sure as shit mattered if Ben did. We had a very brotherly sort of rivalry between us, and it continued long after I gave up BMX.
The other thing was there was something intriguing about Allie.
I couldn’t say what, exactly; I had never been interested in a patient before. I’d seen my fair share of attractive women, but it had always been from a professional standpoint. I could appreciate a long, lean body, shapely breasts, tight, toned thighs—all of which she was in possession of—but it was a detached sort of appreciation, the way you might marvel at particularly nice sunset, or a magnificent ocean view. It was there, you noted its beauty, and you moved on.
Chapter Five
Allie
“Hi, Miss Allie!” Declan said. He came over and wrapped his arms around my legs. It was Friday morning, and he’d greeted me this way every single day this week.