refused to give it back until he swore to never do anything like that again. True to his word, he hadn’t.
Studying him now, Chloe grinned. “Did I really wake you up?”
Ben looked at his watch. “It’s one thirty in the morning. Take a wild guess.”
“You should turn off your phone.” She had learned that lesson years ago, when June went through her insomnia phase. Because Chloe was in college, June assumed it was more than acceptable to call her at any hour of the night, letting the phone ring and ring until she picked up.
“I’m not going to turn off my ringer,” Ben said. “What if you’d been in trouble or something?” Taking off his baseball cap, he ran his hand through his blond curls and gave a loud yawn. His teeth were big and white, even in the back of his mouth. Ben had never had a cavity, which was incredibly annoying. Chloe seemed to have one every time she went to the dentist.
“Actually, I thought you were in trouble.” Ben put his hat on his head and leaned back in the booth. “Why else would you call me in the middle of the night?”
“I am in trouble.” Chloe gave an awkward laugh. “Today, in a Twilight Zone turn of events, that mean psychologist guy asked me out on a date. And . . .” For some reason, she felt nervous, like Ben was going to scold her. Like she’d done something wrong. “I said yes.”
Ben raised an eyebrow. “You did what?”
She cringed. “Yeah.”
“Right . . .” He scratched his head. “This is the same guy that you called an asshole?”
“Yup.”
“The same one that you moped about for two days?”
“The very same.”
Ben put his head in his hands. “Chloe.”
“I know, I know . . .” And she did know. Dr. Gable had been horrible when they’d first met. “I like him.” She plucked the lime out of her drink and dropped it onto her napkin. It made a wet spot that slowly expanded out and across the paper. “I’ve had a crush on him since he spoke at our school.”
“Yeah, but come on.” Ben grabbed the napkin and wadded it up. “Since when are you into guys who are mean to you?”
“It was a misunderstanding. He was nervous, I was nervous . . .”
Ben took a drink of beer, not saying anything. He pulled his baseball cap low over his eyes.
“Look . . .” Chloe touched his hand. “The man wears ascots. He can’t be that bad.”
“I’m sorry. Did you just say . . . ?”
“Ascots.”
“Huh.” Ben sat back in the booth with a thud. “Ass-cots,” he said, drawing the word out. “This guy sounds like a douche. I can guarantee he’s not good enough for you.”
Considering the fact that Dr. Gable was thirty-six, owned his own practice and knew how to rock a pair of green sweatpants, Chloe couldn’t help but disagree. Still, she’d called Ben here for a reason.
“I knew you’d say that.” She took a deep breath. “But I need your help. I haven’t gone on a date in forever. I need you to coach me.”
Ben snorted. “Give me a break. You don’t need any coaching.”
There was a wooden bowl full of wasabi-covered peanuts sitting on the table. Ben scooped up a few and popped them into his mouth. His eyes scanned the bar, as though trying to figure out exactly how he’d been conned out of his cozy bed.
“Ben, I’m serious.” Chloe’s cheeks colored slightly. “I haven’t gone on a date since undergrad.”
He stopped chewing. “Come on.” Thinking, he rubbed his hand against the blond stubble lining his jaw. “No. That’s not true. You were seeing—”
“I’ve hung out with people.” Ben had met more than a few of the guys who had traipsed in and out of her life. “I just haven’t gone on an official date. I need you to give me a crash course.”
Instead of laughing in her face, Ben’s bright blue eyes searched hers. “Huh. I think you’re being serious.” Plucking the straw from her drink, he twirled it between his fingers as though deep in thought. Finally, he popped it between his lips like a toothpick. “Okay.” Adjusting the rim of his baseball cap, he gave her a sly look. “I’ll do it.”
“Oh, thank you,” she cried. “Thank you so much.” Embarrassing herself on the date with Dr. Gable would not be nearly as likely with Ben’s help. Eagerly, she pulled out a notepad from her purse. Pen poised, she said,