mind, he’d told Charlotte that he thought they should slow things down.
This . . . did not exactly go over well.
She was surprised at first, and then her eyes filled with tears as she began pouring out her story to him. How this was her first night out since breaking up with her boyfriend, whom she’d been with for six years. How he’d panicked about getting married and had dumped her, which had totally wrecked her self-confidence, and so tonight she’d wanted to do something fun and wild, like picking up the hottest guy in the bar so she could say screw you to her ex and feel back in the game again.
Naturally, Ford had felt like shit after hearing her story. So to compensate, he drew on the primary thing he’d learned while being best friends with a woman for over twenty years.
He’d simply listened while Charlotte talked.
Somewhere along the way, she began asking for his opinion, as a guy, about the situation with her ex. Thinking this was a great way to keep them in the friend zone and ease over the earlier awkwardness, he stayed up for two hours chatting with her, and then covered her up with a blanket after she passed out on his couch. In the morning, he woke up to hear her rustling around in the living room. Embarrassed, she immediately apologized for falling asleep, so to be a nice guy, he made her a cup of coffee and acted like this kind of thing happened all the time. And when she cheered up after that and asked if he’d like to get together sometime for drinks and talk more, in order to not hurt her feelings, he’d said sure.
This was the part of the story when Brooke interrupted by thunking him—literally thunking him—on his head.
“You just said you aren’t even into this girl,” she said incredulously.
They’d moved out onto the deck while Ford had been telling her all about his adventures the previous night. Leaning against the brick ledge, he rubbed his head. “First, ouch. Second, just because I’m not into her doesn’t mean I have to be a dick.”
“I guarantee she left your place this morning thinking you’re interested in her.”
He waved this off. “No way. After I said we should slow down, we just hung out and talked. You know, like you and I do.”
She rolled her eyes. “You men can be such boneheads about these things. She doesn’t know you the way I do. She’s vulnerable right now. Her ex turned out to be an asshole and then you come riding in—”
“There was no riding.”
“—being the good guy, looking the way you do”—Brooke gestured to him—“wanting to talk and slow things down and be all sensitive with your coffee and your little blanket. What woman could resist that? My God, why didn’t you just cuddle a puppy shirtless while you were at it?”
He mentally filed away that seduction technique for future reference. “So, you’re saying I was supposed to just toss the crying, heartbroken woman out of my condo in the middle of the night?”
“Of course not. That would’ve made you an asshole.”
Ford considered this for a moment. “So, from the female perspective, basically anything I could’ve done last night to get myself out of an awkward situation would’ve resulted in me being either a bonehead or an asshole.”
She smiled, patting him on the shoulder. “Now you’re catching on.”
“You know, Parker, these male-female heart-to-hearts of ours are just so helpful.”
She laughed. “Somebody has to keep you in your place. You’re too charming for your own good.”
She ruffled his hair, and a comfortable silence fell between them as they leaned against the brick wall, sipped their beers, and looked out at the view of the Chicago skyline.
Then she looked sideways at him. “About all these home improvement projects of yours . . . how long are we going to pretend this isn’t some male angsty excuse for you to bang on things and work out your grief and frustration?”
“Probably when I’m done remodeling the kitchen.”
She half-smiled at the joke, but then the look in her eyes turned serious. “I’m here anytime you want to talk. I love you, you know.”
He put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her in close. “I know.” When he and Brooke were kids and his dad was in one of his foul moods, he used to hang out at her house whenever he’d needed a break. During those times, he hadn’t said much about