Page 8 of Moon Shot

Rowan slid the bartender some cash and shouted our order to him before turning back to me. Both of his hands combed through his hair before he slid them down his face and pulled on his jaw.

“He’s my teammate, not my brother,” he finally answered. “Don’t fall for those eyelashes.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I lied, looking away from him. I must’ve looked like an idiot wearing an Emeralds sweatshirt while talking to their prized first baseman. Little did those scowling babes behind him know I was wearing his sweatshirt and I’d seen him naked twice in college. It’s getting hot in here.

“Diego,” Rowan brought my attention back, and hopefully didn’t see my cheeks blush. “He doesn’t remember you,” he growled, “and that makes him an asshole.”

I thought of Halloween years ago when Rowan didn’t remember me either, making him an even bigger “asshole”. His words, not mine.

“What do you mean?”

Rowan's lips pursed around the mouth of his beer bottle as he eyed me while swallowing. “Engagement party.” He swallowed. “He tried to hook up with you.”

“Why am I just hearing of this now?” I took the other bottles from the bartender as Rowan continued.

“I pushed him off.”

Scoffing, I knocked him in the chest. His way too hard, way too warm, chest. “That’s not up to you.”

“I don’t care who you’re with, but if I can keep you from being just a notch on his bedpost, then I will.” Rowan assured me, his blue eyes cold. “He’s a serial one-night stand sort of guy.”

“Oh? And what are you?”

“Why?” Rowan laughed, taking another sip. Seeing him smile again, returning from strangely protective to the arrogant guy I usually couldn’t stand, was comforting. “Want to find out?”

“Gross.” I scowled, pushing him away. “I’m telling on you.”

“Go for it. Tell Ethan. He’d never believe you,” Rowan teased, his lips above my ear as we started walking back outside. “He doesn’t know I secretly love blue bras and beer-stained white shirts.” His snicker spread a shiver across my skin. “You’re fun, Meredith. We should hang out and hate each other more often. Now,” he reminded me, “one drink and I’m taking you four home.”

FIVE

Maggie called in sick two days after the game. That, and hiding my Emeralds calendar, helped me forget the ride home in Rowan’s car where Maggie and Lauren tried to out sing the other and Becky puked from two beers.

It was my job to meet Aubrey with her mom and Ethan’s mom at lunch the following Saturday, so I could be a buffer between them should wedding discussions turn hostile. I dressed in all black and wore pearls because it was some swanky hotel downtown.

“Honey,” Aubrey’s mom patted her shoulder, “your wedding is just a few months away. We need to resolve the issue of the guest book.”

“Can’t you just look at the RSVPs?” I asked, earning a scoff from both of their moms.

Aubrey turned to me. “I don’t want a guest book.”

“You’re,” Ethan’s mom sniffled into her handkerchief, “going to want to remember everyone who came. You’re going to want to see their signatures. And,” she sobbed, “my mother isn’t with us much longer.”

The dying grandparent guilt trip. A classic move. Aubrey glanced between her mom and me, and I wished I could give her some of my balls to speak up so I didn’t have to. The server brought our lunch, and it wouldn’t have been proper to talk with our mouths full, so the guest book went away for a bit.

After lunch, it was one more fitting for our dresses and a tour of the wedding venue. We’d been maybe three times already, but seeing the place gave the moms more inspiration to overwhelm Aubrey with. They meant well, but I was sure glad they weren’t my mom’s and that my bed wasn’t big enough to share with some husband.

Ethan met us at the condo he and Aubrey shared in a remodeled factory downtown. It was just me and their cat on the couch while they sorted through some paperwork from a caterer.

“How was lunch?” Ethan asked me, tousling my hair as he came to sit next to me.

“Nice.” Leaning into him, I closed my eyes. “Why do you smell so good?”

“It’s called cologne. It has this magic ability to mask me smelling like the copy machine in my office,” he teased. “I’m going to the Blazers game tonight. I want to smell nice when I come home and not like all the beer I plan on drinking.”

“Oh.” I opened my eyes and rolled my head onto the back of the couch. “Hot date?”

Ethan glanced at his watch, nodding. “Any minute now. Do me a favor, Mer?”

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