Henry tosses back a finger or two of whiskey and glares at his friend. “You didn’t have to. She’s perfectly capable of finding a decent guy.”
“Wait a second. Is this something you all do? Humiliate others for sport and then tell them it was for their own good?” I stand.
“Pen, come on.” Henry pinches the bridge of his nose. “It’s not like that at all.”
“I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. You guys tend to humiliate plenty of people just by being your own arrogant, entitled selves. Am I your entertainment for the night. Is that it?”
“Well, Baylor might be enjoying this more than he should, but we do this to weed out the bad ones,” Henry explains.
“You’re backing up his actions? Seriously?” I laugh.
“Try and look at it as a sign of respect. We’ve done it for Henry’s sister a few times. It works like a charm.” Jesse’s smile falls when I narrow my eyes at him.
“Yeah. One guy actually threw the money back in my face.” Luke chuckles.
Henry tips his glass at him. “I actually liked that guy.”
Jesse’s smile reappears. “Didn’t Clara end up hating him?”
I fold my arms, not finding humor in any of this. “You’re unbelievable, all of you.”
Henry pulls at my elbow to try and get me to sit back down, but I swat him away. “Think about it, Pen. Do you really want to be with a guy who is willing to accept a couple hundred dollars to stand you up? If he was really into you, no amount of money would have been enough.”
“Besides, it’s not like we threaten them.” Luke shrugs. “They get the cash up front. A smart man would take the moneyandthe date.”
“You’ve all made more money just by being born than he’s made in his entire life, working! He wasn’t handed a life of privilege and fortune. He has a day job, making less in a week than you carry around in your pockets. Of course he’s going to take the money! That doesn’t make him a bad person.” My gaze meets Baylor’s. “It just means he knows the value of a penny more than you ever will.”
5
Cozy
As if a sprained wrist isn’t enough, last night’s debacle gives me another excuse to sleep in the next morning while the boys leave for day two on the slopes.
I didn’t have a desire to stay at the bar after Baylor’s humiliating stunt. Henry understood and drove us all home, which meant Jesse’s and Luke’s dates were ruined as well. They were a little prickly about it on the car ride back to the cabin, so I doubt they want to spend another day with the possibility of me cockblocking them again. I think it’s best we all have a little time to cool off anyway. And all I can hope is that Baylor cools off with his head deep in a snowbank somewhere far away from me.
“How much snow has to be covering you to suffocate?” I ask Henry’s chef before sipping my coffee.
Marta pauses mid-whisk when she notices I am speaking to her. Her brow moves up her forehead, and she shakes her head in a way that tells me she doesn’t understand my question. Her English is somewhat poor, but she understands enough to argue her way into making me breakfast.
When I was growing up, my dad spent most nights at the casino, and my mom worked late, so I had to learn to cook for myself. I’m no chef, but the self-taught lessons have served me well in college on a budget. I can turn a fifty-cent ramen packet into a mean gourmet meal. But I can tell Marta doesn’t feel comfortable with someone else doing her job, so I didn’t put up much of a fight. I did, however, bargain to make dinner for the house one night while I’m here. I still have yet to decide what I’m going to cook, but that gives me time to find out if Baylor has any allergies.
Marta continues whisking the eggs for my omelet when I hear footsteps rounding the corner.
Baylor shuffles into the kitchen in boxer briefs.
Onlyboxer briefs.
“What the hell are you still doing here?” I set my mug down on the countertop harder than intended.
Baylor glances over at me indifferently but doesn’t respond.
Marta greets him with a bright smile that showcases the creases by her eyes and the dimples on her cheeks and says something to him in her native language.
To my surprise, Baylor responds effortlessly while gesturing to different ingredients she has set up beside the stove. Once Marta begins cracking more eggs into a bowl, Baylor pours himself a cup of coffee and grabs an orange from the fruit bowl in the center of the island.
I shift in my seat, uncomfortable with how much I like hearing those words fall from his lips. “How do you know how to speak …” I pause, unsure of what language that even was.
“My mother is Polish.” The two emerald eyes that peer up at me from the rim of his mug make my insides flutter. “Czech and Polish are very similar languages.” He shrugs and finishes another sip.
