But at least there’s some privacy here in the corner of the boardwalk bar. “You’re a technicality kind of woman, and I’m an active kind of guy,” I say, easing into telling her who I am. “That’s sort of what I do all day.”
“Then you should try parasailing. Except…it’s not active. You glide. But it is outdoors and fun,” she says.
“I’ll put it on my list of outdoor activities to try. Though I might trythatfirst,” I say, gesturing to the boardwalk where a guy rides a unicycle, a parrot perched on his shoulder.
“Do you have a parrot?” she asks.
“No, but I figure if I take to unicycling, I could get a parrot then,” I say. “Don’t put the parrot before the unicycle.”
“As the saying goes,” she says drily, then nods toward a pack of skateboarders in low-slung shorts tearing up the concrete. “But beware of dastardly skateboards when you ride.”
“They’re the real cousins to paddle boards.” I lean back in my chair, soaking in the sun and the eclectic people. Farther down the path, someone plays the drums, beating out a hippy tune. This afternoon is everything I needed to reset. The laid-back vibe is a welcome contrast to practice this morning, which was tight and tense as our team managed to fuck up nearly every play. I was eager to get my mind off all the changes coming for me, so I came here to hit the waves.
But Brooke is a much better distraction than the Pacific. And so is that dude in a pink shirt and white shorts walking down the boardwalk on sky-high stilts.
“What do you think, Brooke? More or less daring than paddle boarding?” I ask, nodding toward the guy who’s about ten feet taller than he should be.
She shudders. “Equally. And also on the list of things I won’t ever try. I have a low tolerance for falling, splatting, or crashing onto the ground or into the sea. Hence,reading,” she says, patting the book inside her mesh bag. “But I love to people watch, so Venice is perfect forthatoutdoor activity.”
“Hands down. I live in Santa Monica, but there is no better place in all of Los Angeles for people watching than right here.”
“That’s why I live in this neighborhood. About ten minutes away. There’s always something to do or see.”
I study her closely, nodding a few times. “That tracks.”
She knits her brow, clearly confused. “What tracks?”
“You living in Venice.”
“Even though I don’t have a parrot on my shoulder?”
“In spite of your parrot-free existence,” I say with a smile, enjoying the hell out of the view of her. “You’re fast on your feet, but you’re not wound tight. You have a low-key vibe about you. And you’re easy to talk to.”
Brooke lifts her margarita glass, like she’s toasting to me. “I’ll drink to good conversations. You’re easy to talk to, as well.” I can’t look away as she sips her drink. She has spectacular lips. I noticed her full red lips when we first started talking, even if my vision was a little fuzzy.
I’m glad I did fall victim to another guy’s boarding fail because this moment right here is pretty damn great. Talking about the world around me with a beautiful, smart, caring woman rather than football, football, football is a welcome change. From…everything.
The last woman I dated was into me for the number on my back. The number of times Jenna asked me to pose for pics so she could tag me was too high to count. She was always talking about how she was Number Eight’sgal, trying to parlay our relationship into more business at her lingerie store.
Sure, I’m all for high sales of lacy underthings for everyone, but that was not a way to make a guy feel wanted.
I have a lot to offer besides the position I play on Sundays, like a sense of humor, a big heart, and an even bigger dick. Bonus—I know how to use it.
Just saying.
One drink turns into two, and Brooke and I talk more about our favorite places in Los Angeles, and the best spots for people watching in the city.
The sun is sinking low in the sky when she asks, “And what’s the story with the paddle boarding? Hobby? Passion? Are you new at it?”
“Admit it. I looked like a noob.”
She laughs, then shakes her head. “No, actually. You seemed pretty good. Like you’d been doing it for a while.”
“I took it up last year. I’ve been having a blast so far,” I say, then knock back some iced tea. “What about you? Have you been reading for a while?”
“Did I seem like a natural reader?”
“Absolutely. I saw you on the sand before I went out,” I reply, teasing. “You just had such an ease when turning the pages.”