Pickup Lessons (Awkward Arrangements Book 3) Read online

  Copyright © 2020 Tanya Gallagher

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this publication may be produced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations within critical reviews and otherwise as permitted by copyright law.

  This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, events, or locales is purely coincidental. Reproduction in whole or part of this publication without express written consent is strictly prohibited.

  ISBN: 1-7339541-6-7

  ISBN-13: 978-1-7339541-6-7

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  tanyagallagherbooks.com

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  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Also by Tanya Gallagher

  About the Author

  1

  Eden

  No. No, no, no, no. He’s doing it all wrong.

  I stare at Dashiel Walton in a mix of undisguised horror and fascination as he leans his hip against The Hole’s metal-topped bar, swipes a hand through his shaggy hair, and offers the woman next to him a grin.

  “Excuse me?” Dash asks, turning the force of his attention on her.

  I have a prime view of the impending disaster from my spot in a corner booth, and I reach over and grip my older brother’s arm. “It’s happening,” I whisper. “Why are we letting this happen?”

  Titus grimaces and gently shakes me off. “Because Dash is a grown-ass man who can do what he wants.”

  I inspect the scene with a frown. “He’s your friend, Ti. It’s your duty to stop him from bombing.”

  “It’s my duty to support him.” Titus lifts his beer behind the blonde woman’s back in a silent gesture of solidarity for the guy he’s called his best friend ever since they stumbled into the same English class freshman year of college and discovered a shared affinity for nerdy deep-dives into obscure topics.

  Dash’s returned nod is barely perceptible, but I’m looking for it, so I catch the small dip in his firm jaw, the twitch of a grin.

  The blonde raises her eyebrows and swings her gaze toward Dash’s voice, and I stifle a laugh. Dash likes to bite off more than he can chew, and I’m ready to hear the blonde lay into him for interrupting her conversation with Matt, the bartender. But then the woman pauses with her mouth hung slightly open as she takes Dash all the way in. She softens as she seems to like what she sees—his wide smile, the dimple pressed into his left cheek, the fortuitous arrangement of facial features that places him squarely in the “good-looking” category. Okay, borderline hot. Not that I’d ever tell him.

  Inspired, Dash persists. “Do you have a band-aid?”

  The blonde’s forehead furrows. “Um?”

  My stomach tenses as I wait for the punchline, and the imaginary shriek of a bomb descending toward earth whistles in my ears.

  “Because I skinned my knee when I fell for you.”

  There it is.

  A pickup line so cringeworthy that it’s probably added a new wrinkle to my forehead.

  Ka-boom.

  Even from across the room, I can see the blonde’s shoulders go tense, and a judicious shake of her head lands the message.

  No, thanks. Move along.

  Poor Dash.

  I pretend to inspect my glass of rosé as Dash shrugs and saunters across the room, a bottle of Old Schoolhouse Brewery’s Ruud Awakening IPA clutched in his hands.

  Back in January, when my lady friends were setting lofty New Year’s goals of opening their own businesses and starting new relationships, Titus and Dash decided their New Year’s resolution was to taste every local beer in the Seattle area. In fairness, sometimes it feels like the only thing to do between November and April is huddle down in a warm place with a tasty drink, but these two geniuses have taken it to an extreme. At least once a week they trot out to a bar in pursuit of their goal. The Hole boasts a seriously impressive list of local beers, considering its size, so it’s one of the go-tos on Ti and Dash’s list. And since it’s steps from my Ballard apartment, and since Titus and I are an anomaly and actually like each other, more often than not, I get dragged along to witness their revelry.

  Despite their offer to drink the, er, Kool-Aide with them, I’ll stick to my wine, thank you very much. The Ruud Awakening might be an award-winning beer, but beer is gross. Also, the name hits a little too close to home.

  Dash sinks into the booth across from me, and I suck in a breath as his warm, strong knee lands against mine.

  “No luck?” Titus asks, when, hello. Clearly not.

  Dash shakes his head, causing a strand of his tousled amber hair to flop into his forehead. “Not this time.” He doesn’t sound fazed, too casually confident to care.

  I frown and study him out of the corner of my eye. Dash is handsome, generous, and kind. And talented. He and Titus started a web design company when they graduated college, with Titus doing the coding and Dash doing the design and user experience flows. Between the two of them, they’re doing well enough to have their calendars locked down months in advance, and they’re supporting two salaries, so they can’t be doing too bad financially.

  As far as I can tell, the only thing stopping Dash from anything is Dash himself. Well, that and his fourth-grade sense of humor, which is clearly where he’s missing the mark.

  “Maybe you’re doing it wrong.” The words slip out of my mouth before I can stop them, and I blame the pleasant buzz the rosé’s imparted for my thick tongue.

  Both men swing their attention to me.

  Titus coughs out his disbelief. “Excuse me?”

  Well, now that I’m in it, there’s no choice but to go through. “The getting women thing.” I wave a hand in Dash’s direction, emboldened. Tonight’s bombed attempt is just more evidence to support my theory. “I’ve been hanging out with you consistently for the past three months—not to mention the last few years—and your odds are staggeringly bad.”

  Dash’s mouth twitches
at the corner as he spins his beer in his large hands. “Ouch,” he says, but there’s no heat behind his words. Dash is the low-key balance to Titus’s intense energy, and I appreciate that he can take a joke.

  My brother, on the other hand, grimaces on his friend’s behalf and glares at me. “You’re not an expert just because you have a self-help blog, Eden.”

  I smile sweetly at Titus. “Number one, it’s a lifestyle blog that happens to also feature self-improvement content. Two, I’m like a generous love elf. In the past few months, not one but two of my friends have gotten into committed relationships thanks to my help.”

  As much as I adored giving my friends the nudge they needed, romance hasn’t been on my own radar. Between my day job blogging for WanderWell, a tech company that helps digital nomads live and work from anywhere, and my side hustle running the Go-Getter Girl Guide blog, I’ve been too busy to even dream of dating. Not that the opportunity has presented itself. And not that it’s easy to think about other guys when I’m getting dragged out with my older brother’s hot friend every week.

  So I might be rocking an eensy crush on Dash.

  Sue me.

  The fact that he continues to pick up other women in front of me is a blatant clue that he’s not interested in me. Clearly it’s time for me to move on.

  I push aside thoughts of Dash and my stalled romantic life as I prepare to serve my third point. Love is love, and I love myself enough to thrive until someone besides my cat comes along to love me too.

  “Third,” I say, pointing a finger in Titus’s direction, “you’re just sore because I coded my own website and didn’t come to you for help.”

  Dash’s mouth parts in a surprised smile that makes his dimple reappear. “She might have you there, bro.”

  Titus grunts, and for a second I think Dash might be on my side. But then he swings his gaze to me, those startling green eyes blazing on my face. “You’re still wrong about me, though.”

  I feel myself frown. “How so?”

  “There’s nothing wrong with being yourself. And I want someone who likes me for me.”

  It feels like a punch to the gut. “You deserve that,” I whisper. I feel so bleedingly sincere that I wonder if he can tell how much I mean it. “But those pickup lines are stopping things before they ever get started.”

  Dash leans forward, his voice low and intimate, and the surprising heat of the moment makes my breath catch in my throat. “Maybe they’ll be the exact right words for the right person.”

  I swallow hard because he has me there, but I can’t let it go that easily. I’ve spent my life believing in the power of words. Wanting to communicate with the world is what first got me into blogging, back when the internet was a Wild West and blogging was barely a thing. And then, when I discovered tech was the tool that would help me share my story, I turned to blogging about tech for my day job. Dash is right that the perfect words can connect with people, but why wouldn’t he want to increase his chances by connecting with more people? Or by using better words?

  I drain the last of my rosé and set the empty glass on the table. “Maybe so, but it might be a numbers game if you play it that way.” I look at Titus for support, but my brother just shakes his head at us.

  “You’re both ridiculous,” he mutters, then climbs to his feet and heads for the bar. I know right now he’s teasing, but Titus’s opinion matters a ton to me. He was the first person I ever told about the Go-Getter Girl Guide, and though he isn’t the target audience by a long shot, he does have an analytical mind that could appreciate what I was building. He was the first person who told me he could see it taking off, and that vote of confidence has meant more to me than I can say.

  As silly as it sounds, my brother’s always been my biggest champion and had my best intentions in mind. That’s why when he rolls his eyes about my dating opinions, I know it’s because he wants to make sure I’m not taking my eye off the ball of what really matters to me. I swear his favorite word is “focus.” Still, when the time is right, love isn’t going to be a distraction for me. It’s going to be everything. At least, I hope.

  “Aww, you scared him off,” Dash says, a quick grin sliding across his features.

  “Stone-cold Titus Ellis,” I mutter affectionately. “He’s not any better off than you, for what it’s worth.”

  Dash shakes his head at me. “I think you’re making a problem where there isn’t one.” He raises his eyebrows. “I can make a woman’s uterus clench just by looking at me.”

  He. Didn’t.

  Oh, Dash.

  I can’t stop the laughter that bubbles from my throat, the way my eyes go wide and shocked. “You have a serious misunderstanding of the female anatomy,” I say between gasps of breath. “The only reason a woman’s uterus clenches is if she’s having cramps.”

  He shrugs like it’s incidental. “Maybe you just haven’t experienced it yet.”

  I groan. “We’re going to pretend you didn’t say that.” Honestly, I don’t want to think about Dash with any other women. As much as he strikes out with his pickup lines, he keeps going up to bat. I’m sure at least some of the time he, uh, runs the bases.

  God, ew. I’m out of baseball analogies, and just the idea’s getting me worked up and frustrated. I still think I have a point, but if Dash ever took my advice, it’s possible that him succeeding would almost be worse than me being wrong.

  I wiggle my empty wine glass in the air and incline my head toward the bar. “If we’re going to continue this conversation, there needs to be more alcohol.”

  Dash smirks at me, amusement and confidence on his face, and it’s entirely too appealing. “Is that so?” he asks.

  “That’s so.” I slide out of the booth and grin at him once before spinning on my heel. I put a little extra swing in my hips as I head toward the bar, walking slowly enough that he can catch up to me if he wants.

  I like staying ahead of the game, and for all his bravado, I’m ninety-eight percent sure he’ll follow.

  2

  Dash

  Titus’s little sister fixes me with her warm, brown eyes the second I fall into step beside her, her mouth popped open in a tiny O. It’s a pretty mouth, still wet and lush from her rosé, and for a flash of a second I imagine how fruity and sweet she’d taste if I leaned over and kissed her right now.

  Not that Eden would welcome that. She’s just trounced all over my pickup line approach, making it clear I fall into the fun-enough-to-hang-out-with-as-my-brother’s-friend category but not the take-him-home-and-fuck-him-senseless camp.

  Regardless of how appealing it would be to wind up in group two, I’m not allowed to think things like that. My entire career and future are tied to her brother, so I won’t let anything come between us. Anyway, Titus has been protective of Eden ever since she showed up at the same college as us our sophomore year and guys started to notice how pretty she was. He spent an entire semester attending the same parties as her just to make sure no one was bothering her. His dedication is unsurpassed. The man would kill me if I put the moves on her.

  Too bad, though. When Eden turns her smile on you, it’s like the world lights up, brightening everything from the gloomy Seattle weather to so-bad-they’re-good establishments like The Hole. With her, life’s that much more vibrant. Even when she’s challenging me in a way that makes me want to prove her wrong.

  As much as Eden doesn’t want to believe it, I do know a few things about women. I know, for example, that most women get stuck on my face and don’t bother to look past that and see me for who I am. I know if I’m going to wind up with any woman, I’ll need to tease out the right person for me. Because, Jesus, I want someone who’s not going to take life too seriously. I want someone who can serve up her own cheesy lines and banter back with me. There’s a difference between a person who’s going to laugh at you instead of with you. I spent too much of my skinny, nerdy, stuttering childhood as the butt of jokes to have not learned that valuable lesson. For what it’s
worth, Eden seems in on the joke with me. And last, and most important for tonight, I know from the way she’s looking at me that she’s not going to let this one go.

  We reach the front of the room, where Titus commandeers a corner of the bar, chatting with Matt. Though our patronage has increased in recent months thanks to our new mission to sample Washington’s finest beers, Titus and I have come here enough times over the years for us to have welcomed Matt into our friend group. He’s always a friendly face, and he’s way more of a people person than me and Ti.

  “What’ll it be?” Matt asks from behind the bar, aiming his gaze at Eden.

  She beams under his attention, and I’m pretty sure his tip just doubled.

  Smart man.

  “Another rosé,” Eden says. She jerks a thumb at me. “He’s buying.”

  God, this woman. She clearly doesn’t realize that for as much shit as she gives me, she just proved that I’m not entirely hopeless. The temptation to point it out is too strong to resist.

  “You know, if my goal was to buy a woman a drink, I just succeeded.”

  She rolls her eyes at me, but a hint of a smile dances on her lips.

  Matt looks like he’s trying to hold back a laugh as he turns to me. “For you?”

  I glance at Titus. “What’s next on the list?”