Page 35 of Confessions of the Funny Fat Friend

I wasn’t sure what kind they liked, so I picked a local brew kept in the refrigerated section and hoped for the best.

The directions on my phone led me to a neighborhood with big yards, tall shade trees, and brightly colored houses. The one Cohen had directed me to was a soft yellow, and the yard was decorated with quirky planter pots filled with colorful blooms.

As I got closer, I noticed the garage door pulled up to show a table surrounded by a few guys. They looked my way, and I lifted my hand in a wave before parking along the curb.

I’d had so much practice getting to know new people that it usually didn’t faze me anymore. But now? My stomach felt like it used to before an important football game.

And judging by the protective way Cohen had acted at the bar last Friday, this would be an important game. Especially if I followed Gage’s advice and gave a relationship with Henrietta a chance.

I took a couple deep breaths as I grabbed the case of beer from the bed of the truck and walked up.

A guy with dark hair, wearing dress clothes with the sleeves rolled up, said, “He brought beer! I like him already.”

Cohen lifted an eyebrow and said, “You didn’t have to—I have plenty from the bar.”

Another guy at the table with gray hair and tanned skin said, “You don’t need to buy all the drinks all the time.” He stood up and walked toward me, extending his hand. “Name’s Steve. I work with Cohen—I’m the bar manager.”

“Tyler,” I replied, shaking his hand. “I’m working on that new build for Hen’s apartments.”

“That’s what I heard,” he said, a slight twinkle in his eyes. “And a little more.”

The guy with dark hair took the case from me, setting it in an old refrigerator in the garage.

“Thanks,” I said.

He looked over his shoulder. “Nice to meet you, Tyler. I’m Jonas, Mara’s fiancé. She said she met you the other day at Waldo’s?”

“Yep. Hen was nice enough to let me tag along.”

Cohen had a knowing grin on his lips that had me feeling embarrassed. Was Ithatobvious?

“What type of poker do y’all play?” I asked, hoping for a change in subject.

Cohen said, “You’ll like it. We play Texas Hold’em.”

Laughing, I replied, “Sounds like I’ll be right at home.”

Jonas pulled out the chair next to him and passed me the deck to cut. I sat down and tapped the top card. He took it back, passing out the cards to each of us. “What part of Texas are you from, Tyler?”

“Cottonwood Falls, a little town outside of Dallas.”

Steve said, “Does your family farm?”

I almost laughed, because everyone assumed that I lived on a farm. But I nodded, because I did fit the stereotype, my Griffen Farms hat giving me away. “My family has a beef cattle operation with a small feed yard, and then we grow a few crops to help feed the cattle.”

Jonas looked deep in thought. “Does beef come from somewhere other than cattle?”

I laughed for real this time. “No, we say beef cattle, because there can be dairy cows too.”

“Makes sense,” Steve said. “My grandparents had a farm we went to every summer. It was fun, except the billy goats were assholes.”

That made me laugh out loud. “One year my dad got it in his head that goat milk was gonna make us rich. They lasted a year before Mom said it was her or them.”

Cohen cracked a smile. “I’m guessing he chose her?”

I nodded. “They’ve been together thirty-six years. And I don’t think she’ll ever forgive the goat hoofprints on the top of her car.”

Jonas set the deck in the middle of the table and flipped over five cards. “You’re first,” he said to me.

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