The Urban Dictionary defines a "soft launch" as "a photo preview of a talking stage before it becomes an official relationship on social media, i.e., taking photos of their dinner plate and their hands, half their face or their shoes as to allude there's someone special in your life."

all mistakes are my own.

Chapter 6

Edward

Jake Black misleading women on dating apps. Of course he does… how else would he get a date. Quarterback personality doesn't quite age well if that's all you're bringing to the table. Which he is. Jake dropped out of college on a full football scholarship, only to join the Air Force and bond with dogs. Not that he wasn't doing important work, but he's just an asshole. He came back home after leaving the army and started a kennel where he gets ex-police dogs through rehab and finds them a house. Yeah, that's really great for the dogs. But I still kinda think Jake pisses off everyone at least once a day. It's clear as day. He's a dick. The way he stole Sam's fiancée right before the wedding and dumped her three months later only proves that to be true. It took Leah years to finally move on. I'm glad she finally fell for Paul, after trying to set them up for weeks. I guess I can also add the Cabin Cupid to my resume.

The butter sizzles in the skillet when I place the bread in there, moving it around with the spatula.

I shake my head.

How on earth would someone like Isabella pick Jake out of an online lineup of willing and greedy men? Isn't Tinder basically a selection of people sending out dickpics and compliments in return for a one-night stand? Is that what she wanted from Jake? Sure, he looks buff and built with his russet skin and ex-military physique he keeps quite up-to-date. But he could be more hygienic after rolling around with Shepard dogs all day.

"Hey, Cabin Daddy." Her voice makes me startle. It's breathy and she's got that little rasp like the Scarlett chick from the Marvel movies. Isabella still looks a little drunk, her dark eyes a little hazy and clouded, dark makeup making the red veins in her eyes more prominent. She's definitely gorgeous. And definitely what Jake goes for nowadays. Although I doubt she's both young and impressionable. She'd see through his facade.

This entire evening feels like a joke. Two hours ago, I didn't even know this creature, and now I'm making her a grilled cheese to make sure she doesn't topple over. I'll have to make sure she doesn't drive herself home, though. If there's one thing the guys here know I don't stand for, it's drinking and driving. I've been known to lock up some keys from time to time and lend them the sofa upstairs.

"What's up, kid?"

She scrunches up her button nose, looking adorable. Until she rolls her eyes and lets out a noise. Isabella is too fun to mess with. She's a tough one, hiding behind banter and jokes.

"You didn't even ask about dietary restrictions, you know," she starts, moving closer to the stove, elbows leaning on the worktop. "What if I'm allergic to lactose, or the bread will have me covered in hives after one bite?" She bats her lashes, making me chuckle. Always in for a fight, it seems.

"You poor, little millennials…allergic to everything the light touches, too concerned about literally everything."

"That's such a boomer thing to say, Barkeep." She shakes her head, placing one hand over her heart dramatically. I can't help but follow the movement, my eyes grazing the lace trim of her silk top.

"I know you're looking for old guys, kid. But for fuck's sake…boomer? How old do you think I am?" I laugh.

She cocks her head to the side, those whiskey eyes tracing every inch of my face, down to my neck, my pecs, my stomach… I look away, realizing every single trait of her builds up to bombshell.

"Hmm…you're a hard one." She coughs, cheeks rosy and flushed all the way down to her collar bones. "I mean…it's hard to tell…"

"Guess."

"What if I offend you, though?" Her eyes widen, and I can't help the smile that seems to be plastered on my face. How can someone be so insufferable yet so adorable?

"Offend me? You?" I arch a brow. Isabella slaps her palm over her face.

"God, fuck… I know. I'm sorry I've been a little bitchy to you. I can't help it, it's your personality. It brings out the worst in me."

I bite my lip, assessing this situation. She can't seem to stop offending me.

"I have that effect on people." I shrug, turning my attention to the grilled cheese before it's blackened in the skillet.

"I'm sure that's not the effect," she mumbles under her breath. I catch her though, her eyes boring into mine when I turn my head.

"I heard you."

"See, you can't be that old since your hearing is apparently rivaling that of a hawk."

"I mean, since you were about to go on a date with a fifty-year-old, I don't really know where you draw the line."

Another glare. I kinda love them, the fire that spits from her eyeballs.

"In my book, he was forty-three, okay… it's not my fault he lied about his age." She sighs deeply. "Who does that, anyway? I thought it was only bored housewives who lied about their age. You know, to bag the pool guy or the bus buy at their favorite brunch place?"

"I honestly can't believe you drove all the way out here, to another town, to a bar you'd never heard of, to have a date with a guy you don't even know."

Isabella shrugs.

"I figured it's a bar…there are people around, like always. Plus, I have my friend on speed dial. When I text her 911, she calls and rescues me."

"What if your phone got taken?" I ask.

"What if he wasn't a creep who stood me up?" She blinks dreamily. "What if he was my white knight, and we lived happily ever after?" The sweetness in her voice fades as quickly as it comes. "Ugh, come on." Another legendary eye-roll. "Can we stop with the hypothetical kidnapping scenario, please?"

I fall silent, enjoying the scent of butter and cheese on whole wheat, realizing this girl doesn't owe me anything.

"I'm sorry if I crossed some sort of line. I don't mean to be condescending or patronizing." I remember her words to Marcus from earlier. I guess I'm dealing with a fierce little feminist.

"Cabin Daddy, you're making me my favorite meal. You can draw any sort of line, but I'm pretty sure you wouldn't be able to cross it." She winks, looks me over again like I'm a mannequin in a store window. It makes the tips of my ears tingle with heat. I don't quite know how to respond to something so brazen like that.

She's too young for you, Masen. But maybe I need another lesson in why I don't date.