Blueberry Cake (Naughty Desserts #4)

Queenie

“Then you have to give me details because apparently I’m the only one of us three who can’t see him.”

“Handsome,” Allison giggled. “But way older than us.”

“Looks like he’s got his life together,” Jessica added as she stared obviously in the man’s direction. “Well managed beard and an expensive shirt.”

The waiter approached, setting a drink none of them had ordered on the table before her. “The man over at the other table would like you to have this, ma’am.”

Queenie looked up at the waiter, who seemed to find that rather cute and then finally turned to see who’d bought her the drink .

“Seems like he wants you,” Allison said, ordering herself another cocktail.

Queenie on the other hand, had to stop her heart from failing.

She stared across the open space of the bar to the man in question.

He was handsome and all the other things that the girls had said, but what they’d failed to mention were those forest-green eyes that often still haunted her nightmares.

Not his, she corrected herself, but his son had inherited them like a carbon copy. She returned to her friends, bristling.

“What happened?” Jessica asked. “I think he’s rather handsome.”

“He is, but there’s history.”

She couldn’t look at them, her eyes trained on the drink before her. For just a few moments, she returned to that girl from high school. Then she remembered that she was no longer anyone’s doormat. She stood up, taking the drink and walking over to his table.

He smiled wide, his eyes burning a hole through her as he let them travel over her rather revealing sundress. Clearly, he didn’t know who she was. After all, they’d never officially met. She’d only seen him during school functions where she’d avoided him—and his offspring— as far as she could.

“I can’t accept this,” she said rather firmly, plonking the cocktail down so aggressively that liquid sloshed over the sides.

“And why is that?”

“Because your son bullied me in high school and I’d rather not be reminded of that ever again.”

The man’s brows hit his hairline, and he gave her a thorough once-over that had Queenie fighting the urge to squirm. His gaze paused on her left arm before he spoke. “I wasn’t aware of that. If I’d known I would have put a stop to it.”

“I believe that was intentional,” Queenie snapped. Flustered, she turned not wanting to escalate the situation.

Sitting back down, Queenie faced curious, accusatory eyes from her friends.

She sighed and relaxed into the lounge chair. “He’s the father of my high school bully.”

“The one that drowned your final papers?” Allison asked.

“Yes.”

Jessica’s lips curled into a proud smile. “Oh, so you told him to fuck off.”

“Not with those words.”

“Well even if you said it in a kinder, more polite way than he deserved, I’m still proud of you.”

“Thanks, Jessie. It did feel good.”

Allison frowned. “Shame; he doesn’t look that old.”

“I think he was a teen dad.”

Jessica steered the conversation in another direction, and Queenie sighed in relief. But it was short-lived. It seemed that Mr. Rickmann didn’t take rejection well. After a short while he appeared next to her.

“I’m sorry for what Luka put you through. I just wanted to say that I’m not him.” He then handed her a small note. Hesitantly, she took it, and the man’s eyes brightened. “There’s no pressure.”

Queenie watched the man’s back as he walked away, until he climbed into a black pick-up and sped down the street.

“What does it say?” Jessica pressed, leaning over the small table between them.

Queenie unfolded the paper in her hand. There, scribbled neatly across a cocktail napkin, was his name and phone number. Her first instinct was to rip it apart, but Allison stopped her.

“What a sweet revenge it would be to seduce his dad. Imagine his face when he sees you after all these years again at the family dinner table with his dad.”

That did sound like something she should consider, and boy did she consider it.

Queenie contemplated all night. Once she got home, she long laid awake, unsure of what she should do.

Luka had made her life a living hell the moment he’d noticed her so-called disability.

Yes, having been born missing a hand had made her life challenging, but never once had she felt disabled.

Nor had her parents treated her as such.

This night out had given her more to think about than she’d cared for.

The next morning, she was stirring her cereal when she ripped the band aid off. She typed Boyd’s number into her phone and sent off a quick text.

Hi Boyd,

This is Queenie; from the bar.

Hi Queenie,

I didn’t think I would hear from you at all.

I’m still not sure if this is a good idea.

Would you feel comfortable meeting up for coffee?

Yes. Do you know a good place?

I find the one in Discovery Green good .

When are you free?

I can be ready within the hour.

Give me an hour and a half depending on traffic.

I’ll see you soon.