Chapter 9 Char
CHAPTER NINE
CHAR
“Hi, Smoke,” a brunette wearing a tiny shift dress, her boobs spilling out the plunging top coos and wiggles her fingers in Dave’s direction. I can’t help but follow her in my peripheral vision. It would be funny, except there’s a familiarity there.
No sense teasing him about it. I’m not judging.
This town is as small as Candy Cane Key, but without the sightseeing crowd.
It’s tough when you’re lonely for a little adult companionship, but there’s slim pickings to choose from.
Trust me. There have been more than enough occasions when I was looking to two time my B.O.B, but had to narrow down which tourist was the least obnoxious.
Nudging Dave’s shoulder with mine, I decide to poke the bear. “Smoke? Don’t tell me you have a two pack a day habit or something?” I tease, knowing there’s no way this guy smokes cigarettes.
He’s incredibly fit with dark hair and big brown eyes, gorgeous skin bronzed by a hard day’s work, and he smells like any woman’s wet dream.
A clean masculine mix of earth, leather, and spice.
A familiar ache causes me to rub my thighs together just imagining him wearing nothing but that scent.
My eyes drop to his full lips, and I can’t help wondering what he tastes like.
“Nah. Wouldn’t touch the stuff.” His statement startles me, causing me to take in a deep gust of air. Good grief. I’m so lost in my own dirty thoughts I forgot what we were talking about.
“Apparently, he had a buddy named Fire. They were inseparable until something happened. It’s all very cryptic,” Breck interjects dramatically.
Okay, now I want to pummel this irritating fucker. What a dick. This is clearly not his story to tell. As if on cue, Matt walks by and smacks the back of Breck’s head so it collides into the opening of his beer bottle. I take a sip of my margarita in an attempt to stifle my laugh.
A busty blonde slides into the chair next to Dave. The annoyance this brings is irrational. “Hi, Dave. Save a dance for me later?”
“Sure, Janet.” His voice is low, noncommittal. Or is that merely wishful thinking?
The overly made-up harlot trails a bright red manicured nail shaped like a coffin up his forearm. Leaning in, so her cleavage is on full display, she continues, “I got a room up the street at the B & B. So, we don’t have to drive all the way back to my place.”
Wait. What?
Are they here together? This cocky playboy has had me thinking he was flirting with me. Giving me the whole bashful single guy routine. He’s got that boy-next-door look about him that made that storyline easy to sell. And the whole time, he has a girl here making her rounds?
The tips of Dave’s ears seem to turn crimson at her remark. “Good to know.”
Janet hops up from her chair as a big, burly guy with a ZZ Top-looking beard strolls by.
“Maybe Shotgun Sam can give her a ride to the B & B,” one of the tall, dark-haired, tatted groomsmen says.
“Hey, Trevor,” a random passerby greets him. “Congratulations.”
He tips his beer in their direction. “Thank you.”
“He’ll give her a ride alright.” Trevor’s new wife, Addison, snickers as she snuggles into his side.
So, maybe they aren’t an item. Not sure why I’m so relieved. I barely know this guy.
“Did I ever tell you about this wedding I went to right after I moved here? It was crazy Mildred’s niece.
She let them get married on her farm. Invited a bunch of the town’s folk.
But it was a dry wedding.” She takes a dramatic sip of her cocktail.
“So, Janet and Shotgun Sam kept sneaking off to his truck to get hammered. I almost asked to tag along at one point until…” She covers her mouth to suppress her laughter.
“Oh, Lord. I remember that party.” Her friend Cece giggles.
“What? What? Spill the tea, sister,” Quinn, one of the four brides, urges. “I just moved here, remember?”
With all eyes on the storyteller, Addison continues, “Okay. Sorry, sorry. So, at one point, Mildred says, ‘What’s that awful racket?’” She doubles over in a fit of laughter.
“Sam’s truck was rocking back and forth, making a hee-haw sound like a possessed donkey, the windows were all fogged up.
” Tears are running down Addison’s face.
“They’d become completely snockered and got it on in full view of the whole damn wedding party. ”
“Ah, the good ole days.” Dave snorts before raising his beer to his luscious, full lips.
Lifting my glass, I watch as several of the women lean back awkwardly in their chairs to take another look at Janet, then Shotgun Sam, before shaking their heads at the mental image.
“Awe, don’t throw shade. She probably thinks he’s the deep, broody type,” Alex says as he lifts his highball glass to his lips.
Tuesday almost chokes on her champagne. “Oh. My. God.” She attempts to dab the corner of her mouth with her fingertips, but Alex beats her to it, leaning in to kiss the droplets. She giggles. “Shotgun Sam deep? He’s only quiet and broody because he ran out of thoughts.”
Ellie snickers. “I catered a wedding back home where no one could look at each other the next morning.”
“Oh, you told me about that one.” I giggle. “Man, I wish I’d been there.”
“What happened?” Dave presses.
“Turns out the bride and groom and their best mates must’ve overdone it at the after party.
” Everyone looks on as Ellie decides whether she wants to share the dirty details.
“From what I gather, the four of them ended the evening together. But the groom woke up naked with the maid of honor, and the best man was in bed with the bride.”
“Holy shit,” Matt belts out. “None of you fuckers is getting anywhere near my wife!” He points to various men seated at the table before wrapping his arms possessively around her waist.
“Well, she’s already knocked up. At least you don’t have to worry about that.”
This time Trevor clocks Brecken in the back of the head.
“Shit! That hurt.” He reaches behind him to massage the lump that’s likely forming under his unruly mop of blond hair. “Well, I’ve got you all beat.”
My gaze connects with Dave’s. I try not to laugh out loud at the overdramatic roll of his eyes. I can only imagine what it must be like having to work with this moron, day in and day out.
“I got a last-minute invite to a wedding reception by a friend whose girlfriend bailed on him when she got sick. So, I said, sure. Why the hell not? Free food and drinks and the chance to pick up a fine piece of—”
I’m assuming Dave kicked him under the table, as Brecken scrunches his face and bends down as if he’s reaching for something before quickly changing his wording. “As I was saying.” He glares at Dave, confirming my suspicion. “The chance to enjoy the company of a pretty young lady for the evening.”
I watch Dave’s scowl in profile and have to bite the inside of my cheek.
Watching these two is like a comedy routine.
“I’d only been there like thirty minutes when this woman was chatting me up at the bar.
” He brushes imaginary lint from his shirt and blows across his fingertips as if tooting his own horn.
“She slipped me her key, told me her room number, and walked away. I thought, hell yeah. This might be a personal record.” He shrugs his shoulders as if this would be the logical response of any red-blooded bachelor.
“Then I come back down later after we gave the bed a night it will never forget…”
“Fuck’s sake,” Dave mutters.
“I walk back into the reception just in time for everyone to finish eating and start the dancing portion of the evening. I managed to grab a quick bite before they cleared the food. It was a lucky win, given I’d worked up an appetite.
” He takes a swig of his beer. “Just as I was swallowing the last of my meal, the DJ announced the bride and groom’s first dance.
And low and behold, the chick I just banged walks out onto the dancefloor. ”
My mouth falls open.
Matt lowers his beer. “You never noticed her wedding dress, dumbass?”
“She wasn’t wearing one. Found out later someone had spilled something on it, and she’d insisted on changing into some fancy little cocktail number.”
I shake my head in astonishment. “Bet that marriage didn’t last long.”
“No kidding,” Ellie adds.
“Leave it to you,” Dave directs to Breck before leaning into me and whispering, “Told ya. First class tool.”
“No kidding,” I reply, leaning into him, keeping my voice low.
I’d think most people would keep that unfortunate event to themselves.
“He sounds like the kinda guy my friend keeps dating back home.” I inwardly cringe at some of the stories poor Norma Jean has shared about her love life.
“Like he’d cheat on you and still have the nerve to ask you for a ride to work. ”
Dave snorts just before clinking my glass with his.
“Char, Ellie told me you did her hair for the wedding. It’s so beautiful,” Addison says, thankfully changing the subject away from Brecken’s repulsive gloating. “You did an amazing job.”
“Thank you. But anyone would have with a gorgeous head of hair like Ellie’s.” I give my sweet friend a wink. God, how I miss the nights we’d spend together, watching movies and braiding each other’s hair over the years. The simple pleasures you take for granted until they’re gone.
“And yours is too. I love the way you have it styled,” Tuesday adds, pointing at my up-do.
“Well, don’t get used to it.” Ellie snorts. “By tomorrow she’ll have chopped it into a pixie cut and dyed it blonde. She’s a chameleon that way.”
Suddenly, I can feel the heat of Dave’s stare on my cheek and squirm.
Most of the men I know aren’t big fans of change when it comes to their girls’ hair and makeup.
I frequently hear women remark that their boyfriends prefer their hair long and fuss-free.
There have been many discussions with clients to choose a style they want.
Not their significant other. Yet for me, it’s twofold.
I enjoy the opportunity to reinvent my style.
Plus, the ability to alter my physical appearance on any given day is like my safety blanket. It’s nonnegotiable.
“I need to try to do more with mine. But I get so overheated working in the floral shop and the greenhouse, I find I’ve piled it up on top of my head by ten each morning.” Tuesday laughs.
“I’m secretly hoping I can convince her to move to Sycamore Mountain. Then she can do all of our hair.” Ellie claps enthusiastically.
“No. I’m happy where I am,” I snap. I hadn’t realized how brusque my response had been until I take in the flabbergasted expressions of everyone staring back at me.
Especially the one on the handsome face to my left.