Maid in America (Man Maid #2)

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“Barrett,” slurred a shaggy-haired man in his twenties, swaying as he waited. “Get your ass over here.”

Barrett removed his tan jacket, exposing the tight, muscle-hugging T-shirt beneath, and tossed it onto a wooden bar stool nearby before embracing the man. “What’s up, Anthony? Where’s your better half?”

Anthony groaned, chugged another shot, and slammed the empty glass onto the bar, startling a nearby cluster of women.

Barrett flashed an apologetic glance to a busty blonde across the table sporting a faded black tank with the iconic logo of AC/DC splashed across the front. She winked back at him as Anthony stretched.

“Linda got pissed off. Took the kids and went to her Mom’s in El Paso on Tuesday.”

Barrett tore his eyes away from the thirsty blonde long enough to give Anthony a pointed glare. “Oh yeah? What’d you do this time?”

“Why are you assuming I was the one to fuck up? You’re supposed to be my friend.”

Barrett slung his arm around Anthony’s sagging shoulders. “I am your friend, bud, but good friends sometimes gotta smack the shit outta you when you’re bein’ stupid. What’d you do?”

“She’s actin’ like I screwed someone.”

“Well? Did you?”

“No!”

Barrett sighed and pulled his buddy in tighter. “Look, you and Linda are good together. You’ve been together for a goddamned decade now. Don’t throw it away over you being an ass.”

“Why do you assume I was an ass?”

“Because I know you, Anthony. You are an ass. A lovable ass, but an ass all the same. You want my advice?”

“No.”

“My advice? Sober the hell up, pack a bag and hit the road tomorrow. Grovel, if you have to. And don’t forget to bring a big ass bouquet of flowers. She likes carnations if memory serves.”

Anthony shrugged off Barrett’s comment. “Dude, not you, too.”

“What?” Barrett eyed his friend and subtly scanned the room.

“You, Char, my Dad… everyone’s acting like I’m supposed to chase her down and make some grand gesture.”

“So do it , numb nuts!” Barrett shoved him hard but playful.

Anthony regained his stance and frowned. “Barrett, tonight I’m putting that shit out of my head, and I’m cuttin’ loose. No fuckin’ Linda telling me what to do and where I should be. No kids whining and bitching about one wanting the other one’s fuckin’ toy.” He sighed. “Is this what your life’s like all the time? Carefree? On the hunt for undiscovered poon?”

“Yup.” Barrett flashed a brilliant smile at a curvaceous brunette passing by. “Pretty much.”

Barrett inhaled the scent of cheap whiskey, old cedar, discarded peanut shells, and dried hay around him. The Hole was, in his opinion, the only truly authentic western honky tonk joint within at least sixty miles of Jackson. A massive dance floor sat at its center, clustered with smiling cowgirls in wide-brimmed hats and grim-faced men in tight Wranglers and pricey Ariats. Atop the worn wood, a mob of people spun and twirled, line dancing to the upbeat rhythm of the country music blaring through the amps. The dark plank walls bore neon logos of every alcohol brand a Wyomingite could ever desire.

While Jackson Hole was speckled with clubs, a surprising amount for such a small town, The Hole was located in the most tourist-laden area. A rushing current of fresh new faces kept the bar a consistently interesting place to cut loose. It provided a constantly revolving pool of new women for Barrett to charm.

He scanned the faces, on the prowl for someone fresh with whom he could temporarily sate his voracious sexual appetite.

Anthony playfully punched him in the bicep. “See anything you like?”

“Ohhhhh yeah.”

“Which one?”

“ All of ’em .” Barrett laughed.

Anthony snickered. “Shit, if I had washboard abs like you, my STDs would have STDs.”

Barrett barked out a laugh.

Anthony’s eyebrows furrowed. “Hey. Where’s Will?”

Barrett rolled his eyes. “He and Ava are doing some cake tasting tonight for the wedding. We haven’t hung out in weeks.”

“Shit, soon, he’ll be another brother lost to marital hell, anchored by a ball and chain, drowning at the bottom of the suburban ocean with the rest of us dumb assholes, the poor schmuck .”

“Well, aren’t you a little ball of optimism tonight?” Barrett joked.

Anthony slapped Barrett on the back so hard it stung. “I’m gonna do a round and mingle. Catch you later, man.”

As Anthony darted off into the packed swarm of people near the bar, Barrett cupped a hand and yelled over Luke Bryan’s voice, asking country girls to shake it for him, “Don’t be an idiot! Pull your head out of your ass and go get Linda back!”

Anthony scoffed and disappeared into the crowd.

Barrett leaned back on the bar and nodded at the blonde in the AC/DC shirt. She and the two women beside her gawked, laughed, and waved. He flashed another knee-weakening smile at all three, watching the women melt before his mocha-colored eyes.

Like fishing with dynamite.

He turned back to the bar, flagging down Daisy, the pissy bartender. She grimaced, letting out a dramatic grunt as she reluctantly approached, wiping sloppy liquid dribbles off the bar top the whole way. Her stormy eyes narrowed at the sight of him.

“ Barrett .” There was ice in her tone, like that of an agitated phone sex operator, equal parts sensual and frigid.

“Awww, come on, Daisy. You aren’t still mad at me, are you?”

Her furious glare gave him the only answer he needed. He watched her shapely ass as she twisted to retrieve a bottle behind her, the silky skin of her tapered waist taunting him through the gap between her crop top and painted-on frayed jeans. She whipped back up, catching his eyes settling on her cleavage.

She pointed the neck of a bottle of Maker’s Mark at him like an accusatory finger. “Fuck off, Barrett.”

“Is that any way to talk to a regular?” He smiled, but she was impervious to his charm. Jaded, like many others in his sexual wake. He was great at getting women, even better at ghosting them.

He held up two calloused palms defensively. “I’ll just take a double of Wyomin’ Whiskey, neat, and get outta your hair.” He swallowed. “Which looks really nice today, by the way.”

Daisy flipped her caramel ponytail over her shoulder and huffed. Teeth gritted, she snatched a nearby glass and a bottle of his favorite local whiskey. After pouring two fingers of booze, she sloshed the glass across the scuffed wooden bar top at him.

“For you , that’ll be twenty-five bucks.”

Barrett pressed his lips together and nodded. “On second thought, I shouldn’t drink tonight. I’m driving.”

Daisy shook her head and snatched the drink back from the counter. “Suit yourself.”

She swallowed the contents of the glass herself and then set the cup in the sink behind the bar, never breaking eye contact with him. He opened his mouth to reply, but he knew no words could remove the foot he’d already planted there when he snuck out of her house the week prior.

It was time to institute a new rule: Never fuck the bartender. He added it to the lengthy list of mistakes he’d made over the years.

Luckily, in a tourist town, there were always fresh faces, women who had no clue about the reputation that preceded him, one that dried up panties and sent sensible women racing for the door.

As he turned back to the dance floor, an arm snaked around his own, squeezing like a python.

“Hey, babe, this is Mark. He just bought me a drink. Ain’t that the sweetest thing?” the female voice cooed.

Barrett turned to see an unfamiliar face gazing up at him from their several-inch height difference. She was a stunning creature, the kind of woman that the bards of old wrote songs about. Her arresting amber eyes blinked up at him, hypnotic beneath the shimmering beams of the overhead par-cans. Her delicious-looking lips were highly glossed and twisted into a nervous smile. Her shoulder-length hair was dyed in blended bands of rainbow colors coiled around her delicate face in breezy curls.

For once, Barrett felt too dumbstruck to be suave.

Rising on her toes to close the height gap between them, she leaned closer to his ear. He caught a hint of her jasmine perfume as she whispered, “ Please go with it. This dipshit won’t leave me the hell alone. ”

Barrett nodded and glanced at the intoxicated man hovering in her personal space. His posture straightened, and he cast a threatening glance despite the casual smile spread across his mouth. “Nice to meet you.”

“Mark is in tractor sales. Isn’t that fun, honey?” she asked. She motioned to the leathery fifty-something in a white Stetson, plaid shirt pulled taut over his protruding gut.

Barrett stared down into her stunning eyes. “Baby, don’t settle for table scraps when you got prime rib right here.”

“Pfft. Fuckin’ cocktease .” The bedraggled man grumbled, waving her away. Then, he looked at Barrett like he wanted a fight. “Who the fuck you callin’ ‘table scraps,’ asshole?!”

Barrett flexed, standing rigid and ready to pulverize the man. He stepped toward him, hovering nearly a foot taller. “ Mark , was it? Mark, if you so much as look in my woman’s direction again, I will hit you so fucking hard, you’ll shit your own molars.”

Barrett’s heart raced excitedly at the notion, at the familiar, invigorating feeling of his knuckles colliding violently with a man’s skin and bone, sweet pain radiating back through his extremities. His hands twitched, fingers aching to ball into fists.

The man gritted his teeth and swatted the air between them. “Ain’t about to catch a case over some dumb cunt like her. You can keep her.”

Normally, Barrett would have given chase, dragged the old man out to the parking lot, and made him eat a curb. But tonight, he wanted to stay with the alluring temptress, the one trying to hide her gorgeous smile with a cupped hand.

As the man disappeared into the crowd, she broke into giggles.

Barrett looked down and smiled. “You like the idea of an old man getting his ass put in the ICU over you?”

She looked Barrett up and down, taking all of him in for the first time. He was all too aware of that look. The lust, the stunned amazement, his muscular frame stoking flames of red hot heat that always seemed to flush women’s cheeks.

But she seemed… different . She seemed like someone whose smile could not be easily forgotten when the morning sun arose, and the flattering haze of beer goggles had lifted. Hers was a face he wanted to memorize, a rare gem among a shoreline of pebbles, eyes sparkling with a brilliance that made time stand still.

“You got a name?” he finally managed, staring, lost in the allure of her velvet lips. He could picture himself parting them with his tongue and suddenly wondered what flavor of gloss she wore.

She smiled, one infused with a tempting mixture of mischief and chaos. “Aphrodite.”

He rubbed his fingers through the neatly shorn stubble on his chin. “Either your parents have an odd sense of humor, or you’re screwing with me.”

She shrugged and smiled playfully. “Maybe it’s my name. Maybe it isn’t. Either way, it keeps things exciting.”

“Well, Aphrodite ,” he said mockingly, “if that ugly prick bothers you again, come find me.”

She laughed. The sound was pure and sweet, something he wanted to make her again.

And again…

“Barrett, right?” She stuffed her hands into her back pockets. “I overheard someone call you that a few minutes ago.”

Her wicked grin made heat bloom through his groin, hardening his cock as he wrapped one of her rainbow-colored curls around a rough finger. “Oh, it’s Adonis, actually.”

Her breath caught as Barrett’s knuckle grazed her cheek. She swallowed hard, losing some of her steely resolve. He waited for her to shy away from his hand, but she leaned against it instead. “Mighty high opinion of yourself.”

He leaned down and brushed his lips against her ear. “Can’t you see, Aphrodite? You and me… it’s fate .”

She chuckled and crossed her arms over her breasts.

“Right. Well, Adonis , thank you for helping me ditch that guy.” She patted her palm on his chest, shocked by the marble-hard muscle beneath his shirt. She resisted the desire to let her eyes widen in shock, to ruin the cool facade she’d established. “Enjoy the rest of your night.”

“Alright.” A pang of disappointment plummeted down into the pit of Barrett’s stomach.

“Stay away from wild boars,” she joked.

He scrunched his brows. “Excuse me?”

She replied with a laugh. “You must not know your Greek mythology very well.”

“You got me there.” He licked his bottom lip and forced a laugh as she waltzed backward toward rows of line dancers. “See you around, Aphrodite.”

“Maybe.” She shrugged and spun, chunky boot heels clacking out onto the weathered dance floor, ass swaying like a metronome to the lively beat.

Barrett sighed and returned to the bar, trying to shake Aphrodite from his mind as the twang of steel guitars and crooning voices dribbled from the amps.

Soon, a busty woman wearing a fringe skirt breezed past. She winked, drinking in the image of Barrett’s body like water in Saharan sand. His smile was quick to fade. He knew her. They’d been to bed together at some point in the last year. It was all becoming a blur of faces.

Jackson Hole wasn’t the smallest town in Wyoming, but in the decade Barrett had lived there, many faces had stayed the same. In fact, too many for his liking.

His eyes scanned the room. Watching. Assessing. He took a visual inventory of every woman in the establishment, imagining each one as a one-of-a-kind sensual snowflake he could confidently melt with his tongue.

As his gaze wandered, his sight returned to the rainbow-haired beauty, now chatting with another man in a No Fear T-shirt and a mesh trucker’s hat. She pushed the man away playfully, throwing her head back in a hearty laugh.

Something inside squeezed its frustrated claws around Barrett’s gut, wrenching hard at the display. He wanted to be the one to coax that beautiful sound from her. He watched for a moment as her fingers trailed along the man’s chest, prancing like the graceful feet of a ballet dancer down the front. Every tap of contact pulled at Barrett like a cord, tugging him toward her before he could stop himself. As he wound his way through the crowd in her direction, he was caught by the arm.

“Hey!” squeaked a drunken woman as she hopped off her stool, nearly falling over on dismount. Barrett caught her just in time before she tumbled to the shell-covered floor.

He glanced down at her face, trying desperately to remember her name.

Shauna?

Barbara?

Something with an ‘ah’ at the end…

“Barrett?! What are you doing here? I thought you ssssaid you were done with the bar scene,” she slurred, eyes narrow slits.

“Old habits die hard, I’m afraid.” He gave her a moment to steady herself on her rhinestoned heels.

“These guys are amazing. This is my song !” she screamed, pointing at the high ceiling.

“I don’t think I’ve heard this band before. Who are they?” Barrett asked, reeling back when the woman - Carla maybe? - spun around with a look of utter shock. Her beautiful, tan face contorted into a mouth-open gape of someone who had just watched him slap a kitten.

“It’s Lonesome Creek ! How do you not know this band?!”

“I guess I don’t pay much attention to music these days.”

Diana? Her name had to be Diana.

Probably .

The woman reached up, snatched his shirt collar in her petite hand, and tugged his face toward hers. The overpowering odor of cranberry and gin wafted at him in a boozy gust.

“You should come over. I’ll play some of their music for you.” Her intoxicated attempt at seduction was barely audible above the tune.

Barrett’s hand gently plucked her grip from his shirt. “Maybe another time. You’re drunk.”

“So?!”

“Darlin’, the only thing you need to be suckin’ on in your bed tonight is a big bottle of water.”

She honked out a laugh, and her eyes squinted further. “Party pooper! Rain-check?” She jabbed him in the chest with a pointed finger more forcefully than he’d anticipated.

He grabbed her by the offending hand and placed a soft kiss on the back of it. “We’ll see.”

She waved him away, shrieking like a dying eagle as the DJ played the next song, another recent chart topper.

Barrett shuffled through the crowd and eventually walked up behind Aphrodite. He darted through a too-small pocket of space behind her, intentionally bumping her forward with a jolt. She spilled her drink on the front of the man’s T-shirt, and he jumped back dramatically, arms out like Jesus, face instantly twisted into a look of fury.

“What the fuck? ” he snarled, swiping at his soaked clothes.

“Ah shit,” Barrett said, slapping a hand on the man’s back. “Hell, man, I’m sorry. My bad. I’m like a bull in a China shop. Here.” Barrett plucked a ten-dollar bill from the calfskin wallet in his back pocket. He slid a hand subtly around Aphrodite’s waist and waved the money at the drenched stranger. “ That drink is on you. Next one’s on me .”

With a scowl, the man snatched the ten-spot, glowered at Barrett, and then stomped off toward the bathroom, mouth moving as he muttered every conceivable curse word.

Aphrodite turned to Barrett, feeling his firm hand slip around her back to the other side of her waist, buzzing at his touch.

“That wasn’t an accident, was it?” Her eyes flicked to his, a smirk showcased across her cheeks.

He shook his head, refusing to blink as he studied her stunning face.

“Hmmm. This is fun,” she said. “Maybe I should find another guy who looks like trouble so I can watch you in action again.”

“Oh, you like that kind of thing, do you?”

She could feel the low bass of Barrett’s velvet voice rumble from his body. She nodded, momentarily unable to form words.

“Well, play your cards right, and by the end of the night, I’ll end up kicking some poor sap’s ass all the way outta town for makin’ extended eye contact with a Goddess like you.”

“ You’re making extended eye contact,” she finally said, her body inching toward his, the fabric of their jeans rubbing.

“Yes. But I’m Adonis, remember? These other men…” He looked around, “Mere mortals .”

She stepped back, and he moved forward, once again closing the gap between them.

“Wanna dance?” he asked, his eyes flicking down to her lips and back up to her face.

“Feels like we already are.”

Barrett chuckled, never taking his eyes off her.

“See if you can keep up,” she yelled, leading him onto the dance floor. Her touch sent a shock pulsing through him.

He spun her, tethering Aphrodite with a light grasp before recoiling her shoulders back into his strong arms. She pressed herself against his body as if they had been molded to fit one another perfectly.

“ God damn, Aphrodite, ” Barrett mumbled, embracing her intimately, hoping his sudden proclamation of pleasant surprise would be drowned out by the pulsing drumbeats.

“You’re not so bad yourself, ” she muttered between deep breaths.

“How come I’ve never seen you out here before?” He asked, feeling thrown off-balance. The heady mixture of her perfume and the way her eyes bored into him made him feel three whiskeys deep.

“I haven’t been around for a while.” She grinned. “What? Why are you looking at me like that? I can’t tell if you’re scared or turned on.”

He laughed. “Both.”

“Don’t be afraid. I don’t bite unless you want me to,” she teased, spinning out again and returning to his chest.

“Oh, I want you to, Aphrodite. I dare you to.”

Her carefree laugh was melodic and uplifting. The sound of it made his whole day melt away.

Barrett craned his neck and leaned in close, breath fluttering against the shell of her ear, sending a shiver down her spine. “Wanna get out of here?”

She tried to hide her smile, jutting her jaw as she looked around. “What kinda girl do you think I am?”

“You’re a little firecracker,” he growled into her ear. “Dangerous as hell and truly a beautiful sight to behold.”

“I’ll bet you say that to all the girls.”

He shook his head close to her face, his nose nearly brushing hers. “Just you.”

“Surrrrrre.” She giggled, tapping her forehead against the hollow of his throat.

“You know, Aphrodite,” he said, holding her closer, “ I’m not one to beg, but if you give me a chance to show you what I can do off the dance floor,” he flashed a cocky grin, “ you just might.”

That kind of confidence was her secret weakness. Her spine went rigid, knees unsteady. She felt any possible witty retort evaporate the instant he uttered it.

Barrett could swear she was blushing, could feel her weakened gait as they danced. The thought of having that kind of effect on her made him even more aware of his growing erection, one starting to rage against the stiff barrier of his tight jeans. One he was sure she could feel as he dipped her backward, feeling her thigh sink between his.

“Suppose I said ‘yes,’” she said. “Where would we go?”

“My place.” His hands trailed down her arms.

“Well, then, what are we waiting for?” She bit her bottom lip.

Without another word, he slid a hand behind the small of her back and whispered, “ Get your things. ”

In the parking lot, men cackled in the distance, deep in some sort of intoxicated conversation with one another. Barrett pointed to his black Jeep, one with mud-encrusted tires in desperate need of a good scrub-down. “You wanna ride with me or follow?”

“I’ll follow. I don’t do sleepovers,” she said, unlocking a sedan a few vehicles away with the key fob in her hand.

“Honey,” he grinned, pausing to devour every inch of her with his eyes, “With a body like that in my apartment, I wouldn’t fathom sleeping.”