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I may address Carver by his full name, but our handshake is strong and familiar, filled with levity.
“Well. But I’mthisclose to trading her in on a whim.” He mimes before saying hello to Dusty and Cece. I get the impression they’re all well acquainted.
The striking woman at his side lets out a light sound, as if she’s tickled by the idea of a new vehicle.
“Cary, This is my better half, Sloan.” He’s affectionate, pecking the fingers of her left hand that he’s been holding.
“Cary Cass.” I introduce myself. “I didn’t know you had a… fiancée?”wife?I presume, glancing at the impressive rock.
“Sometimes.” She evades the question. “When it’s convenient for Carver and makes him look like an upstanding citizen.”
The corners of Sloan’s mouth perk deviously. She places her hand on Carver’s chest in an identical manner to the way Cece had Dusty and taps lightly. Then she slides into the booth where the others have made a generous amount of room for her on the rounded bench.
“My wife thinks she’s a comedian.” Carver lifts his eyes to the ceiling. “Joke’s on her. I’m going to replace the Maserati with a minivan and see how long she lasts after having a taste of the finer things in life.”
The hair on my arms stands on end and it takes me a moment to realize it’s not the lost profit between selling a luxury import versus a base model mommy mobile affecting me.
“From what Bhodi’s told me, Cary’s got some amazing pimped vans on the lot.” Holly pipes up next to me. “He wants me to buy one and taxi him and his buddies around while they game in the backseats.”
“I didn’t see you there,” I say, aware the shift was Holly’s proximity. When she’s in my bubble, my body reacts.
“I’m stealthy.” She winks. “What can I get you, gentleman?”
As the new arrivals to the booth, we place our orders. I give Holly my card, signaling I’d like the drinks on my tab. Carver upgrades his ride once a year and has been loyal to Cass showrooms since before I was aware he was a valued customer. Popping for his bourbon is the least I can do. And, not to sound like a car salesman, but given Carver’s financial resources and the way he looked at his wife and kidded, I can picture him buying her the top of the line Honda I drove Bhodi home in a few times—even if it is as a joke.
Holly lingers, chatting with the other ladies at the table while I talk Carver out of a Bentley. It’s one of the few lines we don’t carry. I can find it on the secondary market, but he buys new and I don’t want anything unforeseen to creep up and tarnish my dealership’s reputation.
“I’ll send Kelsey, the new girl, back with your order.” She tells Carver. “Better she gets to know your table before she’s on her own.” Holly blinks a few times when Carver’s taken his seat and she’s got my attention all to herself. Little does she know it never left her. “I saw you over here and wanted to say ‘hi’.”
“Hi,” I repeat, making her red-stained lips turn up in another smile.
We’re grinning like fools, and I shake my head. The fat tongue in my mouth proves Holly is under my skin. I tell her with few words why I’m at Sweet Caroline’s.
“Too bad it’s not a quieter night. Kimber’s got a ton of people here who want to say farewell, and I’m still training the new assistant manager. Jake’s supposed to be in later too.” She gives me the impression she’d be more attentive if she could. “Is your party bar hopping or shutting the place down?”
“It could go either way. You have a break?”
“For a half an hour at eleven.” Her tooth bites into the flesh of her lip.
I look at my watch. There are better than two hours until then. I want her, but I don’t want to push my luck.
“Can I entice you to come find me at five past?”
“It could go either way,” she says coyly. Holly lifts on her toes and her nails sink into my abs. “Do you think I’m a sure thing, Cary? We agreed it was one time.”
“You agreed. I wasn’t in on the negotiations.” My breath whispers past her ear. “If you liked the test drive, I’m certain we can strike a deal to get a newer model into you.”
Her hesitation to meet me is obvious as she draws her hand away from my stomach. Holly’s not so sure about the double entendre, but she’s also slow to walk away.
I’m cognizant of the sway of her ass in those too-short shorts as she approaches the bar. Some patrons nearby get loud and Holly fakes interest, using the disturbance to glance over her shoulder to where she’s left me. I may be drooling like a hound dog, but I’ve got her right where I want her and it won’t take much to seal the deal.
By eleven, a level of apathy for the entertainment leaves me not quite as positive. I’ve lost count of the number of times the house lights have gone up or down and the instances the strobe lighting from the stage has blinded me.
Every so often a shrill whistle has pierced the theater that’s not a catcall. Upon hearing Holly yell her catchphrase “sure thing” to a cocktail waitress, and seeing her standing on top of the bar, I become conditioned to seek out her form each time.
Fuck, the body the woman’s got. The toned legs and innocent ruffles on her blouse concealing those high, tight boobs have other men looking too. I’d better be the only guy at the club who isn’t left guessing about her full-body tattoo. I’d planned to trace my tongue all over those inked petals. Whether or not it’s tonight or another night, now I’m thinking of how to make Holly my sure thing.
I’m fingering a pasty that a groomsman stuck to the front of Glen’s shirt and I yanked off when he was distracted when eleven-twenty rolls around. Glen is three sheets to the wind. He’s unlikely to remember the dancers his buddies paid to give him private shows. I’m starting to feel bad for the guy. When everyone at the bachelor party is absorbed by the deafening music and strippers, I’ve been secretly swiping the indecent garments they’ve caught. I doubt it will go over well if his fiancée finds any of this stuffed in Glen’s pockets.
