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Joy gasps and clasps her palms over Belle’s baby ears. “Language, dirty birds.”
Harper’s laugh is a mockery. “Oh, puh-lease. Cole was talking about the shaggin’ wagon earlier. You’re the last person who can censor us.”
My sister scowls and nudges her fiancé, who doesn’t appear slighted in the least. “It’s the principle and we’re trying to form better habits early.”
“Fine, whatever. Going down under never hurt anyone.”
Joy purses her lips. “I can’t argue with that.”
The door bursts open and Abbie rushes toward us. “Phew, sorry I’m late.”
“More reinforcements?” I glare at those already in attendance.
My sister avoids eye contact. “It doesn’t hurt to be prepared. There’s power in numbers.”
I press against the throbbing in my temples. At least this new arrival is good about sharing intel. “What’s the latest?”
Abbie settles onto a stool, parking a bent elbow on the rail. “Pour me a drink and I’ll tell you.”
Abead of condensation trickles down my glass to land on the cocktail napkin. My gaze tracks the descent with too much interest. What I’m really manifesting is a similar exit strategy for the chatterbox who’s plopped himself beside me.
“I’ve pushed her to one-twenty, but she’s got more to give.” Wade’s nasally voice takes another stab at my indifferent attitude.
My focus stays on the sweaty drink in front of me. I’d scrounge up more tolerance for his passionate presentation if he wasn’t having the majority of this conversation with my boobs. “Uh-huh, that’s really something.”
The clueless car enthusiast launches into more detail about his precious Mustang. I get the impression this is his version of bragging about a favorite child. The apple of his eye is a sight to see. He swipes through no less than a dozen pictures on his phone.
Laughter bubbles from me when I envision Garrett in Wade’s spot. He’d be boasting about boozy recipes instead of turbo engines. My mood sours like milk left out in the sun. I’d been doing well for all of two seconds. Feigned interest returns to the photoshoot.
“GRNPONY, huh?” I comment on the custom license plate just to humor him.
Wade beams at my interest. Such a proud papa. “It cost a pretty penny, but I decided to splurge. We only live once, right?”
The sentiment leads me to the erotic marathon I ran with Garrett last weekend. My thighs still ache from being spread wide for hours. Damn, that man can eat.
But this isn’t the ideal place to reminisce about the chafe left behind.
“Exactly,” I mumble as a noncommittal response if he’s even expecting one.
“Would you like to take a ride sometime?”
“Where?”
“In my green pony.” Wade tilts his screen to share another image with me.
“Umm,” I stall.
I’m honestly at a loss for words. Not because he’s fixated on his car or ogling my breasts. He’s just not who I want to be sitting next to.
My wheels are spinning again. It physically pains me to ignore Garrett’s texts, but I’m too weak. The distance I’ve shoved between us is necessary to restore my resolve. At this stage, I’ll gladly surrender and volunteer to be his fuck buddy. Indefinitely.
The entire point of forcing myself to this bar was to forget Garrett for an hour. Even ten minutes would be acceptable. But no. The unattainable bachelor plagues my thoughts nonstop on a daily basis. He was correct that I’d be suffering from dick-drawals.
It has to stop. I’m fooling myself but I have to try. Otherwise, I’ll be stuck in a miserable pattern, pining after a guy who doesn’t want me.
A pathetic groan escapes me. My rationale is a frazzled mess. This disaster is of my own making, but that doesn’t calm the chaos currently wreaking havoc. The emotional turmoil is taking its toll.
Might as well go for broke and let the freak flag fly.
