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Not that it bothered her.
She immediately pressed her fingers to her mouth and slurped up the sweet concoction.
She’d been repeating the statement all night long, and with each margarita, needed to declare it all the more.
Why?
Because they were.
Scum-sucking, lying, filthy, cheating bastards.
Not just cheating on her either. Oh no. Their wives too.
Yep. Wife. As in, married.
“Do they have this on IV?” April asked blearily. After taking another sip and missing the mark, disappointment flooded her as she realized she’d spilled more than half of the cocktail onto the floor.
As she peered into the glass, scowling at its empty state, her friend and business partner, Sarah Livings, murmured, “I think you’ve had enough, April.”
Sarah was always so calm. So rational. Usually April was too. But not tonight. Oh, no. She’d reached the end of her tether.
Huffing, April planted the glass on the table and wagged her finger in reproach. “I’ve had enough when I’m falling over, Sarah. I deserve it.”
“What? To fall over?”
April squinted at her BFF out of one eye. “Are you laughing at me?”
“No. God forbid,” Sarah said, her tone pious. She even folded her hands together in the prayer pose as she sank back into the bar stool’s backrest.
Studying her suspiciously, April eventually realized her best friend would never laugh at her. Not when she was dying of a broken heart.
The thought had all her drunken bravado disappearing.
Shoulders slumping, a little sob escaped her.
What was it with her? Did she have a sign on her forehead that declared to the male population ‘cheating bastards may apply here’.
The thought sent horror shuddering through her and she smacked a sticky, salty hand to her temple and felt for the sign.
When it wasn’t there, she let out a relieved breath. “Phew.”
“What are you ‘phewing’ about?” Sarah asked, trying to shove a bottle of water into April’s hand. Since she’d been doing that all night, neither were surprised when April waved her off.
“I thought I had a sign on my forehead.”
Sarah blinked. “Okay. I’ll bite. What are you talking about?”
“It’s nothing,” April declared with a wide grin. “It’s not there, so it doesn’t matter.”
“You’re making far less sense than usual,” Sarah pointed out, and April shot her a disgruntled look. Sarah was just so… Sarah. Neat and tidy. But somehow sexy too.
She’d never had these problems. Only April did. Was that because, though Sarah was attractive in a sexy secretary way with her chestnut hair always contained in a bun, glasses perched on her nose, and constantly in tailored skirt suits that showed off her slenderness perfectly, there was about four cups difference between their breasts?
April could never wear the suits Sarah did. She always looked… ripe.
She settled on the word with dismay. Ripe was only good when it came to avocados and melon. Not a woman’s body. But, she was round and curvy, sexy in an Earth mother way and for some reason, that drew men to her like flies to honey.
And that was appropriate too.
