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“No way. You guys are young, I’m nearly twelve years older than you. I can’t keep up, I don’t want to keep up,” she emphasized.
“You’re only forty-four.”
“Yes, well,” she laughed, “that forty-four feels like sixty-four the morning after a night with you two. I learned my lesson. I don’t need to take the same test twice.”
“Okay,” Junie acquiesced, “I’ll admit, that was a particularly bad night. You’ve got to give me another chance.”
She laughed her tinkling laugh. “One day I will. I promise. But not this weekend. I expect a full report Monday morning. No skimping.”
Barrett
He got her text on Thursday confirming for Saturday and briefly considered giving her the rest of the information. He decided to hold back but needed to emphasize that he might not be available until later, wanted to make certain that her friend would be with her. He didn’t want to take the chance that she might be waiting there on her own. He called her to be sure.
“Yes, Junie is coming with me. We’ll be fine. You going to text me once you get there?”
“I’ll find you. I’ll have a table reserved for you for whenever you guys get there. The band is on at nine.”
“We’ll be there before that. I don’t think you can reserve a table on nights like these,” she told him.
“I know the owner,” his deep voice coming through the phone sent shivers down her spine just as surely as if it was his mouth and that crazy beard brushing against her ear. He continued in his deep, sexy rumble, “I’ll have a table reserved. It’ll be under my name and yours.”
“Okay,” she sounded doubtful.
He chuckled. “Don’t worry, curly, I got you. See you Saturday.”
“Excellent,” she enthused.
He chuckled again and ended the call.
He might get in trouble for the surprise, he might not. In any case, he felt it was best to knock her slightly off balance. She had put him so deep into the friend zone that he needed a few surprises here and there to shake her up and make her look at him anew. This could only help his case.
Chapter 16
Stonewall’s
Willa
Stonewall’s was hopping when we got there just ten minutes shy of nine o’clock. I felt almost embarrassed telling the hostess there was a table reserved, thinking she was going to laugh us right back outside. She just nodded and led us to a four-seater right in front of the raised band platform.
“You disgust me with how good you look, Junie,” I said with mock disgust.
She wore a filmy, cotton lace, loose-fitting shift dress that hit her at mid-thigh, ice blue cowboy boots with floral embroidery, and stunning silver jewelry that I was almost positive came from Bex’s store. With her blond locks in artful disarray, most of it swept up with numerous tendrils framing her pretty face, and her baby pink makeup, she looked like a cowboy’s fantasy virgin bride.
Until she opened her mouth.
“Need to get laid before my coochie closes up,” she stated baldly.
I snorted out a laugh. I should be used to her, but even after all the years we’d been friends, she still sometimes managed to catch me off guard with the raunchy talk spilling from her perfect petal pink lips.
“You look good...looks like someone pulled out all the stops for someone she claims she’s not interested in dating?” she quirked a knowing brow in my direction.
It was true. I had pulled out all the stops. Black strappy high heeled sandals, silky olive-green shorts, a burgundy, V-neck, silk camisole partially concealed under a loose, sheer, floral-embroidered blouse worn open with the sleeves rolled up, I finished my look with layers of funky necklaces, my curly hair long and loose around my shoulders.
“Oh, I’m more than interested, I’m just trying hard not to go there,” I narrowed my eyes at her, “and you’re not going there either.”
She smirked. “Don’t worry, I received that message loud and clear the first time you brought him up.”
The band began to warm up. The microphone at the front was thus far unmanned, but there was the requisite crazy drummer with short, spiky black hair and the lean, muscled build typical of a drummer.
