by Penny Wylder
I did mark the calendar yesterday, so I guess I have, but I’m still tired, and with everything going on at the bar, I’m not sure I’ll have time to chat anyone up tonight. Not that I think I would have a particularly hard time finding someone to come home with me, but I’m not sure I want that today. I have a feeling after all of this is over, I’m just going to want to go home and sleep.
It’s not at all that I can’t seem to get Diamond out of my head, despite the fact that I came all over my fist thinking about her in the shower this morning. Or the fact that I keep seeing flashes of long, dark hair in the crowd and thinking it’s her. Something is unsettled inside because of her, and I need to get over it. Get my mind off it of it.
“Maybe,” I say, answering his question. “But I might wait a little while to start it officially.”
He grins. “Having a change of heart?”
I roll my eyes. “No. But like I said before, I can make my own rules, and all of this,” I wave my hand around to indicate the crowd and the fair, “is exhausting.”
Wallace is looking at me like he’s thinking. I’m not sure if he can see through my bullshit or not, but he doesn’t call me on it. He just shrugs. “It’s up to you. Just remember that no one’s forcing you to do this but you. None of us would give you a hard time if you decided not to.”
“You guys have made that very, very clear.”
Annabelle steps up to the line and hurls her ball directly at the button, and it hits square in the center. Frankie goes down into the tank, sputtering as he comes up, and the crowd goes wild, chanting his name.
I see money get dropped into the donation bucket. People had clearly been betting on whether or not Anna would be able to dunk him. But hey, if it gets more money for the cause, I don’t mind. And as crass as it might sound, the more money we raise for the park, the better press for First Shot.
“Shit,” Wallace says. “Guess that means it’s my turn.”
“Your wife gonna dunk you too?”
Wallace points to Tia, who’s already waiting in line. I can see from here that she’s brimming with determination. If she doesn’t dunk him, she’ll be pissed. But she will. Tia’s a badass, and even I wouldn’t get in her way.
Frankie climbs out of the tank, grabbing Anna and hauling her against him, intentionally soaking her with his body even though she’s shrieking for him to stop. She’s laughing though, and I’m still watching when they practically collapse into a kiss.
I’ve never understood the connection that both the guys seem to have with their wives. And they both got married fast, in part because of me because they so desperately did not want to take part in the Dirty Thirty. But why?
I don’t understand the disgust at experiencing lots of people and pleasure. If everyone is having a good time, what’s the problem? But I see them together, looking so fucking happy, and I wonder if I’m fundamentally missing something altogether. If I could understand, maybe I wouldn’t be as frustrated whenever the guys say that they have to get home to their wives, or when they’re practically fucking in public on one of my bar stools.
My mind flashes to Diamond. I’m not sure why. There’s a little niggling feeling in my chest, a whisper. I’m not sure what it means, and I push it away as Frankie and Annabelle come up to me. He’s still dripping wet, and his arm is slung over Annabelle’s shoulder. She fits against him like she was made to be there.
“Next year,” Frankie says, swiping his hand across his face, “we need towels.”
I chuckle. “Noted. I’m not sure why we forgot about that.”
“It’s okay, I’ll just make sure Annabelle dries me off.” He looks at his wife, waggling his eyebrows.
“You have hands,” she says, laughing. “You can dry yourself off.”
“Yes, but that’s less likely to lead to sex.”
“I’m right here,” I say, sighing.
Annabelle looks at me, her whole expression dripping sarcasm. “Of all the people in the world, Glenn, you can’t really be prudish when we talk about sex. Not if you’re still planning your little sexcapade.”
“I talk about sex in general. I don’t talk about the details of my sex life.”
She looks like she’s going to protest, but then she stops. It’s true. I don’t brag about the individual people I’ve been with or share stories. I like to fuck, but I can still be a gentleman. The look on Anna’s face is priceless, like I’ve done something that she considers good, and it’s never occurred to her. I just laugh, and I can see that Frankie is holding in a smile too.
Wallace has stripped down and is sitting in the booth, dodging balls as some guys from the contracting company Tia runs try to hit him in the booth instead of the button. He’s laughing as they miss, the red balls falling into the water below him. He leans down and lobs them back, giving them another chance, but they miss. A lot of people miss, though one comes kind of close.
We have the line you have to throw from set far enough back that it’s difficult for anyone to get a solid hit.
Tia is up next and she pays for three shots. She blows a kiss to Wallace and he grins at her. Her first shot goes wide, but just barely, and he hollers at her. “You can do better than that, wifey.”
She smirks, and rears back, throwing the ball with deadly accuracy at the button. I realize that she missed the first time on purpose as she hits the button and he goes falling into the water. She takes a bow, and puts her hands up in victory as the crowd in line cheers for her.
“I guess I’m up,” I say. “Frankie, will you check on how the line is moving? I want to make sure that we’re still turning people over.”
He salutes, pulling his dry shirt back over his head. “Will do, boss.”
I head over to the booth and I say to the people lining up to try to dunk, “I’ll stay for three dunks, good luck!” I strip off my shirt and shoes and take my place sitting on the flimsy little board and watch as people buy the balls to try to sink me.
I should have agreed to just one, because the second guy who steps up to the line sinks me. I’m plunged into cold water and I come up gasping. Okay. I hold up one finger to the crowd so they know. Someone with a big camera snaps a picture, and I know that my picture is going to be somewhere tomorrow, soaking wet. Probably in a tabloid story of some kind. Frankie and Wallace too, for that matter.
It takes another ten minutes for me to get dunked the second time, this time by a petite girl that no one suspected would actually do it. “That’s two!” I call.
Water is streaming down my face as I climb back up to my perch, making sure it’s stable again. I wipe my hand across my face as I sit down again, and then I go perfectly still.
Because Diamond is standing at the front of the line, smiling. And in a throw that makes it look easy, she dunks me my third and final time.
8
Diamond
Liz was right, this is fun. I was sulking in my apartment today, since the salon I currently work at is closed on Labor Day. I wasn’t planning on doing anything or seeing anyone after the baby shower. All I wanted to do was sleep. But when Liz called and said she wanted to drive over to Green Hills, a town about a half hour from Eastborough, I decided to drag my ass out of bed and go.
I mean sure, part of it was that she promised to buy me alcohol, but another part of me knew that I really needed to get out of my apartment. And this was a great idea. There’s a mini-street fair in front of the bar Liz takes us to. I’ve heard of this place for a few years now, but I’ve never been. First Shot, where the first shot is free. I’ve heard they’re all over the place, and I actually do think that I saw one while I was in Nashville. But I’ve never been in the right place at the right time.
This is their flagship bar, and they’ve really gone all out to please the crowds. Which is good because I’ve never seen a line this long to get into a bar before. But there’s free water, chips and salsa, and a bunch of fair games raising money for a good cause to keep the crowd entertained.
; The dunk tank is the favorite because they’re dunking local celebrities and people who work at the bar. Liz tells me a little bit about it while we wait, the three friends who had the idea to do it together, and never expected it to take off the way it did, but now that it has, they’re doing everything they can to keep the brand exciting and fresh.
She points out the owners who take their turns in the dunk tank. They both are tall and handsome, and they get dunked by women who it turns out are their wives. “How do you know so much about them?” I ask her.
“They’re popular,” she says. “The stuff they do gets reported on pop culture sites. Three hot men who run the most popular bars in the country? It doesn’t even matter that two of them are off the market now; they’re going to get attention.”
“Fair enough.” There’s a commotion in the crowd, and I look up to see a third man climbing up into the tank. “The third owner, I presume?”
“Probably,” Liz says.
He looks out into the crowd, and I think my heart stops beating. Oh my God. It’s Glenn. It’s fucking Glenn. Or should I say the Glenn that fucked me so well I can’t stop thinking about it. He’s shirtless and barefoot, and I can’t stop staring at him. I honestly thought I would never see him again, and now I know not only that he lives close to me, but he’s a millionaire. I knew he was rich, but this?
“I’ll stay for three dunks, good luck!” he calls out into the crowd, and everybody cheers. Especially the women.
“Holy shit,” I say under my breath.
Liz looks over at me. “I know, he’s hot, right?”
Earlier while we were driving over, I told her about Nashville and my one-night stand with the hot, rich stranger. “Liz,” I say, “I need you to promise me something.”
“What?”
I clear my throat. “I need you to promise that when I tell you what I’m about to tell you that you won’t scream or make a scene.”
“Okay…” She draws out the word and gives me a look that tells me I’m being weird. And I know I am.
“The guy,” I say. “From Nashville. Mr. Rich one-night-stand. That’s him.” I nod toward Glenn.
Liz’s eyes go wide, and her voice drops to a whisper. “Are you fucking serious?”
“You think I would kid about this? That’s him. His name is Glenn, right?”
She nods, and she’s practically bouncing up and down, though she’s doing her best to keep her promise. With so many people here, and him having a level of fame I had no clue about, I don’t want to broadcast that we just slept together, and I doubt that he wants that either.
Besides, I’ve seen press people walking around, and the last thing I need is to be in a news story about fucking a billionaire. I’m certain that wouldn’t fit my parents’ idea of a good public image.
“You have to go dunk him,” Liz says.
“What? Why?”
“Why?” She whispers urgently. “Because you said he was the best sex of your life and he’s right there and maybe you guys will have some of that great sex again. It’s stupid not to at least show him that you’re here.”
She’s right and I know it, but it takes me a second to move. He’ll probably be gone by the time I get to the front of the line. There seem to be quite a lot of people that want to take the chance. One guy does it right away, but something must be looking out for me, because a whole bunch of people go, and no one manages to hit him. And then the girl in front of me sinks him, and I’m glad. Because if I do it, I’ll be the last one.
I give the attendant my money and grab a couple of balls. I can do this. In high school I played softball a little bit. It wasn’t my favorite sport, but I can throw a ball.
And then Glenn looks up, and he sees me. He goes still with shock. The exact same reaction that I had when I saw him. I smile, and take my shot. It hits perfectly, and he falls into the water, the look of shock still on his face.
The crowd cheers around me, but I’m still looking at Glenn. He’s coming back up out of the water, and immediately looking for me. He gestures near the side of the dunk tank.
I look up at Liz who’s still in line, and she’s grinning like a maniac. I shrug and make a face. I’m not exactly sure what he’s going to say. Will he be happy to see me? Will he think that I’m stalking him?
Watching him climb out of the tank, water dripping from his perfect body, I’m thrown back to that morning and our discussion of being in the shower together, and how neither of us would have had the strength to stop.
Water pours down his skin as he grabs his shirt and comes toward me. He doesn’t look angry, but he does look surprised. “I won’t lie,” he says. “You’re the last person I expected to see here.”
I laugh. “You too. Honestly. I live in Eastborough. My friend convinced me to come over ‘cause she heard what you guys were doing. I’ve never been to First Shot before.”
Glenn grins. “Then I get to give you the tour.”
“You don’t have to do that,” I say quickly. “Liz just thought it would be funny if I dunked you.”
“It’s no trouble,” he says, pulling on his shirt over his dripping, incredibly distracting chest. Putting the shirt on doesn’t even make it better because it clings to his skin and highlights every perfect ripple. God, why didn’t I take the time to lick those abs when I had the chance?
He catches me staring, and there’s nothing I can do to deny it. I feel a blush rise up to my cheeks, and I’m suddenly very self-conscious about what I’m wearing. It’s not special, just a t-shirt and jeans. I made no attempt to be sexy today. Granted, there was no way of knowing that I would need to be, but I’m still annoyed that I didn’t make more of an effort.
“Let me at least get the two of you inside,” he says. “Being friends with the owner has to give you some privileges, right?”
“Umm…sure. I’ll be right back.” I walk to where Liz can see me, and I wave her over. She doesn’t even hesitate giving up her place in line, even though we were standing in it for over an hour.
“What’s up?”
“He’s gonna take us inside,” I tell her.
“Thank God. I think I was starting to melt.”
I grab her arm. “Liz, what do I do?”
“What do you do?” She gives me look. “Girl, that man is hotter than the devil himself when he went down to Georgia. Flirt, do what you do, and get some. You feel free to abandon me as needed. I will be a-okay.”
I start to laugh, because that’s so like Liz. Completely supportive and the best wing-woman a girl could ask for. But I still have no idea what I’m going to say. We head back over to where Glenn is standing, his clothes clinging to him like a second skin.
Liz holds out her hand. “I’m Liz.”
“Nice to meet you,” he says. “Glenn.”
“Just to be clear,” she says, “I’m not getting in the way of anything. I have friends who will pick me up if I’m too drunk to drive, so if y’all want to go off and fuck be my guest.”
“Liz!” I say, my entire body going hot with embarrassment. Oh God, I can’t even look at Glenn right now.
She shrugs, smirking. “You weren’t going to do it. At least the elephant in the room is out in the open now.”
“I really hate you, you know that?” I mutter.
“Noted,” she says quietly. “We’ll see if you hate me later.”
I risk looking over at Glenn, and he’s just watching with an amused smirk on his face. “Ready to go inside?”
“Absolutely,” Liz says, looping her arm through mine and following Glenn toward the entrance of First Shot.
9
Glenn
I didn’t see this coming. It’s like I summoned her out of my mind, since I’ve been thinking about her so damn much, and here she is. My thoughts are racing, and I’m trying to keep them on mundane things, anything to keep my dick in check inside these soaking wet jeans. Because the second it misbehaves that photo is all over the internet. I need to get out of these wet cloth
es, and preferably get Diamond alone.
Which apparently her friend has no problem with. She was embarrassed, but I thought it was funny. I think that woman and I would be good friends.
I nod to our bouncer and wave the two women in with me, ignoring the glares from the people in line, but like I just told Diamond, if you’re the owner, you need to have some privileges, otherwise what’s the point?
Reaching the bar, I flag down Brennan, and point to Liz. “Whatever she needs is on the house, but don’t get her so plastered she can’t take care of herself. Got it?”
“You got it.”
I turn to the two of them. “Liz,” I say, “Brennan is going to take care of you. Diamond, can we talk where it’s a little quieter?”
There’s a blush in her cheeks, but she nods, and I don’t miss the way her friend grins and gives her a huge thumbs up. I motion for her to follow me, and she does, toward the back office. No one will be in there, and we won’t be interrupted. Plus, I can stop dripping water all over my floor.
I open the door and she goes in first. I don’t close the door all the way behind us in case she’s nervous, but I only leave a sliver open. “So,” I say, “hello.”
“Hi.” She’s looking around the office, and I realize that she’s curious about the space, but the longer she looks the more it becomes clear that she’s avoiding looking at me.
Grabbing my extra clothes that are on my desk, I pull off my wet shirt and drop it into a plastic bag. “I know that this is a little weird, but I’m glad to see you,” I say. “I haven’t been able to get the other night out of my head.”
“Me either,” she says quietly.
She’s staring, and I notice the hunger in her eyes. I haven’t put on the new shirt yet, and right now I don’t have the urge to. Taking a step toward her, she doesn’t back away, so I take another step. I close the distance between us until there’s nothing, and I’m looking down at her. Her lips are distracting, full and perfect. My mind is swimming with the memory of them wrapped around my cock.
