“Austin clears his throat. We’re ready to order, I think,” he says, looking at me so I tell him what I want.
I want to laugh before I order, but I’m able to compose myself. “I’ll have a blowjob and a Sex on the Beach.”
Jack drops the glass that he was drying. Austin nearly falls out of his chair, and I’m still trying so freaking hard not to laugh.
“Ah, did you just say—” Jack begins to repeat my order, but I’ll spare him.
“A Blow Job shot and a Sex on the Beach,” I enunciate each word, making sure Jack understands.
“Wow,” Austin says. “Interesting choice of drinks.”
“I mean, in Boston, we usually just call it a good night, but things seem a bit different here.”
“I’m thinking I should move to Boston,” Austin says.
“That would be a shame if I stayed here, wouldn’t you think?” I ask him.
“I don’t know. You do you and I’ll do me,” he responds.
“Hot,” I tell him.
“Okay … and that’s about enough of that,” Jack says, still waiting for Austin’s order. “I still have to work for the next five hours, so if you wouldn’t mind just spittin’ out—mannn—give me your damn order.”
“I’ll have what she’s having,” Austin spikes back.
“Oh, you want a Blow Job and Sex on the Beach?” I ask him, pressing my lips into a straight line across my face.
He leans in toward me, bringing his mouth to my ear. “Do you have any clue what you’re doing to me right now?”
“Why yes, I do,” I answer, matter-of-factly.
“You are a tease,” he says. His words tickle my ear, sending delightful pains down the center of my body.
“I’d only be a tease if I didn’t have good intentions, Austin.”
“And we’re going to sit here and sip on drinks?”
“Isn’t that how you drink down here? Slow?” I ask.
He doesn’t answer. He turns his stool toward the bar and adjusts his pants while doing so. I’m pretty much turning myself on at this point, and I don’t think I’ve ever played this game as well as I’m playing it right now. I know I’m just as guilty for not contacting him these last two weeks, but clearly, he was testing me, just as I was testing him.
Jack returns a couple minutes later with two shots topped off with whipped cream and the two cocktails.
I wait and watch as Austin reaches for his shot, lifting it up and holding it toward me to clink glasses.
“Have you ever played soccer?” I ask him.
“Of course I have. What does that have to do with alcohol?” He’s totally confused, so I guess we do shots up north differently too.
“What’s the number one rule everyone knows about soccer?” I ask.
“I dunno, no hands?” he replies.
“Same goes for Blow Job shots,” I tell him. “It’s a rule.”
“Says who?” he asks.
“Whoever came up with the shot? I don’t know.”
“Well then, why don’t you go ahead and show me how it’s done since you’re obviously more experienced with this than I am.”
The looks I’m getting from every other man in this bar are hysterical. I’m not usually one for wanting attention, but this is funny.
Austin centers my shot in front of me so I don’t have to use my hands, which I appreciate since it would ruin the effect.
I twist my hands behind my back and duck down, wrapping my mouth around the tall shot glass. I suck it in, pick it up, tilt my head back, and swallow the liquid with the whipped cream, all without choking. I always choke on these shots, especially when I’m trying to be funny, so I’m glad I held it together today. I have to play the part.
“Oh my … damn,” Jack says from a few feet down the bar.
Being the competitor Austin has proven to be, he places his shot in front of him and dives right in to reenact my perfect shot-taking abilities.
He gets the shot glass up in the air and swallows most of it, but the whipped cream gets him like it usually gets me. The glass falls, rolls toward the edge of the bar, and the whipped cream shoots from his mouth with a choking cough.
“We got a spitter,” Jack yells.
Austin rights his shot glass and snaps his head toward me. “You’re going down, princess.”
“How so?” I ask.
“I didn’t mean like that,” he tries to correct himself.
“Tequila, Jack. Two. Oh, and bottom shelf. No lime or salt.”
Jack rolls his eyes and grabs the bottle to pour two shots. He places them down in front of us and raises a brow. “Should I call a winner at the end?”
“Ready?” Austin asks, looking at me.
I grab the shot glass and look back at him. “Whenever you are.”
He lifts his glass and I follow. This is going to be nasty and we’re going to need a chaser, which means I’ll have to just grin and bear it. I won’t be the first to grab my drink. I refuse to lose this competition.
We take the shots, and dammit to hell this shit burns all the way down. I don’t know what bottom shelf means here, but this tastes like sewer water. Austin immediately grabs his Sex on the Beach to chase it. Just after he takes a swig, he looks over at me, and I smile. I might puke all over him, but I smile.
“You’re kiddin’ me,” he says.
I take my drink and guzzle it down like he is, but I let him finish first, so he can take that bit of pride home with him. As soon as he places his empty glass down, he waves Jack over. “Put it on my tab.”
“No problem, bro. Enjoy your evening, ya crazy kids.”
We leave the bar, and I’m drunk. Like, I shouldn’t have had the second shot kind of drunk. I’m not a big person, and I don’t have a high alcohol tolerance. I’m usually able to hide it well, except I didn’t down any water in between my fun tonight.
Austin seems unaffected by the alcohol since he’s walking in a straight line and all, which means it won’t be long until he figures out my state of mind. “You—” he says.
“I’ve been called worse,” I reply.
“You’re fucking hot as hell.” I wasn’t expecting that. “No chick has ever out drunk me like that.”
“That’s sexist,” I tell him.
“I know. Sorry.”
“It’s fine. I’ve met a lot of the ladies down here. They’re all sweet like delicate flowers.”
“That’s why I like you,” he says.
“You like me, huh?”
“I like you a lot.”
“Good,” I reply.
“That’s all you’re going to say? Good?”
“Tell me what you’d rather I say?” I counter.
We’re coming to the end of a block where a small alley leads off to the left, or we can continue in the same direction to where everyone in the town lives. I’m not sure where Austin lives, but he pulls me onto the dark street. With a hand on my good arm, he shockingly pulls me into him, lifting me up so my legs tangle around his waist. “I’ve never needed anything so badly in my life,” he says with a guttural rasp.
“That’s what you’d rather I say?” I ask in a hushed whisper.
His lips are on mine, and I taste the tartness of his drink, the bite of the tequila, and the fresh scent of his skin. He’s holding me so tightly, I feel like I’ve molded to his body. His breaths are erratic, completely out of control, and I give in. I don’t think I can be any other way but weak within his hold. I like him. I realllly like him. The way he kisses is like the way I’d imagine he’d lick whipped cream off a strawberry—craving the sweet before the tart; the sensation that makes a mouth beg for more. Everything outside of our kisses is gentle, but this is far from being careful. This is a matter of feeding hunger. His hand caressingly slides up the back of my shirt, and the heat from his hand sends shivers through every sparked nerve ending in my body.
He parts his lips from mine with a look of aggression dancing through his eyes. “You think everyone is s
low moving down here, don’t you?”
“A little,” I tell him.
He carefully tosses me over his side and onto his back, making sure my arm is protected from the movement. “There’s no way in the world you’d move fast enough for me right now, and if you tried, you’d probably fall into a hole or something, so we’ll go back to my house my way,” he says.
“Horseback?”
“Shush your mouth, smarty pants.”
Chapter Eighteen
Austin
“It’s so dark down here. Don’t you leave any lights on?” Scarlett asks. If the thought of going home with a stranger didn’t scare her earlier, maybe it should right now. I wasn’t thinking the night would end up like this, or I would have left the lights on.
“Nah, the moon shows me the way home,” I tell her.
“Well, it’s cloudy out tonight,” she informs me.
“I guess I’ll never find my home tonight then,” I sigh. Scarlett groans then laughs quietly as she keeps up next to me. I carried her half the way home, but the bouncing motion was stirring up the tequila, and with another minute or so of that, things might not have ended well tonight. “Are you still feeling buzzed?”
“A bit,” she says. “So, is it the tequila, or do I see a small glowing light at the end of this path?”
“If it’s from the tequila, I’m more buzzed than I thought too.” I do see a small light.
“That makes no sense, Austin. Nothing in the tequila would cause a glowing light,” she says. Oh boy. Yeah, she’s buzzed.
“I was kidding,” I tell her.
“But there is a light,” she confirms.
We’re walking up the path to my front steps and I’m pretty sure we’re looking at the glow from a cell phone. “Who’s up there?” I shout.
“Just me,” I hear. Shit. Why does she have to keep doing this? I have told her a million times to call if she needs something. There is no reason to show up and wait for me on the front steps like some psychopath. At least she isn’t inside tonight—so there’s that.
“Who is it?” Scarlett asks.
“No one,” I tell her. “No one who should be sitting on my front steps right now.”
“Aww, you finally brought your new friend home with you. I was beginning to wonder if those rumors were true or not,” she says.
Scarlett seems hesitant to walk any further, so I run ahead past dumbass, open my front door, and flip the porch lights on.
“Laurie-Cate?” Scarlett questions.
“Hi, sweet-pea,” she says, cheerfully. Sweet-pea? She’s trying to smooth Scarlett over like butter, and it ain’t happening. “Austin, we need to talk.” Laurie-Cate stands up and clasps her hands in front of her waist.
“Uh, do you want me to leave? I don’t want to be in the way,” Scarlett offers.
“No, don’t go anywhere,” Austin says.
“Maybe she should go,” Laurie-Cate says.
Scarlett, being one of the least passive women I have met in my lifetime, meets up with us on the front porch. “Okay, so is there something going on here that I should know about? I’m not the type to get in the middle … if you know what I mean.”
I don’t know where Scarlett was going with that or if she knows how it sounded, but part of me wants to laugh because I know the tequila and rum are still impacting her thought processes.
“Say what you have to say, and get on your way, Laurie-Cate,” I tell her, ignoring Scarlett’s question.
“It’s a family matter that I don’t believe she needs to be a part of,” Laurie-Cate replies.
“I don’t give a damn what it’s about,” I argue.
“Seriously, are you two an item or something?” Scarlett asks. “Or were you?”
“Yes,” Laurie-Cate responds before I do.
“What?” I snap. “Cut the shit, Laurie-Cate.”
“Austin, tell me the truth,” Scarlett raises her voice. She sounds pissed, and I know I have about five-seconds to resolve this situation before Scarlett disappears into the darkness my dirt path leads into.
“Laurie-Cate is my step-sister. We’re obviously not together, nor have we ever been. She’s out of her damn mind.”
“That’s not exactly true, Austin,” Laurie-Cate says with a giggle. The sound of her laugh is like a nail going through my head, and I wish this town were just a little bigger so I could avoid her, but there is no avoiding anything or anyone here.
“You’re kidding me,” Scarlett says. “Look, I know things are different down here, but if it’s even remotely true—you two being an item at any point—I can’t—nope, not my thing.”
“Scarlett, will you just wait a minute, please,” I beg her. I can’t hide the irritation in my voice, but it’s not directed at Scarlett.
“Scarlett, sweetie, our parents have had this planned for years. Austin and I are going to get married and live here on his family’s farm.”
“Go!” I yell at Laurie-Cate. “Get the hell off my property.” I don’t know the last time I’ve yelled that loud, but if that doesn’t scare Scarlett away, I might be in the clear.
“I think I’m going to get going,” Scarlett says. “I don’t know what’s going on here, but I don’t think I should be involved.”
A gust of wind blows by me and the door slams shut. I only see Waldo’s tail before he disappears into the corn stalks. “Waldo!”
“Oh no,” Laurie-Cate says. “Waldo, come here boy!”
“Laurie-Cate, leave … now!” I yell at her while I’m chasing after Waldo.
“No, I need to talk to you about something,” she shouts after me. Doesn’t she get a damn hint? It’s not even a hint. I told her to go. It wasn’t just a suggestion. I hear her following in my footsteps and I’m about to lose my shit.
“Where are you, Waldo? Come here, boy. I’ll give you a treat,” I plead, trying to focus on him rather than the drama behind me.
An hour has come and gone and I’m sitting in the middle of a cornfield with my phone in flashlight mode. Waldo doesn’t usually get out at night, but then again, there aren’t usually two women standing on my front porch at the same time either—must have been too much estrogen for him too.
Laurie-Cate gave up the chase about a half mile back and I’m guessing Scarlett left too. “Waldo!” I shout again, feeling and hearing my voice grow hoarse from calling.
I can’t just leave him out here. The coyotes will get him. I need a better flashlight, though, because this thing isn’t doing much, and my battery is getting low.
The walk back to my house is slow and full of wound up thoughts. I can’t stand anything about Laurie-Cate, yet somewhere in that brain of hers, she thinks she’ll be able to change my mind and turn me into a believer of incest—fucking crazy. Just like all the other women around here, though, they think they can make a man change, so they date one for a few months and convince the moron to propose. Then they get married, pop out a kid or two, and that’s where the real fun begins. The women finally realize their man isn’t going to change his ways, so she starts forcefully using control until everything is destroyed, except divorce in this town is a sin, so people live in misery until death. It’s morbid and disgusting … and sad. I’m not interested in the whole charade.
I reach the front porch, thanking the high heavens I don’t see any signs of Laurie-Cate. Scarlett’s gone too, though, and that part sucks.
I fling the screen door open and hear a panting sound coming from around the corner. What the hell?
Scarlett is on the floor with my big, dumb yellow lab, who’s lying peacefully between her legs.
“Well, at least someone’s getting some action tonight,” I say.
“What happened to you?” she asks. “I didn’t want to go chasing after you through that field. Those weeds are all over my head, so I figured I wouldn’t be much help anyway.”
“It’s corn, not weeds,” I correct her.
“I figured you’d come back if you couldn’t find him.”
“I had a hunch you weren’t sleeping with your stepsister. That’s seriously gross, and you’re in healthcare, so I just—she’s probably just pissed off that your parents got married and screwed up those chances for you two, I assume.”
“This is why I like you, Scarlett. Despite your commitment to torturing me, you’re intelligent and you get me, somehow.”
“I’m not sure I get you, Austin. I feel like there’s a lot I need to learn.” I take a seat in front of her, staring at the content look on Waldo’s face. “I gave him some water when he came back.”
“When did Laurie-Cate leave?” I ask.
“She came back with a look of disgust after dirtying up her pretty dress. She wanted me to leave, threatened my job a couple of times … blah blah blah. Then Waldo came running out of nowhere with dirt-covered paws and jumped on her, knocked her down and literally walked all over her before I pulled him off. While it was a sight I won’t forget, Waldo might have gotten into something rotten because he smelled like manure, so I hosed him off outside before we came in. Laurie-Cate, who also smelled like manure, ran off screaming.”
“No shit,” I say, laughing at the thought of her being covered in cow shit. The neighbors have cows and Waldo likes to tease them. I should have thought to look there first.
“Oh no, there was definitely shit everywhere,” Scarlett says.
“Let me get this straight … you can walk in four-inch heels as long as there are no ditches, you break your arm and don’t shed a tear, you ask your nurse if he’s your ‘luvah’ while recovering from surgery, you’ll eat a grasshopper and the hottest peppers in the South, you drink tequila like a champ, and you’ll clean a dog who’s covered in shit? Have I died and gone to heaven?”
“Wait, when did I ask you if you were my lover?” Yeah, I meant to leave that part out.
“It’s ‘luvah’” I repeat the word exactly as she said it. “You were out of it, so don’t worry.” I might be saying don’t worry, but my smirk is making her squirm.
The Man Cave Collection: Manservant, Man Flu, Man Handler, and Man Buns Page 74
