A Shot of Sultry

by Macy Beckett

  This realization both thrilled and terrified her in equal measure. Her pulse responded in turn, galloping though her veins with wild abandon.

  There was no point denying she cared for Trey too. Sure, there was plenty of lust in the mix, but she wanted more than just a quick tumble between his sheets—she wanted…well, just more. How much more, she didn’t know.

  But that didn’t mean getting involved with him was wise. Just look what had happened tonight. She’d opened herself to him, in more ways than one, and had wound up sobbing in her car, struggling with old Jedi mind tricks to maintain her sanity. Besides, there was the whole issue of her journalistic credibility and the success of Sex in the Sticks.

  No, she simply couldn’t get involved with Trey, no matter how tempting. She’d be risking too much—both emotionally and professionally. No man was worth it.

  Bobbi knew she should run to Luke, confess everything, and replace Trey with another subject, but instead, she stayed put, resting her heels against the wood planks and sipping wine as she brainstormed another solution. Because what she should do and what she wanted to do were two different things.

  If she took Trey off the project for personal reasons, Luke would probably understand, but would that solve her problem? Just look at her past behavior. She’d proven she couldn’t stay away from Trey even if he wrapped himself in barbed wire and bathed in acid. What she needed was a way to make Trey unavailable to her, but how could she do that when he wanted her too? She’d already tried pairing him with the perfect woman, and that hadn’t—

  Bobbi gasped, the answer suddenly clear. An idea took root inside her mind, spreading faster than ivy, and she couldn’t believe she hadn’t thought of it before. She knew the perfect way to make Trey unavailable and help Sex in the Sticks become a success, all at the same time. Trey might not like it, but then again, it could change his life for the better. Maybe he’d thank her one day.

  Bobbi finished her wine and took a deep breath, trying to steel herself for what lay ahead. All she needed now was the will to carry out her plan, because one thing was certain—it would break her heart.

  Chapter 13

  Like rapper B-Real of Cypress Hill, Trey was going insane in the membrane.

  Why, you ask? Just take your pick. For starters, a week had passed since his mom’s brownie ambush, and she’d been so far up his ass the whole time that Trey could stunt double for the Asian guy in Human Centipede. It hadn’t taken long for Mom to find out about Sex in the Sticks, and the nag-a-thon he’d endured over the past several days had left him with the overpowering urge to drive a butter knife through his temple. But every time he’d dropped hints about Mom returning home, she’d go all wide-eyed and sniffle and start bitching about his dad.

  If that weren’t enough to drive him to drink—well, drink more—the new building inspector wanted his palm greased, and one of the yahoos on the crew had accidentally cut the power line while planting a cedar tree behind the community center. It was a miracle the idiot hadn’t electrocuted himself. Sultry Electric posted those “call before you dig” signs for a reason.

  But those annoyances seemed like trifling mosquito bites compared to the real problem eating him up inside, and that was Bobbi. Or rather, the absence of Bobbi. According to that giant, blue-haired dude, Weezer or something like that, she’d left town to meet with her boss and “call in some favors.” And while she’d been in constant contact with her crew over the last six days, she hadn’t responded to any of Trey’s calls or texts.

  And that shit made him crazy.

  “Hey, man.” Luke pointed to the breakfast burrito in Trey’s fist. “You gonna eat that?”

  Trey glanced at the tortilla, bursting with scrambled eggs, green peppers, and sausage. Heaving a sigh, he passed it to his buddy. It smelled heavenly, but the thing would taste like cardboard. All his food did now. “Mom made it,” he warned Luke, knowing the hatred between those two was mutual.

  “S’okay.” Luke shoved half the burrito in his mouth and spoke around a cheek full of eggs. “If she made it for you, she probably left out the rat poison.”

  Kicking aside a discarded shingle, Trey leaned a shoulder against one of the newly erected pillars that flanked the community center’s main entrance. He folded his arms to fight off a shiver, squinting against the low, morning sun and wishing the weather would make up its mind already. Each day since Bobbi left had been colder and darker than the last, as if Old Man Winter had dementia and didn’t realize it wasn’t his turn to come poking around yet.

  “You okay?” Luke asked, just before devouring the second half of Trey’s breakfast.

  No, Trey most certainly wasn’t okay, but he couldn’t tell his friend why. I came this close to making sweet, sweet love to your little sister, and now she won’t talk to me. Luke would kill him, give him CPR, then kill him again.

  “Just tired,” Trey lied, “and ready to have the house to myself again. My mom snores.”

  After wiping his greasy palms against his jeans, Luke clapped Trey on the back. “Sucks, man, but what’re you gonna do? Send her packin’ at a time like this?” He knew about the divorce. Trey had told him last week. “Not even I would do that to her, and I can’t stand the bit—uh, the woman.”

  Trey slid a heated gaze at his buddy, miffed at the near slip. Ice Queen or not, you didn’t bad-mouth a guy’s mama. “No shit. Why’d you think I haven’t hog-tied her and put her on the red-eye to Chicago?” Yet.

  “Just sayin’…” Luke held out a defensive hand, but before he finished his thought, Stevie Ray Vaughn’s Pride and Joy rang out from the cell phone in his pocket. It was June’s ringtone; she loved that song. But instead of glowing like a sixty-watt bulb at the contact, Luke grimaced. “Dammit.” He pulled out the phone and silenced it, sending the call to voice mail.

  Uh-oh. Trey sensed trouble in paradise. “What’s up with that?” he asked, nodding at the cell.

  “I already know what she wants.”

  “Which is…?”

  “To meet me at home for lunch.”

  Trey shrugged, shaking his head in confusion. He didn’t see the problem.

  “For sex,” Luke clarified.

  “Dude, I’m still not seeing the problem.”

  “Sex with a purpose.” Dipping his head, Luke delivered a dark, pointed look and sank to the concrete steps, where he slumped over, hugging his knees like a kid waking from a nightmare. “She’s got baby fever.”

  “Oh, snap.” Well, hell. That’d take the jingle out of any man’s junk. “Too bad there’s no Tylenol for that.” But then something occurred to Trey. “Wait, I thought you wanted kids.” Luke and June had been married for two years. Wasn’t that about the time most couples started trying for a stinky little bundle of joy?

  “I do.”

  “So what’s holdin’ you back?”

  Luke darted a gaze around the property, noting the location of each worker as if afraid they’d overhear. Then he stared at his folded hands, licking his lips, hesitating to speak. This came as no surprise. Luke had always been an overly private man—which explained why he’d never mentioned Bobbi before she’d come to town.

  “Out with it,” Trey pressed.

  “It’ll sound stupid.”

  “I’d expect no less from you.”

  A soft snort of laughter shook Luke’s chest, breaking the ice just enough for him to admit, “I don’t wanna share her.” Taking a slow, deep breath, he twisted the wedding band around his left ring finger. “How am I supposed to explain that to her without sounding like a selfish prick?”

  “I’ve seen the way Jooonbug looks at you. No baby’s gonna change that.”

  “I know.” Luke shrugged, still fidgeting with his gold band. “But I wish we could’ve had more time, just the two of us. I wish I’d married her ten years ago.”

  “Buddy, you weren’t ready ten y
ears ago.”

  Luke gave a sad nod of agreement. “I know that. But every minute I wasn’t with June feels like wasted time now. Time I’ll never get back. I like having her all to myself, and I’m not ready to give that up yet.”

  “Then tell her.” Anyone with eyes could see that June thought her husband hung the moon and lit the stars. No woman had ever looked at Trey like that. “She’ll understand. Worst case scenario, you compromise.”

  “Compromise what? You can’t have half a baby.”

  “Well, no, wiseass, but if she wants a kid now, and you wanna wait four years, you settle on two—” Trey bit short his reply as his head whipped toward the parking lot of its own volition.

  All thoughts of Luke and June’s hypothetical babies instantly ceased when Bong’s white van pulled into the nearest parking space. Trey’s pulse did the fifty-yard dash though his veins in anticipation of seeing Bobbi.

  She’s back!

  Trey pushed off the pillar, finger-combed his hair, and stood ramrod straight, then realizing he’d appear too stiff that way, relaxed his posture, tucking both hands in his pockets so as not to seem too eager. But in truth, his eyes ached to take in the graceful curve of Bo’s face, the way her green irises warmed when locked with his, her lush, pink lips parted in a smile just for him. Christ, he’d missed her. Hard.

  He even had a present to give her once Luke took a hike. It wasn’t anything fancy—just a handheld Tetris game he’d spotted while picking up a few things at the General Store. He’d thought of Bobbi at once, imagining how good it would make her feel to put all those little squares in order. Maybe she could keep it in her purse and whip it out whenever the compulsion to organize Luke’s CD collection took over.

  “What the hell?” Luke demanded. “You look more nervous than a nun in a Hustler shop.”

  Feigning indifference, Trey dipped his chin and joined Luke on the concrete steps. “They just surprised me is all.”

  With narrowed eyes, Luke’s gaze moved over Trey’s face as if trying to see the hidden image in one of those three-dimensional puzzle posters. He grit his teeth, grinding out, “She’s not with ’em.”

  Bobbi wasn’t back? Trey’s heart froze and sank into the general vicinity of his lower intestine. “Who?” he asked, summoning an ignorant mask.

  “My sister, that’s who.”

  “I know that,” Trey scoffed. He used his peripheral vision to watch the camera and sound guy cross the lot, noting Bobbi’s absence. “She’s in California.”

  “Uh-huh.” Clearly, Luke wasn’t fooled. “Don’t pretend you—”

  “Hey, boss.” Carlo loped into view, saving Trey from yet another lecture on keeping his snake in its cage.

  “Gopher,” Trey greeted with a nod. He scanned the kid, noticing he’d finally started to fill out, the bones in his sternum no longer visible beneath his thin T-shirt. And damn, if he hadn’t sprouted another inch in the past week. He was starting to look like a man, sort of. This young apprentice had come a long way since he’d joined the crew. A needling of regret tingled inside Trey’s chest when he imagined leaving his little buddy behind at summer’s end.

  Carlo hooked a thumb over his shoulder. “I finished mulching out back. Whadaya want me to do now?”

  “Done already?” Trey elbowed Luke. “Didn’t I tell you Gopher’s the best guy on my crew?”

  While Luke nodded, Carlo ducked his head and beamed brighter than a new penny. When the camera crew approached with their equipment, Carlo stepped back a few paces, staying out of the shot since his parents hadn’t signed the consent form.

  “Go find my cooler,” Trey told the boy. “I’ve got an extra breakfast burrito in there. Then head inside and we’ll get the walls primed.”

  “’Kay.” Not one to mince words when food was involved, Gopher darted off in search of his meal.

  “Kid thinks a lot of you,” Luke observed quietly. “What’s gonna happen when you leave?”

  Trey didn’t need reminding. His guilty conscience had been working overtime. “Been meaning to talk to you about that. His hours are almost up, but I want him to stay on with you while I’m overseas.” Trey stood and brushed off his backside. “He’s a quick learner, but you gotta keep an eye on him. Not much support at home, and I don’t want him getting into trouble again. I don’t think they feed him enough either. And you might have to buy him some clothes now and then—I’ll mail you some cash—just be careful how you give it to him. Say you were going through your old things—get creative. He doesn’t like taking charity. No man does.” He glanced down at his friend, hoping he’d agree. Teens could be a pain in the keister, and Trey knew he was asking a lot.

  Luke said nothing, just grinned at Trey with an expression that reminded him of Bobbi’s face the first time she’d visited the job site—disbelief mingled with approval.

  “What?” Trey asked, hands on his hips.

  “You know, you just might make a halfway decent dad someday.”

  “Jesus, bite your tongue.” Trey crossed himself; never mind that he wasn’t Catholic. The last thing he wanted was fruit springing from his loins. “Don’t jinx me like that.”

  Luke barked a laugh, then pushed to standing. “Sorry, man, I take it back.” Wiggling his fingers in the air as if casting a spell, he crooned, “May you aaaaaalways shoot blanks.”

  “Jackass,” Trey muttered with a chuckle. Just as he geared up for a playful slug to Luke’s bicep, the cell phone vibrated inside his back pocket. When he retrieved it and glimpsed the sender’s name, his heart bounced back and forth against his tonsils like a paddleball. Finally, a text from Bobbi!

  Meet me @ Shooters tonight, 9pm. I have a surprise 4 u!

  Trey’s lungs inflated with pure heat and expanded inside his chest. Bobbi was back, and she had a surprise for him. He hoped it involved her naked thighs and a can of Reddi-wip, but no matter what, at least he’d get to see her again—fill his nostrils with her scent of sweet cinnamon and watch her rub that little button nose when he made her nervous. Which he would, with pleasure.

  Trey’s fingers trembled as he turned from Luke’s line of vision and typed a response.

  Can’t wait 2 c-u, Bo Peep :)

  After tucking his phone into his pocket, Trey wiped his sweaty palms on his jeans, marveling at the butterflies slam-dancing against his stomach lining. He hadn’t felt this anxious over a girl since eleventh grade, when he’d asked Mindy Roberts to junior prom in front of all of her snooty friends. Damn, it was gonna be a long day.

  With a grin splitting his face in two, Trey checked his watch. Twelve hours and counting.

  ***

  At precisely eight forty-five that evening, Trey sat in his truck cab and scrutinized his appearance in the rear-view mirror, running one palm over the smooth edge of his freshly shaven jaw and tilting his face from side to side for any spots he might’ve missed. As keyed up as he’d been while getting ready, it was a wonder he hadn’t cut himself to ribbons. He straightened the collar of his short-sleeved, button-down shirt—the one Bobbi’d complimented the night of the church barbeque—and raked his fingers though his hair, still slightly damp from the shower and smelling of Suave shampoo. He looked pretty damned good, if he did say so himself.

  Trey checked the dashboard’s digital clock—eight forty-six—and scanned the Shooter’s parking lot for Bobbi’s purple car, spotting only the crew’s van. Maybe she’d ridden with Bong or parked around back with June and Luke. Or maybe she wasn’t here yet. Either way, Trey decided a seat on his bar stool and a cold Bud in his hand easily trumped loitering in his Chevy. He made his way inside, taking a deep breath to steady his churning guts.

  Striding blindly to his designated place at the bar, Trey pulled in the comforting scents of hops and crushed peanut shells as his eyes adjusted to the darkness.

  “Bud draft,” he told the bartender, the same redheaded
kid who’d served him the day Bobbi had come to town. June was probably in the back office with Luke, where she usually stayed until things got busy. Tossing a couple of bucks tip onto the gleaming oak, Trey climbed onto his stool, then swiveled around to check out the place. Hard as he tried to maintain a cool facade, his frenzied gaze swept over each tableful of bodies with one mission: to spot Bobbi, the neurotic little neat freak who’d turned his brain into banana pudding. He released the breath he’d been holding. She wasn’t here yet.

  He found the crew though, already set up at the pool tables in the back and filming Colton as he melded his body against a busty blond, showing her how to break a shot. Trey squinted, leaning forward to get a better look at Colt’s woman of the hour. She looked familiar, something about her body…oh shit.

  He recognized those double-Ds, and more importantly, the psycho attached to them. Trey couldn’t remember her name, but she’d come on to him a few months ago at a bar over in Hallover County. He’d shot her down instantly—she’d put off a loony vibe thicker than skunk musk—and it’d taken two hours to shake her. A stage-four clinger, that one. He should let Colt know, discreetly, of course, so as not to get his tires slashed. As soon as Colt glanced up, Trey waved him over.

  Colton left his lady friend, but not before pulling her into a long kiss for the camera. Poor bastard didn’t know what he’d just done. Now the cling-on would be harder to remove than a tick off a honey badger. Trey shook his head, laughing as his buddy approached.

  “Make it quick, Lewis,” Colton said, tipping back his Stetson to scratch his forehead. He gestured toward the blond. “She’s hot to trot.”

  “Do yourself a favor, and throw that one back,” Trey advised. “I’ve met her before. She’s got crazy eyes.”

  “She’s got eyes?” Colt cupped both hands in front of his chest as if juggling watermelons. “I was too distracted by those tig ol’ bitties to notice.” Without asking, Colt reached over and took a swig of Trey’s beer. Man, that shit just wasn’t cool. “Not to worry, my friend. It’s not her eyes I’m after tonight.”