Anything but Love (Wingmen #3)

by Daisy Prescott

  “Can we talk now?” Her voice behind me sends a chill down my spine.

  Skipping the part where I jump and scream like a little girl.

  I could say I don’t run out the door like I’m at a track meet and it’s the sprint to the finish.

  I could.

  I could swear I’m above throwing cotton shirts like confetti to create a distraction while running.

  But I would be lying.

  ONCE I ESCAPE, I decide I need advice on how to deal with a crazy woman. On the drive over to Tom’s house, I keep checking my rearview mirror to make sure I’m not being followed.

  Great, now I’m paranoid.

  Hailey stands in their yard with their puppy, Nameless. She waves and the dog bounds over to my truck.

  “Sit, Nameless, sit,” Hailey calls out, but the dog leaps around, not paying attention at all.

  I lean out the window and ask if Tom’s home.

  She gives me a funny look. “He’s at work and then meeting John at the Dog House. You can probably catch him down there.”

  “Right.” I realize it’s not even four o’clock. “What are you doing home?”

  Hailey and Tom both work at the boatyard up in Freeland.

  “I had to take Nameless to the vet. We thought he might have swallowed my engagement ring.”

  I see the diamond band on her finger. “Hope you got it sterilized.”

  “Got the all clear. It was on the floor under the bed.” Nameless continues jumping around. She pulls a treat out of her pocket. “Sit.”

  “I don’t think he’s food motivated.”

  “He’s shoe motivated and those are a lot more expensive than dog treats.” She whistles to get his attention, which works this time. “Come.”

  The dog gallops over to her and sits at her feet. “Good boy.”

  “Do those commands work with Tom?” I’m probably crossing a line. Honestly, if she’s with Tom, then she’s probably used to it.

  “I don’t hear any complaints.” She doesn’t even react. Hailey can definitely handle all of us guys. “Anything I can help you with?”

  “Guy stuff.” I’m not sure I feel comfortable sharing with Hailey and exposing my freak out. Plus, the fewer people who know about Cari being on the island, the better.

  Smiling, she gives me a shrug. “Look for him at the Dog House. Remember, ixnay on the uttbay.”

  “Might be too late for that,” I mumble, throwing the Bronco into reverse.

  I grab a corner barstool and wait for Tom. No John in sight. I order a beer from Olaf. I think he’s still cranky about setting my stool under the mistletoe last Christmas. Hard to tell because he’s always cranky.

  Tom shows up about a half hour later and joins me. “Olaf, I thought you banned the Kelsos after the kissing contest.”

  Oh right, that too. It’s not like we had a booth or anything. “Hey. Thought I’d join you and John for a beer.”

  Tom orders his own beer. “Don’t spit in the glass, Olaf.”

  The old bartender grumbles about retiring and not having to deal with the likes of us anymore.

  “Where’s John?” I ask.

  “He and Diane went over to town for some baby related class or combat training. Now they’re stuck in traffic, so I guess you’ll have to do.”

  His comment makes me laugh. “Are they sizing his big head for a helmet?”

  “Yeah, one with a beard guard. Kids love to pull on beards. That shit hurts.” Tom strokes his own beard lovingly.

  “No kidding.”

  Tom eyes my close cut beard. “Like you would know? How long you been growing that thing? Since ninth grade?”

  “Har har. I trimmed it last week.” Us giving each other shit is what we do. I’m not sure we know how to communicate any other way.

  “Hailey said she ran into you the other day. Mentioned something about seeing more of you online than she ever wanted.” He stares at me, his fingers drumming on the smooth wood of the bar. “What’s that about?”

  I drink half my pint before answering him. Olaf is at the other end of the bar and probably can’t hear us. Telling Tom is bad enough, O doesn’t need to know. I lower my voice and mumble into my glass, “Turns out my naked butt is all over the Internet.”

  “Turns out? How does something like that just randomly happen?”

  “It’s gone viral. My butt is famous. Only people don’t know it’s mine. At least not yet.” I explain about Justice and the apparent cult around celebrity body parts.

  “What do you mean your butt is famous?” Tom glowers at me. “You? If anyone’s body parts should be world renowned, there’s no contest. It should be me.”

  Uh oh. Hailey is going to kill me.

  “I’d happily switch places with you. In a heartbeat.”

  He narrows his eyes and studies me. “I don’t believe you.”

  “You can find it online. Go to Google and do a search for Justice Booker’s ass. That’s all that comes up now. There are funny memes, too.”

  Keeping his focus on me, he flips over his phone and swipes the screen. “Why wouldn’t I enter your name?”

  “Because the world doesn’t know it’s mine.” Yet.

  “Is this some sort of prank to get me caught looking at naked men?”

  It would be a good prank, but sadly, it’s not. “Nope. Look or don’t look, but I swear it’s true.”

  He looks down to type into the search engine. When the results pop up, he flinches.

  “That’s you?”

  I nod solemnly.

  “Your ass is everywhere.”

  “Welcome to my own personal nightmare.”

  “Yours and everyone with eyes.” He snorts at his joke.

  Part of me wants to brag about all the likes and the porn site fans, but I don’t. It’s a weird thing to be proud about.

  “How does one get something like this to go viral? Just post to Instagram?” The way he asks the question tells me he’s thinking about posting his own picture. I wouldn’t put it past Tom, aka the Tom Cat.

  “That’s the thing about going viral. No way to control it. It’s like the plague in medieval Europe. Maybe carried by rats, or the fleas on rats.” My mind goes to Gomez and all the porn sites. “It spreads and spreads. There’s no stopping it.”

  “At least your ass isn’t killing millions.”

  “Not unless you count the billions of lost sperm from the porn sites.” It’s disgusting, but true.

  Tom rubs his chin thoughtfully. “Excellent point.”

  “Trust me, it’s a nightmare.”

  He taps his phone screen.

  “You don’t have to keep looking online.” I go on the defense. “I’m happy to pull down my pants and let you see it in person.”

  “I’d like to see it in person,” a woman says from the other end of the bar. She doesn’t look familiar.

  “You should charge money. Let me handle this.” Tom elbows me. “How much is it worth to you?”

  The woman blushes but doesn’t stop staring. “Can I touch it? Or are we talking about looking only?”

  I choke on my beer.

  “Depends.” Tom grins at her. “Open palm? A pinch? I need you to be more specific.”

  She focuses on a spot on the ceiling. “Let me think about this.”

  “I’m going to kill you,” I whisper at him. “Or maybe I’ll tell Hailey about this conversation and watch while she kills you. I’ll help her bury the body.”

  He pauses. “She’d laugh her ass off.”

  I stare at him while he laughs.

  “Get it? Ass off?”

  I roll my neck. The puns will be my death. Death by word play.

  Someone put me in a boat and send me adrift at sea. Maybe I’ll get lucky and find a semi-deserted island inhabited by people who live off the land and sea, and have never heard of the Internet.

  These natives will be my new people. Clothing will be optional. No cameras will exist.

  “I’m joking. So serious.
” Tom slaps my shoulder. “No one is selling ass grabs. Today.”

  He holds up both hands and mouths, “Ten” to the woman in the corner.

  She laughs and spreads the fingers of one hand wide. “Five for a pinch.”

  Tom manages to keep a straight face and raises an eyebrow at me. “Pint of beer for a few seconds of discomfort?”

  I close my eyes. “No.”

  Tom’s dimple flashes. “I’ll let you pinch mine for free.”

  “I don’t want to touch any part of your body.”

  He frowns. “Your loss.”

  Living in a small town with one tavern, coming to the Dog House tonight might not be the smartest idea.

  Not only does some strange woman want to pinch my ass, and is willing to pay to do so, it’s the only bar in town.

  If someone, say from California, is on the island and doesn’t know anyone, this someone might decide she needs a drink and come here.

  See where I’m going with this?

  LIKE THE BEGINNING of a bad joke, Cari walks into the bar like the hellfire demon she is.

  That’s not true.

  The room doesn’t go cold and no one shrieks when they see her glowing red eyes.

  I manage to only shudder.

  She comes through the front door like everyone else. Only she gets stuck in the narrow chute between it and the old-fashioned saloon doors. Her eyes go wide as she shoves the swinging doors, which don’t swing or budge.

  Honestly, she looks like a baby cow in a veal pen when she spots me over the half wall separating us.

  “Olaf, you caught yourself another one,” Tom shouts to the bartender loud enough for everyone to hear him over the music. Most people chuckle at the old joke. We’ve all heard it a thousand times.

  Cari’s mouth opens, but no expletives come out. Nor does she flip him the finger. Instead, red blotches spread from her chest up her neck until her face looks like she has a major sunburn. She’s clearly embarrassed. I almost feel sorry for her.

  Olaf grumbles from his spot about the lack of gentlemen left in the world, but doesn’t move.

  “You know her?” Tom stage whispers to me. We’re not five feet from Cari’s veal crate.

  I shoot him a look before walking over to jimmy open the swinging door. “Olaf, you need to oil these hinges.”

  I don’t make eye contact with her after unsticking the door.

  “Thank you.” Her voice is softer than earlier.

  “No problem.” I resume my seat next to Tom, who’s been watching the exchange like an eagle.

  “Is she the woman from Mexico?” he asks me this but keeps his focus on Cari.

  I nod, but don’t lift my focus from my glass on the bar.

  “Oh, shit. What’s she doing here?” He gestures to Olaf for another round.

  Excellent question.

  “Invite her down here and find out.” Tom slaps my shoulder.

  That’s the worst idea in a long history of bad ideas, including naked snipe hunting. Really bad idea.

  I lift my head.

  Cari stands awkwardly at the far end of the bar. She twists and pulls on her hair.

  “O, buy the lady a beer to make up for trapping her in the veal chute.” Tom says this loud enough for both Olaf and Cari to hear him.

  “Since when is this a charity bar? Do I look like I’m rolling in enough money from you cheapos to be handing out free drinks?” Olaf grabs a pint glass and stares at Cari.

  “You don’t need to buy me a beer.” Cari apologizes.

  “I’m not. Those two worthless excuses will. I’m adding it to their tab.” O winks at her. “So order something expensive.”

  “Did he wink at her?” Tom leans over and whispers, “Do you think he thinks she’s hot, too?”

  “Too?”

  “Do you have eyes? And before you say anything, I’m not cheating on Hailey. Ever. I still can admire a beautiful woman.”

  “Does that apply to Hailey?”

  “Can she admire a beautiful woman? Sure. Men too. You should hear her and Diane crush on Dan. Doesn’t threaten me.”

  “I have a guy crush on Dan for his pizza.”

  “Who wouldn’t want a bromance with him?”

  Of course we’d never admit these things to Dan. Last year Tom joked about a pizza mafia and when Dan didn’t correct him, he freaked out. Not sure how Dan would feel about being the object of unrequited bromance attention. If he didn’t return the feeling, it could be bad. Being forced to eat crappy pizza would be the worst kind of punishment.

  Olaf sets a pint in front of Cari and waves off the money in her hand. “Your money’s no good here.”

  That’s wonderful. Olaf barely tolerates me, but he’s all charm and smiles for my nemesis. Maybe this is a huge, elaborate prank.

  “There’s an empty stool over here,” Tom says, patting the stool next to him. “Join us.”

  I try to kill him with my eyes.

  He grins at me.

  “Save your dimple for someone who cares,” I mutter.

  Cari hesitates before walking toward us. The blush from earlier has disappeared, but her eyes are still wide and cautious.

  “Tom Donnely.” Tom sticks out his hand. “I think you know my friend Erik Kelso.”

  She shakes his hand and turns to me. “We’ve never been introduced.”

  I stare at her hand like it’s a scorpion.

  “Excuse Erik’s rudeness. He was dropped on his head as a child.” Tom shoves me forward.

  I don’t know what my issue is. I’ve touched Cari before. Never intentionally though. I shake her hand. Making eye contact is a bad idea.

  Images from my dreams flood my brain. I drop her hand like it stings.

  Tom gives me a funny look and leans closer to her. “Sorry for my weirdo friend. He’s not used to touching actual women.”

  Cari stares at me and nods while rubbing her fingers along the palm I touched. Maybe she felt the same weird sensation I did.

  I’m busy watching Cari and only see Tom out of the corner of my eye. His focus is bouncing between the two of us like he’s watching ping-pong. A knowing look appears in his eyes.

  Uh oh.

  “How do you know Erik?” he asks, all nice and innocent.

  “We literally ran into each other in Cabo.”

  Tom nods. “I’m sorry about that.”

  “What the hell are you apologizing to her for?” Anger flashes through me. “She ruined my life.”

  “Ruined? Really? I’d say you’re one lucky asshole.” He grins. “I mean that literally.”

  “You’re the asshole.”

  “Not literally, though. My asshole isn’t famous. Yet.” He faces Cari. “So what brings you to our lovely island?”

  His charming charms rub me the wrong way. I mumble something about going to the john and leave the two of them making small talk over a couple of pints of beer. Like it’s completely normal for her to be here on the island.

  I decide to let Tom entertain Cari while I take advantage of the side door exit.

  I’m bagging a new blend in the warehouse when I hear Hailey’s voice from the café. A few seconds later she comes strolling into my line of sight.

  “How’s it going, Kelso?” She hops up on the stainless worktable that holds our labels and other miscellaneous crap.

  “Good, King. What’s up?”

  “Heard you and Tom had an interesting evening at The Dog House last night.”

  I exhale and try to ignore her.

  “Said Cari showed up and you high-tailed it home to the Phallus Palace.” Hailey swings her long legs, acting all innocent like she’s not here to dig for dirt on my train-wreck of a life.

  “Excuse me?”

  “Your house. You know everyone calls it that. Don’t play coy. Two single guys shacked up in a cabin in the woods. If you weren’t brothers, I’d be calling it Brokeback Mountain Cabin. I know, that’s a little long. Phallus Palace is so much better. Still smells like dudes though.�
��

  She finally stops talking.

  “I know Ashley calls it that, but I didn’t know that everyone else does, too.” I bump her shoulder. “It doesn’t smell like ‘dude’.”

  “It totally does. You need to invest in a case of Febreeze next time you go to Costco in town. Or maybe open a window once a year.” She wrinkles her nose. “Or change your sheets. Or wash your socks. Or maybe not keep old jocks lying around.”

  “Hey now. None of those things are true.” Except when Carter brought a girl home that one time. You leave a jock on the bathroom floor once and it becomes your norm.

  “I don’t even own a jock strap. I wear special shorts for triathlons. Keeps the guys high and tight.”

  “We need to stop having this conversation about five minutes ago. I’m sorry I ever mentioned the PP.” She waves her hands in front of her face to clear away the words. “Have you invited Cari over?”

  “Why would I do that? Invite the enemy into my sacred space? That’s as dumb as all those vampire shows where the innocent invites the bloodsucker into the house once, and next thing, whammy—sucked dry.” Those types of girls are the stupidest kind of people. Know thy enemy. If he doesn’t eat food and doesn’t go out in the sun, he’s probably a vampire, dumbass.

  “Tom said she was nice. Maybe the two of you got off on the wrong body appendage.”

  “Har har. I see what you did there.”

  She beams at me. “I liked that one.”

  “Present company excluded, Tom has terrible taste in women. He has zero intuition about clingers and the delusional.”

  Hailey crosses her arms and levels me with a stare.

  We both know I’m talking about Ashley’s behavior last year. Not saying Ashley is a terrible person, but sometimes her crazy flag waves all the way up at the top of her flagpole.

  An idea sparks. “Maybe I can have Ashley deal with her crazy-girl to crazy-girl. They speak the same language. Plus, Ashley’s all about social media and chat-snapping. We can lie and pretend she’s my publicist.”

  She toys with her engagement ring. “You could do that.”

  “I’m sensing an unspoken or . . .”

  “Or you could be an adult and figure things out. You’re not the only one who has fallout from these pics.”

  “What are you talking about?”