“You said you were feeling better!”
“Better! Not in the mood!”
“I thought you’d be flattered that I still wanted to fuck you after what I just witnessed. That wasn’t a pretty sight, my friend.”
“I wouldn’t hook up with you now if you were the last man on earth.” She tilted her head back and raised her hands. “Thank you, Señor Tequila, for stopping me before I made the worst mistake of my life!”
“Oh yeah! Worst mistake?!”
My eyes roamed up and down her body in desperate search of something to criticize. I was not going to give her the satisfaction of having the last word.
“Well, I’d take another look at those earrings,” I said smugly.
Sophie’s hands shot up to her ears. “What’s wrong with them?!”
“They’re… um… too dangly.”
“They’re supposed to be dangly.”
“Did I say dangly? I meant gaudy.”
The earrings weren’t gaudy at all, far from it. In fact, Sophie looked like a million bucks. Strike that. She looked like a trillion bucks.
Narrowing her eyes, she sneered at me in silence. Sophie was at a loss for words. I stood stunned. I had actually won. As I was about to revel and gloat, two small hands pushed against my chest.
“Out of my way,” she spat out.
“Awesome comeback.”
Both of us reached for the doorknob at the same time.
“Let go.” Her words ground out through clenched teeth.
“Now we’re going to argue about who’s opening the door?”
“We’re not arguing.” With her eyes narrowed and her lips pursed, she jerked open the door and marched out.
When we were a few feet away from the ballroom, Sophie said, “I still need a ride home.”
I didn’t know what I liked more, her incredible body, her smartass mouth, or the moments when she had to eat a little crow and ask me for a favor. Figuring I’d let her stew for a while, I didn’t answer. I should have made her go around and find some other sap to drive her home. After a minute of the silent treatment, she glanced at me with those big eyes and I caved as usual.
“I’ll bring the car around,” I said.
“And will you bring me back over here tomorrow so I can get my car?”
I pushed opened the door leading to the outside. “Yes.”
I remember the first time I laid eyes on Sophie, every part of my body twitched with excitement. She was breathtakingly beautiful with her long wavy hair, never-ending curves, and eyes that made me hot every time they were aimed at me. Before Bryson was able to introduce us formally that day, Sophie wrapped her delicate fingers around my wrist, twisted my arm behind my back, and had me on my knees. In that moment while protecting her friend, I knew this woman was different from all the others. She was intelligent with a sharp tongue and never put up with my bullshit. Sophie challenged me and found pleasure in pushing my buttons. All the time. She was confusing and exhausting.
One minute I was so hot for her I could hardly bear it and the next minute I wanted to get as far away from her as possible. By this point, I would have gotten over her if it hadn’t been for my best friend Hart. Once he and Bryson were officially together, Hart made it clear that Sophie was off-limits. The forbidden fruit aspect sent my libido into overdrive. I’d be able to get her out of my system if I could get into her pants one time… two times… thirty times tops. Since day one Sophie did a lot of squawking about her aversion to me. But tonight there was no denying the deep desire that took over her body. The shivers running through her body, the molten heat filling her eyes, and the quiver of her lips, all indicated that she was severely jonesing for some Douglas MacArthur Truman.
Two Years Later…
“GOOD GIRL, LADYBUG! You had a semi-solid poopy.”
“Bryson…”
“Yes, you did.”
“Bryson…”
“Your daddy’s going to be so proud of you when we tell him about your big girl poopy doopy.”
“Bryson! What did I tell you about the shit talk?”
Covering her daughter’s little ears, Bryson snapped, “Shhh, language.”
I walked over to the changing table holding the hot pink dress I’d bought Hope for her first birthday. “Unlike you, my perfect goddaughter understands her Auntie Sophie’s repulsion to your stool chat.”
“Sorry, but if you had changed as many messy diapers as I have, you too would be thrilled with the slightest of solid-tudes.”
“You’re still talking about it.”
I watched as my best friend finished dressing Hope. I had never seen Bryson as happy as the day she married Hart. She positively glowed with joy as she vowed to spend the rest of her life with the love of her life. If any two people deserved to have a family, it was Bryson and Hart. There was so much love between these two that they needed to share it otherwise they’d combust. They went through a long and difficult process due to Hart’s motorcycle accident years earlier, causing him to spend the rest of his life in a wheelchair. But, nothing could stop their love. They powered through, being rewarded with the birth of Hope Sophia Mitchell one year ago.
The gorgeous little girl was the perfect combination of her parents. She had her mom’s bright green eyes and her dad’s blonde locks. I’ll never forget how emotional I was the day they told me they wanted to name their daughter after me. Usually I liked being first in all things but had no problem taking second billing next to Hart’s mother’s name. She had passed away from cancer during our senior year in high school. I always knew Bryson would be a fantastic mom and except for the bodily function talk, she was.
“Done with the dirty talk. I promise,” Bryson said.
“Well, I could get into some dirty talk.”
“Speaking of… Doug is coming today.”
“Um… Let’s see, there’s free food and booze… There is booze, right? I know it’s a kid’s party, but…”
“Yes, adult beverages will be served.”
“Fantastic. Continuing on… Where there is free food and booze, Doug Truman can’t be far behind.”
“He’s bringing someone,” she said sheepishly, glancing at me.
“Like a date? Not that I care.”
“I guess. All Hart said was that Doug asked if it was okay to bring Hazel today.”
“Hazel?”
Bryson lifted Hope in the air and made a funny face, causing the sweetest giggle to flutter out of her cherub lips. “Yeah, Hazel.”
“Who the fuck names their kid Hazel?”
Bringing Hope to her chest, Bryson scolded, “Sophie!”
“Sorry. Who the fudge names their kid Hazel? It’s an old lady’s name.”
“At some point old lady Hazels are young lady Hazels.”
“It’d be like Doug to bring an old, wrinkly, sagging Hazel to this party.” I huffed out a laugh. “He’s so inconsiderate.” I shook my head with righteous indignation.
Bryson slipped the party dress on Hope. “For bringing a date?”
“I don’t care if Doug brings a date. He can do whatever he wants. He’s a grown man, at least legally. All I’m saying is that after all these years of not bringing a date, why would he choose to show up at this extremely special event with a complete and total stranger? None of us has any connection to this person. We all know Doug’s taste in women is questionable at best. He could be exposing sweet innocent Hope to a gun-wielding crack whore.”
“Somehow the name Hazel doesn’t scream gun-wielding crack whore.”
“Well, your house, your rules. If you and Hart are fine with this, then far be it from me to stop you. Just answer me this, Bryson. Why would you allow this to happen?”
I knew my words were running at full speed, but for some reason, I couldn’t shut my mouth.
Bryson looked at me in shock. “Because… um…”
“The way I see it, one of two things are going to happen. Either she’s a gun-wielding whore, or, this old wrink
ly Hazel is going to see my smooth tight skin, gravity-defying breasts, and feel horrible about herself. Either way, Doug’s an ass.”
I finally breathed in a desperately needed ton of oxygen.
“Wow, you seem pretty upset and quite enamored of yourself.”
“I am upset… for all of us.”
“Doug doesn’t strike me as the type to date a MILF or a crack whore.”
“What are you talking about? Doug would screw anything that had a pulse.”
“Oh, yeah.” She placed one hand over Hope’s ear and hugged the child to her chest. “He’d screw them, just not date them.” Bryson hesitated for a moment before continuing. “Sophie, I can understand your feelings of jeal—”
My hand shot up, stopping her from saying another word. “Don’t even think about finishing that sentence. The only thing I’m feeling right now is utter disgust for Doug. And pity for the crack whore or old wrinkly Hazel, whoever shows up.”
“But I don’t think she’s…”
I glared, clipping each word to emphasize my point. “Whore. Or. Old. Wrinkly. Hazel.” Bryson pursed her lips and nodded. “Now if you will excuse me, I’m going to partake of an adult beverage before Dou-g-guests… get here.” I cleared my throat hoping to cover up my stupidity. “Before the guests get here.”
I mustered the biggest smile I could and marched out of the room with confidence. As I went in search of red wine, Bryson’s accusation of jealousy clanged around my head. Doug was the biggest jackass I’d ever met and I had met some pretty big ones. The mere idea that I would be jealous if I saw him with a woman was absurd. I mean, was the knot in my stomach and the tightness in my chest due to the thought of him being with this Hazel chick? Maybe a little bit, but it could also be the questionable Mexican food I had for lunch.
In all the years we’d known each other, neither of us had ever brought a “date” to one of our friend’s gatherings. It was an unspoken rule. A rule that had been strictly adhered to until today. But I’m nothing if not a positive person. In fact, the more I thought about it, the better I felt. Today would be Doug free.
I wouldn’t have to stave off his juvenile advances. There’d be no following me around like a puppy dog giving me his undivided attention. Although that did come in handy when I needed a drink refill or a second helping of food. Sure, I’ll miss his flirty, albeit crass and vulgar comments. I did get a kick out of our banter even though he pushed my buttons and we usually ended up fighting. He was funny in a stupid way. Well anyway, thank you Jesus, I’m finally free of all his foolishness. It will now be directed toward Hazel. Old, wrinkly, crack whore Hazel.
THE FESTIVITIES WERE held in Hart and Bryson’s backyard. When I first heard Hope’s party was going to be a cookout, I cringed. Slapping meat on a grill seemed to be such a masculine thing to do for my princess’s first birthday. But I had to hand it to Bryson, the backyard looked adorable. Pink, white, and silver decorations made the place look like a little girl’s dreamland. The guest list was small— Bryson’s parents, brother, our close knit group of friends, and a few little ones and their parents from Hope’s play-group.
I was standing on the back porch next to the helium tank blowing up a giant pink balloon when Doug entered the backyard with a young, leggy blonde by his side. I waited several seconds hoping that old, wrinkly Hazel would make an appearance, but no such luck. I hated when good-looking people had nerdy names. It’s false advertising. To make matters worse, she had on the cutest short sleeve turquoise jumpsuit and a pair of Victoria Beckham silver wedge sandals. Her curls were up in a messy bun and her makeup was light. She was a natural beauty.
Cunning and conniving bitch.
Taking her by the elbow, Doug guided Hazel toward the crowd and introduced her to all the familiar faces. She shook hands and smiled, revealing perfectly straight white teeth. Doug popped open a bottle of beer and handed it to young, firm, natural beauty Hazel before grabbing one for himself. I couldn’t take my eyes off of them. It was like watching a National Geographic special. I was curious to see how Neanderthal Doug interacted with what appeared to be a normal female.
While Doug talked and joked with Hart, Colin, and Ronnie, I noticed that his baby blue T-shirt seemed to hug his chest more today than I’d seen before. Even his biceps looked bigger. The damn shirt probably had shrunk in the laundry. Apparently, at thirty-two, Doug still didn’t know how to read washing instructions. His jeans were relaxed fit, worn, and hung off his narrow hips in a slightly provocative way.
Suddenly, his green eyes zeroed in on me. I redirected my gaze to the limp balloon in my hand. Frantically, I fumbled, trying to stretch the latex over the nozzle of the helium tank. Once I was positive the balloon was secured, I twisted the knob releasing the gas. Before I could register what was happening, the force of the helium caused the balloon to slip through my fingers, whiz around my head like a swarm of killer bees, before finally making a crash landing.
Doug’s chest vibrated with laughter as he pointed in my direction. Narrowing my eyes, I glared at him. Not only was Doug an ass, he was also an ass man. Though Hazel was young and leggy, she didn’t have much junk in the trunk. An area in which I had been proportionately blessed. So turning to leave, I made sure to add a little extra wiggle to my ample bottom.
Take that you Hazel bringing rule breaker.
For the rest of the afternoon, I kept my distance from the newly dubbed Dazel. I stayed busy helping host so that Bryson and Hart could relax and enjoy their little one’s day. As I made sure snacks kept stocked and drinks stayed topped off, I’d glance every so often in Doug’s direction. A couple of times our eyes locked, but he never made his way over to me. Instead, he hovered in the vicinity of his beloved Hazel. At first, I couldn’t quite put my finger on it, but there was something different about him. Then it dawned on me.
Doug was very comfortable and respectful around this woman. And she seemed just as comfortable around him. They both looked like they enjoyed being together. At one point, Doug said something to her. I was too far away to hear but could see his lopsided grin and raised eyebrow make an appearance. Whatever he had said, Hazel found it to be hilarious, tossing her head back and clutching onto Doug’s arm. That was when I looked down to discover my wine glass needed refilling.
I wasn’t delusional. Far from it. Doug and I weren’t together. I had never considered us friends, really. We were two people thrown together due to circumstances beyond our control, our two best friends falling in love. Sure, there’d been flirting and a few close calls, but I had no claim to him. I didn’t want any claim to him.
It saddened me that our little group of friends had remained intact all these years and now he was screwing things up. It had always been Hart and Bryson. Ronnie and his wife Julia. Doug and me. Not that we were together, together. That was just usually the way the numbers fell. And there was the odd man out, Colin, but he never seemed bothered by it. My point being, Doug knowingly threw a wrench in the delicate balance of the group.
Obviously, I was well aware that Doug had been with other women. So what. Big deal. I’d been with other men. Lots of other men. But I never deemed any of them worthy enough to meet my friends. They were simply something to pass the time and blow off steam with. I was focused on my career as a project manager at a multinational technology company specializing in internet-related services and products. My career was everything to me. I didn’t want or desire any type of romantic relationship.
Walking into the kitchen, I found Bryson sitting in Hart’s lap. A sight I was more than a little familiar with. I stopped right inside the door. Neither one of them aware that I was playing peeping Tom. They were staring into each other’s eyes. Hart’s palm cupped the side of Bryson’s neck as his fingers slipped into her hair. God, the way he looked at her made my knees weak.
Although I wouldn’t classify myself as a romantic, I did love me some romance novels, with a bit of erotica thrown in on the occasional night alone. It was escapism at its fin
est. I mean what man actually says to a woman, “I fall deeper in love with you every second of every day?” Lines like that were nothing more than cheesy Cinderella bullshit that had been crammed down the female throat since the beginning of time. With Bryson’s first husband, Will, I never felt the slightest bit envious. I always sensed there was something missing in their marriage. When Hart came back into her life… circling in their orbit, it was hard not to want what they had. But I knew it wasn’t in the cards for me.
Hart’s thumb gently ran over Bryson’s jaw as he pulled her lips to his. Their kiss started soft, slowly deepening as they got lost in each other. Feeling on the verge of perversion, I gave them a warning throat clear. Twice.
“Oh… um,” Bryson stammered as she hopped off Hart’s lap, her face flushed with embarrassment from sexy time.
With a cocky smirk, Hart said, “Hey, Sophie.”
I poured a glass of wine. “Looks like the party has moved indoors.”
Bryson picked up the big number one candle. “Julia is watching… um…”
“Hope?” I reminded her.
“Of course, Hope. I know my own daughter’s name.” She glanced at Hart for a second. “Anyway, we were getting the cake ready to take out to the party.”
“Yeah, cake. That’s what we were doing.” Hart winked, his hand firmly planted at the small of his wife’s back.
“Y’all go back to the party and have fun. I’ll finish the cake and bring it out.”
“Are you sure?” Bryson asked. “You’ve been doing so much. I don’t think I’ve seen you sit down all afternoon.”
I lifted my glass as if I were giving a toast. “I’m good. Now go enjoy your family.”
Bryson and Hart exchanged a knowing glance.
“I’ll go make sure the birthday girl is ready,” Hart said before leaving us alone.
Bryson gathered the plates, napkins, and utensils. “You’re going to find that person someday.”
“What person?”
“Your Hart.”
“Pfft, maybe if I were looking, but I’m not. Now go be a mom.”
Crazy Sexy Love Page 2
