Sloane wanted to die from mortification.
But then immediately felt guilty as hell to even have the flippant thought. Her sister-in-law was dead. Never to be present at something as awkward as this ever again. Awkward was alive. Awkward was nothing in the grand scheme of things. This was a picture on her phone. So what? Yes, he had cheated, which was painful. Yes, he was happier without her in his life. That stung. She hadn’t even been madly or passionately in love with Tom for the last few years. Hell, maybe she never had been. But they’d a friendship and she did miss that.
Mostly, though, she suspected it was her ego that was bruised, not her heart.
Damn it. She sipped her straw more aggressively and clicked to unfollow Tom. Moving on.
“Show time!” Becca said, pointing to the stage.
This could be interesting.
At the very least it showed promise to serve as a distraction from both her worry over her brother, and the world’s oddest thirtieth birthday. Sullivan was standing on the makeshift stage with a mic in his hand. He had apparently flatly refused to participate in this strip show, for which she was highly grateful. She could live her entire life without seeing her brother dance in his underwear. But he didn’t look good. There were dark shadows under his eyes and his hair was too long, his clothes unkempt. His son Finn appeared to be the only thing preventing Sullivan from losing it entirely the last few months, and even fatherhood seemed overwhelming to him at times.
A surge of emotion swelled in her chest. Moving back to her small hometown had definitely been the right thing to do. She was back home because there was nothing for her in Minneapolis post-divorce and this allowed her to help Sullivan with Finn. Her father had mentioned he was drinking a lot.
Her dad had done the same thing when her mother had left. But a year later, he’d gotten sober, gotten a bunch of tattoos, and opened this bar as some sort of ultimate FY to his ex-wife. O’Tooles didn’t really deal with emotion. They were all just really content to deflect and distract.
She and Sullivan both needed a reboot in their lives, though she was ahead of him in that respect. The thought made her grin. Right. She was just winning at life right here. Not.
Scanning the right of the stage, where the “dancers” were lined up, she frowned, curious. She recognized Axl, Jesse, and Brandon. They had practically all lived at the O’Toole house in high school because Liam O’Toole was well-known for having no rules after her mother moved out. Which made their house the hangout house, with Sullivan’s friends always present. But the fourth guy was a stranger to her. Tall, broad, tattooed. Muscular. Wearing a mechanic’s jumpsuit and a tool belt like nobody’s business.
She was surprised to feel instantly attracted to him. As in, she wouldn’t mind having that much man over her. And in her. The thought was startling. She hadn’t exactly been feeling sexual lately. Or sexy.
But it was like the winter of her sex life had started an instant thaw. Holy moly, the man was hot.
She leaned over and nudged Becca. “Who is that?” she asked. “The guy in the work jumpsuit.”
Becca turned and gave her a long stare before she burst out laughing. “Are you serious? You don’t know who that is?”
“No. I have no idea.” But Becca’s reaction made her frown and study him a little harder. He must have felt her eyes on him because he turned and his gaze locked with hers. She sucked in a breath. Dear God, he was sexy as hell. A strong jaw, a tidy beard, and an intensity that made her nipples instantly tighten in her cotton tank top.
Then he winked at her.
Basically, her inner thighs exploded with heat.
Forget thaw. Her girl bits had skipped spring and gone straight to scorching hot summer.
Flustered, she reached for her drink and missed, knocking it over. “Shoot!” She mopped at it with a napkin and snapped at Becca, “Well, who is it? Because I swear I’ve never seen that man in my life.” If she had, she would remember. He was a fantasy sprung to life. He was temptation to sin like she had never sinned before. He was confirmation that lust was real and she was still capable of it.
“That’s Little Dickie,” Becca told her, amused, adding her own napkin to the mess on the table.
Wait a minute. Sloane froze in the act of wiping the table to turn and gape at her friend. “What? No way! You’re just messing with me.” There was not even the remotest possibility that man, that sexy as fuck man, could be Little Dickie.
“I’m not messing with you! He had a growth spurt starting his junior year that didn’t stop until he was about twenty-four.”
Stunned, Sloane swiveled her head to stare at him again, too shocked to even pretend not to be checking him out. “That was one hell of a growth spurt,” she murmured.
Little Dickie at fifteen had been shorter than his peers. Substantially shorter. At five foot nine she had towered over him, and he had been one of the repeat culprits checking out her chest, which was at his direct eye level. He had also been, while not precisely chubby, on the softer side. Baby cheeks and a little bit of pudge that had made him endearing and cute. Certainly no muscle tone. A nice kid, who lived in a ramshackle house by the lake, a little on the silly side, and sort of the mascot little brother to everyone. He had taken a lot of crap, especially playing hockey, because of his small size, but he had always seemed to take it pretty well, with a good sense of humor. He’d had the nickname Little Dickie for as long as she could remember and it had fit.
“Little Dickie is not so little anymore,” Becca replied. “And if rumors around town are true, that applies to all parts of him.”
Sloane snapped her head back to Becca. “Seriously?” I mean, was it really such a stretch to imagine that enormous and muscular man standing waiting to go on stage could be proportionate? Her mind was blown trying to juxtapose the awkward teen she had known against this mountain of a man. Late bloomer didn’t even begin to describe it.
But then Sloane felt her cheeks burn as she remembered a party her senior year in high school. A dark bathroom, mistaken identity, a hot kiss, and the shocking press of a hard cock against her thigh before the humiliation she’d felt when the lights flicked on without warning.
In those days, she had not had a good sense of what would be considered big versus small when it came to male packages but she had known that she was both scared and intrigued by what she had felt rocking against her.
Then she had felt nothing but horrified when she had realized she had kissed Little Dickie instead of her then boyfriend.
Apparently, the rest of him had grown into his cock. Like feet and hands.
Becca nodded. “Rick, as everyone calls him now, is quite the player. Apparently, he likes to share the wealth, so to speak.”
That was information she didn’t even know how to process or what to do with it. It certainly had nothing to do with her. And yet, why was she letting her gaze drift over to him again? And why did she feel so flustered?
“Shh,” Emily said, hushing them loudly. “It’s starting!”
“Thank you everyone for coming,” Sullivan said. “And forgive me for the mess you’re about to see. Just keep in mind it’s for a good cause.”
Lilly was standing next to Sullivan and she rolled her eyes at his wry tone. “Don’t listen to Sullivan, ladies. This is going to be awesome. I introduce to you the very sexy, very single Tap That Dancers.”
That made Sloane let out a snort. Tap That Dancers? Now that was some funny shit. The guys were being good sports about it, waving and smirking. Brandon was dressed in a tux and he blew some very suave kisses out into the audience. Axl had on stereotypical cop mirror sunglasses with his uniform and he slid them down to eye the crowd of now clapping and cat-calling women. Jesse was on the balls of his feet, like he didn’t know what to do with himself while not in skates. Rick was toying with the zipper on his jumpsuit, making Sloane admittedly curious what his chest looked like under there. Among other things.
The bar was packed. Tickets for the event
had sold out.
Suddenly, Sloane’s birthday felt a little more intriguing than awkward.
Especially once the music started and Rick proved himself to have moves like Jagger.
Yep.
You left home for a decade and the whole world went mad.
Because, holy shit, she was hot for Little Dickie.
Two
The guys walked out on stage, swiveling their hips to varying degrees. Jesse was by far the most rhythm challenged, which was interesting given he was an athlete, and Sloane had to laugh as he moved like a gorilla attempting ballet. “Okay, I admit it,” she said, leaning over to yell in Emily’s ear over the crowd and the music. “This is highly entertaining.”
“I feel super uncomfortable,” Becca said. “Everyone in this room is going wild and I feel embarrassed that these women are all so clearly pining for dick.”
Sloane snorted. “Do not judge the need for dick when you’re getting it. I for one, recognize the same expression on my own face in the mirror.”
Not that she’d been pining for dick, exactly. More like she’d forgotten how to want it. She and Tom had not had a rousing sex life. Ever. In recent years she had started to think it was her. That she just wasn’t appealing, that she was too tall, too gangly. Not sexual.
It might have made her feel horrible all over again except that she knew now with total clarity that it was not her. It had been her marriage. The bad combination of the two of them. She and Tom had been buddies and should never have married. He’d moved on. She’d hadn’t. It had been nine years since she’d had sex with anyone other than Tom.
Yet one glimpse at the man on stage everyone now called Rick and she wanted sex. A lot of sex. Sex all night. Birthday sex.
The intensity of her sudden desire shocked the hell out of her.
Have another mojito, Sloane.
Apparently, she was ready to move on herself. At least with the sex part, not actual dating. She sipped her drink as the guys followed a very simple choreographed routine that involved a lot of hip thrusting and show-boating.
Without warning, she missed her sister-in-law. Sullivan could be a stuffed shirt, but Kendra was always cheerful, always up for a good time, and she would have been thrilled Sloane had moved back home. That had always been something she’d bugged Sloane about when they would chat on the phone. If she were here, she would have made this birthday extra special and would have been there for her to talk about Tom and her fear that she would have no clue how to date after all these years married. Hell, Kendra would have been setting her up with men, left, right, and center. Emily and Becca had been great since she’d been back in town, but she hadn’t been that close to them in recent years.
Thinking about Kendra and her brother and her nephew growing up without his mom had her tearing up.
Damn it.
It was her birthday. Tomorrow there would be plenty of time for continuing to mourn Kendra and worrying about Sullivan and Finn. Pondering what to do with the rest of her life.
She was starting her new job at the dog grooming salon. That would keep her busy for now and so would playing with her nephew. She needed to enjoy the moment. YOLO, bitches. Maybe she needed that on a T-shirt.
The man formerly known as Little Dickie seemed to be enjoying himself and she needed to take a cue from him. Life was to be celebrated.
Rick was owning the dance. He had an easy sense of rhythm and he moved with confidence. There was nothing of his teenage awkwardness present. The zipper on that jumpsuit had been yanked down to his navel. When he peeled off his sleeves and revealed a toned, muscular chest and biceps like etched granite, Sloane heard herself murmur out loud, “Oh, my God.” She didn’t mean to, but the words slipped out before she could stop them.
Turning to Emily, who was clapping and cheering, she asked her, “So what does Rick do these days? Besides share the wealth?”
Emily gave her an amused look. “Curious, huh? Hey, if you’re going to jump back on the horse after your divorce this isn’t a bad place to start. He owns a auto body repair shop in town.”
That felt ironic. Her body could use some legit work. “I’m glad to hear he’s doing well,” she said, and she meant it. She may have been dismissive of Rick as a bit of a nuisance back in school, but she hadn’t disliked him. Quite the contrary. He’d been like a goofy little brother. One she liked to pick on.
Then that kiss… she had mostly blocked it from her memory banks but now she couldn’t shake it. In the dark, before she’d known it was him, she had been into it. Dickie had been a good kisser, which was a complete mystery. Had he been born with a gene for pleasing women?
This was all very interesting.
“Uh-huh.”
“Wait. Is my apartment over his shop?” The place she had rented and just moved in to two days earlier was over an auto body shop, though she hadn’t particularly paid attention to the name of it. Her focus had been that the rent was affordable and that after six p.m. no one would be making noise downstairs, presumably.
The music faded out a little and Lilly took the stage in front of them. “Okay, let’s have these hot guys introduce themselves.”
Jesse, unfortunately, went first and he looked about as comfortable as he had dancing. “I’m Jesse and I’m a professional hockey player.”
“Don’t quit your day job,” Sullivan said, razzing him.
Jesse flipped him off.
“So, tell the ladies what inspires you to be romantic,” Lilly asked, like it was The Dating Game.
“The promise of sex,” Jesse said, with such naïve honesty the room exploded with laughter.
“At least he’s truthful,” Emily said, shrugging. She was a petite brunette, the flyer in their cheer squad because of her small size. Sloane had always envied her compact stature. She herself had been a giraffe in cheerleading terms and incapable of the serious gymnastics.
“I’m just glad I’m in a relationship,” Becca said. “Because if these idiots are representative of what is out there on the market, you all are in trouble.”
“They’re good-looking,” Emily protested.
“And they clearly know it,” Sloane said. Rick had strutted his way to the mic. The man was obviously as in love with his adult body as Becca said the women in town were. She wrinkled her nose as he introduced himself.
“Rick, specializing in body work.” He gave a sly, sexy smile.
What was super annoying was how her own stupid body reacted. She should be rolling her eyes at his cheesiness and instead she was shifting on her chair trying to remember where she had put her, ahem, personal massager in her new apartment. Buried in a box somewhere. She had yet to unpack eighty percent of her stuff, so most likely no happy ending for her tonight. Damn it.
“What is your most embarrassing moment?” Lilly asked him.
Rick appeared surprised by the question. But then he looked out into the crowd, and actually locked eyes with her. “Why don’t you ask Sloane O’Toole? My most embarrassing moment involved her, a party I wasn’t invited too, a little too much Jack Daniels, and a kiss.”
Sloane was stunned. Her cheeks started to burn as everyone swiveled and looked at her. Awkward. The night just kept rolling that way.
“Damn,” Becca murmured. “He’s calling you out.”
Rick gave her a smirk, then turned back to Lilly. “Let’s just say Little Dickie was no match for the senior mean girl.”
It was too much. It was the last thing she needed to hear tonight. On her birthday. When she was feeling just a tad bit vulnerable. She did not need to be called out for the fact that she had been entitled in high school, a little bit rebellious, a little bit arrogant. It was true. She’d been less than nice at times, blessed with a father who showered her with attention and gifts to make up for her mother leaving, and status in the popular crowd at school. It had given her a false sense of power that she’d had no right to wield.
She’d been horrible when her boyfriend Nick had walked into the bat
hroom and caught her kissing Dickie. She had screamed and protested that it was an accident, said it was completely gross, that Dickie was drunk and an idiot and had essentially tricked her. It had been her worst social nightmare and everyone had laughed about it for days. Dickie had caught a lot of heat, but she’d been too wrapped up in preserving her own relationship and her status as a popular senior to pay much attention to the fallout for him.
She had been selfish. Plain and simple.
But to have him say that over the mic, tonight of all nights?
It upset her. Irrationally so. Blindly so.
Because she was worried that she had no clue who she was anymore. She wasn’t the popular girl in school. She wasn’t the trophy wife. She had no career, no money, no dog. Who the hell was she? It made her feel panicky and angry and scared.
Sloane looked away from the stage, trying to avert her eyes where someone wasn’t staring at her because they were liable to see she was about to melt down.
Instead, she saw Becca’s boyfriend Josh had shown up and they were tenderly kissing.
Which was sweet. Becca loved Josh and from what she had seen of him, Sloane thought he was a nice guy. It didn’t matter that it was a girls’ night or her birthday. Sloane was not that freaking selfish. Not at her age. Not like back in the day.
But she did need some fresh air.
Jumping up, she grabbed her purse and took off for the exit. She saw her father behind the bar watching her with alarm but she just waved to him and kept going. Bursting into the parking lot, she wasn’t even sure what exactly she was feeling. The summer air washed over her, warm and oppressive. Her car was right up front and she dug her keys out of her purse.
Scratch that. She knew what she was feeling.
Attracted to Rick.
And he had teased her like she had once teased him.
Which should be no big deal. Except for whatever totally mortifying reason, she couldn’t take it tonight. She had dished it out back in high school and now she couldn’t take it. Which made her really annoyed with herself.
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