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“That was the worst bachelorette party ever,” Perry says as she slides into the vinyl corner booth.
Our friend Miranda slides in after her, echoing the sentiments. “You guys, I don't get out much anymore since Emma was born. I was really looking forward to seeing something naked.”
“Whatever. You get to see a naked man whenever you want to, we don’t feel sorry for you.” Miranda is married to Jim Jenkins, a hottie firefighter, and she is Dixie’s cousin. “How’s the goat?” I ask.
She sends me a bland look. “That goat is the last stray we ever take in from you. I hope you know that. He’s a menace.”
I smile. Not because the goat I foster-placed with them eats their house down, but because I know that she will take any stray I give her. Because she can’t say no to animals any more than I can. It’s a curse. Unfortunately, I can’t have any in my apartment or I’d probably be a hoarder. Instead, I play matchmaker and home as many as I can with my sometimes-unwilling townspeople.
I take a long drink from my beer and set it down. “Unfortunately, that ‘party’ is my sister's idea of a perfect bridal shower. Poor Dixie. I think she might have napped at one point.” Had I been in charge, there would have been a lot more penises.
The stuffy shower finished up early, so we’d headed here to Ironwing, the only bar in Brazen Bay. It’s no dance club, but there is music from a jukebox, and booze, and my apartment is upstairs, so I never have to worry about getting a cab home.
Plus, my dad, my boss, and Nash’s dad were in Ironwing, the band, in the ‘80s, so I get a sweet deal on rent because we were raised like family. Nash named his pub for the band, so it feels like a home away from home. Nash’s girlfriend has been scouting some amazing band memorabilia, sprucing the joint up.
Though it’s the only hot spot in town, Nash runs a pretty tight ship. Last call is usually around 11:45 on weekends and even earlier on weeknights. He wants people to have fun, but he isn’t interested in babysitting a bunch of drunks. Which keeps the place cleaner and safer than some of the dives I’ve been to in the city. Plus, my walls are soundproof, so even late nights below never keep me awake.
The crowd tonight is pretty regular. Luckily Devon isn’t here. The last time I ran into him in the bar, he tried to make a case for ex-sex. No, thank you. I miss sex, but not enough to go down that road again. He spends most of his nights at the bars in Hamilton trolling college girls.
“Your sister is the most boring woman on the planet.” Perry reaches for her wine, the bangles on her wrist tinkling. “If I ever get married, promise me strippers.”
“More than one?” Miranda asks. “Like...a team?”
“God, yes. A team of hot, naked men gyrating all for my pleasure.” Perry sits back. “Damn it, now I’m horny.”
“Do we have to wait until Perry gets married? Can we hire dancers for something else in the meantime?”
“I don’t know. I’ve never actually seen them come to Brazen Bay before.”
“That would make Paint and Sip nights more interesting.”
Miranda sighs and takes a swig of her beer. “Well, there is always stripper porn. Or so I’ve heard.”
I laugh. “Nice try, Mrs. Jenkins. Tell that to someone who didn’t just clean off all the porn cookies from your browser last week because you couldn’t get rid of that virus by yourself.”
She blushes. “My computer runs so much better. Thank you again.”
“Honey, your Tumblr page alone was worth the time spent. Also, you are a dirty, dirty girl.”
“My husband sometimes has twenty-four-hour shifts. A woman has needs.”
We all clink our drinks together and Perry switches her laser gaze to me. “So, tell me again why you didn’t break up with Dr. Doolittle? You know the wedding is next week, right?”
I almost choke on my beer. “I know, I know. It’s getting ridiculous. I don’t know what Megan told everyone, but the day after she “figured” out Christopher was my Christopher, she hinted enough to the right people that now everyone in town suspects.” I have no idea how I haven’t been caught in the lie yet. “My dad came into the office this week and invited him to play golf. I don’t know how I’m going to keep this from imploding. But every time I get ready to tell my sister it’s over, I chicken out.”
Truth is, I sort of like having a boyfriend again, even if he doesn’t know we are dating.
And I am also enjoying the way nobody is treating me like a flake the last few weeks. Because apparently, Christopher lends me a modicum of respectability by virtue of being “his girl.”
Blech.
Christopher is the kind of guy my family always wanted me to date. Serious, stable, boring. I want...I want the kind of love my parents have. They are still so in love. And kind of boring these days, but in the beginning, my dad was a freaking rock star and my mom was the girl-next-door. Story goes, my mom broke up with him when he moved to LA, but he stayed true. When he heard she was getting married to someone else, he basically kidnapped her from the church on his motorcycle. I just want something that wild. That reckless.
But somewhere along the line, they decided that wild and reckless worked for them, but not their youngest daughter. And they have latched on to Dr. Boring, even though they haven’t insinuated to him directly that they know. Megan must have been careful enough in her explanation that he is a very private person, so nobody has outright blown my cover. Yet. But really, how much longer can this last? Someone is going to say the wrong thing at some point, and Christopher will quickly correct them, and then I’ll be the most humiliated person ever.
Because who makes up a pretend boyfriend? And continues the charade in front of family and friends. This town is too small. I’m fortunate that he keeps to himself and doesn’t socialize or the ruse would have been over weeks ago. The guy didn’t even have a Facebook page to trip me up.
“How do I publicly break things off without him knowing things were ever on?” I wonder aloud.
Miranda is silent, but as always, Perry has an answer. “The obvious choice is to actually date him.”
Right. “He has zero interest in me that way. I mean zero. I am like, the bottom of the barrel. And I’m not interested in him that way, either.”
“I think he’s kind of cute,” Miranda says.
Perry agrees, “He appears a little...uptight on the outside...but I was watching him at the grocery store the other day. Honey, the man is built under that button-down shirt. I may have asked him to put a fifty-pound bag of dog food in my cart for me.”
“Perry, baby girl, you don’t have a dog.”
“I know. I just wanted to watch his shirt strain at the seams.”
Miranda laughs. “I hope the bag was on the bottom shelf. That ass, though. Right?”
They are not wrong. He is cute. And built. They haven’t even seen him in scrubs. He fills out the chest very, very nicely. And his sculpted arms...not that I purposely watch when he picks up the big dogs...but he can totally pick up the big dogs by himself. Now would not be the time to bring up the sex dream I had about him last night. Because, like Miranda, I can be a dirty, dirty girl.
But the fact of the matter is, when he’s not in scrubs, he’s in his button-down shirts with the boring ties and the disdainful attitude toward my clothes, my make-up, and my office supplies. His eyes glaze over when I try to tell him what house the moon is passing through, and he recoils in horror if I bring out my pendulum. Even if I was totally hot for him, which I’m not, he has no use for me.
Perry leans over and whispers in my ear, “Don’t look now, but your boyfriend just walked in.”
Shit. Unexpected plot twist.
“Oh, Goddess, what do I do?”
“It will be weird if you don’t talk to him,” Miranda says. “You know, since you’re dating.”
Perry is less than chill as she’s jockeying around in her seat for a better look at him. “Miranda’s right. You should go to the bar and flirt with him.”
I feel the color leaching from my face. “I can’t. He doesn’t like me. He’ll reject me in front of everyone.” That would be the opposite of what I want. My secret life would be revealed most horribly.
Miranda watches the bar for me. “He’s wearing jeans.”
What? I have to look up because I don’t believe Christopher owns jeans. And...he looks up at the same time. Okay, Stella. Smile and wave. He lifts his beer to me in greeting and smiles back.
Be cool.
Perry laughs. “Just go over there and say something and rub on him a little.” She catches my horrified expression. “I’m not saying to lick him in public. Just lean in.”
I nod. She’s right. Okay. I can lean.
The walk to the counter feels incredibly long. I belly up to the bar next to Christopher and say hey to Nash.
“You need another?” Nash already knows the answer and gets me another and then I turn my attention to my denim-wearing boyfriend. “Hey, doc. What’s a nice guy like you doing in a place like this?”
“Are you implying my bar isn’t nice?” Nash asks with a grin.
“Nash.” I flutter my eyelashes at him the way all the girls who come in here do. Why can I flirt with Nash but not Christopher? “You know I love this dive. Have you met Dr. Lockwood?” I put my arm around him. Wow. His shoulders are kind of amazing. “He’s filling in for Dr. Anderson at the animal clinic.” I waggle my eyebrows, so Nash thinks I’m just being coy about dating him. And hopefully Christopher thinks I’m just being friendly. Probably overly friendly. Probably uncomfortably friendly.
Nash flips the bar towel onto his shoulder and holds out his hand to Christopher. “I’ve heard lots about you, man. Welcome to town. I hope you’re taking good care of our girl, Stella, here. She’s a Brazen Bay treasure.”
Well, that’s not weird.
Christopher shakes his hand. “I...well...”
“What he’s trying to say is that Stella can take care of herself. Thanks, Nash. I saw Tru at the shower today. She upstairs?”
“Yeah, she’s got homework. I’ll probably close early tonight.”
“You start closing this bar any earlier, you’ll be home in time for Jeopardy every night. Why don’t you just make this a lunch joint?”
“Because then who would serve you beer in your bunny slippers?”
Christopher tells Nash to put my beer on his tab, and I sigh with relief. Okay. Going well. That was kind of a boyfriend thing to do. Unless, you were Devon who never paid for his own beer, much less mine. But this is working.
Nash goes to deal with someone else, and Christopher pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Where are your stars?”
“What?”
“You always have stars hanging off you or on your clothes.”
“I didn’t realize you paid such close attention to what I wear.”
“It’s just noticeable. The stars. Are they your signature or something?”
“Well, I do like stars. My father used to call me his “Constellation” because...you know Stella is in the middle of the word.” I shrug. “What brings you out tonight?”
He definitely doesn’t look comfortable. “I figured I should try to get out some. Since I’ll be here awhile. I’m not very good at making friends, though.” He smiles at me. An awkward, shy smile that makes something in my chest kick.
“You’ll do fine,” I say. “If you can manage a sports conversation even a little bit, Nash will take to you pretty quickly. And Nash is the man you want on your side in town. Everyone loves him.” I expend a lot of effort executing what I hope looks like an effortless shrug. “I should get back to my friends. It’s our big night out. Thanks for the beer.” I touch him again. A friendly arm thing. Just to make it look good. Not because I am fascinated by the way his V-neck tee hugs his biceps.
“Point me to the restroom?” he asks.
I send him to the back, and I’m about to return to my table when my least favorite person in the world stops me.
“Well, hello there, sexy.”
My lip curls on its own. Like I smelled something putrid. “Devon.”
Luckily, he doesn’t see the lip thing because, as usual, his eyes are planted on my breasts. “How you been, sugar?”
“My tits aren’t going to answer you, Devon.”
He looks up into my face then. “I bet I can get them to communicate. I seem to remember—”
Yuck. “I gotta go.” I don’t want to hear where he was going with that. He’s the guy who named his dick, The Bone Ranger. Yes, I’m serious.
How had I ever thought him even remotely hot? Sure, he isn’t physically unpleasant to look at. From afar. Once you get too close, though, his vacant eyes are downright creepy. And don’t get me started on the over-gelled hair.
“Later, Devon.”
“Sure, babe. What do you say we go upstairs later? Catch up on old times.”
Gross.
The one person in town that I want to think I’m unavailable is probably the only one who hasn’t heard the rumor about me and Christopher being an item. Isn’t that just my luck? Honestly, if a girl can’t use a fake boyfriend to get an ex off her back...
“No, thanks. I’m interested in someone else now.” Which isn’t a lie. I’m interested in myself now. Which makes going upstairs with Devon a really bad idea. Not even the notion that getting back together with him, even for one night, would make an easy breakup story for me and Christopher could induce me to take Devon up on the offer.
“Right. The nerdy vet.” Devon puffs up his chest. Which isn’t scrawny. He’s always been high-school-jock cute. Just not grown-ass-man handsome. “I’m not surprised you pounced on the new guy. No one else in town is interested in you. He’ll wise up, though. And then you’ll come crawling back to Devon because we both know I’m the only one who is willing to fuck you.”
I wheeze at the surprise attack. How am I supposed to counter something like that? I know plenty of guys who will fuck me? “You’re a pig.”
He shrugs. “Despite your size, babe, you’re a good lay. So, I’m willing to ignore when people say I’m slumming. You think your new lover boy is going to be interested in you for very long when he realizes he could do better? There aren’t a lot of single women in town, but there are still a few who don’t outweigh him.”
“Go away, Devon. You disgust me.”
I’m trying not to ingest his words. I’ve spent the last six months putting his disgusting opinions out of my head. I’m pretty. I’m fun. I have a great life. I don’t want this little man’s insults to matter to me. But somehow, he always finds a place to put a new bruise.
“Christopher Lockwood doesn’t act like your boyfriend. Nobody has seen the two of you together anywhere but at the office. Are you sure you’re even dating?” Devon is belligerent now. And that makes him loud.
“Yes, of course I’m sure,” I answer. Just as belligerently. Because, fuck this shit. “He is a better boyfriend than you ever were. And you know what else? He’s a goddamned rock star in bed. He never gets whiskey dick like some people I know.” I’m saying this too loudly, aren’t I? “Christopher Lockwood is a better man than you in every way, but most especially in bed. He knows how to burn it down, Devon. Something you can’t do on your best day.”
An arm comes around my shoulder from behind. “Stella? Everything okay?”
I close my eyes, trying to shutter the world away. For just one second, I allow myself to pretend it can’t possibly be Christopher’s voice I just heard. It’s not mulled wine I smell. It’s not my world about to detonate all over the only bar in town.
This is all my fault. All of it. If it’s possible to die of embarrassment, I’m about to show the whole pub how it’s done.
I risk a look at Christopher then. He looks worried about me. How much did he hear? Is he just stepping in because this guy is harassing me? I turn so that I’m facing him. “I’m fine, Christopher.”
“I’m ready to go whenever you are,” he says.
And then he cups my cheeks, framing my face in his hands, and kisses me.