by Olivia Dade
Then again, the last thing he needed at the moment was a reference to wang-shaped vibrators and steely handcuffs. God knew sitting in an enclosed, intimate space only a foot or two away from Con gave his imagination more than enough raw material.
“I don’t think she entirely abandoned the stripper idea,” Con added.
That did it. He was fleeing from the Bookmobile at the first possible opportunity.
“My sister, her fiancé, their dearest friends, possible strippers, and sex toys bought in bulk. Lovely.” He loped down Big Bertha’s steps as soon as Con lowered them, aiming for the austere confines of the IT office.
She appeared confused by his hasty exit, but he didn’t care.
“Wouldn’t miss it for the world!” he shouted over his shoulder, and then sprinted into the depths of the main library building like a hunted man.
6
“No. Absolutely not.” Penny propped her fists on her slim hips. “We are not—I repeat, not—holding a vibrator race. I don’t care which one vibrates itself off the table first, and we are definitely not placing bets on the winner!”
Even though Angie had booked the pre-wedding party in a small, private room at the rear of Nice Rack, they’d decided to keep the door open for ease of access to the bar. And at Penny’s proclamation, several couples on the dance floor turned to gape at them.
Constance waved to catch the spectators’ attention. When they looked her way, she directed a hard stare at them and raised her brows. One by one, they flinched at the unspoken order to mind their own business and edged to the other side of the dance floor, closer to the pool tables.
Angie cast a beseeching look at Penny, the guest of honor and her best friend. “But people have already laid down good money, Pen. Do you really want to disappoint them?”
“This is the most important race I’ve ever seen. Probably the most important race in the history of the universe,” Sarah, their drama queen friend, announced. “Only a woman of unmitigated cruelty would stop me from watching a vibrating dolphin dildo hit the floor.”
Her boyfriend, Chris, tugged her close, leaned down—way down, since she was a shrimp—and kissed the top of her head. “Maybe a slight exaggeration, baby.”
Helen shook her head. “If you think that little silver egg isn’t gyrating off the table first, DQ, you’re terribly mistaken. That’s just science.” She pushed her horn-rimmed glasses back up to the bridge of her nose. “And it reminds me of an article I read the other day. A woman was using her little vibrator in an unapproved location, and the next thing she realized, it was stu—”
“Please stop talking,” Penny begged. “I don’t want to know, Hel. No more horrifying stories.”
Constance quietly passed Angie five bucks. “The lipstick,” she whispered. “It may seem girly, but it gets very exuberant at high speeds. I know that for a fact.”
Angie saluted her and pocketed the money.
“Fine.” Penny’s quiet voice had turned into a snarl. “Ten dollars on the weird octopus-looking thing.”
“It’s a vibrating kraken cock ring,” Angie volunteered. “Steampunk at its slutty finest.”
Penny pointed an accusing finger at her best friend. “But you can forget about your plan to make butt plug puppets. We’re not decorating them with little wigs and dresses and googly eyes. And we’re not guessing the lengths of various dildos, either.”
“We were going to compete, men versus women,” Angie said. “Doesn’t that sound like an interesting experiment, Grant?”
Angie’s boyfriend contemplated the matter. “Some might argue that women would overestimate penis length because men have lied to them about it for generations. But in my opinion, women have known the truth all along and simply humored their various lovers. So I’d lay money on the female half of the party. I could make a spreadsheet with everyone’s answers, if you’d like. I have Excel on my tablet.”
“Of course you do, sweetheart.” Angie patted his arm.
“Don’t even consider it, Burrowes.” Penny stomped off to console herself in the arms of her fiancé, Jack.
“I thought you were trying to make Penny happy with this party,” Con said to Angie. “Why are you antagonizing your best friend on her special occasion?”
Angie grinned. “I’m doing my best to distract her from the stripper, who just arrived carrying his costume. If she sees him, she’ll know what’s coming, and it’ll ruin the surprise.”
“But she didn’t want a stripper.” Constance frowned. “She’s an introvert, Angie. Don’t torture her.”
“She’ll want this one.” Angie beamed at a guy making his way toward the men’s bathroom. “I promise.”
Constance sensed the presence of her nemesis before she even heard his voice.
“Why was that dude putting on an eye patch? Is he the patron Penny’s always telling me about? Pretend Pirate Connor or something?”
Sam Wolcott had arrived to the party. Ginger temptation in the flesh.
“Clarence,” Angie, Sarah, and Helen corrected in unison.
Constance could have told him that too, but she was having trouble catching her breath. Or focusing on anything or anyone other than Sam, the man whose body heat she could feel even through her dress, her cardigan, and the untold inches of space separating the two of them.
“No.” Angie shuddered. “Of course that’s not Clarence. And the stripper isn’t portraying a pirate.”
“Then what’s up with the eye patch?” Realization dawned on Sam’s face. “Oh. I get it. Holy shit, this is going to be awkward.”
Con finally forced herself to turn and greet him. “Hey, Sam. Long time, no see.”
“Yeah.”
They kind of looked at each other for a moment.
“Well,” Angie said, “as entertaining as I find your mutual, mute staring, I should check whether the food has arrived yet.”
When Angie grabbed Grant’s arm and started to sidle off toward the bar area, Con wrenched her attention away from Sam. “Angie, I mean it. This is Penny’s night. I realize you’re sad about the lack of a bachelorette party, but no more skanky games. And if Penny doesn’t want the stripper, you need to send him away pronto.”
Angie appeared genuinely hurt. “If he hadn’t been running late, I’d never have even taken out the vibrators.” Then she sighed. “Although I can’t say I wasn’t waiting for an excuse. All right, Con. I’ll be good. But I’m telling you, Pen won’t remember how pissed off she was once she sees that stripper. I know my bestie.”
She and Grant vanished into the crowd while Con was still shaking her head.
“Thank you.” Sam spoke quietly, close to her ear. So close she could feel the waft of his breath and the vibrations of his voice.
Her throat went dry. “For what?”
“For advocating on Penny’s behalf. I wanted to say something, but…” He shifted his weight. “I didn’t think it was my place. I don’t know Angie that well. Hell, I don’t even know Penny that well. Maybe she secretly enjoys vibrator-based games once she gets over her initial discomfort.”
Con couldn’t help but smile. “Um, no. Although she might use vibrators in the privacy of her bedroom—”
He rubbed at his eyes, as if trying to remove the mental image.
“—she’d never want to play with them in public. Even non-sexually. Unlike Angie, who probably invented a dozen sex toy games for this occasion.”
“That’s what I thought.”
She tilted her head, considering him. “Why do you say you don’t know Penny well? She’s your sister, and you’ve been living in the same town for the better part of a year now.”
“That’s my point. I’ve been in close contact with her for a matter of months.” He waved a hand around the room, indicating the small circle of friends Penny had put on the party’s guest list. “Almost everyone in here has known her for years. In some cases, a decade. At this point, they’re more her family th
an I am.”
“What did you say about family?”
Penny had come up beside them. She seemed much happier after her brief retreat to the far corner of the room, where her fiancé was sitting and watching her every step. Jack clearly adored her. And just as clearly wished the two of them were anywhere but at a crowded, noisy bar, surrounded by vibrators bought in bulk.
“Nothing much,” Con said, attempting to divert Penny’s attention from her uncomfortable half-brother. “He was asking about my parents.”
“Speaking of which…” Penny directed an apologetic look at Con. “Could I speak to Sam privately for a moment?”
“Of course.”
Con moved as far away as she could, which wasn’t too far, given the size of the room and the number of people it contained. And when the noise level dropped for a few moments, she heard a bit of their conversation.
“—left her a message.” Penny appeared resolute, her narrow shoulders squared. “We’ll see what happens.”
“Don’t expect too much.” Sam hooked a brotherly arm around her neck. “She doesn’t exactly have a history of coming through for her kids. I don’t want you hurt.”
“Understood. But I’m glad I’m giving her a chance.”
Suddenly, a handsome man wearing an eye patch rushed toward Penny, his arms outstretched in appeal. “Jane, my bonny wee sky-lark! My pale little elf!”
Penny’s mouth dropped open, and she stood frozen as he took her hands in his.
“You fled from Thornfield, but I have found you once more, my very angel! I may be blind, but I would always know my provoking puppet!”
Sam stepped between Penny and the man in tight breeches. “Do you want me to get rid of this guy?”
Penny didn’t blink, just put out an arm to shove Sam to the side. “Nope.”
“See?” Angie said to Con. “Told you she wouldn’t mind this one.”
Mr. Rochester began to unwind his cravat. “Has anyone pianoforte music to offer for the crowd’s delectation?”
“I’m on it.” Angie took out her phone, swiped a few times, and raised the volume until the strains of Beethoven echoed around the small room. “Although I personally would have chosen some old-school ZZ Top instead. ‘Gimme All Your Lovin’’, preferably.”
Penny waved a hand in Angie’s direction without ever looking away from the stripper. “Shhh. I’m trying to concentrate here.”
Con glanced toward the corner of the room, where Penny’s fiancé was sitting. Jack had put down his book and was glaring at Mr. Rochester. But after a minute, he sighed in resignation, picked up his paperback, and started to read again.
“This is the weirdest fucking party I’ve ever seen,” Sam muttered.
***
Two hours later, Con and Sam somehow found themselves sitting next to each other at the same small table. Probably because all the other tables were filled with empty beer bottles, tipsily nuzzling couples, and stray vibrators.
Sam had propped his feet up on an extra chair, crossing them at the ankles. He’d changed out of his boots and work clothes before coming to the party, and Con surreptitiously scanned him from head to wingtip-clad toe for the millionth time that night. The man could rock a button-down shirt and dark, slim-cut pants. No doubt about it.
His arm rested only inches from hers, and his inimitable scent surrounded her. To distract herself from it, she buried her nose in her beer for a long sip. Lowering the mug, she stared at his broad hands. He had short, neat nails. A dusting of reddish-gold hair. Prominent veins. Surprisingly prominent for a computer jockey. Did he work out?
Not your concern, she reminded herself. He’s just your BFF’s ex and Penny’s brother.
The dance floor outside the little room had only become more crowded as the evening progressed, and both of them directed their attention there, rather than at each other. Couple after couple passed by the doorway, most of them plastered together so tightly Con was surprised they could still move.
A familiar flash of bright red hair caught the dim light. Helen, her BFF, clasped in the possessive arms of her adoring boyfriend, Wes Ramirez. The two of them appeared oblivious to their surroundings. As Con watched, Wes dipped his head to kiss Helen’s cheek, then her neck. And after a minute, Con was pretty sure Helen would have to cover up a hickey for her next work shift.
She didn’t dare look at Sam. How must he feel, watching his former lover necking with a new man?
He cleared his throat. “They make a nice couple.”
“Yes. He worships her. Which is good, because if he didn’t, I’d make him pay.”
Sam spoke slowly, as if searching for the right phrasing. “You and Helen are best friends.”
“Yup.”
An awkward pause. “So you know my history with her. How we…”
“Yup.” She kept her eyes on the dance floor. “No need to elaborate.”
“I…” He appeared to debate his next words.
Oh, for God’s sake. Do we really have to discuss how you once fucked my BFF?
“I can’t say I wasn’t interested when I first came to the library.” His fingers drummed restlessly on the table. “But when I realized she was Penny’s good friend and saw her obvious connection with the mayor, that changed. I was relieved when she just wanted to remain friends. I don’t have romantic feelings toward her anymore. At all.”
Con ignored the warmth, the relief, flooding every limb of her body. “Not my business.”
With an awkward shrug, he said, “Yeah. Don’t know why I told you all that.”
I don’t know why, either. But I’m glad you did.
“Sam, I…” The words emerged unbidden from her mouth. “Helen said, um, that she wouldn’t mind if you, uh…”
He went very still by her side.
“Dated someone else. No matter who it was.”
Oh, God. Did she sound like she was propositioning him? She did, didn’t she?
She quickly added, “Like our friend, Mary, for example.”
A long silence stretched between them before he responded. “Doesn’t solve the fundamental problem. I won’t date one of Penny’s good friends.”
Don’t you dare ask him to elaborate, Chen.
“Well.” He pushed to his feet. “I’d better be going. I have a long day ahead of me tomorrow. With a supervisor who really cracks the whip.”
She looked up at him. “You’ve already noted my major IT issues. You don’t need to accompany me the rest of the week. One day on board Big Bertha is probably enough.”
What she didn’t add: Maybe a little time apart would do us both good.
“No,” he said with surprising force, and then cleared his throat again. “I mean, I don’t think that’s possible. Kamal wants me by your side for the entire five days.”
“I see.” And she was very much afraid she did. All too well.
She watched him walk away, her mind spinning from more than just beer.
For months now, she’d been battling her attraction to him. And in a single day together—a single fucking day—he’d made it hard to remember why she was fighting their chemistry in the first place. He’d nullified her best efforts to remain hostile and distant. He’d gotten even further under her skin. So far under she wasn’t sure anymore how exactly she was supposed to dig him out.
We still have the rest of the week ahead of us, she thought with an edge of surprising panic. What the hell am I supposed to do now?
7
When Sam reported to the Bookmobile the next morning, he came prepared to restore some much-needed distance between himself and Con. If everything went according to plan, they’d spend the entire day fighting and taking verbal swipes at one another, rather than bonding and chatting. Just like old times. Easy as taking a bottle from a baby.
At least, that was his intention.
So why, after another eight hours of togetherness in Bertha’s cramped depths, was he sitting in
Con’s office chair, uploading photos of her to the intranet while she dealt with various family issues?
Because you’re a goddamn idiot.
He shook his head, disgusted with himself. Then he proofread the caption he’d written for the most recent photo: “Constance Chen and her staff provide access to the library’s resources for thirteen county schools, including Niceville Elementary. In total, the Bookmobile makes over ninety stops per month!”
Frowning at the screen, he changed the exclamation mark to a period. No need to gild the lily. Her statistics should speak for themselves.
“Are you certain she meant it that way, Christian?” She paused, her knuckles white as she held the phone. “I understand, but sometimes people don’t know how to find the right words. And if you’re not sure about her intentions, you should ask her to clarify what she said before you decide to end things.”
She leaned her forehead against one of the few small patches of open wall in her office. “I know it’s hard.” Another pause. “I get it. But isn’t she worth an uncomfortable conversation after almost two years together?”
She smiled at whatever he said in response, but it was a small smile. Tired too. “I agree. I am the best, aren’t I?”
After another minute of good-byes, she disconnected the call but didn’t move from her spot against the wall. She was leaning against it like it was the only thing keeping her upright, her face drawn with…something. Fatigue? Pain?
“You okay?”
Trying to disguise his worry, he busied himself cropping another photo. This one showed Con crouched beside the service dog of a homebound patron. She’d asked for the patron’s permission before petting the animal, not wanting to distract the dog from his official duties. But the patron hadn’t objected, and Con had given the dog’s head a good scratch and his belly a good rub. In return, she’d received sloppy, enthusiastic licks and kisses.
Sam wasn’t jealous of a damn dog. He wasn’t. Not even a little.
“My head hurts some. No big deal.”