Pumpkin Pounder
Page 6
“Everyone grab your drink.” Rachel holds up her glass for a toast and waits for Seiko and César to join us. “To Seiko’s last full week at The Tug Boat!” Seiko’s going part-time at bartending now that she’s got a good audiobook contract. César rings the old bell at the corner of the bar while we hoot and holler.
The new bartender, a platinum blonde Aussie boy named Drew, pours us a new round. Rumor is that he once appeared on an Australian soap opera, and now he’s come to New York to make it big. I clock how he blushes when Seiko bothers to notice him. He’s adorable. Someone should jump on that one real quick. It’s just not going to be me.
Rachel thumps the bar and pets the eye patch of her pirate costume. Her eye patch is made out of gold condoms. “Daisy, YARRRRR in need of some booty, and I’m just the fuckaneer to find it for you.”
Seiko leans on the bar, interested in my answer. Her costume is a necklace made from twine, a small dildo, and a metro card. In other words, “Fuck the MTA.” I bet she will be very popular tonight. Everyone in New York can appreciate a dig at the mismanagement of the New York subway. “Is the Pumpkin Pounder officially retired?” she asks.
“I do have enough Starbucks gift cards to last me for awhile,” I joke. Seiko’s mom overhead her refer to me as a “pumpkin pounder” and thought it meant someone who really liked pumpkin spice lattes, so she very kindly hooked me up with a large Starbucks balance for my birthday. I’m still working through it.
Just then, a redheaded guy in a toga walks by the bar. For a second, I hold my breath, but it’s not The Irishman. I hate that I still hope. Rachel and Seiko give me a look. Are you gonna go after that? I shake my head. “New ground rules,” I mutter, and they nod sympathetically.
They know what a year I’ve had, what it took for me to get my feet back under me, after a few months of mild depression. I’ve been okay for awhile now, even got a new job where I can make a difference and be treated like a human. Imagine! The new ground rules help, too. Rule one: Take my time. I take my time with everything now: work, dates, picking out a sandwich. Whether it’s three hours or three dates, I take whatever time I need to assess my needs. Rule two: Say what I want out loud. Even if it’s a preference for milk over half-and-half, I say the words, “I want…” out loud. A lot. Every time it gets easier. I have to do less and less of a constant gut check with myself. For the past few months, I’ve been excellent at naming what I want. Rule three: I get phone numbers and names immediately. I’ve had a few one-night stands, nothing I wanted to repeat, but at least I have each one of those guy’s names and numbers in my phone. Rule four: Forgive myself, every day. As Rachel puts it, “No one is this hard on dudes, so there’s no reason for you to be so hard on yourself.” That one’s the most difficult for me, which is why a small notebook now lives next to my bed. Each page has a daily list of three things I’m thankful for, and three things I have nothing to be sorry for.
So am I still a Pumpkin Pounder? I don’t know how to answer that. Gingers still light my body on fire, but I might be retired from near-professionally chasing them down. For now. Who knows what could happen next?
April taps Seiko’s shoulder. “It’s time.”
I’m about to ask time for what, but Rachel is already tying a blindfold onto my face. “Don’t panic. We have a surprise for you.”
“What the hell, you guys. You know I don’t like…”
“Trust us,” says April. “We think you’ll like this one.”
Rachel spins me around and walks me a few steps away from the bar. The pier has gotten more crowded, so I can’t tell what’s going on. Finally, I feel Rachel untie my blindfold. “If you don’t like what’s happening, your safe word is ‘pirate’s booty.’” She lifts the blindfold away.
I blink. There are people in front of me, but in a second they move. Everything around me goes into slow motion. The crowds part, and there, standing a few feet from me, is The Irishman.
But he’s not just The Irishman. He’s wearing a close-fitting pinstripe suit and a big spider tie. His hair is slicked against his head. He’s wearing a thin coating of white facepaint, but it’s so thin I can still see his freckles peeking through. He’s dressed as Jack Skellington, The Pumpkin King. And he’s carrying a bouquet of fresh daisies. Like my name.
Holy. Fucking. Halloween.
I look behind me. Seiko, Rachel, and April are crowded together, giving me a big thumbs up. Holy shit, somehow they planned this.
I turn back to The Irishman. I’m so excited, I feel dizzy. I also don’t know what to say. I for sure don’t want the first thing out of my mouth to be, “I had a breakthrough in therapy, also I think about your dick a lot.” Instead, I say, “What’s going on?”
He steps toward me, holding the flowers in front of him kind of like a shield, which is fair. This could go a few ways for him. “I owe you an apology.” The lilt in his voice makes my knees weak.
“Oh.” That’s all I can manage.
“I wanted to call you, I really did. When I got back to the hotel that day, the paper with your phone number had gone missing. Fecking Housekeeping cleaned too well….” I haven’t said anything yet, so he soldiers on, looking between me and my friends, like he might come under fire at any moment. “I tried to figure out how to find you, but I couldn’t. Google was useless.”
I nod. Google is the worst.
He’s encouraged by my nod. He squares his shoulders and continues. “Then, em, my friend wrote some code to comb through employee records for non-profits in the tri-state area, but the parameters were…anyway. It didn’t work. And, em, I didn’t want to be a stalker.” I bite my lip to hold in an awkward laugh. It must make me look angry because he starts to sweat a little. “The point is, you deserve someone who can hang onto a fecking phone number and…well, I thought maybe I should give up on the whole thing. All I’ve wanted to say, all year long, was that I’m a complete idiot, and I’m sorry.”
“Oh.” Will I ever find more words? We’ll see!
“Then I joined Instagram, and I found this place on it.” He gestures to The Tug Boat. “I scrolled back through the geotag and found a picture of you and your friends. So I messaged Rachel, in case she could help. She did, after a bit of, em, clearance.”
“I took that picture!” Kevin says proudly. I remember the photo of the three of us last year, the one that’s on Rachel’s Instagram, the one I’m not tagged in. Leave it to Rachel to stonewall someone until they’d cleared all her hurdles.
I turn back to my friends, mouth open. Rachel shrugs. “For the record, he did a lot of groveling in my DMs. And he buttered me up by sending the selfie he took with my third tit.” That would be just the way to get onto Rachel’s good side.
“She also made me take an online Golden Girls personality test,” says The Irishman.
I turn back to him. This is getting crazier and crazier. “He’s a Rose and a Blanche,” Seiko says behind me. The glee in her voice implies what I already know. He’s loyal, sweet, and fierce in bed.
“I don’t expect you to forgive me for disappearing like that, but I wanted the chance to apologize properly.” He holds out the bouquet of daisies.
I stare at the flowers. Rule one, take my time. I take a few deep breaths, and I then I tell him exactly what’s on my mind. “You kind of broke my heart when you didn’t call.”
His white face falls. “It broke mine too.”
My heart lurches. Does he really mean that?
“And you live in Dublin,” I continue.
He shakes his head vehemently. “My company moved me to Williamsburg.”
“By the river,” Rachel hisses. I almost laugh. She means he’s got mad startup money now.
“It’s true. She made him send her pictures of his building,” April says. My friends are so good at background checks, they should join the CIA.
I bite my lip and accept the flowers. He visibly relaxes. “I owe you an apology, too.” I take a deep breath and do a gut check. It feels right, so I con
tinue. “I never asked your name.”
His grin is so bright, it makes my eyes swim. “It’s Jack. My name is Jack.”
Now my jaw really does hit the floor. “Jack, as in Jack Skellington? Like in the movie?”
He laughs. “Just Donohue. Jack Donohue.”
I sigh with relief. “Oh thank god, that would have been too weird.” Then I notice his eyes. They’re still so blue. I’m stuck there, staring into his eyes, feeling mine go bigger and bigger, like we’re two cartoons and you know we’ve fallen in love when our eyes start to spin.
“Can I buy you a drink?” he asks.
I look to my friends. I get a double thumbs up all around.
“Actually, your drink is on the house,” says April, handing him a Corona.
Jack—my Jack—takes the beer and stands next to me. Now we’re both doing that goofy-grin, spinning-eye, lovey-dovey thing. I feel the heat coming through his jacket as he stands belly to belly with me.
“Can I tell you a secret?” he asks.
It’s the biggest trick in my book, and I’m happy to fall for it.
“Yes.”
He leans down and lingers above my lips for a minute. All the things I have wanted to say and do all year hover between us, like a ghost. I wouldn’t be surprised if the full moon loomed large behind us, just like it did for the real Jack and Sally.
“Did you actually watch the movie?” I whisper.
“Yes. Every season of Golden Girls, too.”
“That’s the hottest thing anyone has ever said to me.”
Then he kisses me.
And kisses me.
And kisses me.
And keeps on kissing me. For a very, very long time. He kisses me for so long, it’s like we never missed a beat.
I kiss him right back. He’s a keeper, and I am too.
The New York City skyline stretches above us, as full of possibility as ever.
Want to read Kevin and April’s story? What’s the deal with their mermaid obsession? Get Splash Me and find out!
Sneak Peek: Splash Me
A Splash-Inspired Romance
“What’s your fantasy? One that you never told anyone?” he asks.
* * *
Kevin and I have had five dates—and sex twice. He is big-hearted and big-boned, with a slightly ragged haircut and a laugh that reminds me of the luckdragon in The Neverending Story. I like him so much, even though he’s a total dweeb.
I stare at the dirty text for one minute. Then two.
My fantasy? I take a swig of wine. Should I cop out? Make a joke about a naughty nurse? Or do I risk being completely honest…
If I tell him the truth, I think he would make it good.
I know he’ll make it good. I take a deep breath—I’m all in.
I text back, “Have you seen the movie Splash?”
SPLASH ME is available now!
Laura Lovely’s Fairytale Remixes are short hot-n-humorous standalones, inspired by fairytales, mythology and pop culture. SPLASH ME is the first in this series.
Also by Laura Lovely
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SEA OF LOVE
The Sea of Love Series is a steamy paranormal historical fantasy series featuring daring mermaids, passionate mermen and the humans who have more than met their match. A family saga and fairytale retelling, Sea of Love uses The Little Mermaid as inspiration for a golden era of mer-human relationships, and their effects on global events. Although inter-connected, these books can be read as standalones.
* * *
Book 1: KING OF THE SEA
Upcoming:
Book 2 : PRINCESS OF THE SEA
(November 2019)
Book 3: MAVERICK OF THE SEA
* * *
FAIRYTALE REMIXES
Short, hot-n-humorous romances inspired by fairytales, mythology and pop culture. Although inter-connected, these books can be read as standalones.
SPLASH ME
PUMPKIN POUNDER
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Acknowledgments
When I first moved to New York, one of my roommates worked at the coolest bar, which had been converted from an old lightship. It threw some great parties, and was a wonderful way to spend an evening. We were fresh out of college, trying to find our place in the world and this wild, wonderful city. It wasn’t always easy — there were plenty of long hours, lofted beds, side gigs, overdraft fees, and crushed feelings. Those years could be simultaneously lonesome and overcrowded. But, it was also a beautiful time, because that was when I fell madly in love…with New York City, and with the friends who defined those early years.
This book is dedicated to those friends and to the tenacity with which we navigated the complexities of our ‘20s. Even when everything hurt, I was okay, because I had you.
There are many other people who have helped me while I have lived here, in all of my various adventures. I want to thank them too, for believing in me, and for being the absolute most fun a girl can have while staying on the right side of the law.
In my writing life, I am grateful everyday for Alexis Anne, Mary Chris Escobar, Lindsay Emory, Alexandra Haughton and Julia Kelly. Now that you’ve seen me cry over brunch, we’re basically married.
Thank you to my editor, Mayumi Shimose Poe, who is there for me on the page and off. Thank you also to Erin Clark, Sweet Baby Frannie, Eve Wolff, Maureen Donohue, Laura Kawano, Liz Wexler, Alex Gershuny, Talia Greenwald and Luke Stoffel for their support.
Thank you to The Wing for being so pink, so welcoming, and so populated by my Instagram crushes. I’ve officially used the same bathroom as Jennifer Lopez, and that is everything.
Amour, amour, always amour,
Laura Lovely
About the Author
She's got style, she's got grace, she's probably got glitter on her face. A mermaid expert and folklore enthusiast, Laura Lovely is the author of award-winning steamy paranormal romances, usually featuring mermaids and mermen. She also writes short contemporary romances inspired by fairytales, mythology and pop culture.
An avid traveler, Laura Lovely is permanently jet-lagged and always looking forward to her next escape. Laura Lovely is at her best when listening to power ballads, watching romantic comedies and sipping champagne.
For updates, giveaways and behind the scenes exclusives, please join my email list at lauralovelybooks.com/newsletter.
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Did you love Pumpkin Pounder? Then you should read Splash Me by Laura Lovely and Madame de Boudoir!
What's your fantasy? One that you never told anyone?" he asks.Kevin and I have had five dates—and hooked up twice. He is big-hearted and big-boned, with a slightly ragged haircut and a laugh that reminds me of the luckdragon in The Neverending Story. I like him so much, even though he's a total dweeb.I stare at the dirty text for one minute. Then two.My fantasy? I take a swig of wine. Should I cop out? Make a joke about a naughty nurse? Or do I risk being completely honest…If I tell him the truth, I think he would make it good.I know he'll make it good. I take a deep breath—I'm all in.I text back, "Have you seen the movie Splash?"
~
Laura Lovely's Fairytale Remixes are short and hot romance standalones, inspired by fairytales, mythology and pop culture. Splash Me is inspired by the 1980s mermaid movie, Splash.
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