No sooner do I sit back up on my elbows than Hilda stomps back in slapping on a pair of latex gloves, the look of vengeance on her face aswell.
“Oh, thank God,” I say as she whips the towel off my lady parts, and what feels like an arctic breeze takes over. She parts my legs at the knees and pushes them back to my chest. I swear on all things holy, I have never been so roughed up by another human being. A vision of Brody Wolf doing that exact same action, with those bedroom eyes, that perfect dark hair runs through my mind, and my sweet spot bounces withpleasure.
Did I just? Dear God—Idid.
I glare over at Lexy, my new archenemy, for putting me in a position where I O in front of a perfectstranger.
Lex giggles as if she heard me, and I gift her thefinger.
“Okay!” Hilda barks with glee, and I recognize that evil look in her eye. “Onthree!”
“Oh no, no, no!” I shake my hand at her spastically, trying to stop this runaway pubic train before it leaves the painful wax station. “We’re done, remember?” Just my luck to have a clinician with short-term memoryloss.
A disturbingly warm feeling melts over the no-fly zone as she slathers something overit.
“Oh God!” I bark as I back up, far the hell away from Hilda and that giant cotton swab in her hand. “Somebody call the police! Call Adult Protective Services! She just sealed my assholeshut!”
Lex tips her head back, laughing like a loon. And I watch, stunned, as Hilda goes over and does the exact same thing to Little Miss Priss. Next time someone says she’s got a stick up her butt, I’ll think of how literal it really is in thismoment.
A sudden burst of fire hits my newly sealed off bottom, followed by a bizarre cooling sensation. It amplifies in acres, and soon I’m screaming at the top of my lungs and Hilda is spraying me down with a water bottle she was sipping from just a half hourearlier.
“Holy hell! Lex! What have you done tome?”
“Enough!” Lex thunders so loud I stop all movement, and my lungs refuse their next breath. “I pitched in for the anal bleaching. You now have an immaculately clean, pretty little bung hole.” Her lips pull into a line. “You’rewelcome.”
“Oh, geez.” I fall back over the table and let out a horriblegroan.
On second thought, maybe a little distance from this maniac isn’t the worst thing in theworld.
I’llsimply…
I’ll get into my car andI’ll…
I’m suremy…
Crap. I am all out of money, single friends, andoptions.
One thing that isn’t an option at all is the aforementioned billionaire family. We’re a far cry from billionaires, and Lord knows my mother won’t give me adime.
Nope.
All out of options, pubic hair, and color where the sun don’tshine.
Something tells me I am in for a real shitride.
The Sloppy Pelicanstands like a beacon of light in an otherwise dismal night as I barrel on in to the bar-slash-eatery my brother, Levi, owns with two of his friends, Axel Collins and Brody Wolf. Levi met Ax in college, but we’ve known Brody all our lives. Brody was as much a fixture at our house as was our beloved Golden Retriever, Goldie. Yes, we weren’t winning any awards in the creativity department with that moniker, but Goldie, along with Brody, made for some pretty goodmemories.
The Sloppy Pelican used to be an old miner themed restaurant, complete with wooden barrels strewn about filled with peanuts—thus the husks littering the floor, something my brother and his cohorts insist the patrons partake in. If you ask me, it’s a hygienic nightmare, but I digress. From the rustic wooden floors, to the reclaimed wood on the wall, not to mention the oversized Mason jars they utilize for glassware, it’s still pretty much a miner’s delight in here. For the first several months, The Pelican was dead weight, but after Lex and Low revamped the menu, they managed to pull the boys out of the red. Figures. It took two women to save three financially drowningmen.
The subtle scent of freshly husked peanuts and booze permeates the place along with something fresh from the grill. Tonight’s special nodoubt.
I offer a self-satisfied smile as I take in the place. It’s brimming with bodies, both at the bar and seated at the multitude of tables. A live band is rocking hard in the corner, and in front of them a makeshift dance floor is being put to good use. It’s a concept my brother and his cohorts totally snagged from the Black Bear Saloon, the university bar down in front of Whitney Briggs University, but hey, if it works, itworks.
Brody waves from the bar before taking an order, and I head onover.
Brody Wolf has always had the ability to take my breath away, and tonight is no exception. I’m not only short one breath, but my go-to response whenever he’s around has always been blushing head to toe. And without the appropriate amount of hair where nature intended it to be at the apex of my thighs, I’m lit and tingling like a sparkler on the Fourth ofJuly.
“I’m leaving my car in the lot,” the words speed out of me as I take in his warm cologne. Brody not only looks like a dream, but he holds the scent of one, too. “Don’t have it towed—I’ll be sleeping in it when I get back,” I say it all as if it were one long word as I take the last vacant stool in front of him. Brody is tall, broad shoulders, muscular to a fault, biceps you want to sit on, a face that makes everyone with functioning ovaries look twice before demanding they sigh in his presence. Beachy blond waves, deep year-round tan, eyes that glow a combination of hazel and green. Check, check, check. Brody has had my heart and my panties melting for as long as I can remember. But he’s always been out of my league, too old, too forbidden, too taken, and now, too much of a petri dish for brand new diseases. And no offense to Brody, but he’s chained to a bar. The men I’ve dated in the past were all wolves as well, but they called Wall Streethome.
