“Holy shit,” Matt belts out. “None of you fuckers is getting anywhere near my wife!” He points to various men seated at the table before wrapping his arms possessively around her waist.
“Well, she’s already knocked up. At least you don’t have to worry about that.”
This time Trevor clocks Brecken in the back of the head.
“Shit! That hurt.” He reaches behind him to massage the lump that’s likely forming under his unruly mop of blond hair. “Well, I’ve got you all beat.”
My gaze connects with Dave’s. I try not to laugh out loud at the overdramatic roll of his eyes.I can only imagine what it must be like having to work with this moron, day in and day out.
“I got a last-minute invite to a wedding reception by a friend whose girlfriend bailed on him when she got sick. So, I said, sure. Why the hell not? Free food and drinks and the chance to pick up a fine piece of?—”
I’m assuming Dave kicked him under the table, as Brecken scrunches his face and bends down as if he’s reaching for something before quickly changing his wording. “As I was saying.” He glares at Dave, confirming my suspicion. “The chance to enjoy the company of a pretty young lady for the evening.”
I watch Dave’s scowl in profile and have to bite the inside of my cheek. Watching these two is like a comedy routine. “I’d only been there like thirty minutes when this woman was chatting me up at the bar.” He brushes imaginary lint from his shirt and blows across his fingertips as if tooting his own horn. “She slipped me her key, told me her room number, and walked away. I thought, hell yeah. This might be a personal record.” He shrugs his shoulders as if this would be the logical response of any red-blooded bachelor. “Then I come back down later after we gave the bed a night it will never forget…”
“Fuck’s sake,” Dave mutters.
“I walk back into the reception just in time for everyone to finish eating and start the dancing portion of the evening. I managed to grab a quick bite before they cleared the food. It was a lucky win, given I’d worked up an appetite.” He takes a swig of his beer. “Just as Iwas swallowing the last of my meal, the DJ announced the bride and groom’s first dance. And low and behold, the chick I just banged walks out onto the dancefloor.”
My mouth falls open.
Matt lowers his beer. “You never noticed her wedding dress, dumbass?”
“She wasn’t wearing one. Found out later someone had spilled something on it, and she’d insisted on changing into some fancy little cocktail number.”
I shake my head in astonishment. “Bet that marriage didn’t last long.”
“No kidding,” Ellie adds.
“Leave it to you,” Dave directs to Breck before leaning into me and whispering, “Told ya. First class tool.”
“No kidding,” I reply, leaning into him, keeping my voice low. I’d think most people would keep that unfortunate event to themselves. “He sounds like the kinda guy my friend keeps dating back home.” I inwardly cringe at some of the stories poor Norma Jean has shared about her love life. “Like he’d cheat on you and still have the nerve to ask you for a ride to work.”
Dave snorts just before clinking my glass with his.
“Char, Ellie told me you did her hair for the wedding. It’s so beautiful,” Addison says, thankfully changing the subject away from Brecken’s repulsive gloating. “You did an amazing job.”
“Thank you. But anyone would have with a gorgeous head of hair like Ellie’s.” I give my sweet friend a wink. God, how I miss the nights we’d spend together, watching movies and braiding each other’s hair over the years. The simple pleasures you take for granted until they’re gone.
“And yours is too. I love the way you have it styled,” Tuesday adds, pointing at my up-do.
“Well, don’t get used to it.” Ellie snorts. “By tomorrow she’ll have chopped it into a pixie cut and dyed it blonde. She’s a chameleon that way.”
Suddenly, I can feel the heat of Dave’s stare on my cheek andsquirm. Most of the men I know aren’t big fans of change when it comes to their girls’ hair and makeup. I frequently hear women remark that their boyfriends prefer their hair long and fuss-free. There have been many discussions with clients to choose a styletheywant. Not their significant other. Yet for me, it’s twofold. I enjoy the opportunity to reinvent my style. Plus, the ability to alter my physical appearance on any given day is like my safety blanket. It’s nonnegotiable.
“I need to try to do more with mine. But I get so overheated working in the floral shop and the greenhouse, I find I’ve piled it up on top of my head by ten each morning.” Tuesday laughs.
“I’m secretly hoping I can convince her to move to Sycamore Mountain. Then she can do all of our hair.” Ellie claps enthusiastically.
“No. I’m happy where I am,” I snap. I hadn’t realized how brusque my response had been until I take in the flabbergasted expressions of everyone staring back at me.
Especially the one on the handsome face to my left.
CHAPTER TEN
DAVE
Hmm.Wonder what that was about?If I hadn’t witnessed first-hand how close Char and Ellie were, I’d question whether there was some sort of rift between them. There must be something else afoot if Char is that adamant moving here is a no-go. Hell, for all I know, she has a thriving career back home.
