“Hey, man,” I say, answering the call. “What’s up?”
“I’m sorry, Ryan. I was just about to leave my house to meet you when Kat started barfing like the Exorcist.”
“Oh, man. Poor Kat. My mom said the whole ‘morning sickness’ thing has been rough on her. Tell Kat I hope she feels better soon.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t text you earlier. I got caught up helping Kat and didn’t realize the time. I just don’t feel good about leaving her tonight.”
“Oh, yeah, definitely stay with her,” I say. “I’m not at all surprised, by the way. Has Kat told you one of her many nicknames growing up was The Barf-o-matic?”
Josh laughs. “Hey, why don’t you come over to our place, instead? I’m still down to hang out and I’m sure Kat would love to barf on you. I’ve got a pool table and a fully stocked bar.”
“Sounds great,” I reply. “Maybe we could make a drinking game out of Kat’s misery? ‘Everyone drinksoncewhen Kat pukes andtwicewhen she gets barf in her hair!’”
“Yeah, and then we all run for our lives when Kat starts beating the shit out of everyone playing our fun little drinking game.”
“Excellent point. Ix-nay on the drinking game.” I chuckle. “So it seems you’ve already discovered my sister’s fully capable of murder, huh?”
“You call her The Barf-o-matic? I call her Madame Terrorist.”
I laugh. “I’m gonna have to steal that.”
“Hey, is it okay with you if I invite my brother and his new wife to our little impromptu soiree? Jonas keeps saying he wants to meet one of the fabled Morgan brothers I keep talking about.”
“Of course. I’d love to meet him.”
“I think you already know his new wife, Sarah, right?”
“Yeah, Sarah and I have partied together a few times over the years, mostly at Kat’s birthday pub crawls. Sarah’s a great girl.”
And hot as fuck, I might add.
In fact, my sister’s best friend since her freshman year in college is exactly the type of girl I’m attracted to the most: dark hair, olive skin, big, brown eyes, and curves for days. I love all types of women, don’t get me wrong (thank you, God, for making females in all their glorious shapes and sizes), but I must admit the Sarah Cruzes of the world have always turned my head the most. Add Sarah’s wit and intelligence and fantastic sense of humor on top of her boner-inducing packaging, and I’ll be the first to admit I’ve always had a massive crush on her.
If I remember correctly, I started hitting on Sarah the first time I met her at one of Kat’s birthday shindigs three or four years ago, but Kat put the kibosh on that shit right quick. “Leave my bestie alone, Bacardi,” Kat warned me sharply. “No Morgan peen gets inside my best friend unless you’re planning to marry her and make her my sister under God, which we both know ain’t gonna happen any time soon when it comes to a slut like you. I’m not gonna let the biggest player of all my brothers break my best friend’s heart and make it awkward for me to invite both of you to future birthdays.” And, so, seeing as how I was a wee little lad of twenty-four or so at the time and Kat was absolutely right, not even remotely thinking about settling down with any one girl—even a girl as incredible as Sarah Cruz, I dutifully respected my sister’s off-limits designation and left her smoking-hot bestie alone. I consoled myself for the next year, as I recall, with a string of Sarah look-alikes, none of whom could hold a candle to the original.
“So, I’ll see you in a bit,” Josh says. “I’ll text you the address.”
“Yeah, great,” I reply. “I’ve got to take care of a small snafu first, but I’ll head over there right afterward.”
“Everything okay?”
“It will be soon. Just gotta cut the last dangling thread on something. No biggie.”
“Take your time. We’ll be here.”
I shove my phone into my pocket, wave to the bartender for my bill, and pivot toward the front door, intending to hightail it to Olivia’s to confirm we’re absolutely through in no uncertain terms... but a jaw-dropping sight stops me dead in my tracks: two flight attendants, a curvy brunette and a petite redhead, are standing just inside the front entrance of the bar... and the brunette is, oh my fucking God, a jaw-dropper of epic proportions. Dark hair. Olive skin. Curves to make a man drop to his knees and thank the mighty lord for his beneficence.
For a long beat, I stand stock-still, staring at the brunette bombshell at the door, my dick subtly tingling, my chest tight, my head suddenly filled with rather graphic visions of myself fucking the living hell out of that woman from behind, one fist gripping her hair, the other cupping her breast... until finally, slowly, and without consciously commanding my body to do it, I take a step backward and lower my ass onto my stool.
4
Ryan
The really hot one isn’t scoping out the place at all, but her friend sure is. Oh, yeah, the petite redhead is definitely the scout in this duo. She’s checking out the room and every man in it like a hungry lioness looking for her next meal. Her eyes are scanning, scanning, making calculations... hunting. And then...boom. The scout’s eyes land on me at the bar and stop moving. She flashes me a full, beaming smile and I smirk ever so slightly in reply.
The redhead grasps her hot friend’s forearm like she’s cuffing a felon and leans urgently into her ear. The hot brunette whispers in reply to her friend, her head turned away from me. And now it’s Red’s turn to whisper something again.
Back and forth they go as I shift my ass on my stool. I know I’m somewhat of a vain motherfucker—I fully admit that—but I’d bet anything those two women are talking about me right now. At least, I sure as fuck hope they are.
