I don’t smile, but I don’t scowl either. Apparently my marketing and PR guru is doingsomethinggood for me.
“That was remarkably straightforward,” she finally says.
“I don’t like bushes enough to beat around them.”
“So ironic, considering your face,” she mutters.
I blink. “What the fuck’s wrong with my face?”
She heaves one of those sighs that transports me back to high school, answering another easy question wrong. Not because I couldn’t get it right, but because I didn’t care.
School wasn’t my future.
Rugby was.
End of story, no matter how my old man felt about that.
She pulls her sunglasses off and sets them on the brim of her hat so she can look me dead in the eye. “I had to assure at least three parents that there wasn’tretro adult entertainmentbeing filmed here later after they spotted you and the thing growing under your nose.”
Sweet Pea barks in glee.
Or possibly agreement.
I eye my dog.
She grins back at me.
Goldie doesn’t fawn over her. Instead, she turns her back to me, bends over, and starts stacking cones.
While putting that curvy ass on display.
Speaking of adult entertainment…
I clear my throat and order my dick to not look at her ass. “I didn’t get a chance to say thank you for your assistance the other day. Can I please take you to dinner?”
“Not necessary, but thank you.”
I stroke my mustache. “Lunch?”
“No, thank you.”
“Breakfast, then. Coffee. Pastries. An omelet.”
“While I appreciate your very kind offer, it’s truly unnecessary.I let people—even people with mustaches like that—pass out on me all the time.”
“You do?”
She straightens, cones tucked under her arm. “No, actually, you’re the first. Usually when big burly dudes pass out at the blood drives, someone’s able to convince them to get on the ground themselves before the unconscious part happens. Or they sit in the chair and do it. But rest assured, the next time I volunteer at a blood drive and another overdeveloped dude with a needle allergy needs a little propping up, I’ll be there for him too if necessary.”
“It’s the mustache then.” Ouch.
I like my mustache.
It’s a statement piece. And I’d keep it even if mustaches weren’t having a moment.
You could say I started the mustache trend, considering how long I’ve been wearing one. And Iwasfamous in Europe. Me being a trendsetter is a logical leap.
“Lovely to see you, Fletcher. Good luck this season.” She swings the bag of balls up over her shoulder and starts around me.
