He hopped onto the houseboat deck and pulled me into a fierce hug. “I missed you so much, Ken.”
I wrapped my arms around his waist and pulled him closer, breathing in the scent of my old friend. He smelled like… rotten eggs. I sucked in a breath and immediately regretted it as the smell got worse. I untangled from the hug and stepped away.
“It’s good to see you,” I said, scrunching my nose.
He plucked his shirt away from his body. “Sorry about that. I think I stumbled into someone smoking weed.”
Weed didn’t smell like the ass-end of a chicken, but I let it slide.
His smile was slightly more crooked than I remembered, but he still had an adorable dimple on his left cheek. “And it’s good to see you, too!”
I glanced over his shoulder at the dock, searching the scores of people.Were there more than moments ago?“Where is your fiancée?”
His smile dimmed. “She’s back at Demeter House. Resting. It was a long drive for us.”
“Okay. Do you have time to sit? Do you want some coffee? I just made a pot of decaf.” I showed him my cold cup.
“I was hoping you might want to go to lunch and catch up,” Jesse responded. “Just the two of us. My treat.”
I fought back a grin. “Just the two of us? That sounds good. Where do you want to go?”
Jesse wanted to go to The Horny Toad, my brother’s bar, because he hadn’t had a proper hamburger in a minute, his words, not mine. Would I have preferred to catch up with my first love anywhere else? Yes. Did everyone from Pleasure Point show up to watch us talk? Also, yes.
Since Pleasure Point was a former nudist colony trying to rebrand itself as the wedding capital of the Gulf Coast, all of the businesses had euphemistic names. My brother’s bar, The Horny Toad, was no exception.
On the sign, a toad rode a bottle of booze, with the words The Horny Toad in neon script across the bottle. I always felt the sign set a certain expectation of “frat boy chic,” but inside couldn’t be farther from it. My brother was a neat freak and respected women. Not only was everything clean inside, but anyone getting out of hand would be sent out the doors, where the Pleasure Principal - our version of a town sheriff - would scoop them up and send them straight to jail.
The nautical-themed decor tied into the island theme without being ridiculous, like Pegleg Pete’s Pirate Extravaganza. That ship was a hot mess. It was as if someone took every pirate cliché, dumped them into a blender, and poured out the decor and outfits for the pirate ship. I snort-laughed. My new, modern cell phone - a present from Joy - buzzed with a text.
Man who is not ‘Raff’
Would you be willing to start work tonight?
Me
Not if I have to wear that ridiculous outfit.
*pirate flag emoji*
*not symbol*
Man who is not ‘Raff’
Done. Wear what you want. Or don’t want.
(…)
That sounded bad.
Me
It sounds like you took the sexual harassment training.
Man who is not ‘Raff’
Don’t you mean anti-sexual harassment training?
Me
