“Usually I have to know someone longer than a weekend before I tell them about my career; otherwise, people usually laugh.” I stare at the bar as my finger traces the rim of my wine glass.
“For the record, I’d never laugh at you. And we may have only met last week, but I know you better than just about anyone here.” He takes my hand, flipping it over. His thumb traces the lines on my palm, sending tingles straight between my legs. “They don’t know how good you taste,” he whispers in my ear and lifts his wine glass, tapping it with mine.
Wow. I might’ve just cum a little.
My grasp on the glass increases but thankfully it doesn’t shatter. “No…”
“Good. Keep it that way.”
He bites into a wing when his phone buzzes. He reads the screen and mumbles something in German under his breath.
“Worst timing for a band meeting.”
I glance at the time on my phone. “Isn’t it late for a meeting?”
“Not when it comes to Amy. She takes being our PR rep to a whole new level—like she’s running a political campaign, not managing a band. Everything’s about the brand, the image, the next headline. She’s obsessed with pushing us harder in the States—bigger interviews, strategic pairings, the works. She wants us headlining festivals in a year or two, like we’re some packaged product she’s fine-tuning for mass consumption.”
He runs his thumb along the edge of my hand. “I usually just tune her out. It’s easier than arguing. She talks like everything she’s doing is for the band, and maybe some of it is, but it never feels like we get a say. Especially me. I’m the easy target—I'm the one who doesn’t push back, so she steamrolls me.”
He meets my eyes, something softer there now. “Dinner tomorrow night? Let me make it up to you.”
His pout mixed with his gorgeous blue eyes makes me a goner. “Yes. Dinner tomorrow.”
“Wunderbar.” His German curls my toes. He stands and cradles my face in his hand. “Looking forward to it.” He kisses me deeply, his tongue stroking mine. My hands sink into his hair, pulling him closer. A small moan slips out when he breaks away.
When he’s gone, Alice leans against the bar finishing Sully’s wine. “Damn, girl. You’re hooked on that boy.”
I flick a fry at her head. “Don’t think I’m not mad at you for breaking into my locker and taking my phone.”
She tsks, stealing a handful of fries. “If not for me, you wouldn’t have that kiss and probably whatever dirty dream you’ll have tonight.” She giggles and moves farther down the bar before I toss something bigger than a fry at her head.
Sadly, she’s right. I needed that nudge, and now I’m officially seeing Sully again. Am I ready for that? Things tighten and throb inside me. I believe the answer is yes.
14
“Comeon,girls.It’stime for cake.” The hostess of the party, and mother of the twelve-year-old birthday girl, sends the kids through the double glass doors of the house, leaving me alone in the pool. I pull myself out of the water in the shallow end and motion for Arthur to carry me into the pool house, so I can transform back into a human being and not ruin any magic for the children.
The last few girls in the group turn around to catch a glimpse of me. Their faces squished by pouts. I blow them kisses, waving goodbye. The mom pulls the chocolate brown curtain over before closing the glass doors, hiding us from prying eyes. She gestures around the backyard to the hanging mermaid decorations and my white inflatable seashell. “Thank you for such a wonderful party. I’m sure this will be one of her most memorable birthdays.”
I bring my tail to my chest, wrapping my arms around it. Arthur hands me a towel and stands behind me with his arms hanging to his side, waiting for his role as mer-handler to kick start.
“It was a joy to see their faces light up. That’s my favorite part of the job,” I say, brushing a leaf off my arm and drying my chest with the towel.
She pulls out her phone. “Who should I send the money to?”
“He’s your guy.” I nod to Arthur. “Mermaids don’t have pockets,” I joke, patting my hip and tapping my fins against the concrete edge of the pool. I’m not a fan of the prolonged small talk after shows. I want to leave before the kids stuff their faces full of sugar and return, running a thousand miles an hour, and won’t let me go. Or worse, ruining the magic by them seeing me without my tail and proving I’m not a real mermaid.
She laughs into her cupped hand. “Right. Sorry.”
Arthur walks over and they discuss the matter of payment. After it goes through, she eyes the curtained covered glass doors. “I should get in there before they rip that cake apart before singing happy birthday.” She waves and walks toward the house.
We patiently wait for her to slip inside before Arthur picks me up. “I’m just muscle to you, aren’t I?” he laughs as his hands carefully secure me under my tail and around my torso.
“You’re also pleasant to look at. That’s a bonus.” I scrunch my nose while hooking my arms around his veiny neck.
He swallows, making his Adam’s apple bob. “Just another pretty face then.” He shifts my weight, holding me with only one arm and forcing me to hold on tighter so he can open the pool house’s door. “It’s cool. Not everyone can deal with mermaid drama.”
I gasp in mock horror. “What drama?”
