Page 17 of Smooth Talk

“But you do want him to devour you with his mouth again,” Emma says saucily. And I thought the death glare Ruby gave me was bad. It’s nothing to what she’s giving Em right now. Actually, I may need to see if Emma still has a pulse.

“I meant that I want things to go back to the way they were. I liked it better when we hated each other. Now shit is awkward. Y’all know I don’t do awkward.” She cuts herself off as Knox returns with our drinks.

“On the house, ladies. I would like to remind you that we’re closing early tonight to prepare for the festival tomorrow. So, last call will be at 10:45 instead of 11:45,” he winks at Ruby and turns away.

I’ve never seen her face so red. I can’t tell if she’s embarrassed or pissed. She shoots her tequila and slams the glass on the bar so loudly Knox turns to look at her. “Another.” Oh, she’s pissed.

He shakes his head, smiling, pulls the tequila out of the cooler and brings her another shot, “I can trust you won’t overindulge tonight, right, Shorty?” He pauses, gaging her reaction. “I’d hate to have to cut you off… like last time.” His deep voice filled with suggestion.

Ruby’s face flames and she sputters a ‘that won’t be necessary,’ before taking her second shot and whispering ‘Poútsa,’ under her breath. I’m not sure what that translates to, but I’m sure it’s not good.

Knox’s smirk widens to a knowing grin. “what’d you need sweetheart?”

“Nothing from you.” She turns her back to him and asks us loudly ‘what looks good, ladies?’ He chuckles and walks toward the women sipping Chardonnay down the bar from us. I don’t think she realizes how much trouble she’s in with that man.

Sara turns on her stool as well, scoping out the potential of the bar. “Looks like it’s time to get Operation: GPL under way. May the best woman win.”

“Win?” I ask apprehensively.

“Oh, I forgot,” Emma says, “you don’t know the plan. Operation GPL—Get Poppy Laid. We are all going to scope out the gents and bring the one with the most potential back to you. Then you pick a guy to go home with for the night. If you pick my candidate,” she says pointing to herself, “I win a spa day. Paid for by these two lovely ladies.” She points to Sara and Ruby. “Not that I think you need any help getting a man; I’d just really love a free massage.” Emma’s the fun-loving, sexy, love ‘em and leave ‘em type. She sees a lot of action, but it makes me sad that she’s practically given up on love. Says ‘men are good for one thing. Well, two if you count manual labor.’

I can’t help thinking she goes after boys that aren’t interested in relationships as a means to guard her own heart. A heart made of pure gold. I sincerely hope that one day love finds her again. “However, since I know any attempt to make you break your three-date rule is futile, my heart isn’t exactly in it to win it. So, I’m going to talk to those 22-year-old studs over there. Those boys look full of stamina. If one seems viable, I’ll bring him over, but I’m not making any promises.” She hops off her stool and gives me a ‘this should be fun’ wink while strolling over to them.

“I thought you were joking,” I practically whine to Sara. She knows how I feel about casual sex. Heck, they all do. Even if they did find a suitable man; I would not be taking him home with me tonight.

“One: I never joke about sex. You know that. Two: You need to get back in the saddle and… Three: I see some very mountable cowboys over there in the corner,” she points to the men wearing Stetsons, ignoring my dubious look. Then she turns and is gone too— disappearing into the crowd. I say a silent prayer that they’re all from Texas. Sara would never hook me up with another Texan, not after Reed. Too many bad memories. It’s just me and Ruby sitting on our stools now, and she looks reluctant to get up.

“You know I love you Poppy. But Sara’s right. You need to get laid. It’s been years. Hell, I need to get laid, and it’s only been a few months. Knock those cobwebs free girl,” she laughs, but I don’t miss the hint of trepidation in her voice. Her ex, Barry, did a real number on her ego, and I could punch him in the peen for it. “I don’t know if there are men here for either of us tonight, but I’m willing to give it a shot.” She smiles, and it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “Speaking of shots, I think I might need one more. Join me?” Although I know this is probably a huge mistake, I nod. Because bar-bestie-birthday-solidarity is a real thing, especially when celebrating the last year of your twenties.

“Bartender!” Ruby hollers at Knox’s back. He’s pouring a glass of red when he flicks his eyes up to meet hers. She holds up two fingers, and he looks at me, presumably to check if one of them is for me. I nod. He pours them and brings them over.

Ruby lifts her glass to mine, “To dusting.” She winks and shoots it down. I snort, in the most ladylike way, before picking up my shot.

Knox looks at me quizzically, “dusting?”

“My friends are concerned about my cobweb situation,” I tell him, pointing a finger toward my lap. He looks confused for a split second then chuckles.

“Happy hunting, ladies,” shaking his head, he walks away. I shoot the tequila and suck the lime, because; OMGBurning.

Turning my back to the bar, I watch my friends all try to find ‘Mr. Potential.’ While people-watching is my favorite bar activity, it dawns on me that maybe I should also be looking for a candidate. The only man to capture my attention in years is so far out of my league; he makes me uncomfortable. I vaguely mentioned him earlier, and if the girls knew what I was feeling, they’d encourage me to go for it, and I’m not sure I’m ready for that. I’m ready for something light and fun. A couple dates accompanied by run-of-the-mill sex to get me back in the game, but my body was screaming its readiness for something else entirely the other day.

What I’d felt for Grayson had been intense. My physical reaction along with the thoughts coursing through my brain within mere seconds… Shoo Jesus. No doubt, the sex would be hot, but there was something else. Something I couldn’t quite put my finger on. The nagging sensation that a few nights with him wouldn’t be enough. That he was special. And that’s not what I want right now. Sara’s right, I need to start off small. Grayson’s like a seven-course meal. I just needed an appetizer. Like some bang-bang shrimp. Well, the bang-bang part, hopefully he won’t be a shrimp.

I let my gaze travel the room until it lands on Emma. She’s closest. I see her pointing at me and hear the word sister. It’s amazing how many people think that we are sisters because we both have red hair; we bonded over the ‘carrot-top & freckles curse’ in kindergarten and have been friends ever since.

We, honestly, look nothing alike. Her light red hair is streaked with gold, more strawberry blonde, whereas mine is a dark auburn. Light freckles cover her skin from head to toe. Adorable. My eyes are almost turquoise, while her eyes are a light sea-glass-green, and she’s a good three inches shorter than me with a simple but stunning fresh-faced beauty. No really, she wears chap stick and mascara. That’s it. And honestly, she doesn’t even need that. It looks like Emma’s company agrees. I can’t tell if she’s given up on the plan altogether or if she’s trying him out for me, since she’s currently making out with one of those stamina-filled-twenty-somethings. Either way, I’m not super interested. Strike one.

I turn slightly on my stool and catch Sara looking offended at a distinguished-looking man in the corner who’s removed his cowboy hat. Her mouth is hanging open and he’s smirking while talking to her, way too far inside her personal space bubble. He’ll be lucky if she doesn’t do something drastic to remove him from it. She is a New Yorker. And, yep; she just tossed the rest of her Paloma in his face turning his smirk into a scowl. Strike two.

I angle my stool to get a better look at Ruby; I think that last shot did her in. I’m not certain, but from here, her eyes are looking a tad drowsy and there’s a slight wobble in her step. One of us should shove her in an Uber before she curls up on a pool table. The men surrounding her look to be my father’s age but a little more rough-around-the-edges. Not exactly what I’m looking for. Strike three. I’m out.

Not a total surprise, but I was hoping for better luck. I’m doomed if we can’t find a man more suitable than my mother’s picks.

Sara walks toward me, her empty glass in hand and a frown on her face. “You may have been right about the men in this town.”

I look down at her from my seat at the bar with my eyebrows raised. “What was that all about?”

“That douche just asked me… you know what? I’m not repeating it. It was racist and sexist and all kinds of ‘ist! I can’t even! Now I need another drink.”

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