Page 29 of Somebody To Love

What felt like a lifetime most likely lasted only a few seconds. Her eyes were still closed as the sound of her front door opening and closing reached her ears. When she opened them, she was alone, but the scent of him still lingered. Woodsy, sharp, and all man. Her lips were weighted, heavy from his kiss and burning with the desire for more.

“Bye, BJ,” she spoke to the empty air and to her confused brain, because she knew no matter what he made her feel, she’d never be able to keep a man like BJ. He was her friend and that’s all they could ever be.

No matter how much she secretly wished otherwise.

CHAPTER 13

The next morning, BJ opened the door to Jacks. Immediately, his eardrums were assaulted with gales of female laughter. The tasting room wasn’t open on Mondays, but work still needed to be done, liquor to distill, machines to check, orders to fill. While they didn’t serve any customers, they had a standing poker game every Monday at noon. His mother and her book club—a very loose title since from what he had determined all the women ever did was enjoy desserts, booze, and gossip about the goings on in Kismet—enjoyed their weekly card game in the closed down bar area. He’d never once heard them discuss an actual book.

They used to meet in the basement of the library, but for a crew of senior citizens, the ladies sure were a lively bunch. Their outlandish behavior and inability to stay quiet had gotten them kicked out. Like any dutiful sons, Ace and BJ offered Jacks as a replacement. The women had been meeting there ever since.

“Ladies,” he said, smiling as six sets of eyes, three covered with enormous glasses, glance up from their cards. The laughter died down, but their smiles grew bigger.

“Bravo, come here, my sweet boy.”

Always happy to put a smile on his mother’s face, he willingly stepped to his mother’s side. He bent down to place a kiss on her cheek, peeking at her cards as he did. Pair of twos. Rough hand.

“Bravo, I swear you get more handsome every time I see you.” Patty Jenkins, wife of the former mayor of Kismet, winked at him.

“Yes, you sure grew them good, Dorothy.” Liddy Noel nudged his mother.

“And sweet too,” Clara Jones, his sixth-grade teacher, pushed thick, black-framed glasses up her nose. “You were the best sharer in class. And I remember how you stopped Bobby Frinks from picking on Wendell Johnston.”

Bobby was a punk ass kid who grew up into a punk ass adult. BJ had never liked the guy. It had been a happy day in Kismet when he left town. As for Wendell, the poor kid had to grow up with a name that practically begged people to pick on him. He’d simply been standing up for the kid like his father always taught him.

When you see something wrong, don’t sit there. Do something about it.

Wise words from a man gone too soon. BJ tried his best to live up to them.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Dorothy has a magic uterus that produced Greek gods with the virtues of saints. Can we get on with the damn game? I have a killer hand and I need a new set of dentures.”

He hid a chuckle as Apple’s sour attitude dulled the mood. Everyone glared at the older woman, but no one said anything. Antagonizing Apple only made it worse.

“Don’t count those chips yet, Apple,” his mother said with a sly grin. “Your hand may kill, but mine obliterates.”

Dorothy Jackson may look like a sweet woman, but she had a wicked talent for cards and could bluff with the best of them.

“Put your money where your mouth is, Dorothy Do-Right.”

“My pleasure, Crab Apple.”

He watched as the table anted up, raising and calling until only his mother and Apple were left.

“All in,” his mother said, pushing her pile of chips into the pot in the middle of the table.

“You’ve got nothing.”

One dark eyebrow rose. “Care to risk it?”

Apple narrowed her gaze, shifting from his mother to him. “Bravo, you saw her cards. She holding a Royal Flush, or does her hand need to be flushed?”

Oh, hell no. No way was he getting roped into this. Pasting on his most charming smile, he waggled a finger in the air. “Now, Apple. You know I can’t tell you anything. That would be cheating.”

“Yes, and Bravo has never cheated a day in his life.” Mrs. Jones nodded.

Apple snorted. “You taught him in sixth grade, Clara. I hardly think you know the boy’s entire school career.”

“Teachers talk, we know all.”

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