Page 45 of Fiona and the Fixer

“Holy shit.”

“You’re reading chapter three.”

“Why that chapter specifically?”

“Sex. And they start right in with anal. I know, because I read it already.”

“A–” I sputtered.

What the fuck happened to my life? I was talking with a seventy-something woman about anal sex. Oh, and the way she was starting to push me toward the back of the store where there was an empty wingback chair. About thirty women sat in rows of folded chairs–plus on the floor and leaning against the walls–as if they were waiting for a visit from Santa.

“There’s no sword crossing or anything,” Dottie assured me.

While it seemed important to the topic, I had no idea what that meant.

I turned and faced her. Narrowed my eyes. “If I’m going to do this, I want a home cooked dinner.”

She arched a brow. Considered. “Spinach stuffed shells.”

I grimaced and shook my head. “Spinach? Not a chance. I need meat.”

There was a soft repeated murmur ofchapter three, chapter three, chapter threecoming from the crowd. Were women always like this when they got together? No drinks were even involved.

“So do these women,” Dottie added.

My mouth dropped open. Holy shit. Did Jack know about this adult storytime? Was he tapping into the security cameras from Hawaii and laughing right now? Shit, I hoped he hadn’t been watching any of the feeds live.

“What about Fiona?” she asked when I couldn’t get any words out. “She doesn’t eat meat.”

Yes, she does.

“How do you know I’m having dinner with her?”

She gave me the look of a woman who didn’t have time for stupid questions.

“Fine. I’m having dinner with her.” Not that Fiona knew that. She’d ducked out on me twice, so it was possible she took my words early this morning to heart and was on her way to a tropical destination for those mai tais.

I wasn’t ducking on her. Hell, no. I wasn’t going to think too hard at the moment as to why I was hooked on her and her sassy mouth and sexy body, but all I knew was that I was doing crazy things for her–like volunteering to scope out a pickle store–and wasn’t interested in any of the man-crazed women in front of me. I could have my pick. Or two.

“But she’s not reading a polyamorous sex scene to aroomful of slightly feral women, so she gets what she gets,” I added.

She considered, then nodded. “I’ll make her a salad. For you, spaghetti and meat sauce. Hamburgerandsausage. Speaking of sausage–”

I held up my hand close to her face, just as Fiona had for me early this morning, although this was a little less rude. “I don’t want to hear anything you have to say about sausage.”

She shook her head and gave me a sly–no, sinister–smile. “All I was going to say is that it’s spicy.”

I rolled my eyes. What the hell happened to my quiet cat sitting?

“Just how all these ladies like it,” she added.

Now I groaned, then bargained. “Dinner for chapter three.”

She nodded. “Deal.”

I took a deep breath and worked my way to the comfortable chair. I liked women looking at me. It sure built up a man’s ego seeing the pleased or interested gleam in a woman’s eye. Compared to Jack, I was the charmer, the easy going one who could get into a woman’s panties with a smile and a wink. But this? Holy hell, the women of Coal Springs were in heat or something. I didn’t need thirty pairs of panties tossed on me for reading chapter three aloud.

I also didn’t want a revolt, so I smiled, settled in, and thought of spaghetti and Fiona and my sausage. “Ladies, welcome to, ah, storytime.”

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