Page 76 of Brewbies
“A public masturbator?”
What the fuck?
“No!” An exasperated Myrtle snapped. “Pay attention!”
“We are, my dear,” Vee soothed patiently, “but no one seems to figure out why do you keep reaching your hands down your pants.”
“He’s a shirt tucker. I’m tucking in my shirt!” Myrtle scoffed. “I know who I’mnottaking to charades. This group.”
“Oh, yeah,” Gemma said. “I’ve never heard it put like that, but yes. Ethan is a consummate shirt-tucker. Makes absolute sense.”
It did? To whom? And why?
He looked down at his neatly tucked blue shirt and shiny belt. He had to tuck. It was protocol. Besides, it looked nice. What, was he supposed to walk around looking like he’d wrestled a bear like all these other windbreaker-wearing doofs with their open flannel shirts and pants that hung down to their—
Oh. Yep. He heard it now… The grandpa. Wow. When did that happen?
“Hey, guys!” Darby’s breath sounded sort of like it did when they’d finished fucking. Short and satisfied. “Whatcha laughing at?”
“Sheriff Shirt-tucker,” Myrtle crowed.
Oh sheeeit.That was going to catch on.
“I saw him across the street,” Darby said through her panting. “But lost him in the crowd when we practiced our routine.”
“Which was incredible, by the way!” Gemma gushed.
“Thank you!” Darby stopped to take a drink. “But this is nothing. Just wait until you see the program for tomorrow night. I pulled belly dancers from Oakland, sword swallowers from Albuquerque, drag queens from Tennessee, and an amazing contortionist act from here in Seattle.”
“I can’t believe they’d be willing to come all this way,” Cady said reverently.
“Hell, I think getting them to go home will be the hard part,” Darby said breathlessly. “You wouldn’t believe how many of them are already batshit crazy about this place. Can you believe they want to build a brand-new bohemian commune right here by Townsend Harbor?”
“How amazing would that be?” Gemma asked.
“Right?” Darby agreed. “Not like I don’t have the land for it.”
A violent twitch took up in Ethan’s left eye.
“Think they’ll still feel so warm about the place even after the protesters?” Cady chimed in.
An unfamiliar masculine snort intervened. “Folks like us are protested wherever we try to be. Or worse. That’s why we stick together… Look out for each other, right, Darbs?”
Darbs? FuckingDarbs? With his lazy tongue, the nickname came out sounding like “Dahbs.”
“Abso-fucking-lutely,” Darby agreed. “We run from no one.”
She was brave. Whatever else she was…courage was her superpower.
Brave. Resourceful. Intelligent. Hot AF. And could do the splits in the air?
Ethan bit down on his fist. Trouble. He’d known it from the beginning.
“What about the Boy Scout sheriff you told me about?” the guy asked with more gravel than someone in his twenties should be able to throw from their voice. “Seems like someone you don’t want to antagonize.”
“That walking dad joke? He’s harmless,” Myrtle replied.
Ethan’s brows slammed together. Not that he meant anyone harm.
