Page 68 of Brewbies
“You only need to train what you intend to keep,” Myrtle pointed out. “I’m just talking about a foster.”
A breeze heavy with the scent of cotton candy lifted the silvery-blonde wings of Vee’s chin-length hair. “Need I remind you of what happened last time you requested to open our relationship?”
Darby glanced at Cady and Gemma, who looked just as dumbfounded. This was new information for them as well, apparently.
“Oh, please.” Myrtle snorted. “It’s not like I didn’t warn you about the rug burn, and anyway, if wehadn’tlet those folk singers stay with us for the summer,you might never have had the idea for the Lady Garden in the first place.”
Vee’s eyes narrowed. “Because I spent an entire month welded to the stove brewing tinctures for antibiotic-resistant UTIs.”
“How did you say that you know him?” Cady asked in an obvious bid to change the subject.
“He’s the son of that Irish mob guy who owned the restaurant next door to Darby’s coffee shop in Boston,” Gemma explained, obviously building from a previous conversation they’d had. “He used to run off the guys who came in just to jerk off under the table.”
“Since when does your gossip network extend to Boston?” Cady asked, elbowing Gemma in the ribs.
Was it Darby’s imagination, or had a ripple of concern shadowed the bookstore owner’s dreamy features?
“Since Darby moved to Townsend Harbor,” Gemma said, shooting Darby a quick wink.
“I stopped by Bazaar Girls the other day to grab the permits,” Darby explained, knowing that it was less about justifying her presence in Gemma’s shop, and more about reassuring Cady that she had no intentions of insinuating herself into their friendship. She was all too familiar with the delicate dynamics that cemented such bonds in place. Too versed in their inadvertent destruction.
“He ought to have a permit for those guns,” Myrtle said as Gabe powered himself to the top of the silks using his upper arm strength alone.
Knowing what was coming next, Darby shifted her gaze to watch their reactions.
Gabe suddenly let go of the fabric and plummeted toward the ground in a free-fall, eliciting a gasp from the various vendors and performers hurrying through their last-minute preparations. Five feet from the ground, the hidden knots around his powerful thighs engaged, abruptly halting his momentum as he struck a final pose.
The stunned silence erupted in a spatter of applause as Gabe caught Darby’s eye and grinned.
Still a show-off.
He gracefully dismounted, swinging his legs out from the silks with a flourish before sauntering toward them.
“Is he coming over here?” The edge of panic in Gemma’s voice caused a ripple of alarm in Darby’s bustier-compressed chest.
“It…looks like it,” Darby said, somewhat confused.
“She struggles in social interactions with very attractive people,” Cady explained patiently.
“Very attractive?” Gemma repeated, her eyes wide enough to show an intact ring of white sclera around the green irises. “Very attractive? The man is hot enough to melt Satan’s butt plug.”
“Gemma,” Cady tried again.
“We have visible V muscles. I repeat,visible motherfucking V muscles.”Gemma’s cheeks had paled while spots of red bloomed across her neck and chest. “You know I can’t make my face do the right things in the presence of visible V muscles. Oh God, I’m going to look at his crotch. I just know it.”
Darby stepped toward her, ready to provide support if needed, but Cady spoke up first.
“You’re not going to look at his crotch,” Cady said gently, laying a hand over Gemma’s forearm. “Remember the three Bs?”
“Breath. Brevity,” Gemma recited. A crease appeared in her forehead as she glanced toward the crowd, where Gabe was closing fast. “I can’t remember the third B.” Her fingers curled into the sleeves of Cady’s flannel shirt as panic iced over her gaze. “Cady, help me. I can’t remember the third B!”
“Be gone.”
“Yes!” Gemma nodded. “That’s it. I’ve got to go. I’m going. Here I go.” She stalked off toward the fortune-teller tent without another word, her cotton-candy-pink plaid skirt flouncing in her wake.
“What was that about?” Darby asked.
“The ADHD sometimes affects her impulse control,” Vee explained. “Her brain likes to feed her a detailed list of the worst possible things she could say at any given moment.”
