Page 1 of Love Bank
Prologue
Lucille
Ah, weddings. Supposed to be such a happy union where two people come together and promise in front of family and friends to love each other forever, forsaking all others.
I thought it was a load of baloney, if you asked me. Which no one ever did. You see, I was a pariah of sorts. In this modern day and age, I was an old maid, but it was hardly PC to call me that, so most people just didn’t call me at all. Or text. Thirty-six was hardly old, but I knew it had more to do with the way I carried myself. I wasn’t what you’d call “fashionable” or “young at heart” or “fun.”
I was also still a virgin.
Boom. There. I said it. Can we move on now?
I was invited to weddings constantly by my older sister, Lavender, probably because her husband, John, would never go with her. Fan emergency down at the factory, every stinking time. I thought that was a load of baloney too, but hey, it wasn’t my marriage to endure for the rest of time. I think she secretly hoped to auction me off to any single men in attendance while they were soft around the edges due to the romantic nature of weddings.
So there I was, witnessing Lavender’s friend Gabby marrying some hot ginger of a man named Rhett, who looked like a grown-up frat boy with a constant twinkle in his eye. Those two were cute as a button up there at the altar with two ring bearers and a flower girl flanking them. I may have had something in my eye when Rhett nearly broke down at the sight of Gabby at the end of the aisle walking toward him at a surprising clip. She was a stunner herself with that jet-black hair, white dress, and deep-red rose bouquet. And good Lord, did she have a booty to rival that one family on television the teenagers obsessed over.
The vows had us all in stitches. The tears were flowing unashamedly. The kiss at the end was what romance movies were made of. The recessional was set to a peppy New Kids on the Block song. I mean, it really was convincing. I may have even briefly questioned my belief on the whole “marriage and a baby carriage” thing.
I wasn’t bitter, per se. I was realistic.
In my line of work, you saw a lot of pieces of work. Skepticism became a healthy mechanism for survival.
“Lucille! Come meet my friend Gabby.” Lavender tugged me forward and thrust me in front of the bride. She had on a radiant smile and flushed cheeks, every bit the blushing bride.
“Gabby, this is my little sister, Lucille.” Lavender did the introductions and I reached out to shake Gabby’s hand.
“Congratulations on your marriage. Thank you so much for having me today.” I nodded regally. It wasn’t her fault I’d been strong-armed into coming by a strong-willed sister.
“I’m so happy to meet you, Lucille. How come I haven’t met you before?”
I waved my hand through the air breezily. “Oh, I work up in Northern California, so I don’t get down here that often.”
“Oh? What do you do?” Gabby leaned in.
The blush hit my own cheeks. This was always such an intricate conversation. Be truthful and shock everyone? Or lie and be boring like they expected of me? I was sure you could guess which direction I normally chose.
Just then something brushed against my hip, not an area that saw much action, so naturally I was startled. Looking down, I found a farm animal staring up at me with remarkably human eyes. I wasn’t fanciful by any means, but if I were, I’d say he was daring me.
Listen, I back down from a lot of things, but never a goat challenge.
I looked back up at Gabby—who didn’t seem surprised at all by the interruption of a goat at a wedding reception. In fact, she petted his horned little head—and I felt a frisson of something breathtaking and toe-curling travel up my body.
“I run a spank bank.”
Boom. There it was, out in the open, floating along the sound waves for anyone to pick up on. I could hardly believe I’d uttered the words.
Gabby hiccupped loudly and then burst into giggles. Lavender looked at me askance, probably thinking I needed a hug to soothe myself out of my crazy mood. Billy the Goat gave me a respectful head nod as if to say “well done, young lass.”
“A-a what?” Gabby was gasping for air, tears threatening to do more damage to her makeup than all the crying during the ceremony.
I felt a little dizzy, maybe even a little high on honesty. Weed was legal here, but telling the truth was all I seemed to need for a good time.
“Well, I’m a nurse, you see, and I run a sperm bank in Hell.”
Gabby bent over with a renewed peal of laughter, hand to her stomach, nothing but a wheeze drifting up. Rhett walked up to her and introduced himself while Gabby got herself together. I surely didn’t mind shaking that man’s hand. I wondered if he had freckles anywhere else besides his cheekbones.
Is it hot out here?
“Babe. Lucille runs a spank bank in Hell.” Gabby grabbed Rhett’s arm and got him up to speed between fits of laughter.
