Page 91 of Wingwoman
“Okay,” he said. “Totally your call.”
As the girl landed, her skirt flew above her hips revealing a turquoise thong and her tanned buttcheeks.
Tanning bed tanned buttcheeks too. You could tell from the pale arched lines beneath the curve of her butt. You only got those lines from tanning beds. I should know, I lived in them in college.
Although it seemed like a hell of a waste of money to go to a tanning bed when you lived in sunny Texas. But what did I know?
“Does everyone in Texas wear turquoise?” I asked.
His smile widened. “Why? Are you starting to like it?”
I snorted. “Hardly. The color itself is fine, but kill me now the day I wear turquoise jewelry.”
Giggling, the girl barely noticed or cared that she had flashed an entire mob of cheering people. She hopped to her feet, straightening her clothes and curtseyed.
“Aw come on. There’s notthatmuch of it here.”
“Are you kidding?” I asked. I flicked the turquoise button on his shirt to make a point. “I’msurroundedby turquoise—from your shirt to the turquoise-stemmed glasses they served wine out of here at the bar to that girl’s skivvies.”
He pulled a face. “Skivvies? What are you, seventy years old?”
“I just said the first word that came to mind!” I argued.
“Look, not to get technical,” Josh pointed to my wine glass, “but the wine glass and the panties aren’t turquoise… they’re teal.”
“Like there’s a difference?”
“Difference? Are you joking?” His mouth gaped open. “Okay, if you’re going to talk out of your ass, then there’s no point in having this conversation.”
He was kidding. I could see the playful smile tugging at his mouth, but I could also tell there was a hint of truth to it too.
“Tell me! I promise I won’t poke fun.” I poked his ribs, and though I shouldn’t have been shocked at how rock hard his obliques were, I was.
“Fine. Turquoise is a stone. It’s opaque. And it usually has other shades of blue and green in the mix, sometimes copper and brown in there too. This,” he paused to tap the wine glass, “is teal glass. Similar color. But translucent. And not a stone.”
I narrowed my eyes at him. “I’m calling bullshit on your strict definition. Yes, turquoise is a semi-precious stone, but it’s also a color. You can compare the Adriatic sea to turquoise, because people associate the word with color more than the stone itself.”
“You could say that. You’d be wrong, of course, but you can say it.”
Yanking out my phone, I did a quick search on dictionary.com and held my findings up for him to see. “Webster’s Dictionarysays it right here: Turquoise: A bluish green color.”
Josh set his beer on the bar in front of us and methodically rolled his sleeves to the elbow. Or maybe more accurately, folded them up to his elbow. They had crisp, sharp lines in each even fold and he compared each arm to make sure they matched. “I’m afraid we’ll have to finish this later.”
Over the speakers, the announcer’s voice crackled and popped, “Thank you, Kayla for that, er, spirited ride!”
“Why?” I asked Josh, yelling to be heard over the announcer.
“Up next, we’ve got a regular here at theBang Boom Saloon—Mr. Josh Gabriel!”
“Because I’m up!”
Next thing I knew, he had his shirt off and was tossing it at me.
The crowded bar lost their ever-loving minds as a shirtless Josh Gabriel made his way toward the mechanical bull.
Girls were literally screaming, reaching out to run their hands along his muscled shoulders.
In a swift movement fitting of a superhero, Josh launched himself over the railing and into the ring in a single hop as the women continued throwing themselves at him, literally leaning over the railing, reaching for him and screaming his name.
