Page 26 of Ripple Effect
“How in the hell did you pull that off?” The awe in Sam’s voice makes the amount I spent on those tickets worth it.
“It wasn’t easy,” I admit. “Tickets for Small Town Nights are next to impossible, but with Brendan Blake opening for them? I had to cash in a few favors.”
“And sell your soul to the devil,” Sam snickers.
“I did that a long time ago, buddy. But if it puts the kind of smile I suspect is going to be on Libby’s face when we get to the arena, I’ll do it twice.” Instead of sliding into my normal dress slacks which I’d do before heading to pick up Libby, I tug on a pair of jeans with my dark dress shirt. Frowning, I growl at Sam, who looks like he’s contemplating knocking me out to steal the tickets, “Hand ’em over.”
“Iris is going to take my head off.” Unfortunately for him, he’s not wrong. What sucks for the rest of us is we’ll all hear about it from the time Libby tells her best friend to the moment Iris forgives her boyfriend.
Sometimes the lack of a no-fraternization policy at Alliance has sucked over the years.
“Sounds like a personal problem,” I tell him.
Sam doesn’t hesitate to throw his middle finger up at me. “You’re a dick,” he informs me.
My lips twitch. It’s still not a smile; the only one who can pull that from me is Libby, but since she’s come into my life, even I notice I joke more with the team of people I work with.
Kind of helps to be in the good graces of the people who literally stand between your life and death.
Quickly, I run a comb through my wet hair and pull my socks and boots out of my locker before slamming it shut. “Hey.” I get Sam’s attention away from my wallet which is sitting on the bench next to me.
“What’s up?”
“Can I get away with these boots at a country concert?” I lift my brown steel-toe boots. “You know I’m not going to be able to slip in any kind of weapon other than this.” I hold up the tiny Swiss Army knife that dangles from the end of my key chain as more of a joke than anything.
Sam gives me a thorough perusal before throwing my words back at me. “Sounds like a personal problem. Why don’t you think on it while I go try to find a florist to get some flowers for Iris to head off her eruption?” With that, he starts to saunter away, calling over his shoulder, “I hope Libby has a great time.”
“That’s the idea, you asshole!” I yell back. Contemplating my boots once more, I decide they’ll have to do. I have to get to Libby. Lord only knows how much time she’ll need to change when I tell her what our real plans for tonight are.
* * *
Hours later,I am positive I made a tactical error. I should have just brought Libby to the show without telling her where we were going. Then maybe I could have enjoyed it without having to glare pair after pair of admiring eyes into submission over the way my woman sways to the music.
I sure as shit appreciated the way Libby’s whole body thanked me, her long legs wrapped around my waist as she peppered my face with kisses. Even as her lips pressed against mine, they were smiling. Her cheeks were flushed with the kind of happiness I want to give her every day. I boosted her up so I could continue to stare at her, absorbing even more of her essence when she clasped her hands on either side of her face and screeched, “I can’t go backstage looking like this. Goodness gracious, that would be so embarrassing!”
While I thought the jeans and T-shirt she had on were fine, what did I know? Libby squirmed in my arms, giving me a whole new set of ideas, before pleading, “Give me fifteen minutes. I know just what to wear.”
Figuring it’ll take her at least thirty, I meander into her kitchen to see if there’s anything quick to chow down on. Even though we’ll be grabbing something quick on our way to the North Charleston Coliseum & Performing Arts Center, I’d only managed to down a protein shake once I was done with my run. Frankly, I could have eaten half of the contents of her fridge, chow down on dinner, and still be hungry. Finding leftover fried chicken from dinner the other night, I yank out a leg and shove it in my mouth before closing the container and pulling my head out of Libby’s fridge.
The chicken falls to the floor unheeded as I catch sight of my girlfriend.
Holy shit.
I about come just from the sight of her in a halter-top sundress that hugs every inch of her luscious curves that she paired with a pair of boots on her delicate feet. I almost swallow my tongue as I notice since her long hair is pulled over to one shoulder, her entire back, down to the waist, is bare.
“Fuck me,” I whisper.
“If you’re lucky,” she teases. But I’m not kidding when I spin her around and press her body up against the entry to the kitchen. Backing her against the jamb, I drop my head down to her bare shoulder.
Libby lets out a sigh.
“Tonight’s going to suck,” I say tragically.
Her head jerks back in confusion. “What? Why?”
“Because I’m going to be too busy ready to kill every man there, and I won’t have anything to do it with,” I tell her truthfully.
Her sweet laugh smooths out the rough edges of my emotions. I trail my lips up her neck, then capture her lips in a quick kiss. “If we hurry, we can get a bite to eat before the show.”
