Page 41 of You're so Bad

“You know, when she said she had a Plus One, we figured she was bringing Rafe until Constance spilled the beans. You’ve met Rafe, of course. Who’d guess someone who looks like a meathead could paint, huh? But he’s not bad.”

I can feel Shauna getting pissed off next to me, so I grin at Bianca and say, “Well, no one could say that to you. You look exactly like the kind of woman who’d professionally make pompoms.”

She gives me a smile so coldly assessing my balls almost shrivel. We both know it wasn’t a compliment, but she says, “Thank you.”

A couple of people pass us, greeted by Champ, who’s watching us from the corners of his eyes, like he sees that club coming down.

“Like I said, Shauna here has told me all about you two,” I continue, “but you know what? She didn’t mention the ABC hashtag,” I wave in the direction of the sign. “Love it. People will be talking about it for months. Years. Who came up with thatbrilliantidea?”

Shauna makes a sound that could be laughter or choking. Too bad I’m not a real doctor. If she’s choking, she’s screwed.

“Colt and I came up with it together,” Bianca says, but I’m guessing she was the one who put it to paper. She probably doesn’t want to take credit without knowing whether we genuinely like it. How anyone could genuinely like such a stupid thing is beyond me. Then again, weddings in general are beyond me. And hashtags.

“And who’s this?” Bianca says tightly, nodding to the cat carrier.

“This is our little buddy, Bean,” I say. I can’t deny it—I enjoy the reflexive stare she gives Shauna, who smiles back at her.

“That’s Shauna’s nickname,” Bianca says sweetly.

“That’s what I said,” Champ adds to feel important. He sidles up to Bianca, ignoring the next couple of people who come through the door. They look around like lost dogs hoping someone will pull bacon out of their pocket. I follow their gaze to the long tables set up with crafting supplies and yarn. People are gathered around them, drinking beer and shooting the shit. Some of them already have strips of yarn laid out.

Once the new people accept no introduction is coming, they walk timidly toward one of the tables.

I’m guessing they belong to Champ.

I smile at the happy couple with my teeth showing. “It’s not Shauna’s nickname anymore. Seems more fitting for a cat, don’t you think? Sorry to bring the kitten along without asking first, but my girl here said you wouldn’t mind. Told me you were a real bleeding heart for animals.”

“Well, as long as you keep her in her crate,” Bianca says tightly. It’s obvious she isn’t thrilled about the situation, but we’ve already attracted attention from the other guests, and a couple of women from the back of the room are moving in on the zippered crate, wanting to say hello to my fuzzy friend.

That’s the other reason I brought the cat. Bean’s going to bring us good will.

That’s also why I kept Gidget when I found her sleeping in an alleyway, beaten and starved. I told myself she’d be good for getting some female attention, and she was. I didn’t think I’d love her like I did. If I’d known, I might have brought her to a shelter and left it at that.

Maybe both of us would have been better off if I had.

“How’d you two meet?” Champ asks, patting me on the back.

Shauna looks like she’s about to launch into her gym explanation, so I bust in with, “Funny story. She was choking at a restaurant, and I stepped in with the—” Fuck, what is that called? “—hug of life.” Good enough. “She told me she’d do anything for me for saving her life, and I said the only earthly thing I wanted was a date with her. We’ve been glued together ever since.”

Shauna grinds her heel into my foot, and I grin at the happy couple.

“Wow, that’s some story!” Champ says, and he seems to mean it, the rube.

“Yeah, it sure is,” Bianca says with more suspicion. “Well, feel free to grab a seat at one of the workstations. We’re about to get started.”

“Looks like forced labor,” Shauna says. “Do you have an order to fill?”

I have to laugh because she’s right. It certainly doesn’t look like much of a party.

“You’re too funny,” Bianca says flatly. “I’ve always loved your sense of humor. Remember that time you—”

“Is there beer?” I put in. “Because I’ll do anything if there’s beer.”

“Even karaoke?” Bianca asks in challenge.

“I’d do that stone cold sober, honey.”

“Good,” she says flatly. “Because that’s an organized activity for the campground tomorrow.”

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