Page 77 of Sheltered By Love

Chapter Thirteen

Zane

I’m in hell.

I’ve been here for an hour, one of a hundred men either dumb enough or desperate enough to think this is a good way to meet someone.

I’m sweating in my tux, and even the tick of my MIL-W-3818 watch makes me feel like I’m going closer to the hangman’s noose.

The only saving grace is the documentary crew has been held up in Carey’s Creek.

Contact with Garrett has been patchy, hampered by not being able to move without either having my ass squeezed, or someone squealing in my ear.

I stink of perfume, I’m sick of being groped, and the music is so loud, that none of the women who’ve molested me can hear when I tell them I’m not interested.

Felicity’s tending bar is still busy, and looking like she’s handling the pressure well.

Things are calm enough. But that’s always the way of things. Before a storm hits, before the shooting starts.

Soon enough everyone will realize they’ve reached their four-drink limit, and they won’t be happy to listen to Jax’s mix of old rock n’ roll.

They’ll want blood.

Levi’s in his element, leaning on the bar, simultaneously flirting with six women all wearing too much makeup, and tight dresses, all laughing too loud and trying too hard.

I check my watch again and hope my glare will put some of the friskier women off as I make my way toward the bar.

Jax is practically fighting off women, three of who are currently trying to get him to bench press them.

His smile is tight and panic in his eyes as he shakes his head. “You checked in with Garrett?” I yell at him.

He nods his head. “Nothing to report. Sorry, Zane. Looks like you can’t get out of it.”

I curse loudly just as two women crash into me, I suspect on purpose. One grabs my ass, and the other grabs my bicep and rubs it. “We want to have a threesome with someone who lives in the Bay,” she purrs into my ear.

I shake off her arm and don’t bother to lower my voice as I glower at her. “Then go find a Hagfish,” I say as I slink away.

Felicity

“You’re like, single and you live here? That’s crazy. Are you like, a lesbian or a nun or something?” a bottle blonde with a wine breath shouts at me.

It’s the third time I’ve answered the question in an hour, so I just smile, shake my head and hand her what will be her final drink for the evening.

As soon as it’s in her hand, she’s swallowed up by the crowd and I spend the next ten minutes refilling glasses.

My feet and back are aching, and I’m sweating and thirsty, but I have to admit, despite the noise, and the obnoxious women, it feels good to be a part of something.

Viola is going to be so proud of me. This is exactly the sort of community event she’s been trying to get me to participate in.

I use the lull to take a sip of my bottled water and survey the crowd. It’s still packed but a rough head count tells me a significant number of the men who arrived, dressed in their best, looking equally anxious and eager, have left.

I’ve lost count of how many women Levi has danced with. I’ve been so busy serving wine, I haven’t even seen Zane.

He must be here, he grumbled enough about having to be but he’s certainly keeping a low profile.

From behind the bar, someone nudges my shoulder causing me to look to the left.

Thelma switched with Jaxson a few minutes ago, and I was so busy I didn’t get a chance to ask why.

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