Page 31 of South of The Skyway

BREXLEY

“I’m not going.” It was a bit of a relief when the hot iron didn’t break with the force I put into slamming it onto the counter. Royal quirked her head, big doe eyes staring up at me, perplexed by the sloppy flopping pancake that was my emotional state. “Don’t look at me like that. He lives an hour away—two,once the snowbirds invade. And he’s so damn presumptuous.” The furry freeloader harrumphed, turning and leaving the bathroom, likely in pursuit of more dignified company.Great. Not even an actual golden retriever could tolerate my miserable lamenting.

“I’m not going,” I muttered again as the sound of water lapping told me there was an incremental chance that my canine companion had simply been dehydrated, not abandoning me in my time of need. With a huff, I raised the curling wand. The playlist swapped to “Here Comes the Sun” by The Beatles, and I glared at the Bluetooth speaker.

“Hilarious,” I hissed, looking around for my phone. I’d put on a more fitting sound—Cigarettes After Sex or Billie Eilish—and keep curling my hair for the not-date with the Alaskan fisherman turned entrepreneur-homestead-hottie that lived South of the most terrifying bridge in history. Seriously. When the wind blew, it would just shove my car around up there. That little concrete barrier did jack shit to convince me I wasn’t moments from plunging to my death every time I’d been forced to cross it. It was definitelynotso I could check to see if Rhyett had texted me. Since it didn’t really matter, because I wasn’t even going.

I loosened the now-steaming curl.

When the cosmetics bag relocation successfully revealed its whereabouts, I snatched the damn thing off the counter, sighing at the line of unopened messages from Noel. I wasn't dealing with her yet. She knew what she did.Punk.

I did not need any help securing dates or deciding to extend them to men who’d yet to earn them. Thank you very much. Releasing the next strand, my fingers worked on autopilot to snag another.

Rhyett hadn’t sent any updates, but I opened the thread just in case, staring at the address for at least the dozenth time. Brasilia Bites, near the bay. The name brought to mind a flaming logo and a long waiting line.Of course.Of course, Rhyett would have a hookup to get into the swanky little hipster spots in town.

There was something about Rhyett Rhodes that screamedcharmed my way through lifelike a neon sign. That cheeky smile, bright blue eyes and blonde hair. The man was a freaking walking Henley commercial. And what the hell was it with gorgeous men and freaking Henley-clad muscles? Some fucked up bro-code conspiracy to liquify the female population in one swoop.

The jingle of Royal’s collar hit me as I swapped for another curl, hissing as the steam bit at my fingers. She sat expectantly at my feet, looking up at me like a crazy person. Iwasa crazy person. What was I doing, scalding my fingerprints off in the name of a not-date that I wasn’t going on?

Brexley

I hate you

Noel

No, you don’t.

You love me and you know it.

Now go have fun.

Brexley

You go have fun.

Noel

I plan to. Now move your ass, or you’ll be late.

Brexley

I’m not going

Noel

Sure you’re not. Takes fifteen minutes with traffic.

My middle fingeremoji earned her favorite laughing GIF, but I slid my cell into its appointed pouch in my bag, scowling as though it had offended me. Royal nudged my leg.

“Fine,” I said on a long-suffering sigh. “But only because he offered tequila. And grilled pineapple.”

* * *

Brasilia was,unsurprisingly, packed—the line of people out the door was a testament to both marketing and reputation. I was a sucker for a good business plan. There was something perpetually addictive about it once you’d taken up the mantle yourself. Every expedition became a matter of studying what was working well and what wasn’t. I even developed a habit of taking notes as I was out and about, jotting down the things that stood out to me as customer experience wins.

The hostess had one of those bodies women paid five figures and a long series of painful needle pricks to achieve, and I tried to decide whether I could in good conscience hate her or not. Although when she turned that bright smile my way, immediately motioning for the entrance when I gave her Rhyett’s name, my mouth filled with saliva at the aroma that greeted me. I decided then that she was best kept an ally, if not a friend. Her name tag read Priscilla, and she led me back to the swanky corner of the place.

It was impossible to miss him, looking dapper in a white button-down in the back of the restaurant, his blonde hair windswept in that laid-back chic thing he had going. My blood heated. My heart pounded a little faster, just a bit harder, demanding I perk up and pay attention.

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