Through it all, two things had given her hope, making her think she’d lost a battle rather than the actual war. He still hadn’t changed the locks on the door, and he hadn’t painted over the artwork decorating his walls.
But her hope was dwindling fast. He’d left last night and he hadn’t come home. Had he gone on a date?
This morning, she’d finally broken down and called Brook Lynn, seeking more advice, which was how she’d ended up at Two Farms for lunch with the entire girl gang.
“He’s been a beast,” Brook Lynn said as she buttered a roll. “Gripes about everything, yells at everyone.”
Jessie Kay nodded. “You’d think you told him your hoo-ha is actually a Venus flytrap and his penis will be severed if he has sex with you.”
“Do you have to say that word while we’re eating?” Daphne asked.
“Which one? Penis?” Jessie Kay bellowed. Some patrons gasped. Some glared at her. Others shook their heads, all bless her heart. “The word penis is not the equivalent of maggots, you know. Though it probably should be.”
“And now I’ve lost my appetite,” Daphne said, pushing her bowl of chicken potpie away.
Kenna threw a piece of fried cheese at Jessie Kay. “Have some class and call it a baby maker or something.”
Everyone at the table went still.
“Are you trying to tell us you’re pregnant?” Brook Lynn demanded.
“No!” Kenna burst out. “What? We’re waiting until we’ve had a few years together. You can call it the trouser snake, for all I care.”
Trouser snake? Really? “What about man meat? Or even the middle leg?” Harlow suggested.
Jessie Kay nodded thoughtfully. “Or we could go with something simple like the peen. If we wanted to get technical, we’d have to go with the meatsicle. Or the anaconda, but that’s on a case-by-case basis.”
Daphne tried for a stern expression, only to ruin it with a snort. “I am not playing this game. But if I were, I’d suggest we call it the weenie wonka.”
How had they ended up on this subject? “Ladies.” Harlow clapped her hands to gain their attention. “Can we please return to bad-mouthing Beck?”
“The guy who’s been serving out Mr. Happy Meals to satisfied customers for years? Yes. Please continue.” Jessie Kay gave a regal wave of her hand.
And I actually asked her for help? “Why would he ignore me since learning of my...you know...untouched state?”
“He hasn’t talked about it,” Brook Lynn said, an apology in her voice. “To be honest, I had no idea what was going on until you called.”
Great! “Why did you agree to help him find me a new man, anyway?”
“I didn’t agree—I suggested it.”
“What? Why?”
“To tick him off and make him admit he wants you all to himself.” Brook Lynn grinned. “He pulled me aside the other day and told me not to set you up with anyone. He would be handling all the details.”
“Well, he’s not handling them. Where’d he go last night?”
The blonde winced.
Don’t say date. Don’t say date.
“To the city...for a double date with Dorian.” Brook Lynn patted her hand. “I’m sorry. I only know because Beck called Jase late last night and said he wouldn’t be coming home.”
Her shoulders drooped, what remained of her hope dying a quick and brutal death.
A bell tinkled over the door, and she glanced over to see Scott Cameron coming into the restaurant. He gazed around, as if he were looking for someone specific, only to stop on her and smile coldly.
So not in the mood. Besides, did he never work?
Scott removed his baseball cap and approached their table. For the first time in years, she got a good, long look at him up close and personal and noticed he wasn’t the athlete he used to be. He had a slight beer gut and a— What was that called? Muffin top? Without the hat, there was no hiding his receding hairline.
“Um, hi, Scott,” Brook Lynn said. “Is there something we can help you with?”
“You can tell me why you’re hanging out with the wicked witch of the Southwest.”
Jessie Kay bristled. “You’re right. She’s a witch. But she’s our witch, so you better back the hell off before I decide to get creative with my butter knife.”
Harlow gaped at the girl. She’s...defending me?
“Besides,” Kenna said, nose in the air. “Our girl is taken. Your juvenile efforts to gain her attention won’t work.”
“Taken? By that Beck guy? Please. Everyone knows he’ll stick it to anything breathing. Isn’t that right, Jessie Kay?” Scott laughed as both Jessie Kay and Harlow hissed at him. “Besides, you ladies gotta stop expecting a man to sweep you off your feet. You’re the ones who are supposed to handle the broom.”
Oh, no, he didn’t. “How about I shove a broom right up your—” A hand slapped over Harlow’s mouth.
“Family establishment,” Brook Lynn whispered at her, only then removing her hand.
Scott opened his mouth to say more, thought better of it and stalked off, snagging a table at the other side of the room. Their waitress raced over to pat his arm while casting Harlow a hate-filled scowl. Okay. It was safe to say her next order would contain spit, at the very least.
“Thank you,” Harlow said to Jessie Kay.
“Well, you are a witch. I meant that with every fiber of my being.”