I lifted the slushy to my mouth and took a sip of the sweet, cool drink.
Mikey said, “Sam’s plane lands tonight, so he’ll be at the party tomorrow.”
The blue drink went both down my throat and up my nose at the same time. I choked and sputtered and coughed. While everyone around me physically scrambled to help me not die, I mentally scrambled to come up with an excuse to bail on the party.
Sam Rigby was going to be there. The Sam whose dark stare penetrated my very soul. Or would have, if I’d ever actually made eye contact with him. The man scared the stuffing out of me.
He’d visited Tiller and Mikey once before. There’d been a snowstorm in early March, and I’d nearly buried myself in the drifts outside the shop when I’d finally finished work for the day. When I finally dug my Subaru out of the snow enough to attempt the drive home, I’d caught sight of a man on a ladder in front of the diner.
In a blizzard.
The stranger had worn well-worn jeans that hugged his… particular body parts, just so. And a beaten-up leather jacket that had seemed similarly molded to his form. A black watch cap, black gloves, and black leather boots had been the only other thing he wore in deference to the weather as he fixed the letters on the sign. Someone had swapped them with letters from Bearwood Realty next door until the diner’s sign had read Mucho Dinero instead of Mustache Diner.
I hadn’t known who he was at the time, but when I’d asked Bill about it the following day, he’d told me it was Sam Rigby, the contractor who’d come from Houston to help Mikey and Tiller with some repairs at their new place.
After that, my eyes were like little radar arrays, constantly pinging the area in search of the leather-clad stranger with the nice… body parts. When I’d seen him eating at the diner one morning with Mikey and Tiller, I’d darned near hyperventilated in my attempt to get out of there before being seen.
It hadn’t worked.
Mikey had tried to call me over to introduce me to their friend, but the scowly way the man had been peering at the diner menu had been enough to intimidate me right out the front door on fire-fueled feet.
No, thank you, sir. I’d had enough scary, biker-type guys around to last me a lifetime.
So there was no way in Hello Kitty I was going to a party where Sam Rigby was going to be.
“I have to wash my hair,” I explained.
Everyone around me stopped talking and craned their necks in an effort to look at me like I was an ancient alien.
“Um…” I panic-shopped my brain for a more reasonable excuse. “I have to also… watch paint dry. And after that… I’m…”
I spotted Barney giving a small child a long-suffering sigh at the bean bag booth.
“I’m planning on giving Mr. Balderson my virginity!”
Finally, a believable excuse. I beamed my success at all of my friends. Until I caught Barney’s oddly creepy wink from across the way and shuddered. Sometimes my mouth made promises my… particular body parts had no intention of keeping.
I sighed and turned back to Mikey. “Fine. I’ll be there. What can I bring?”
***