I jerk my attention back to my friend. “That I thought you were a lesbian and Mom replied that maybe you were bi.”
This sets Dani off. She folds in half, laughing so hard that the sangria spills all over the rim.
I lift the glass out of her hand so I don’t get showered with the drink, and set it on my other side. It takes a while for Dani to get her shit together, so I finish my drink and then down the rest of hers.
“Tuck, I’m sorry,” she gasps, wiping a wine-drenched hand across her face. “The idea of Mama Tucker hoping that I’m bisexual so we can pair up is just too funny.”
“Good thing I’m confident about my appeal,” I say dryly. “Or all this cackling might’ve made my balls shrivel.”
Dani sobers up immediately. “Oh hell, did I offend you? Do you…have feelings for me?”
“Nope, and I’m not saying you aren’t a babe, because you are, but I’ve known you swing a certain way since we were in junior high.”
“Yeah, I’ve always known.” She bites her lip. “Was your mom upset?”
“She didn’t think less of you, if that’s what you’re asking. She’s just disappointed.”
Dani gives me a pensive nod. “Patterson is so small-minded, you know? I’m okay for a visit, but I could never live here.” She punctuates her declaration with a shiver of distaste. “I’m surprised you’re coming back.”
“Why’s that?”
“Tuck, you play hockey.” She says the last word like it has extra meaning, but I’m dumb, so I have to ask for an explanation.
“There’s a hockey team in Dallas,” I remind her. “It’s not that unusual.”
“It is too. This is a football state, but no, you, a Texas boy, love the ice and cold. I’m surprised you aren’t staying up in Boston.”
I kick out my legs and peer up at the darkening sky. Patterson’s one of those relic towns—once it was self-sustaining, but nearly all of the small businesses were squeezed out by regional stores that offered cheaper prices and more choices. Most folks who live here either farm or work at the tractor plant two towns over. Living in Boston is something I’ve thought about, but every time I’ve brought it up to my mother in the last four years, she’s rejected the idea.
“Mom loves it here. This is my daddy’s house that he bought when they were married.” I pat the steps. “She doesn’t want to leave it.”
“So there’s no one you met at Briar? You spent four years there and are just coming home to settle in and be Patterson’s number-one realtor?” She holds up her index finger and deepens her voice.
Gotta admit, that doesn’t sound good. “You know about those plans too?”
“Yeah, that was part of the sales pitch. Along with your huge bank account, you’d be able to keep me in luxury for the rest of our lives by selling houses in this place. The good news for your mom is that every single girl in Patterson would give their left tit to be John Tucker’s woman.”
There’s only one girl I want to slap that label on, and I’m not entirely certain she wants it.
“I’ve got a girl back in Briar,” I confess. Talking about Sabrina makes her feel a little closer. Man, I’ve gotten sappy. I guess I don’t care that I am, because I pull out my phone. “Wanna see?”
Dani nods eagerly.
I thumb to a picture I took of Sabrina at a pub where we grabbed dinner the last time I drove up to see her. Her dark hair is loose and cascading down her shoulders, and her eyes are gleaming impishly because she’d just smacked my ass as we were leaving.
“Jesus, she’s hot!” Dani grabs my phone to pinch and zoom, first on Sabrina’s face and then the rest of her body. “Are you sure she’s not bi? Because it’s a crime that she has to suffer through life with a man.”
“Hey, I’m good with my tongue.”
Dani gives me a somewhat contemptuous look. “No man is ever as good at oral as a lesbian. It’s a scientific truth.”
“Yeah? Then spill your secrets, Solis. If not for me, then for poor Sabrina.”
Dani’s lips curve into a sexy smile. “You know what? I will.”
And then she proceeds to give me a very graphic lesson in what makes good oral.
17
Sabrina
Ran into old HS friend. She’s an L. Told me no man can ever deliver what a woman can. Got her drunk on sangria and forced her 2 reveal her secrets. Prepare urself. I’m going to wreck u.
Tucker’s text pops up during my break at the club. As I slip off my six-inch heels, I type in a reply:
Promises. Promises.
When there’s no immediate response, I put my phone away and try not to be disappointed. I guess he’s busy with his mom and his old friends.