Racer leans forward. “Uh, am I missing something?”
Playfully staring me down, leaning back in his chair, giving off a casual vibe, Tucker asks, “You want to tell them? Or should I?”
“I will because you’ll just ruin it.”
He gestures to me, giving me the floor. “By all means, introduce the game.”
“Don’t mind if I do.” I sit tall and clear my throat. “The game is called Beauty Parlor.” All three men groan but I tamp them down. “There is one dealer, or beautician if you will, the rest of the players are the clients. We divvy out the cards equally and on the count of three, we flip our cards over. Whoever has a card that is lesser value than the beautician, they have to put on some makeup—”
“No way,” Logan says.
“Fuck, no.” Smalls sits back in his chair as Tucker gives me a knowing smirk as he takes a sip from his bottle.
“I’ll play,” Racer chimes in, causing all the men to turn their heads in his direction. “What?” He shrugs. “I’m man enough to put on a little rouge and be okay with it.”
“Jesus.” Tucker stands and says, “Fine, I’ll play but I’m grabbing another drink.” Without even asking, he snags my glass as well for a refill.
“Logan, Smalls, are you going to sit out still?” I ask. They both exchange glances and then let out long pent-up breaths. I’m taking that as a yes. Men. They’re so easy. “Yay, okay, we’ll draw cards, and whoever has the highest card is the beautician for this round. If you play a higher card than the beautician, you don’t have to put makeup on, but you do have to drink. If you flip over a lower card, the beautician tells you what makeup to put on. And this is quick, so no dawdling.”
“Do we get to look at our cards?” Racer asks, looking really interested in the game.
“No, it’s like war. We just flip over the top card in our pile. Now, in the past, we’ve played the person to your right gets to apply a swipe of makeup on you if you lose, but for your scrotum’s sake, we’ll keep the rules to applying your own makeup.” The men chuckle and agree with me on my rule change.
Tucker joins us again, handing me my drink as he passes by. “Explain everything to them?”
I nod. “I think they’re ready.” I hold the cards, fanned out. “Draw a card to see who’s the beautician. Eep, this is so exciting.”
Tucker picks his card and deadpans, “Yeah, real exciting.”
I ignore him and say flip. We all turn our cards over and look around. Immediately it’s obvious who the beautician is.
“Yay!” I clap my hands together as all four men groan. “Oh, and for the record, aces count as ones.”
Quickly, I shuffle the cards and then divvy them out equally. I don’t think I’ve been this excited in a while. Not only do I get to watch four grown men put on makeup while drinking, but I get to watch Tucker put on makeup, the ruggedly handsome man who is nothing but all male. I don’t know if this night can get any better.
***
“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” Tucker puts his drink on the table and huffs. Looking brilliantly beautiful in a full face of makeup, blue eyeshadow, foundation, and blush, he looks up at me and says, “What will it be this time?”
I try to hold in my giggle but it’s almost impossible with how “pretty” Tucker looks. You know how people always say makeup enhances your features? Not on Tucker. He is the ugliest lady I’ve ever seen. Gathering myself, I point to the blush. “I think you’re looking a little pale. You need more.”
“Can I get some of the bronzer this time?” Racer hogs the mirror and turns his face from side to side. “I think I need to enhance my cheekbones.”
“You definitely need some,” Logan agrees. “Make sure to get the apple of your cheek.”
“I know I drew a higher card, but I’m feeling a little naked without something on my lips. Maybe I can put on some of that peach gloss Tucker has on?”
“I think apple would look nicer with your complexion,” Logan says.
Racer nods. “I’m going to have to go with Logan on this one. The apple for sure.”
Tucker stands from his chair, causing it to clash to the ground. “And we’re done for the night. You have five minutes to leave this house before I start smashing you on the dick hole with an empty beer bottle.”
“My, my, my, no need to get testy just because you’re not as pretty as the rest of us.” Racer stands and finishes his drink. “Not everyone can pull off a blue eyeshadow, Tuck-man. But you gave it a go, you should be proud of yourself for that.”
Grinding his teeth together, he replies, “Get out . . . now.”
Glancing at Smalls, Racer says, “I think we should leave.”
“I’m right behind you,” Logan calls out as he takes off toward my bedroom for his backpack.
Giggling to myself, I start cleaning off the table, packing up all my makeup, making sure to keep the brushes out so I can clean them.
“Thanks for a great night, Emma. I would thank your roomy but he seems to have started pacing the dining room. He looks like a loose cannon.” Smalls eyes Tucker who does seem like he’s about to lose his shit in seconds.
“Anytime, boys.” I wink. “And Racer, you keep working hard on the eyeliner, you’ll get it.”
Jokingly he crosses his fingers and says, “One day.” Gosh, he’s cute and very charming. I bet he’s someone the girls easily fall for.
We say our goodbyes, and Logan gives me a hug and tells me he will see me tomorrow. Once I shut the door, Tucker walks up behind me and locks up, his breath tickling the hair on the back of my neck. There is no personal space with this man, not that I mind it all that much.
When I turn around and come face to face with him, a snort pops out of me. I cover my mouth and nose quickly, but it’s too late, the damage is done. He’s even angrier, which just makes me laugh more.
Between giggles, I say, “You’re just so pretty.”
Slowly, Tucker pins me up against the door, his face coming within inches of mine.
Errr . . .
For a few seconds, he doesn’t say anything; he just takes me in, his eyes wandering back and forth between mine, his breath steady, and his body like a wall of armor, holding me in place. “You know, if I wasn’t so damn happy to see you smiling, laughing, and having one hell of a time, I would be fucking pissed at you right now for turning that little gathering into a beauty session. But fuck, seeing you relaxed where you’re not putting the needs of everyone else above your own, it warms my cold soul.” He leans in and kisses me on the forehead. “I fucking like it, babe.”
Gulping, I hold my breath, unsure of what to say, and definitely how to react.
Before I can reply, he lifts off the door and grabs my hand. “Come on, show me how to get this shit off. We can clean up in the morning.”
We head toward the bathroom, my hand feeling miniature in his strong palm, and my stride having to make up for his larger one.