Page 122 of Pucking Sweet

“I’ll send you some links. It’s fucking magical.” He pulls out his phone. Within moments, my own buzzes in my pocket. His eyes stay on his phone for a few more minutes while I return to watching the game.

“She’s not gonna do this with us, is she?”

I glance his way again. “What?”

“Poppy.” He lowers his phone and looks at me. “You told her to come to me. You told her to square things so we could take this to the next level, but she didn’t. Did I somehow ruin this?”

I sigh, setting my beer down. “Nov, it’s been less than twenty-four hours, and she’s busy. She works harder than the both of us combined. Besides, didn’t she have that bachelorette thing this weekend?”

Novy perks up. “Oh shit. Wasn’t that here in St. Augustine?” He slaps my chest. “Hey, we should go find her.”

I laugh, shaking my head.

“What, how hard could it be? Come on, bachelorette parties always draw attention. Wouldn’t you rather go dance with our girl than sit on these damn barstools watching the Bruins win again?”

I go still, pulse humming. “Novy.”

“Hey, if you think I’m gonna sit here and watch sheepdog herding videos with you, think again. I don’t cry in public—well, unless it’s the Winter Olympics.” He snaps his fingers. “Or there’s this one Cheerioscommercial—”

“Nov,” I growl, slapping his chest.

“Ow.” He rubs the spot. “What?”

Grabbing him by the shoulders, I spin him around on his stool to face the door just as the bar explodes with noise. All the guys cheer and wolf whistle as a swarm of pink flamingos enters in a flurry of feathered boas and glittery sashes.

Only they’re not flamingos. They’re a squealing, laughing, blinking penis hat-wearing bachelorette party. And right in the front, dressed like my wet dream, is a smoky-eyed, big-haired Poppy wearing a pink beaded bra top, gold sequin miniskirt, and gold platform stilettos with thin straps that wrap up her slender calves.

“Hooooly fuck.” Novy spins back around on his stool and cups my face with both hands, his own alight with excitement. “Say yes.”

I lean away, distracted by Poppy as she sweeps into the room, the fringe on her beaded top teasing her bare midriff.

“Hey.” Novy slaps my face. “Say yes, asshole.”

I grunt. “Yes to what?”

“Yes to sharing her. Say you’re in. All the way in. We’re fucking doing this.”

“I thought we were playing hard to get,” I challenge.

“No, wewereplaying hard to get because you’re a fucking Leo and you require a goddamn leash. Now it’s Scorpio time.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“It means it’s time to strike,” he says with a grin. “Now, are you in or out?”

Poppy turns away, flashing her bare back, and all my thinking power shifts straight down to my dick. “Yes,” I manage to say, setting my beer aside. “I’m all in.”

“Fuck yes.” He leaps off his stool. Grabbing my arm, he tugs me off mine too. “Let’s go get our girl.”

41

Idon’t know what Violet and her friends expected from St. Augustine’s nightlife, but it’s not the freaking Miami strip. We’ve already stumbled our way through the only two bars hosting karaoke tonight, making complete fools of ourselves singing Britney Spears and the Spice Girls. But I don’t think they’ll stop until we’ve sampled the delights of every bar in town.

I crinkle my nose as we step into a little Irish pub. It’s tucked away off the main street, and I can see why. The place smells like day-old fried fish and beer. There’s no music playing, no party lights, and no room to dance. A row of TVs behind the bar play five different sports, including golf.

At least the reception is warm. All the patrons hoot and holler. Some are laughing at us. And, I mean, fair. We look ridiculous. Violet forced me into this beaded bikini top, and I feel naked. I’ve spent half the night adjusting it, worried the girls are peeking out.

Behind me, Lemon trips on the rug, bumping into me and nearly losing her pink cowgirl hat topped with a large pink and purple blinking penis. “Oops! Sorry, Daisy,” she giggles.