Page 47 of Love Is Ale You Need

I slam my phone screen side down on the bar top at Porter’s. Heat rushes to my cheeks. Glancing up, I see Dessa staring at me, a sly smirk covering her red lips. My shift technically ended, but I’m waiting for Chad to come in before I leave in case she needs help with anything. “Um. No. Trey’s just telling me about the new dining table he’s having custom made for me.” My phone buzzes again, but I ignore it.

“I wish dining tables turned me on like that.”

It’s not the table, but what he wants to do to me on top of it. I knit my eyebrows together, feigning innocence. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I bite the inside of my cheek, wrestling my smile.

“Oh, come on. Your cheeks are redder than an iron poker sitting in a fire. There’s more than just table talk happening.”

Lach creeps up behind me. “She has a point. You’re looking a little flush.”

I jump. Then backhand him in his chest. “Now you're on my case too?”

“Just calling it like I see it.” He takes a seat on the stool next to me. “How’s it going with Casanova?”

“Really? You want to talk about my… I don’t even know what it is.”

“Banging and hanging? Insignificant other? Flirtationship? Genital Masseuse? Porn pals?” Dessa supplies.

I glare at her.

“What?” She laughs. “I’m only offering suggestions.”

“Genital masseuse is my favorite. I need to find me one of those,” Lach says.

“What’s wrong with friends who occasionally hook up?” I shrug.

“Nope. It’s forever now referred to as a genital masseuse.” Lach wiggles his eyebrows.

I sigh. I’m not winning this friends with benefits conversation so I change it. “Where’s Chad? He’s ten minutes late.” I glance at the time on my phone while simultaneously checking if there’s a new message from Trey.

“He’s been so flaky lately. He’s constantly poking at Jake’s last nerve. A couple days ago, Jake had to stay late because Chad called in at the last minute,” Dessa says.

Lach rolls his eyes. “Someone’s just butt hurt because he got demoted. But it’s his own fault he sucks at his job.”

“That reminds me,” I turn to Lach, “there’s a small liquor delivery coming later. They forgot a couple of boxes so they’re dropping them off at the end of their route. I can trust you to take care of that for me?” I flash him wide, puppy dog eyes.

“For you, anything. Now if it was Dessa… I might need her to be my genital masseuse.”

Dessa busts out laughing. “You’re such a perv. Be your own genital masseuse.” She throws a bar towel at him. He grins and throws it right back.

“Sometimes you need someone else to do it. It's a different grip. A different pressure. A different stroke.”

I press my hands to my ears. “I don’t need the play by play about your masturbation techniques.”

A beam of light floods into Porter’s as the door opens. Dessa lifts her head while Lach and I twist in our seats. Chad strolls in. The hood of his black zippered hoodie is pulled over his bowed head and his hands are shoved in the pockets. He strides past without an ounce of acknowledgment. We turn to follow his movements until he disappears down the hallway.

Lach leans in so only we can hear. “Who wears a hoodie when it’s almost seventy degrees outside?”

“I’m sweating just looking at him.” Dessa fans herself with her hand.

“Well now that Chad’s here, I’m out. I’ll see you two tomorrow.” I rise to my feet. “Don’t forget the delivery.” I clasp Lach’s shoulder.

“Got it,” he responds.

I tuck my wallet under my arm, then I’m out the door. The bright sun instantly warms my face as I stroll through the parking lot. As I approach my SUV, my stomach quivers. Glancing down, my front driver’s side tire is sitting flat on the pavement. Shit. I unlock my SUV and toss my wallet on the seat. I round to the rear and lift the hatch. After digging around, I pull out the jack, and set it on the ground next to the flat. Then I heave the spare tire out and roll it toward the front of my SUV. The faint sound of my phone buzzing from inside my vehicle catches my attention. I pull open the door and dig it out of my wallet. A message from Trey flashes on the screen.

Trey

Hey, what are you doing? You left me hanging, so now I have to assume you’re lying in your bed touching yourself while you’re thinking of me.

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