Page 7 of XOXO, Valentina

He grimaced. “Don’t get me started on the carpet in the upstairs bedroom.”

Lacey arched a brow. “It can’t be worse than the hideous tile in the kitchen.”

Thatcher rubbed his forehead. “It’s worse. Trust me.”

“Scoot over.” I bumped Thatcher with my hip. “You need a massage.”

Thatcher slid over, and I slid in beside him. I rubbed his tense shoulders, working my knuckles into the knots.

“You’re as hard as a brick,” I said.

“Between the renovations gone wild, running the book club, the store, and Outside the Box…” He trailed off, and his shoulder stiffened again. “I really don’t even have time to be here right now.”

“It’s one beer,” Lacey said. “You can make time for one beer.”

“Even I have time for a beer,” I said, cheerfully. “Shane won’t be home for another hour.” I’d been planning to take a long shower, but I’d sacrifice the luxury for a drink with my friends.

“Hey, there’s Mia,” Lacey said, waving her hand in the air.

Lacey’s sweater slipped down to reveal the colorful tattoos on her arm. I’d always wanted a tattoo, but I’d never been brave enough to ink myself permanently. If I got a tattoo, I wouldn’t get something bold, like Lacey’s bright designs. My ink would be private, my own little secret.

“Mia,” Lacey called. “Over here.”

“I bet Mia has time for a beer,” I said as she approached the booth.

Mia checked her phone and slid into the empty booth beside Lacey. “A martini would be better,” she said. “But I have to get back to work.”

“It’s after six,” I said.

“There’s fresh evidence against The Wolf,” she said.

Mia was assistant district attorney in Azalea County. A few months earlier, she’d lost a case against a rapist on a technicality. Known as “The Wolf of Wolf Pit,” the rapist had assaulted at least five women in the small town of Wolf Pit. Mia hadn’t given up on putting him behind bars.

The server approached, and we ordered a round of drinks.

“I should have ordered a martini after the day I had,” I said.

“What happened to you?” Thatcher asked.

I filled my friends in on my attempted firing, which had ended in a reprimand and a “wardrobe misfunction.”

“My entire butt was out,” I said, digging my fingers into Thatcher’s shoulders.

“Ouch.” He reached up and removed my hands. “Easy.”

“Please tell me you weren’t wearing mom panties,” Lacey said.

I cringed. My underwear drawer was stuffed full of mom panties.

“Gabi’s ass looks hot in mom panties,” Thatcher said, reaching for his beer.

“How would you know?” Mia arched a brow at him.

“I’m a man,” he said. “I can appreciate a fine ass on a woman even if she is just my friend.” He raised his glass to me. “Gabi has one fine ass.”

“Thanks. Right back at you.”

Everyone in Mossy Oak knew what Thatcher looked like under his clothes because he’d posed in his underwear for a calendar to benefit the Canine Rescue Center last year. He’d been Mr. June, but I bet many women had kept him hanging around long after summer was over.

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