Page 25 of Seven Year Itch
She jerks back and wraps her arms around herself. “I’m not going to lie down in all your... musk.”
“Scared you’ll catch something?”
“Yes!”
“Well then, you’ll just have to take my word for it. That bed is shit. I’d be better off sleeping on the beach all night.”
“Then, maybe you should!”
“Maybe I will! Because heaven forbid I sleep on the eighty feet of mattress you’re not even touching.”
“I am not sharing a bed with you.”
“Oh... I’m aware! Mymuskmight be catching!”
We both stare at each other with fury in our eyes, and I realize that brief moment of truce we had last night is gone before I even had a chance to get used to it. And I have the aching nose to prove it.
“Fuck this. I’m going for a run,” I growl as I dig into my suitcase and throw a pair of shorts on over my boxer briefs. I yank a cutoff T-shirt over my head and stuff my feet into some shoes. “Maybe if I run hard enough, I’ll be so exhausted, I won’t mind catching tetanus and dying from this bag of metal.”
“You are so dramatic.”
“Back at you, Karen.”
I slam the door and crack my neck before jogging down the steps past the loud-ass birds and toward the beach where I hope to find my sanity again after one of the worst nights of my life.
Chapter 10
Last Fling before the Ring
Dakota
“Let’s do another shot!” I cheer as I stand beside Cozy on top of a local bar in town.
“Hell yes!” Cozy throws her hands up and turns around to signal to the bartender we need another round. “None for you, though.”
“But I’m legal!” Everly argues from her barstool beside Trista and Addison.
“It took some major convincing for your dad to even let you come out with us tonight, and that’s only because we have our own security detail.” Cozy points to Carlos who is serving as our driver for the evening. “If I bring you back drunk, there will be hell to pay.”
Everly pouts, but Trista puts her arm around her encouragingly. “I’ll sit this one out with you. I am not that big of a drinker.” She sticks her lip out as she touches her boobs. “Plus, if I drink much more I’m going to have to pump and dump.”
“But it’s your bachelorette party!” Cozy drops down on her knees to give her full attention to her almost sister-in-law. “You only get to do this once.”
“Theoretically,” I add, dropping down beside Cozy as the bartender pours four shots in front of Trista.
“You know what I mean.” Cozy waves me off. “We’ll dance the booze off before we head back to the villa, okay?”
“I’m all for more dancing!” Everly cheers excitedly.
Trista smiles as she sniffs her shot and wrinkles her nose. “I really hope I don’t throw up tonight.”
“No one is throwing up.” I slide awkwardly off the bar, very aware that I’m not the party girl I used to be.
Back when I met Randal—he was a bartender at Pearl Street Pub, a quaint little dive bar in downtown Boulder—I dove headfirst into the bartender’s girlfriend role. Staying out late, waiting for him to finish his shift. Going out with other service industry people until all hours of the morning. It was a work hard, play hard mindset back then, and I had the high alcohol tolerance to prove it.
I am not that woman anymore.
In my mid-thirties now, I find myself annoyed if I’m not in bed with a book by nine o’clock. But tonight, I’m single and on vacation. This is the time to cut loose, and I need these ladies to get with the program!
