Page 14 of Faux Beau

Both Kat and Milly looked expectantly at Gemma. “Fine. I’ll go, but if it says I have to run naked through the bar, it’s a hard no. No one wants to see my stretch marks.”

Neither Milly nor Kat said a word. Gemma never spoke of her pregnancy. Never. She’d once done the whole love, marriage, and baby carriage thing, but her little girl was born with a rare neurological defect and died heartbeats after delivery. Gemma was still under anesthesia due to the emergency cesarian and never even saw her baby. Even worse, the odds of her next child suffering the same fate was more likely than not, leaving a natural born nurturer without the hope of ever getting pregnant again.

Gemma took a deep breath, opened the envelope, and pulled out the letter. Her eyes went wide, and she shook her head. “I don’t think I can do this.” She dropped the card.

Kat picked it up and burst out laughing. “The game is, Sign Me Up. Have a cute man autograph a part of your body that is usually covered by clothes.”

Milly snorted.

“This isn’t funny. I’m wearing a dress and Slippery When Wet panties.”

“If you’re calling them panties, then you need to do more than have some sexy guy sign your butt,” Kat said. “Wait, it says to turn it over.” Kat did and silently handed it over to Gemma. “You need to read this one yourself.”

“Gemma,” she read aloud. “I dare you to dream big and follow your passion. To get you started on your way, I left you ten thousand dollars. Go big!” Gemma clutched her heart, her eyes swimming with tears. “Did you know about this?”

Milly nodded. “In her will she specified that you get the money on your next birthday. I was sworn to secrecy. So the question is, are you going to go big?”

Gemma nodded. “I’m going to use the money toward opening my art studio.”

Kat placed a supportive hand over Gemma’s. “We’re really proud of you. I know how much you’ve wanted to do this.”

“Since I can’t paint murals anymore, I’m looking forward to teaching newbies the beauty of art.”

Gemma had been talking about opening Sip and Splatter, an art and wine bar, where people can paint a picture while enjoying good friends and a glass of wine. The idea started after she lost her baby. Her specialty had been nursery murals, which served as a painful reminder of what she’d lost.

“However we can help,” Kat said. “Now, since you’re brave enough to chase your dream, you’re brave enough to show some flesh.” Kat held up her hand and flagged down the server. He was tall, ripped, and looked like a sexy lumberjack with his full beard and red flannel shirt. “Do you have a pen on you?”

He pulled one from his back pocket and held it out to Kat. “Oh, no,” she said, declining the pen. “I meant for you to use it. On my friend’s ass.”

“Kat! That is sexual harassment!” Gemma said.

“Not if he agrees. Plus, I’m off the clock.” Kat looked at Paul Bunyan. “Am I harassing you, Tim?” Kat said with a flirtatious that expressed a familiarity. Not surprising since Kat knew everyone in town. Plus, she worked a few nights a week at the bar to bring in extra cash.

Tim looked Gemma up and down, then smiled slowly. “Not at all. Signing your ass would make my night.”

“It would make his night,” Kat said with a laugh. Gemma was not laughing; she looked horrified.

“Buns out,” Milly said. “Just a quick peek-a-boo. Easy peasy.”

Gemma glanced around the bar, which was packed with ski bums, weekend warriors, and a smattering of locals. “This is going to be so embarrassing.” She glanced up at the waiter. “You have to promise not to laugh at my panties. My dead friend picked them out.”

Tim grinned. “Is that like picking out shoes?”

“Worse.” Gemma stood and with a big breath she slid her dress up just enough to show one cheek.

Tim chuckled. “Slippery when wet?”

“You promised not to laugh.”

“And you said these were panties. Honey, these are not panties.”

“Told you,” Kat said.

“Can you just sign?” Gemma said, and Tim did, slowly, making sure to dot the I and cross the T. Then he continued writing. “That seems a bit long for Tim.”

“First, middle, and last name. Plus, my number. Just in case.” With a parting wink, Tim went back to tending to his patrons.

“Before you ask if I’m going to call him, the answer is no. Now, Kat you’re up.”

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