Violet’s shoulders sagged with defeat and disappointment. Not that she’d thought she had a chance with the bartender. Not in any way or in any world in which she inhabited. She was mousy and boring. The blond was way more the bartender’s type.
Her friends were laughing about something, she had no idea what. But she forced a smile to her face, and pretended to be laughing as well. Unfortunately, the night had lost its luster the moment Blondie had walked in. She hated women with boobs. And she hated women with blond hair.
For a moment, she stared down at her own jeans. They weren’t tight, but were comfortable and well worn, nothing to make a man’s eyes pop out of his head like that woman’s boobs.
Ugh! She was obsessing about another woman’s boobs! This was ridiculous.
“Hellooooo!” Beth was calling out.
Violet blinked, and suddenly realized that everyone was staring at her. “Sorry, what?”
The four others laughed, although Violet had no idea what could be so funny. Then the empty pitcher was plunked down in front of her. “We’re out of beer. We’ve all nominated you to get another pitcher, since you get them free.”
Violet instantly started shaking her head. “No, I can’t…”
She didn’t have to. A full pitcher of beer was set down in the center of the table. While the ladies around her cheered and clapped, Violet gasped with the heat that seared her shoulder. The tall, gorgeous bartender’s hand was resting on her shoulder, and she knew, absolutely knew, that the skin underneath her sweater would blister because of the heat coming from his hand.
Her eyes snapped up to his, and the noise of the bar faded away. His dark eyes had the same effect as his hand, searing through her body, right down to her stomach. Clenching her fingers in her lap, she refused to let her hand reach up and touch that hard jaw. And no way was she going to run her fingers over the tanned skin of his forearm. It wasn’t any business of hers to know if the dark hairs on that forearm were soft or rough. No way! Her fingers curled into fists in her lap, trying to resist the urge to reach out and touch him.
“I’ll take care of you,” his deep voice said. Had his lips actually brushed her ear? Impossible! She was imagining things.
When she looked up again, he was gone. And damn him! He needed to un-tuck that shirt from his soft jeans so that she wasn’t scoping out his….
The silence finally hit her, and she swung her head back to her friends. All of them were once again staring at her, but this time, their mouths were hanging open. Just like hers, probably.
Jerking upright, she blinked, trying to get her head back in the game. “What?” she asked as she reached for the new pitcher and started to pour the beer. But she had to stop because her hand was shaking too badly.
“You have it bad,” Beth commented, with a kind but excited smile.
Debbie agreed. “I think he does as well,” and she nodded her head over at the bar.
Sure enough, the bartender was looking right at Violet.
Violet ignored everyone’s teasing laughter when her cheeks turned a deeper shade of pink. “We’re not here to set me up. We’re here to celebrate Jane’s wedding!”
Sherry, the fifth in the group and newly married herself, laughed once again. “Honey, we are experts at multi-tasking. Right ladies?”
All of them lifted their beer mugs into the air, but Violet only sipped her beer. She wouldn’t look at the man again. He had Boobie Barbie to look at. Violet’s little C cup boobs were hidden away underneath a sweater, barely even recognizable as breasts. Especially compared to Ms. Quadruple D Cup Boobie Barbie at the Bar!
Good grief, Violet admonished herself, alliteration was getting out of control. She focused on the conversation at the table, which mostly consisted of advice to Jane about how to handle the first year of marriage and how to get through the weeklong honeymoon. “Men will want it all the time,” Debbie was saying, while rolling her eyes.
“And once you’re married, guys think it is their right!” Beth added.
The glum advice about married life continued, and Violet wasn’t sure what to think. She wanted to be married, desperately wanted a man to share her life with. But the way Debbie, Beth and Jane were talking, maybe remaining single was the best option. She didn’t want to have to clean up after a man all the time, or deal with him coming home drunk after being out with his buddies until all hours of the night. And she definitely didn’t want to have to fight off her husband when he made a pass every night, demanding sex.
Was this really what married life was like?
She had no idea. Her mother raised her after her father had left them. And after her mother had married George, the man who was ostensibly her stepfather, it hadn’t been a good relationship.