Bigger Than the Sky (Serenity Point) (3 page)

~~~

I’ve gotten a few things done with the garage. I have an appointment Monday to get the permit, I’ve already applied for the license from the state, the station is set to be inspected next week, and ads are set to run in the local newspaper starting tomorrow morning seeking mechanics and behind-the-counter help.

I’ve checked the service bay in the garage making sure all the tools are in good shape (which they are) and tested the lifts which are also working, and I’m now upstairs where there’s a little efficiency apartment that Papaw had built for the times he stayed late working on a car he knew someone needed by the next day. He and Meemaw had lived ten miles out in the country, so on those nights he’d slept here. And now I thank God I never had the utilities turned off because I’ve decided I’ll just stay here while I’m in town instead of at a hotel, that way I’m on site and can start working on things immediately. The faster I take care of this, the faster I can go back to Richmond.

I’ve already done some cleaning upstairs, and I now go downstairs to the little laundry room at the back that Papaw used for washing the work rags. I’m pulling the bed sheets that I bought on the way here out of the washer and putting them in the dryer when Cassie calls.

Now, here’s the tricky part. Cassie’s been my best friend since the day I arrived in Serenity Point. We were in the same homeroom together and because I was new, she immediately took me under her wing. After that, we were inseparable right up until my wedding day. But she’s one of the few people I’ve kept in contact with since I left and she understands why I ran.

She’s also Kade’s sister.

“You are
so
going out with us tonight!” she yells into my phone.

I chuckle at her enthusiasm. “Cass, I’ve got so much to do here.”

“Gimme a break! What are you gonna do, give someone an oil change?” She snorts.

“Could if they needed it,” I reply defensively. Papaw had taught me tons about repairing cars over the years, and I’m honestly not bad under a hood. I’m even better than most male mechanics at some things since my hands are smaller and I can reach things easier than they can.

She laughs. “I know you could. Calm down. But it’s Friday night! You have all weekend to get things done. Besides London’s in town and Lacey’s coming too! You have to!”

London’s a flight attendant and she’s been all over the world. Cassie’s told me some of her crazy stories and I’m kind of dying to hear them in person especially to ask her if David Gandy really flirted with her on a flight from New York City to London. Lacey teaches in the elementary school and Cassie in the middle school, so they both live in town.

I sigh then respond, “Okay. What time?” teasing her into thinking this is a huge imposition on me. Looking down at my watch, I see that it’s already seven.

“Can you be at Jen’s in an hour?” she asks.

“I can,” I answer, smiling.

She squeals loudly and tells me she’ll see me soon and we hang up. When I go back upstairs to shower and get ready, I wonder if this is such a good idea. But I really want to see my friends so I decide I can always leave if things get weird.

Chapter 3

“And don’t forget the time we snuck into the boys’ locker room and put plastic wrap over all the urinals,” Lacey says with a cackle and we all burst out laughing.

“Oh, my God! The janitor was
pissed!
And the same janitor still works there!” Cassie adds. “I swear, every time he sees me in the hallway he gives me a dirty look. It’s like he
knows
!”

We continue cracking up. We’ve been reliving our glory days, and the aforementioned isn’t one I’m too proud of, but whatever. It’s funny. And, God, it’s so good to see my girls. I’ve missed them so much and hadn’t even realized it.

“Another round, Martina!” Cassie yells over the music playing to our waitress who’s taking an order three tables away. Martina looks back and raises her chin with a smile letting us know she heard then continues taking the order from the table she’s at.

“So, Mile-High Club. I want to know,” I say to London before taking a swig of my bourbon.

She grimaces. “I swear to God, if one more couple tries it on my watch, I’ll embarrass the hell out of them once they’re finished. It’s so gross. If they knew how dirty those bathrooms are, hell, the entire plane, they wouldn’t even think about it.” She shudders as she downs the rest of her Cosmopolitan. Oh, and by the way, David Gandy totally did flirt with her. I got that cleared up within the first minute I saw her. Lucky bitch.

“Why’s our conversation revolving around bathrooms?” Lacey asks before taking a sip of her strawberry margarita.

I snort. “Ew, it is, isn’t it?”

“So, Mill, tell us about your job,” London says. “Richmond. Accounting firm. Hot guys?” Then she frowns. “Although I can’t say I’ve ever seen a hot guy accountant.” Then she shrugs. “Anyway, who’re you dating?”

I turn red because I’m not about to tell them about Aidan. Cassie knows and it was embarrassing enough for me to tell her; I don’t need the whole group knowing I was seeing a married man. In my defense, I didn’t know he was married. But he’s a Charlie Hunnam lookalike, and, well, no explanation necessary there, he’s British like Charlie, I’m just a sucker for accents, and he’s one of the most charming men I’ve ever met, so I think I deserve a break on this one. He came in as a partner at my firm two years ago, and we dated almost a year until I’d found out about
Mrs.
I Look Like Charlie Hunnam and I’m Even British six months ago and ended it.

“Nope, not dating,” I say with a shrug.

“No? After leaving Kade five years ago, you’re still not dating anyone?” Lacey asks after finishing off her drink and I cringe. I guess I’ll always be known as “She who left the town’s golden boy at the altar” around here.

Martina brings our drinks and I take a fairly large sip of my Maker’s Mark and glance at Cassie whose eyes are bugging out at me because she knows about Aidan. Mine bug right back and she smiles reassuringly at me with a giggle then takes a drink of her Mojito.

“You guys look like the
Sex and the City
girls,” Martina says with a chuckle while putting our used glasses on her tray then walks away.

We all look at each other in confusion then Cassie nods. “I can see it,” she says. “I’m Miranda ‘cause I’ve got reddish hair. Mill, you’re Charlotte with your darker hair, Lacey’s Carrie with her blond highlights.” She looks at London, “And you’re Samantha, the ho.”

There are giggles all around at the look on London’s face.

“C’mon, London, you can’t tell us you haven’t hooked up with some hot pilot,” I tease.

She flips her long, blond locks behind a shoulder. “No, I can’t,” she says and our mouths hang open. “What?” she asks.

“That’s crazy,” I say. “That’s like every woman’s secret fantasy.” I look at her in a new light now because that’s kind of hot.

The music in the joint has gotten louder as it’s gotten later, the crowd rowdier and London yells, “Let’s dance!” then jumps up, grabbing me by the arm and pulling me to the small dance floor in front of a stage where some people have been setting up for a band to perform.

Cassie and Lacey join us and we’re having a blast dancing to the club song that’s playing, and, boy, does it feel good to let loose. I haven’t smiled this much in years. I look down to see that the sparkly, silver tank top I’m wearing is catching the lights making me look like a giant disco ball which makes me throw my head back and let out a throaty laugh. Cassie comes in and takes my hand, spinning me around then we start doing body rolls, chest rolls and hip dips amongst other moves, smiling at each other the entire time. But when she starts doing booty pops, I shake my head with a laugh and keep on with what I’m comfortable with.

And that’s when I feel someone watching me. I do a turn as I’m rolling my body and look over to see Peyton Capps or Stalls or whatever her last name is now, glaring at me from the side of the stage, arms across her chest.

Alcohol’s a fine thing sometimes because at any other time—meaning if I were sober—I’d have gasped in embarrassment for being out on the floor acting like an idiot and probably run back to the table, not that she intimidates me, but I’m sure I look ridiculous. But the two and a half Maker’s Marks coursing through my body are screaming that we don’t give a shit who’s watching us, which is fine by me, and I keep dancing, not missing a beat. I give Peyton a huge smile waving my fingers at her while I do some hip rolls and hip ticks then watch as she huffs and stomps away.

Cassie comes up and yells over the music, “You bitch!” and we die laughing. Then she yells, “Do it, Mill!” and starts popping her booty again, and this time alcohol’s not so fine a thing because I actually start doing them with her. But I’m laughing and having a good time, so it’s worth it.

I do what I think are sexy body and chest rolls all the way around and when I feel eyes on me once again, I just smile, gazing through the crowd as I turn so I can annoy Peyton some more when my eyes suddenly land on two intense steely gray ones staring at me in what looks like anger.

Kade.

Cassie comes over and takes my hips from behind, rolling her body into mine, making me mimic her movement. As I’m doing this, all I can do is stare back at him.

“Ignore him,” Cassie says into my ear. “He’s just pissed because he’s dating that cunt.”

I gasp out a laugh and she turns me to face her then winks as we continue our, for lack of a better term, stripper dance, giggling as we finish the song, throwing in some more booty pops for good measure before going back to our table where Lacey and London are waiting on us.

“That was hot, ladies!” London squeals.

“It so was!” Lacey concurs. “It kinda made me horny. If I were a lesbian, I’d so be hitting on you guys right now!”

We all burst out laughing at her and she giggles with us. Martina’s brought us more drinks and as I take a sip, I hazard a look back to where I’d seen Kade but he’s gone.

~~~

I think pigs must be flying or hell’s frozen over or that Bieber kid’s finally gotten cool because I have to use the restroom and none of my friends need to. What the hell? Women always go to the bathroom together, but noooo, my friends can’t be bothered this time because each of them is canoodling (again, see how you talk when your grandparents raise you?) with hot guys, all of which I know from high school. Cassie’s at the table talking to Jeremy Pitkin, who’s now a fireman. She’s had a crush on him since, like, fifth grade, and I’m glad he’s talking to her. Lacey’s on the dance floor slow dancing with Mark White, who I found out she’s been flirting with for a while, and London’s out there too, practically mouth raping Brett Thompson who she’d had a dalliance with back in the day.

So I, the fifth wheel, stumble my way to the back and use the restroom by myself, mumbling on the way out how you can’t count on anyone to have your back these days when a large body suddenly blocks my path.

“’Scuse me,” I say as I try getting around it but then I’m grabbed by my upper arms and pushed into the wall. “What the…?” I yelp out in surprise as I frown then look up, up, up into Kade’s scarily fierce yet still handsome face. And I know it’s weird, but the number cruncher in me comes out right then as digits start running through my head, and all I can think is that I’m normally five foot six and I’ve got on four-inch heels which now makes me five foot ten, yet I’m still having to look way up at him. So I start calculating more inches, throwing a little geometry in there as I take in the angle at which my head’s tipping back to look at him and figure he’s about six foot four. Pretty good for a drunk, huh? But then I remember I already know this because at one point, I knew everything about the gorgeous man standing in front of me. Duh.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” he hisses as he leans down getting right in my face, and I frown again, staring back at him trying to figure out what he means. When I don’t say anything, he shakes me by my arms as if trying to wake me up. “Again. What. The. Fuck. Are. You. Doing?” he growls out slowly as if I’m too dense to have understood what he said.

Apparently, he wants an answer, so I give him one. “Well, I was just dancing. I mean, you saw me! Remember? You were standing right there! But then when I got done, I guess the bourbon must’ve run through me, so I just used the restroom, see?” I lift my hand a little to point to the bathroom door. “And all my friends are talking to hot guys and didn’t want to come with me, which is
so
a breach in the girl code and just a dadgum (thanks, Papaw) shame! And it’s also a shame that I don’t have a hot guy to talk to, not even at home, so I’m all alone… as usual.” Boy, am I drunk.

“You know what I mean,” he states and narrows his eyes at me, but they’re softer now and I’m not sure what that means.

It’s then that I swoon a little from all the alcohol I’ve had tonight. “Don’t… feel so well…” I mumble, putting a hand out to his chest, which is so hard it’s like steel under my fingers. Dang!

“What’s going on, Kade?” I hear Cassie say as she comes up behind us.

“His chest is rock hard, Cass! Oh, my God! Come feel it! It’s like sh-olid rock,” I slur drunkenly at her as I push my hand and fingers into Kade’s chest over and over in awe then I start giggling which instantly makes her start giggling too. “Wait, I mean, sh-olid. Sh-olid! What’s wrong with my tongue?” I ask her. We look at each other for a second and then our giggling intensifies. She puts her back against the wall and promptly sinks to the floor landing on her butt with a plop as we both continue laughing.

“Christ,” I hear Kade mutter.

Now the next part is in bits and pieces because that’s how it always seems to go when you’re drunk—it’s like time speeds up and you start losing parts of it. When I “come to,” I’m hanging over someone’s shoulder and they’re walking down the street. My hands and hair are hanging straight down as is my head.

“Well, for fuck’s sake,” I mutter, completely flabbergasted as to what’s going on.

As I hang there, I push my hands into the hips of the mystery person carrying me, noticing with confusion that I’m now wearing a flannel shirt over my silver tank top, and pulling my head back a bit, I see that whoever’s got me has a nice ass.