“You’d be surprised what works.”
She probably wouldn’t be. Rick was hot. There was no denying it. That smile was dirty and dangerous. She could see how women would be perfectly aware they were just going to be a notch on his bedpost and they would go for it anyway. Rick seemed built for casual sex. Confident, muscular. Well-endowed from what she heard and could see in his briefs.
But Sloane had been with Tom most of her adult life. She was sorely lacking in the casual sex department.
Rick might not be the man to start with. He was way out of her league in that regard.
Which was hugely ironic.
Then again, maybe he was the perfect man to start with. It wouldn’t get messy or be awkward. She knew Rick and she trusted him. Word around town was he made the ladies happy. Plus, though she would never, ever admit it to him, she had enjoyed kissing him all those years ago. So much that she had gotten flustered wondering what was so different because usually Nick didn’t make her feel so… warm in various places. She had gone to bed that night desperately curious to understand why Dickie’s lips had done things to her Nick’s never had.
So why not kiss him now?
Fresh start.
New beginning at thirty.
Let her past and present collide.
Give Rick his kiss part two and see what happened.
It was that thought that had her jumping down off the stage and heading straight to the table where Becca, Josh, and Emily were. Slipping into her chair, she took a sip of her cocktail. “Give me Rick’s number.” One of them had to have it.
“What? Why?” Becca looked horrified.
Emily grinned and pulled out her phone. “Go for it, Sloane. Time to get back on the horse.”
“This might not be a good idea,” Becca protested. “Are you really ready to handle a notorious manwhore?”
Sloane was determined to try. Wasn’t that the point? “Please. I can handle Little Dickie. I had him wrapped around my finger in high school.”
Life was too short. Kendra’s death had shown her that. She’d spent a decade sleepwalking her way through her life… and for what purpose? She was done. Grab the bull by the horns and all of that.
Emily shared Rick’s contact information with her. She clicked on it and typed him a new text message.
Fine, prove it. Kiss me again and let’s see what happens.
Then she hit send before she could change her mind.
“Girl, you’re playing with fire,” Becca said, when Sloane showed her the text.
Without bothering to respond, she grabbed Becca by the arm. “Let’s dance.” She wasn’t going to go back up on stage, but there was a dance floor in front of the stage and other women had started dancing and having fun up there. She wanted a piece of that.
An hour later she was sweaty and laughing, most of her buzz worn off. Rick hadn’t replied to her text but to be fair, he was only in his mechanic’s jumpsuit, half unzipped. She couldn’t imagine that bulge in his pants was his phone. She hoped not anyway.
When Emily suggested it might be time to leave, Sloane was ironically resistant.
She’d just started to have cut loose and suddenly everyone wanted to abandon ship?
“You go ahead,” she yelled over the music to Emily, who looked like she was exhausted. “It’s still early.”
“It’s actually one in the morning.”
Perfect. No longer her birthday. She had endured it. Moved past it. There was nothing to fear now. She was thirty and divorced and had moved back home.
“I’m not ready to go. Don’t worry about it, Em. You and Becca can leave. I’ll be fine. My father and my brother are here, remember?”
That seemed to reassure both of them. “Text me when you get home,” Becca said. “And happy birthday again.”