“A little, I should have thought the shorts through.”
“Why don’t you and I go grab a beer and then huddle by the fire,” I suggest to Lindsey. “You can warm up, and Zach here can play wingman for a bit.”
Theo turns to me with palpable concern. “You don’t have to do that.”
“Hush, I’m in need of some woman talk anyway. I’m going to try and unravel some of your mystery. You go on and try to find some Irish luck.”
I grab Lindsey and start to walk away, peeking over my shoulder to see Zach talking while Theo keeps his eyes trained on me. I wave him away and mouth. ‘Go.’
“Y’all aren’t together?” Lindsey asks when we’re a safe distance away.
“We’re just friends. And I’ve been monopolizing his time lately, so I feel guilty. What’s with the kilts?”
“Zach’s in a band, and they used them last St. Patty’s day.”
“Theo’s in a band, band?”
“He subs for the other guys sometimes.”
She rubs her hands together as we near a fire. “How long have you two known each other?”
“Just a few weeks,” I say.
“You sure there’s nothing there?”
“We have, like, nothing in common.”
“That can be fun.”
“I love hanging out with him, but I’m kind of on the wagon with men.”
“I hear you girl, until Zach, I was in the no penis zone too.”
“Game changer, huh?”
“Most definitely. Three years and counting.”
“Wow. Good for you.”
Lindsey shivers again, and I pull off my robe. She accepts it gratefully.
“This was a stupid idea,” she says shivering as she wraps it around her. “I figured the beer buzz would kill the cold. But at this point, I’m pretty sure I could saw wood with my nipples. It was eighty degrees yesterday!”
I pull the flask from the pocket of the robe. “Gotta love Texas. Work on this to warm you up for now. I’ll be right back with beer.”
Scanning the expansive yard, I manage to find a keg line and take my place surveying the heroes surrounding me. When we all step forward, Austin Powers looks back at me, perusing my costume with a question in his eyes.
“Helluuuurr,” I say, nailing it.
“Ah, Mrs. Doubtfire.”
“No, man. That’s Helluuuuu. I said Helluuuuurrrr.”
“Uh, okay baby. Sounded the same.”
“Yeah, well, your accent sucks.”
A faint chuckle rumbles behind me as I step up in line when it’s my turn. “Two please,” I squeak as a guy in a Trump mask starts pouring while I shake my ass a little to the music pumping from the house.