Curves for the Single Dad

Tara

I was running late. Again. Only tonight wasn’t just our regular girls’ night out, it was my birthday. Gretchen, my older sister, wouldn’t care that I had a perfectly good reason for being late, not even if it was because someone had stolen Mr. Blakely’s truck and left it running on the side of the highway. It was my responsibility as a law enforcement officier to make sure the citizens of Pilgrim were well taken care of.

But still, it was a night to celebrate my birthday, so I rushed home after returning Mr. Blakely’s truck to shower and quickly change into something more appropriate than my Pilgrim Township PD uniform. Even though the brown color did make my green eyes pop. But I knew Gretchen, Eva and Sophie wouldn’t see it that way, so I put on a pair of jeans that hugged thighs with a tad too much jiggle, but made my extremely round backside look shapely. I paired it with a silky green top that I found on sale on my last trip to visit my cousin Ry and my aunt Betty in Tulip, and my favorite—okay, only—nude pumps. I was only fifteen minutes late, so I decided to take a few more to avoid any comments about how I could have at least tried with my appearance.

Sisters were exhausting. So were female friends.

I loved them, I really did. But my boss Xander and my other male colleagues didn’t give a damn if I had on heels or make up. They probably wouldn’t even notice if I let my D cups roam braless. A quick slick of pale pink lip gloss, a little product to make my brown hair look more touchable than wild and scary, and some mascara and I was ready to go.

I hoped.

You could never be too sure if you were prepared to celebrate your birthday, especially with close friends and family. But I was as ready as I would ever be to admit that at 31, I was officially over thirty.

And single.

And not a detective. Yet.

I was working on it though. Sort of.

That’s what I told myself as I stood outside my favorite Mexican restaurant and prepared to go inside and face the revelry.

“It’s kind of hard to start a birthday celebration without the birthday girl.”

Mara’s droll tone turned my head away from the tables filled with laughing couples and groups of people having a good time, to her all-seeing honey brown eyes.

“You’d be surprised.” I noticed she wasn’t alone. “Hey Joss, how’s it going?”

The soccer coach beamed a wide smile that seemed so genuine, and I envied that about her. “Happy birthday, Tara. Hope it’s been a good one?”

I shrugged. Were birthdays ever any fun after you turned twenty-one? I mean, did anyone actually enjoy turning twenty-five or thirty? Probably not, but they loved their circle, and pretended to enjoy it. Just like I will.

“So far so good, I suppose. Thanks for coming to celebrate.”

“Hope that’s okay, I figured the more the merrier, and Joss here has done a crap job at making friends.”

That was a laughable statement coming from a woman who made it practically impossible to get to know her.

“It’s more than okay. An extra single person will take some of the pressure off me. I hope.” After a quick glance inside at the table decorated with balloons and streamers meant for me, I pasted a big smile on my face. “Let’s do this, ladies.”

“That’s the mediocre level of excitement I was looking for.” Usually Mara’s sarcasm put a smile on my face, today I just shook my head. Inside the restaurant was busy and loud, two things I loved about it, because it made it difficult for gossipers and matchmakers to be heard. Or to hear. “Hey girlies, look who I found.”

At the sight of me, the table went silent and then erupted in birthday wishes. “I was wondering if you might fabricate a work emergency to get out of celebrating.” Leave it up to my big sister to make it awkward right off the bat.

“And miss out on free tacos and quesadillas? I would never, not even if it meant being harassed by my loved ones.” With a playful eyeroll I took a seat at the decorated spot, not at the head of the table, but sandwiched right in the middle. “Thanks for coming, girls.”

“Happy Birthday,” they all sang at once. If it hadn’t been so off-key I might have thought they’d practiced it.

“Let’s get a drink for the birthday girl!” Olive called out, rubbing her ever growing baby bump, a wide smile on her face. “You can drink for me tonight too, Tara.”

“Um, I have to work in the morning, so one strawberry margarita will be my limit.”

“Boo!” Mara jeered, cupping her hands just to make sure the word carried. “It’s your birthday, and I’m buying you at least two shots of tequila.”