I was pretty certain I’d slept with the stripper.

We lived in a small town, and not many people escaped to the bigger cities. I couldn’t remember her name, but I recognized the tattoo. She had a tribal band inked over her bicep.

I’d liked it then. Now I wasn’t sure what I saw in her. The ink marred what should have been beautiful skin.

Now Mandy…she had beautiful skin. Smooth. Dark. Soft…

Too bad she wasn’t performing.

The stripper did her dance. The guys at the bar hooted.

Rick did his best to offer Bryce the same excitement Lindsey demanded from her bachelorette party, but Bryce refused the night out and opted for a couple drinks in my bar.

I wasn’t sure he tasted them. He had five beers before he said a single word, and he wasn’t too excited about the stripper. The guys thought she was pretty, and all women who glued tassels to their nipples had an entertaining quality about them, but Bryce wasn’t interested.

Then again, neither was I.

The stripper was once my type—fake and blonde—but she didn’t do it for me this time.

Son of a bitch, I knew why.

She wasn’t Mandy.

She didn’t have her curves. Didn’t share that innocent quirk in her smile. Didn’t have the gentle swell of her breasts.

She didn’t have her laugh. Her sense of humor. The tinkling little sing-song inflection to her words.

I closed my eyes and tried to remember fucking the stripper. Couldn’t.

All I pictured was Mandy, and it was a damn good memory. I remembered the first time I took her, I still fantasized about that night under the stars, and I relived those perfect hours on her couch when I forgot to breathe, to think, to do anything but stare in her eyes as we moved together in a perfect embrace.

What the hell was wrong with me?

I never liked it gentle before, and suddenly I was…making love?

Jesus, I needed to shotgun a couple beers too.

I broke out a new brew I’d saved specifically for the bachelor party. Bryce liked the darker ales, and I made a recipe in his honor. I raised the glass, and the dozen friends we invited to join the festivities readied for a toast.

I grinned. “Bryce, man, I just wanted to say—”

Bryce chugged his beer without waiting.

The fuck? If I knew he wasn’t going to taste it, I’d have fermented motor oil for his fucking party.

Rick shrugged. He held his glass towards his brother. “To…Bryce.”

Bryce was my best friend, and I wasn’t about to deny him getting drunk at his own party, but I pulled the pitcher away before he drank all of it and destroyed his liver three weeks before the wedding.

Rick passed him a glass as the stripper packed up her clothes. She blew Bryce a kiss. He didn’t react, just stared at the table and clutched his beer.

“Wish you hadn’t gotten a stripper,” Bryce finally said.

I smirked. “Isn’t it tradition?”

“You’re killing me.”

“Don’t tell me Lindsey forbade a stripper?”

“So what if she did?” Rick snorted. I didn’t like his tone. “I think a woman’s got a right to know where her man’s been, right, Nate?”

Jesus, whatever. I took a drink, but Rick didn’t break his stare with me. Bryce shook his head.

“It’s not that. I just didn’t want any…temptation.” He waved a hand. “No. Inspiration.”

Now he had me confused, which wasn’t too hard. I didn’t understand most of the bullshit Bryce put up with to please his bridezilla.

“Look…” Bryce lowered his voice. “Lindsey and I haven’t…you know…for about a month.”

There wasn’t enough beer in my bar to talk about our feelings. Rick and I both tensed. It was so much easier when we were kids and could just play Halo to pass the time.

“You haven’t had sex?” Rick cleared his throat.

“Yeah.”

Wasn’t that the point of having a committed relationship? I frowned. “Why?”

“Lindsey wants to try for kids now. She stopped taking her pill and is, um…ready.”

Rick and I eased away from the table. Bryce nodded.

“Yeah,” he said.

“So…” I drummed my fingers against my beer bottle. “Good?”

Bryce yelled, nearly tipping over the pitcher. “What do you mean good? For Christ’s sake, we aren’t even married yet! She’s planning what color to paint a nursery, and I’m still trying to figure out how to do a dance from a movie that came out before we were born.”

“You’re getting married,” I said. “So she wants kids? Have some kids.”

“Easy for you to say.” Rick snorted into his beer. “You’ve never had a relationship last long enough for the condom to dry out.”

Fuck, what was with all these people judging my sex life lately?

Rick was lucky he was tipsy. That fourth beer saved him from a serious discussion with my fucking fist.

“We’re not talking about me,” I said. “Bryce and Lindsey have been together since high school. I think it’s safe to say they’re in a place where kids aren’t a problem.”

“Kids aren’t the problem.” Bryce finished his beer. Rick poured him another. He had earned it. “I don’t know. It’s overwhelming. First all this wedding stuff. We’re never going to make the money back we put in. Now she wants the kids and the house and…she’s got all these plans.”

I still didn’t see the problem. “You scored the girl of your dreams. She’s excited about marrying you. She wants to spend her life with you. What the hell is wrong with that?”

“Are you serious?” Bryce laughed. “You’re the one talking me into this shit? Christ, I thought you’d tell me to run.”

“Don’t you love Lindsey?”

“Well, fuck, yeah. But—”

“Then shut your damn mouth. You got a beautiful woman who wants nothing more than to be with you. She wants to buy a perfect house and pop out some kids. So, drink your beer, go home, fuck your fiancé, and live out your goddamned fairy tale.”

I slammed my glass on the table. Jesus. Life wasn’t this complicated. Why did everyone make it harder than it was? He had a girl who wanted him. He was fucking lucky.

Rick followed me to the bar. Both Washington brothers were acting shitty.

“Since when did you become the relationship guru?” Rick didn’t open the bottle I offered.

“Since everyone keeps asking me my opinion.”

“Everyone?”

“Yeah. Apparently I’m some sort of sage now.” I arched an eyebrow. “Bet you wished you had listened about Jada when I told you she hit on me.”

Rick snorted. “I’m surprised you didn’t take her up on it like the other assholes who fucked my wife.”

“You really think I’d have done that to you?”

“I got no reason to doubt you when a girl is confused.”

“Jada wasn’t confused. She went grinding on any dick she could find.”

“I’m not talking about Jada.”

Who the hell were we talking about?

Christ. I knew where this was going, and I wasn’t discussing it with her best friend.

“Think carefully about what you’re going to say,” I said.

I figured a doctor would be smarter when confronting a man about his own business. Guessed not.

“I don’t want you hanging around Mandy,” Rick said. “You leave her alone.”

“Did you give Mandy this same talk?”

“Yeah, I did.”

“Well it didn’t work.”

Rick clenched his jaw. “She’s like a sister to me, and you’re like a second brother. But, if it comes down to it, she’s more vulnerable than you. I won’t let her get hurt.”

“Who said I’m going to hurt her?”

“You fucked her. You keep chasing her.”

“So?”

“You tell Bryce all those nice things—love the woman, get married, have the kids. That’s what Mandy wants too. If that’s not your game, then bow out before she gets hurt.”

“Mandy’s a big girl. She can handle herself.”

“She shouldn’t have to. You should know better than to prey on her.”

“Prey?”

“You’re not her type. She’s not your usual bimbo. Mandy deserves more than your selfish fucking.” Rick scowled. “Think beyond your cock for once. Ruin your own life, but don’t screw up hers.”

Rick returned to his brother, calling an Uber and forcing water down Bryce’s throat before he blacked out.

Think beyond my cock?

Right now I was thinking with my fists.

Fuck him.

If I wanted to chase Mandy, I’d do it. And I’d take her again and again because I knew what she liked and why she needed it more than some plan for the future.

Mandy shouldn’t have worried about relationships and commitments and marriages and all the shit that came with it. That girl was wound tighter now than the first time I fucked her, and the only way to calm her down was to fuck her into a puddle of pleasure.

Then fuck her some more.

And I’d be the one to do it.

I slammed the door to my office. So much for the party. Good thing I had work to do.

Beers tended to brew themselves once I had them in the storage tank, but I had yeast to grow, grains to mash, and orders to fill. The brewery was successful enough to employ two people plus my other bartender. They probably wanted to get paid this week.

Mandy had been right. I could have used an accountant. Maybe her dad didn’t pay her well and I could poach her for my business. Then I’d have her all to myself every day.

My email dinged. I checked the laptop.

It was news—but I didn’t know if the email was good or bad.

Nate,

The property in Santa Barbara has a lot of viewings this week. You better tour it soon if you want to put in an offer. It’s really the perfect spot for you, and I think we can win over the owners if they see your proposal—they’d definitely like the property in the hands of a small business. Let me know.

Angela

I didn’t hesitate. I called my realtor, but I was bounced to her voice mail.

“Angela, this week is no good. My best friend is getting married, and I gotta help with the wedding. Just…let this property go. There’s plenty of other places to check.”

I ended the call and felt sick.

What the fuck did I just do?

I wasn’t staying in town to help with the wedding or the preparations.

And I knew that property was the single greatest thing that might have happened to my brewery if I wanted to expand and head out west. I had tasted freedom, and it had a good, hoppy bite to it. But now something soured it.

A nagging, restless itch settled in the pit of my stomach. For twenty-eight years, I’d wanted to get the hell out of my hometown, make a name for myself beyond my family, and just fuck my way to happiness.

Now?

Only one thing kept me from packing a bag and setting down somewhere new with all the fun and prosperity it’d offer.

The only thing I wanted more than the life I had was the one I never thought I’d need.

I wanted Mandy, and that bullshit revelation knocked me onto my ass.

I headed back to the bar and grabbed a fresh beer. Chugged it. Opened another.

I drank until I got drunk, passed out on the couch in my office, and welcomed the black.

And, goddamn it—

I dreamt of Mandy.