I’m in the kitchen with mother, helping to prep for the lunch crowd, when Bleu appears. The ratty white Stanford shirt she’s wearing is worn just enough for me to see the shape of her perfect tits. Fuck me, she’s braless again. I swallow the lump in my throat, willing my cock to behave. I’m standing next to my mother, for fuck’s sake. I’m speechless, but my mother doesn’t miss a beat. She sees the disaster this has written all over it. Her new waitress would be the talk of the town—distraction is an understatement.
“Morning, dear. Beau and I were just talking about you.”
“You were?” She steals the words right out of my mouth. I’m curious too.
“Why, yes. I was telling him that before you start, you should have a day to get yourself settled. Sorry I didn’t think about this before. You just got into town last night, so I’m sure you need to pick up a few essentials. Beau has volunteered to take you. While you’re out, stop by and see Dani over at Sway’s for a little pampering. Her mother, Isabelle, is a good friend of mine. She works wonders with hair. Tell her I sent you.”
I don’t think my mother was as smooth as she’d hoped. She was pretty transparent actually. Bleu runs a hand along her two messy pigtail braids. She looks down at the floor before speaking; the shade of red that now covers her face is a telltale sign of her embarrassment.
“Sorry, I don’t have much, Rosalita. I left it all behind. Material things couldn’t be a part of my new life. I never wanted …” She trails off, realizing she had already said too much.
My mother glances over at me, and I can see the weariness in her eyes. I know her intent wasn’t to offend. She goes over to Bleu and lifts her chin until she is looking her in the eyes. “I don’t know your story, Bleu, and as I’ve said before, I won’t pry. You don’t have anything to apologize for— to anyone. I may have gone about it the wrong way through vague suggestion, but I just want you to have what you need before starting work. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable because people are distracted by your bosoms.” Bleu crosses her arms over her chest to hide her breasts, but you can’t hide those things. “Take a day to pamper yourself and get what you need. I’ll give you an advance on your paycheck.”
“No. No,” Bleu says suddenly. “You’ve been generous enough. I will feel bad. Please. I have some money.”
“I won’t take no for an answer, dear. Don’t think of it as generosity. This is your money before you earn it, but you’ll still have to work for it. Besides, it’s a small guarantee that you’ll have to stick around until your first check.” My mother nudges her. That earns her a smile. “Go on, Beau, before she changes her mind. Use the company card.”
There is no company card. She just said that to make it sound official to Bleu. The truth is, I will use my credit card, and my mother will try to settle up later. Only she doesn’t know that this one is on me. Bleu runs upstairs to get her wallet while I head to the truck. I just need to keep my focus off how much I want to fuck her. So much for spending the day finding a conquest for my bed tonight.
“So where to first?” Bleu asks, interrupting my thoughts. She gets in and slams the door.
“Sway’s. I’m taking you to the hair salon to see Dani.” Danielle Reid is Axel’s daughter. I used to have a small crush on her, but I never pursued her. The mere size of her dad alone was enough to give any guy pause. I was never in town long anyway, so it suited her better to end up with a guy name Cohen.
We pull up to the salon, and I’m out first to open the door for her. I watch as she tries to make sense of the gold glitter along the sidewalk and leading up to the door. She looks back at me unsure. I’m prepared to assure her she’ll be in great hands when the door to the salon swings open.
“Well, who do we have here, looking like a scared kitten?” a short black guy with long blond hair and four-inch heels greets. It’s Sway himself.
“I’m Bleu,” the scared kitten in question speaks up. “Um, Rosalita sent me.”
“Oh, I’m just pulling your leg, sugar. We’ve been expecting you.” He runs his hands through her long tresses, assessing the work needed. “I’m Dilbert Harrison III, but all the cool people call me Sway. I’m the owner of this fine establishment,” he says as he continues to study her.
“Nice to meet you …” She is unsure if she is one of the cool people he’s referring to.
“Sway, sugar. You can call me Sway. You have fabulous hair to work with, but girl, you’ve come to the right place to transform that hair into something extraordinary. Dani girl is back there waiting to get her hands on you.” He looks over at me as if he’s just realized I was standing there. “It’s going to be a while, handsome. Come back in a few hours, and Sway will have her ready for you.”
I guess that’s my dismissal. Sway swings his long blond hair and ushers Bleu inside. She gives me one last look over her shoulder before disappearing. Glad I was let off the hook. The last thing I wanted to do with my afternoon was sit around a hair salon with women I didn’t plan to fuck. Suddenly, a light bulb goes off, and I get a grand idea. One I hope Bleu will like.
A few hours later, I arrive back at Sway’s to pick up Bleu. I have this great day planned for us, so I hope she likes it. I can tell she’s had a rough go of it, and I decided to do something nice for her as a welcome to Hope Town day. I’m adding to the pampering my mother suggested. Well, sort of anyway. She comes out of the salon, and I almost don’t recognize her aside from her clothes. Her blond locks are now gone. She’s a brunette. I knew she was a bottle blonde from the natural color of her eyebrows, but this color really does suit her better. It brings out the freckles on her nose. She resembles a wholesome girl next door even more now, but her body still rivals that of a porn star. The struggle to resist temptation is real. Her green eyes sparkle as she waits to hear what I think.
“Brunette?” I ask as she climbs into the truck.
“Yes. I wanted to go back to my natural color. Do you like it?”
Is that a trick question? I’m already wondering if the curtains match the drapes, but of course, I don’t say that. “It looks very fitting on you. I like the soft layers too,” I add. She beams, and that crimson shade of red is back. Only this time, my little hitchhiker is blushing. What the hell am I even saying? Soft layers? Since when do I care about that kind of shit? All I usually care about is how well it would wrap around my fist as I pound a woman from behind. Just shoot me now.
“Thank you,” she murmurs.
“Of course. Now let’s get this shopping over with so we can get to the surprise I have for you.”
“You don’t have to take me shopping. I can go on my own. I don’t know many men who wouldn’t be daunted by that task.”
“Are you kidding me? My mother would have my hide. We’re going.” I chuckle.
“Wait. Did you say you had a surprise for me?” She is just catching that tidbit.
“Yes. Yes. I did. I don’t want to hear your excuses either about not accepting all the kindness. It’s what us Southerners are all about, so please enjoy the hospitality.”
“But. But—”
“No buts. Let’s get this shopping done. My vote is that we start at the bra store.”
I watch her try to contain her laughter. She finally doubles over. Tears leak from her eyes because she’s laughing so hard. I give her a mock frown, and she laughs harder.
“Bra store? Who says that? You know you have the tact of a bull in a china shop. At least your mom tried to tell me I needed to put the girls away in a nice way by suggesting I shop for some essentials.”
She resumes her laughing, and I can’t help but join her. I should have known she wasn’t fooled.
“Okay. You got me. Let’s go, my little hitchhiker.”
She sticks her tongue out at me, and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t enjoying our banter. She hit the nail on the head about one thing. I do hate shopping. Especially with women. I only want to fuck them or do the arbitrary things that lead up to the fucking like dinner and maybe a movie. You get one night of my attention, and then I’m on to the next. It’s the best way to avoid the inevitable clinginess sure to follow if I let one stick around too long. I’m doing this as a favor to my mother. It sure as fuck isn’t how I saw my day going, but surprisingly, I don’t mind. I don’t want to read into the reasons why either. I’ll show her a good time today and then resume my mission to get laid. Shouldn’t be that hard. Two words. Contact list.
“My vote is we go to a store that can be a one-stop shop,” she says.
“I don’t know what a one-stop shop is, but it sounds like my kind of plan,” I agree.
“Well, in this instance, I’m speaking of Target. I can get everything I need in one place.”
I like that she’s not frivolous, and that she can shop at Target. She gets major kudos for that choice.
Our goal is to get in and out of Target in under an hour. Beau told me I’d get a few Rosalita shirts similar to the one his mother wore last night for a uniform, so I didn’t go crazy with clothes. I bought a few pair of black slacks for uniform pants, bras and panties, of course, a few sundresses, and the rest were essentials like feminine products and toiletries. Beau originally wandered off to sift through music. Nobody really buys CDs anymore, but that’s what he has upgraded to in his old pickup truck. Apparently, he’s already found what he’s looking for because he’s standing at the front of the store. He heads toward me when he spots me, but I don’t want him looking at the personal things I grabbed. I’m sure he’s coming to put it on the company card, but I wave him off. He’s still coming. He stops when he reaches me.
“Beau, I don’t want you to look at the stuff I bought.”
He turns his back, immediately catching on.
“I’ve seen plenty of undergarments before, doll. Usually on the floor, but still … ”
I can’t believe he just said that out loud. I can feel the heat creep up my neck. The cashier just chuckles. “I bet you have,” she mumbles under her breath. I admit she is cute. Busty blonde with a uniform a size too small—yep, just like Ethan’s type. Any man’s type, really.
A stab of jealousy hits me from nowhere. I need to get a grip. I’m sure a guy who looks like Beau has women lined up for him. He’s not mine, so why should I care. The cashier takes her sweet ass time ringing me up and bagging my stuff. I don’t even have a lot, so I know it’s a ploy to extend the glances she keeps sneaking at Beau. Some people have no shame. What if he was my boyfriend? Ugh. Refusing to let him look at my unmentionables and feminine products is probably a dead giveaway that he’s not. I’m sure she thinks we’re related, but still.
I blow out a frustrated breath, and she finally takes the hint to move a little quicker. “That’ll be two hundred and eighteen dollars,” she says after she bags my last item.
On cue, Beau turns around with the credit card already in hand. She is all smiles and over the top with flaunting her assets. I would argue to pay, but I know that’s not happening. I snatch the bags and focus on looping my arm through them. I don’t want to watch him soak up the attention from that thirsty chick. As soon as I have them all, I start to the truck.
“Wait up.” I hear Beau coming up quick behind me. “Let me carry some of those.”
“I got it,” I snap.
“Whoa. Why the attitude?”
I know he doesn’t deserve that. I don’t know what the hell has come over me. I have no right.
“Sorry. It’s not you, okay? Girls like that just get under my skin.”
“Girls like what?” he asks, trying to contain his stupid grin.
“Bimbos,” I huff.
“Why? I thought she was really nice. She does her job quite enthusiastically, I might add.”
He’s just fucking with me now. “Can we change the subject now please?” I walk a little faster, not letting him take any of the bags. He doesn’t say anything else about her. He unlocks the door for me, and I throw all the bags inside. Don’t want them to get blown away in the bed of the pickup. He closes the door after I’m in. We drive a few miles before he attempts to make conversation with me again.
“You like country music?”
“Some.” He slides the CD he just bought into the player. Moments later, Luke Bryan’s “Country Girl” starts filtering through the truck. He taps the steering wheel in time with the music as he sings along, and my frustration starts to dissipate. He is too damn cute for his own good. He looks over at me and winks. He actually has a really nice voice.
“Sing along if you know it,” he yells. I sing with him in an octave lower while he belts out the lyrics. Eat your heart out, Target girl.
We drive down a gravel path until we get to a clearing with a lake. He maneuvers the truck until the bed is facing the lake and the front of the truck is facing the way we just came. He kills the engine but turns the ignition so the CD continues to play. He then hops out and is around to my side before I can get out all the way. I’m not used to this chivalry stuff.
“Well, this is your surprise, my little hitchhiker.” I look around confused. The lake? Are we getting in because I didn’t buy a suit. “C’mon,” he says, pulling me to the back of the truck.
He lets the tailgate down with one hand before letting my hand go. It’s only now that I see the bags he threw back there. He jumps up on the bed and takes out some blankets and pillows. My heart speeds up. What is he doing?
“Don’t worry. It’s just a picnic,” he assures, reading my mind.
“Oh, I figured,” I lie. I climb onto the bed and help him to take the food out of the bag. The little casserole dishes still have condensation from the heat. The insulation bags do a good job of keeping things warm, but there’s no way we’ve been riding with this stuff since we left this morning. The hair salon alone took most of the day. He must have grabbed the food right before he picked me up.
“I thought I’d share one of my favorites with you, Chicken Piccata.” I watch as he spoons it onto actual plates. When he pulls the wine glasses out of the bag wrapped in newspaper, I can’t help but giggle.
“Paper plates and cups probably would have traveled better,” I point out.
“Ah, but not as classy. Besides, plastic doesn’t go with the setup we have here,” he says, pointing at the daybed he’s created for us.
If I was reading into things, I’d say this look suspiciously close to a date, but I keep that to myself. I don’t want to spoil whatever this is. It’s nice. Ethan would have never done anything like this for me.