Page 6 of Five Alarm Kiss
“But it’s my birthday,” Laurel whined. “And I’m being harassed.”
“By who?” Skye asked.
“By you!”
“Whatever. Sit down.”
Laurel wasn’t even aware she’d stood up. Obediently, she sat back down. Not because Skye told her to, but because that third shot of tequila was already joining forces with the other two and making her a little woozy.
“I’m not asking him to dance. I don’t care what number it is. Besides, after number four—” She pointed to her head. “The rest of the list should be rendered null and void.”
Last year, Skye had come up with a list of things Laurel had to do by the time she turned thirty—things she wouldn’t do of her own volition. Skye was worried her buttoned-up best friend wasn’t living life to the fullest.
And maybe she wasn’t, Laurel conceded. Not in the way Skye meant, anyway. But Laurel was happy with her life. She’d always been one to color within the lines, and it suited her profession, figuratively and literally. Both of her parents were professors at the local college, so becoming a teacher seemed a natural fit. True, her mom and dad would’ve preferred she’d followed in their footsteps and had gone the collegiate way, but she’d always loved kids. Helping to mold little minds was what she was passionate about, so she’d chosen primary education and had never regretted it. It wasn’t “exciting” in the typical way most people defined the word, but it was to her.
Plus, having a plan and structure in her life made her comfortable. It worked for her. So, how her best friend hadconvinced her to agree to complete a to-do list, she’d never know.
Okay, that’s a lie. She knew. One too many wine coolers on her twenty-ninth birthday, that’s how.
She really needed to stop going out with Skye on her birthdays. Somehow, she always ended up tipsy… like right now. Her lips were starting to feel numb. That was a tell-tale sign.
Skye waved a finger in Laurel’s face. “No. You double-shook on it. No backing out.”
“Double-shaking” was something they’d come up with in grade school. After crossing their wrists, they’d hold each other’s hands. Then they’d shake up and down once, side to side once, and repeat. Yeah, super creative, but they’d been nine. Now that Laurel thought about it, that was more like quadruple shaking, but, again, they’d been nine.
Regardless, from that point on, “double-shaking” was like sealing it in blood. They’d never broken a double-shake pact.
“You’ve already crossed four items off the list,” Skye said. “Do these two, and there are only four more left.”
Skye’s list had ten items on it. Ten things Laurel would never in a million years consider doing, which is why her friend had chosen them. Number one had been eating a raw oyster. Skye had declared that was her “softball” item, but choking down lumpy snot was so far from easy, Laurel had almost puked.
She hadn’t done number two yet, but did finish number three, which was not planning and precooking her meals for the week. Sounded simple, but not for her. Even though she admittedly wasn’t a good cook, she’d pre-made dinners on Sunday for the coming week and put them into labeled Tupperware containers ever since she’d started teaching. It made things so much easier coming home and not having to stress about what she was going to eat. Plus, it kept her from grabbing junk food.
Her friend thought the practice was too obsessive, but Laurel liked being prepared for things. It made her super-organized self happy. As it turned out, she’d eaten cereal and boxed mac and cheese for dinner that entire week.
Number four on the list was bleaching her hair blonde, which obviously had been a colossal failure. She didn’t even want to think about how humiliating number five would be.
“Well, it’s already my birthday, so the list doesn’t matter,” Laurel rationalized. “I was supposed to have them donebymy thirtieth birthday, and todayismy thirtieth birthday.” Ugh, she hated the sound of that number. “It’s too late.”
“Yeah, nice try,” Skye said. “Not my fault you dragged your feet. The list stands.”
“But—”
“No buts.”
Laurel looked to Britt for backup. She shouldn’t have bothered because Britt pointed to the table by the dance floor with one hand, and held up five fingers on the other.
Skye stood and pulled Laurel to her feet. She took her by the shoulders, angled her toward Mr. Not Some Guy’s table, and gave a little push. “Now, go check number five off the list.
Chapter Two
Ever since he’d sat down at their table thirty minutes ago, Jake Lockwood had been glancing back at the woman in the baseball hat. Never in his life had he been in Hannah’s and seen a girl who wasn’t dressed as catnip. Tight shirts with low necklines, mini-skirts, sky-high heels… that’s what women wore to this bar. Not jeans, tennis shoes, and a sweater so thick, it hid every curve. He’d bet money she had curves underneath all that knitting, if her perfect ass was any indication.
But probably most intriguing was the baseball hat she wore. No over-sprayed curls or fancy up-do for her. Just hair hidden underneath a ball cap and barely any makeup.
Don’t get him wrong, he appreciated short skirts and tight shirts as much as the next guy, but the natural look had always been more appealing to him than any heavy makeup and brightly colored eyelids. He’d much rather kiss soft, bare lips than ones shellacked with shiny, dark lipstick. He knew from experience the stuff ended up smeared all over his mouth… and other places. He wasn’t fond of the stickiness or taste, but he was a guy and enjoyed kissing. He could deal with having to wash his face if it came with perks.
But a woman with natural beauty? That was hot as hell. And one not trying to impress was even hotter.