The Cougar Chronicles 2 Page 2

  “And his name was Duke,” I interrupt. “That’s self-explanatory. Enough with my exes.”

  “But I’m just getting started,” she protests innocently. “I’ve got about a hundred more, just from this year. And let’s not forget about poor Chazz. The boy you hired as an escort and then he fell in love with you. And now you use him for booty calls.”

  “He’s an escort,” I say between my teeth. “That’s his job. And do you really want to get started on the topic of escorts?”

  Alli has the grace to look sheepish.

  Why? Because she hired one too, and hers was awesome, and he turned out to be her new fiancee’s son. It’s been a complicated road to get here, for sure. The fact that I talked her into hiring an escort in the first place is beside the point. I also ordered her very first dildo for her. She named it Geronimo, and Geronimo makes up for everything.

  “Fine,” she gives in. “We don’t have to list off your exes. But I don’t want you messing with Sam. He’s way too sweet for you, Sara.”

  I narrow my eyes. “By sweet, do you mean boring? Because I can’t abide boring.”

  She defends him quickly. “No, he’s not boring. He’s nice, decent, gentlemanly…”

  Alli sees my satisfied expression and backtracks. “I mean, yes. He’s boring. So boring that he puts me to sleep when he talks. He snores mid-sentence. Young mothers from miles around call him to come put their babies to sleep. That’s how boring he is.”

  “Too late,” I tell her sweetly, with a gigantic saccharine smile. “Too late.”

  “Fuck,” Alli mutters.

  “Hopefully,” I agree.

  She glares at my back as I climb the stares. I feel it.

  Four

  God’s penis, and other important questions

  Unfortunately, Sam the Foreman is nowhere to be seen as we stroll to the garden to meet Alex for wine. I carry the two bottles I chose in the cellars, and Alex already has two with him.

  “I see we’ve got plenty of wine,” he drawls as we sit with him under the California stars.

  “God, the sky is huge out here,” I observe, watching the twinkly stars. “Do you ever get bored?”

  “No,” Alli answers. “It’s perfect.”

  “So where does Sam the Foreman live?” I change the subject smoothly and casually, and so subtly no one will even notice.

  Apparently not smoothly and casually enough because Alli’s head snaps back and she notices.

  “No,” she tells me firmly. “Just no.”

  Alex laughs.

  “He lives in a cottage on the edge of the winery,” he tells me. “It’s small and simple. Definitely not your taste.”

  “A cottage on the edge of a winery, hmm?” I ponder that. “Sounds romantic.”

  “Romantically small,” Alli emphasizes. “No balcony, no marble, no glitz. You’d hate it.”

  Still. Those sparkling dark eyes. “It was like there was a joke and he was the only one who knew it,” I say aloud dreamily.

  “Oh, no,” Alli groans. “You’ve seen his eyes sparkle.”

  I nod. “Hell, yeah, I did.”

  “Fuck.”

  “Hopefully,” I tell her again.

  She groans. Again.

  “Alexxxx,” she implores her fiancée. “Do something.”

  He laughs heartily now. “What do you want me to do? She’s your best friend, and she has penises for breakfast.”

  “You know me,” I tell him with appreciation. “You really know me.”

  He laughs again, and Alli scowls.

  “Okay. Changing the subject. I’ve got final fittings on my gown tomorrow, so I’m going to need you to be hostess at my book club. I forgot to cancel it and now it’s too late.”

  I’m appalled and Alli is successful in getting my mind off of her Foreman. “A book club? Hell, no.”

  “You have to,” Alli growls at me. “You wanted to be Maid of Honor, and this is the kind of stuff a MOH does.”

  “But a book club? I don’t even know what happens in a book club. Will there be strippers? Because I can do strippers.”

  Alli sighs and looks sad. “No, Sara. No strippers. You have to discuss a book that the entire group is reading. I’ll give it to you tonight and you can read a few chapters. It’s really good. I think you’ll love it. It’s Fight with Me by Kristen Proby. Lots of great sex scenes… it’ll make you laugh and swoon.”

  “I don’t swoon.”

  “You haven’t met the right guy yet, then,” Alex pipes up. He’s lounging in the chair with one leg draped over the arm, bare feet, his white button-up loosened at the collar. It’s almost too bad that Alli met him first.

  I sniff. “I’ll never swoon. But I do like me a good sex scene. Fine. I’ll look at your book.”

  “And lead book club,” Alli insists. “Basically, all you have to do is pour the wine and lead the discussion. It’s only an hour. You’ll be fine.”

  “Are you sure I can’t hire a stripper? That should spice things up. Maybe the stripper can lead the book club. Naked.”

  Alli shakes her head so firmly that I think her teeth rattle. “No. You won’t need a stripper.”

  “You’ve gotten boring,” I announce. “I’m very sorry for your loss. The loss of your fun spirit, that is.”

  “Her spirit is just fine,” Alex defends his woman, patting her hip. “She’s got an amazing spirit, actually.”

  I narrow my eyes. “Are you using spirit as code for something? Like vagina, or nipples?”

  Alex sighs. “You’re incorrigible.”

  “I know that,” I tell him cheerfully. “It’s a gift.”

  “Or a curse,” Alli mutters under her breath.

  I give up on her and turn to her fiancée. “Can I have free rein over your groom’s cake? I have a fantastic idea.”

  He starts to nod, but Alli breaks in. “You’re not getting a penis cake, Sara. Let it go.”

  “But, Alli- can’t you just see how funny it would be? All of the people in the room dressed to the nines and eating penis?? Pleasseeee God, let me do it.”

  “God doesn’t want a penis cake,” I assure her. “And neither do I.”

  “Don’t speak for God,” she tells me. “You don’t know what He wants.”

  “I know He doesn’t want a penis cake,” she answers and she sounds tired.

  “How do you know? He designed the penis. He probably even has one. Oh my God. Does God have a penis??”

  The idea has never occurred to me before, and Alex and Alli both look appalled.

  “You’re going to hell,” Alex tells me firmly. “I hope Satan gives you the best room with the strippers.”

  “It was a valid question,” I insist as I pour another glass of wine. “I mean, if God is a man, why wouldn’t he have a penis? It’s not sacrilegious. I mean, he invented the penis in the first place. If I were God, I’d give myself a giant penis. The biggest penis in the world.”

  “I can’t believe we’re talking about this,” Alli grumbles into her glass.

  “Can’t you?” Alex asks drolly. “Sara is here, after all.”

  “You love me,” I assure them. “Don’t pretend you don’t.”

  They don’t commit or argue, and we continue drinking under the stars. One glass turns into ten glasses pretty quickly.

  It’s not long before Alli and I finish the wine and are professing our undying love to each other.

  “I miss you so mucccchhh,” Alli slurs, her hand attempting to stroke my neck, but really she’s pawing at me.

  I swat at it. “I love you too,” I assure her. “But I’m not making out with you tonight. We’ve done that once already.”

  “You have?” Alex’s eyebrow raises and I giggle.

  “No. I was just trying to get a rise out of you.” I stare pointedly at his crotch, then collapse into giggles and Alli joins me, and there’s no way I’m going to be able to walk all the way back to my room.

  “I think I’ll just sleep here,” I announce,
falling onto a chaise lounge. “The sky is spinning, anyway. It’s not safe to walk out here.”

  “No,” Alli sits up in alarm. “There are animals out here. I just saw bob-cats the other day.”

  “Bobcats are no match for a cougar,” Alex mutters and for some reason, that completely cracks me up and I laugh until I feel like I’m going to pee.

  “I’m going to pee,” I announce.

  “I’ll just come back later.” A voice, a new voice, comes from the shadows and I open one eye to find, with complete horror, that Sam the Foreman heard my announcement.

  “Thank God, man,” Alex greets me. “Help me with these two, will ya?”

  “I don’t need help,” I say. I think I say. I slur, actually. Everyone stares at me.

  “What did you say?” Alli asks, only it comes out as Wheechyasaw. That cracks me up and I have to hold myself to make sure I don’t pee in front of Sam.

  “Why did you make me have four bottles of wine?” I demand of Alex, only it doesn’t come out right and I have to bounce up and down so I don’t urinate down my own leg.

  “You get that one,” Alex directs Sam. “I’ll get this one.”

  He hefts Alli over his shoulder and I eye Sam. “Don’t even think about it,” I tell him thoughtfully. “Or I might pee down your back.”

  I think he shudders.

  He slides his arm under my armpits and supports my weight. “I weigh one hundred and twenty pounds, “I tell him, ever-helpful. “One eighteen if I’ve been drinking a lot of water.”

  “Nice,” he tells me, and he’s patient as he helps me hobble through the spinning paths.

  “If these trails would hold still this would be easier,” I point out. He laughs.

  “Sam the Foreman,” I say conversationally, and I think my hand might be wedged in his ass crack. “Are you going to the wedding?”

  “Well first,” he says, moving my hand from his crack to his waist. “You don’t have to say Sam the Foreman. Sam is fine. Foreman sounds like Foreskin. And second, yes. I’m going to the wedding.”

  “Perfect!” I exclaim. As Alli and Alex stride past, I ask him loudly. “Wouldn’t you like to eat a penis cake?”

  He groans and Alli flips me off over Alex’s back.

  “She has strong feelings about that,” Sam observes.

  “She’s not sure of her thoughts on penis,” I lie, then cackle.

  He smiles and he helps me up the first stairs of the staircase. “I think she is,” he argues politely.

  “Maybe. Do you think God has a penis?”

  That’s when I shock him into silence and he carries me the rest of the way.

  As he pushes into my doorway, I can’t help but catch sight of my reflection in the dresser mirror and I scream.

  Sam almost drops me.

  “What?” he asks anxiously. “Did you pee?”

  “No,” I reply indignantly. “Of course not. I look like a banshee. I usually look like a bombshell.”

  “So you said earlier,” he answers, and I think he might be laughing.

  He starts to back out of the room, but I stop him.

  “Sam, you’re strong,” I tell him. Complimenting men is always a good idea. And he is strong. His muscles bulge. His crotch does too. “And you smell good. Like wood.”

  “Uh, thanks?” he looks at me on his way out and his eyes sparkle and omigod, he’s beautiful.

  “You’re beautiful!” I call after him, but the room is spinning, so I drop onto the bed and close my eyes to stop the movement.

  Damned if it’s not morning when I open my eyes again.

  And omigod, my head.

  Five

  What the eff is an Apa?

  “We’re dying,” Alli and I moan together at breakfast. I hide my face in my arms, and Alli wears her sleep mask. I think it’s pretty admirable that she can drink her coffee blind-folded, if you want the truth. That takes talent.

  It also takes talent that we’re both upright after the night we had.

  Alex, however, is heartless and unimpressed.

  “I think you’ll both live,” he says as he reads the paper.

  “You’re the devil,” I tell him. He doesn’t even flinch.

  “I know.”

  I sniff. But the movement hurts, so I drop my head back into my arms.

  “Where’s your assistant?” I ask Alli.

  “Taylor? She’ll be here later. She moved here from Vegas, you know, to work for me here.”

  “Of course she did. You own a winery,” I point out. “Have her bring espresso for us.”

  “That’s an excellent idea.” Alli pulls out her phone, and peering from under her sleep-mask, she texts her assistant.

  “And doughnuts.”

  She adds that.

  “Anything else?”

  “Red Bull.”

  She adds that with reservations. Even I have to cringe at the thought of me on an energy drink plus espresso and doughnuts.

  “I’ve got to give you the book so you can prepare for tonight.”

  I lift my head long enough to give her a blank look.

  “For book club.”

  I groan and die into my arms.

  “I can’t read because I can’t see. My eyeballs are hung-over.”

  “You’re thirty-five years old,” Alex tells me heartlessly as he refills his coffee. “You’ve got to learn. Tough love, baby.”

  “Sleep with one eye open,” I threaten him as he walks out the door to get dressed. I hear him laughing from down the hall.

  I look at Alli. “I’ll never learn,” I promise defiantly. She snorts.

  “I know. I’m going to shower and get you the book. I’ve got to get fitted today and I don’t want to puke on the poor seamstress.”

  “Have Taylor bring some bottled water!” I call after her.

  “It’s in the fridge already,” she answers. “Help yourself.”

  I do, and I drink an entire bottle in huge unlady-like gulps because water keeps you young and pretty.

  I’m taking the last gulp from the bottle when I know I’m being watched, and turning, I see Sam the Foreman standing on the other side of the window, watching me with a smile on his perfect face.

  Water is running down my chin and I wipe it away and he smiles wider.

  I’m a bombshell, damnit.

  Currently, though, I’m wearing an old ratty t-shirt, no makeup, I have hangover bags under my eyes and my hair is standing up all over my head like bright red lawn clippings.

  Fuck.

  I wave, because what else am I supposed to do?

  He waves back, and I watch him go, because SWEET JESUS he looks good going.

  Alli crawls back through the door with a book in her teeth because her arms are holding up her body.

  “How big do you suppose his dick is?” I ponder. Alli sits up.

  “Stay away from his dick.”

  “You know it’s not going to happen,” I tell her. “Can’t you just get on board and help me?”

  “No.”

  She hands me the book. It’s got a sexy cover, but I don’t read.

  “My head hurts too much.”

  ‘You should read it,” she advises. “You could learn something.”

  I scowl. “Whatever. I know everything.”

  “The main character has an apa,” she says, and the suggestive way she says it snags my attention.

  I narrow my eyes. “What is this apa you speak of?”

  She grins. “The mere fact that you don’t know is why you need to read it. It’s an apadravya. Go out by the pool and enjoy. I’ll see you later.”

  I want to decline. I want to. But the idea of something sexual that I don’t know about… well, it hooks me just like Alli knew it would.

  “Fine,” I mutter. “I’ll go out by the beautiful pool and read in the refreshing air and lounge on the gorgeous chairs because I want to. Not because you told me to.”

  “That’s right,” Alli nods. “No one tells you what to do.
Least of all me.”

  ‘That’s right,” I agree.

  “I’ll have Taylor bring you coffee,” Alli says, giving me a little nudge toward the patio doors.

  “And a doughnut,” I grumble over my shoulder.

  “And a doughnut,” she readily agrees. “Two of them.”

  “Fine.”

  Somehow, I feel like I won even though I know I didn’t. As soon as the sun hits my shoulders though, I feel like I did again.

  I take a deep breath and gaze at the shimmering aqua pool and the welcoming lounges and umbrellas and I head back in to get my swim-suit on. And sunscreen. Because I might be a bombshell, but I’m a pale bombshell.

  In twenty minutes, I’m back outdoors, in a red retro bathing-suit, my hair brushed into a sleek bob and my large Jackie-O sunglasses. I look like I just stepped out of a magazine, if I do say so myself.

  I settle down in the best chair with my nose stuck in a book. A book. This hasn’t happened since senior year in high school, and we won’t discuss how many years ago that was. Fuck that shit.

  There was once a couple named Nate and Jules and they lived in Seattle and…

  In spite of my misgivings, I’m quickly sucked into their story and HOLY SHEEP SHIT. An apa is a what?!?

  I quickly pick my phone up and google this.

  Because HOLY SHEEP SHIT.

  The piercing goes where? And it could do WHAT for me?

  I’m tantalized and fascinated.

  I’m curious.

  My thighs automatically press together and my nose is buried in my phone scanning pictures of this apa business.

  This is why I don’t hear someone sneaking up on me like a cat with ninja skills until they clear their throat next to my shoulder.

  I jump out of my skin.

  Then I come out of my seat.

  “What the hell?” I demand of Sam. “Announce yourself, man. Don’t sneak up on a girl like that.”

  He rolls his eyes. “Don’t get so immersed in looking at dick pics and you’d hear me.”

  “I’m not looking at dicks,” I tell him drolly as I settle back into my chair. “I’m looking at pictures of apa piercings. There’s a difference.”