Стейси Кестуик - Wet

As we got out of the car, I saw the Wreck for the first time. Rue had mentioned it’d originally been called The Shipwreck, but the Ship portion of the sign had fallen off and was leaning against the building. The clapboard wooden structure looked like it had seen better days, and the metal roof was rusted in spots. Cars filled the parking lot, though, and loud music was drifting out the open door.

When we got inside, I could see why Theo described the place as laid back. The tables were simple wooden picnic tables, and the scarred plank floor was littered with peanut shells. Red Coleman coolers full of unshelled peanuts sat on a bench next to plastic kids’ sand pails and shovels for customers to help themselves. The walls were made from reclaimed boards of different colors and sizes, but it was hard to tell from all the graffiti. Scribbles covered the walls and tables in a colorful tangle.

I spotted Theo across the room watching a game of pool and waved. He laughed and shook his head at one of the guys from the boardwalk the other day — Dylan, maybe? — and then headed toward us.

“You made it,” he said, giving me a hug and a quick kiss on the cheek.

Rue and Theo greeted each other and caught up on the local gossip while I finished looking around. The bar was off to the side, and bits of paper fluttered above it. In the back there were a handful of pool tables, as well as an old foosball table and a new-looking air hockey game. A dance floor was to our left, and through a pair of open doors a deck overlooked the marsh behind it, lit by strings of light. This was more my kind of place than Anchor. It felt comfortable. Easy.

I leaned into Rue, bumping her hip. “I’m going to the bar. You want a shot or a mojito?” I knew I wanted a margarita.

Theo shook his head at us. “You have to try the grog.”

Rue half-groaned, half-laughed. “I’d forgotten about that. He’s right. We have to get the grog.”

I furrowed my brow. “Okaaay. I’ll go get us some… grog.”

Theo squeezed my side. “Just tell them you want a pitcher and to put it on Grady’s tab. He’s buying tonight.”

I felt Rue stiffen next to me. “Grady’s here?” She whipped her head around, looking for him, and ran her fingers through her hair. It was what she did when she was nervous.

“Yeah. Tonight’s all on him. Drinks here first, then we’re all headed back over to his place later for an after party. You remember how to get there, right, Rue?”

“Yeah,” she clipped out. “I remember.”

I gave her a quizzical look. I’d have to remember to ask her about Grady later. She was acting weird.

Theo pointed out which table he’d claimed, and I headed to the bar. As I got closer, I realized the fluttery paper things hanging above the bar were actually dollar bills thumbtacked to the beams above it. Dollar bills with graffiti. I was still trying to figure out what the writing on the bills was when I reached the bar, my head twisted up and to the side to stare at one dollar in particular. Block letters spelled out, Are you a lieutenant? Because you just made my private stand at attention . What? The one next to it asked in bold Sharpie, Do you work at Subway? Because you just gave me a footlong .

“They’re pick-up lines.”

I jerked my head down at the sound of the deep voice. It almost looked like the voice belonged to West. Good Lord, was I so sexually deprived that now I was conjuring him up as the bartender? I blinked. It was him. “What?” I asked, smoothing a wisp of hair from my face.

“The dollar bills. They’re pick-up lines. If a line works for a guy, he pins it up. Sort of as a favor to his fellow man.”

“Are any of your lines up there?” I asked without thinking, glancing up again like I’d be able to spot one.

He spread his arms wide, gripping the edge of the bar from the service side, and grinned, his eyes crinkling in the corners. He had several braided rope bracelets on his right wrist. They looked worn, the colors more muted than vibrant, like he never took them off. “Nope. Want to know why not?” His shoulders stretched the material of his t-shirt, and my eye was drawn upward to his tattoo peeking below the sleeve.

“Why not?” I parroted, distracted.

He crooked his finger at me and bent down like he was going to tell me a secret. I leaned over the bar halfway to meet him. Cupping his hand around my ear, his fingers brushed my hair, and he whispered, “I don’t need a line.”

Amused, I drew back and quirked an eyebrow, ignoring the way my scalp tingled where his fingers had just been. I made a big show of studying him, my eyes lingering on his chest and shoulders. “Because you’re just that good, right?”

“Maybe. I mean, you followed me here, didn’t you?”

“Sorry to disappoint you, but I followed Theo here. Guess you’ll have to settle for second place.” He scowled. His obvious jealousy made me feel desirable, powerful. I couldn’t help wanting to needle him further. “There is something I need from you, though.” I licked my lips, leaning forward again. I made my voice low, sultry. “Something only you can give me.” His smile grew beneath half-closed eyes, and he crossed his arms over his chest, his biceps flexing. “I need a pitcher of grog. And put it on Grady’s tab,” I finished, keeping my tone even.

His smile faltered for a moment before the arrogant smirk slipped back in place. Turning his back to me without a word, he began scooping fruit from a cooler. I couldn’t help my eyes from tracing the line from his broad shoulders, down his tapering back, and over the curve of his ass. He was a prime example of what a man should look like, and he knew it too, damn him. The play of his muscles as he added ice and topped it with something red from the bar gun made me bite my lip with appreciation and yearn to reach out for him and stroke the length of his spine to see how he would react to my touch. He finished and turned back, breaking me out of my daze, and presented me with a full plastic pitcher of what looked like Kool-Aid with fruit salad floating in it.

I wrinkled my nose. “What is it?”

“Punch with Everclear-soaked fruit.”

My eyebrows rose.

“Be careful. It packs more of a wallop than you’d expect.”

“I’m sure I’ll be fine, but thanks anyway.”

I grabbed the pitcher and wove through the full bar to the table Theo had pointed out, being careful not to spill any of the bright red drink on myself. When I got back to the table, Kendra had arrived too, looking adorable in an ikat sundress.

Theo took the pitcher from me and poured us all drinks into the red plastic cups that were stacked on the tables. Rue took a big swallow and headed out to the deck, muttering something about needing some air. Minutes later, Kendra spotted a friend across the room and went off to say hi, promising to come back in a bit. Feeling abandoned, Theo and I stood shoulder-to-shoulder, and he filled me in on the local gossip, pointing out who was together, who hated who, and who to avoid at all costs.

“What about him?” I pointed at a guy with buzzed hair who was staring at Rue intently as he nursed a longneck beer.

Theo shot me a confused look. “That’s Grady. You haven’t met him yet?”

I lifted a shoulder. “Not officially, no. Rue got me the job, and I did the rest through the HR girl.”

“Ah. I’ll introduce you later.”

“That’d be good, since I did charge my drink to his tab.”

We people-watched for awhile, and I tried to pick out a girl for Theo to hit on, but everyone I picked he found something wrong with. He was like the male version of Rue. One girl laughed like a hyena, he said, a pretty redhead had ignored him in high school because he wasn’t cool enough, and the last one I motioned to before I gave up apparently had dog breath.