JENNIFER LABRECQUE - Barely Behaving

Tammy laughed, shaking her head. “I know news travels fast in this town, but it was just yesterday.”

“Yeah, well, Earl mentioned it at Cecil’s last night.”

She’d celebrated by sunbathing naked. Earl had celebrated with a beer or two at Cecil’s Bar and Grill. Actually, Earl wouldn’t have stopped at two unless he’d changed drastically in the past year. That’d been yet one more irreconcilable difference when they’d split up. Earl had grown increasingly fond of a inebriation. She’d grown up with a drunk—she loved Pops but she’d spent one too many nights as a child and a teenager looking after an alcoholic—by God, she wasn’t going to remain married to one. She hadn’t considered sobriety and faithfulness unreasonable requests.

She almost asked Lowell just how wasted Earl had been, but left it alone. Frankly, Scarlett, she didn’t give a damn.

Instead she looked at Lowell, which wasn’t a hardship ’cause Lowell was a bonafide hottie. A tough guy in a tight-jeans-and-tattoo, badass kind of way. Actually, just the kind of guy she’d always been attracted to. Past tense. Lowell wasn’t doing a thing for her now.

“You’re looking good, babe.” He leaned against the door with a swagger and raked her with hungry eyes. “Hot. So, now that you’re footloose and fancy-free, how about you and me going out?”

Lowell was the spitting image of Brad Pitt and she’d always had a thing for Brad. Her hormones should’ve been having a field day at the prospect of going out with him. She’d always maintained a gal had to grab a chance when it presented itself. Now, here was Lowell, opportunity personified, and she wasn’t interested.

Not the way she’d been interested when she’d felt Niall’s heat in the close confines of her kitchen last night or when she’d kissed him by the front door. That memory alone notched up her temperature.

She shook her head. “I don’t think so.”

Lowell’s cocky grin faded. “You don’t think so?” He wasn’t nearly so sexy with his mouth hanging open.

“That’s right.” She turned to straighten the magazines on the table between the two armchairs. Her waiting room was small, but that was okay. There was never more than one person waiting at a time.

“Why the hell don’t you want to go out with me?”

Because she’d fricking said so should’ve been good enough. Lowell’s arrogant incredulity was beginning to work her nerves. “Lowell, I don’t owe you an explanation. I’ve said no so leave it at that.”

Lowell wasn’t a happy camper. He wasn’t used to being turned down.

“I may not still be interested when you decide you are,” he warned, crossing his arms over his chest like a petulant child.

His attitude weakened his case and strengthened her resolve. A grown man sulking was so not sexy. “I’ll take that chance.”

“Baby, I could play you like a violin. You don’t know what you’re missing.”

“I’m pretty sure I do.” Lowell struck her as remarkably similar to Earl, Jerry, Allen and all the other men in between. Same book, different page. And suddenly she was ready to read a different book.

Willette—on time for once in her life—peered through the glass door, questioning whether she should come in.

Tammy waved her in. “My appointment’s here,” she said dismissing Lowell and his attitude.

Willette strolled in. Lowell got in the last word as he stomped out. “Give me a call when you change your mind. Maybe I’ll be available.”

“What was that all about?” Willette asked before the door shut behind him.

Tammy had known Willette all her life. Married to Bob Tidwell right after high school, Willette had three children, owned a nice house in a new subdivision on the outskirts of town, served as president of the PTA, taught Sunday school at the Baptist church and lived vicariously through Tammy.

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