Motherclucker by Theresa Leigh

Author:Theresa Leigh [Leigh, Theresa]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: LuxLife Publishing

Chapter Twenty-Two

Wesley

Gabby’s eyelashes cannot be real.

Can they?

I try to figure this out, and then I realize that I have been staring at her, saying absolutely nothing, for the past five minutes.

Luckily, she is too busy loving on my dog to notice how hard I am working to figure her out. “She’s so sweet!” Gabby sits down, the better to get closer to ground level where my dog is, and gushes over her. Sweetie Pie wags her whole body along with her tail, and whines to be picked up.

How do fake eyelashes work, exactly? Does she tape them on? Glue? I suppose I could ask, but would that offend her?

My dog is a lot more decisive when it comes to women. Once she realizes that Gabby isn’t lifting her into her lap the way she obviously should be, Sweetie Pie takes matters into her own paws and makes a flying leap towards her target. “Oof!” Gabby laughs as my dog lands on her with all the grace of a bowling ball. She leans back in her chair, making it skid dangerously close to the lip of the pool, and tries to fend off the onslaught of doggie kisses. “You’re going to mess up my face!” she laughs.

“Sweetie Pie, cool it,” I admonish, like that’s going to have any effect whatsoever on my stubborn dog. “Do you want me to take her?” I offer.

“It’s okay. She’ll settle down, right?”

As if on cue, Sweetie Pie turns in a tight circle and settles into Gabby’s lap. Gabby gives me a “see?” look and sips her drink.

“You should take her home,” I laugh. “She listens to you much better than she does to me.”

“Oh!” Gabby presses her hand to her heart, drawing my eye to her cleavage. “I wouldn’t take your dog, that would be terrible!”

It was a joke, but she looks scandalized. So I quickly try to make another joke.

This is what I do when I am nervous. I pile joke upon joke until I nearly asphyxiate under the weight of how hard I am trying.

I don’t know why I am so nervous. Sure, Jane is the only woman I’ve spent any time with — besides Melody — in a while. But I’m usually smoother than this.

Maybe it’s because Gabby is so beautiful she hardly looks real. I should want her.

It’s really weird that I don’t.

That makes me even more nervous than the meaningful glances Esme keeps sending my way.

After settling us down at this semi-private table — the only one on this level — Esme made a great show of leaving us alone, heading over to Ricky by the grill. At some point in the past half hour, Ricky donned an apron with a little frill at the bottom that makes him look like the world’s ugliest French maid. He watches the grill with a glazed, happy-drunk expression and is paying me no attention whatsoever.

But Esme is watching and I can tell she is not happy. According to the look on her face, I am screwing everything up.

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