As it turned out, organizing a ten year class reunion was really freaking exhausting. After a full day of pouring over the books and deciding on catering contracts - Bobby's Steakhouse and Irene's Sweets, and selecting colorful decor to fill the high school gym with, my brain was physically throbbing. Not to mention hand addressing invitations to all twenty-two Class of 2013 graduates, made my hand cramp in a nasty way. Most of the proud alumni still had Vertie zip codes....aside from one.
Hudson Kincaid was the only person that had made it out of West Texas, and all the way to the Big Apple. A detail that didn't go unsaid at least three times during our envelope licking. But surprisingly, it didn't annoy me much.
Perhaps because my traitorous eyes were too busy watching the languid movements his tongue made as he licked along the glue line. The way the little pink tip flicked up at the end made my mind wander to the times he would work it that way against my clit, and my thighs would clench together. Time was supposed to make things less intense, but with Hudson it was like no time had passed between senior year and ten minutes ago. It was one continuous Hudson-Bailey loop.
"God, I need a drink!" Damion announced with a flip of his long checkered scarf to pretty much the entire bar. Not that that was terribly hard to do. HARVEY'S was the quintessential small town pub, sandwiched in the middle of Main Street between Irene's Sweets and Billy's Bootshine. Both of which had been in Vertie longer than I'd been alive. They'd been passed down at least three generations, surviving solely on small town loyalty and a minuscule rent price.
"I think my brain has it's own pulse." I complained, dropping my denim clad ass into a peeling barstool at the end of the ten seat row. HARVEY'S might've been a small town bar, but the beer was always cold and the jukebox was chalk full of country music classics that were a favorite of longtime owner Harvey Williams. Not to mention the people watching was some of the best in Vertie. Well, almost all the people watching. My eyes connected momentarily with the pretty blonde bartender, before hers widened at Hudson who was taking the seat next to me. I knew that look. I'd seen it on her years ago at that house party senior year. Lust. Pure unadulterated fuck me vibes.
"Well, well I must need to go down to Vertie Vision to get my eyes checked, because I'd swear millionaire Hudson Kincaid just walked back into my bar..." Kenzi Williams bit into her plump, overly glossed lower lip, as she tossed her ultra-blonde locks over one shoulder.
"Don't you mean your uncle's bar?" Hudson smirked, but his body still leaned in and I didn't miss how his blue eyes shot down to her cleavage and back up again. Fuck...that sucked. Like, a lot. I tried to shake myself and the ugly stabbing jealousy creeping along my spine.
He was single, he had every right to look at Kenzi's annoyingly perky perfect breasts all he wanted. "Did I miss Harvey selling you the place?"
"No, you didn't miss anything. It's still technically his bar, but I've been his best bartender for years." More lip nibbling as she rested her slim exposed hip on the bar and leaned into Hudson. "I guess that's what happens when you sell so many shots to the patrons. You buy one, you buy me one, we see where the night takes us..." She pushed back and pretended to polish a few glasses, her large boobs jiggling suggestively as she went. "Doesn't matter the liquor, I always swallow."
"Good to know." Hudson's smirked and my stomach couldn't possibly drop any lower. Kenzi was easy. She always had been, and it'd never bothered me before. I wasn't a fan of slut shaming, and believed in sexual expression to a point, but when her sights were set on Hudson it felt dirty somehow.
"Hey, Kenzi. Can we get three Chilton's with extra lemon, please?" I interjected, needing a straight injection of Tito's like I never had before.
"Sure thing, Bailey." Kenzi rolled her doll blue, heavily charcoal rimmed eyes, but busied herself behind the bar making our order. She actually was a pretty talented bartender, as much as it pained me to admit it. She spun the vodka bottle around her two slim fingers before pouring, flirted with the regulars, and overall kept the crowd engaged. All eyes on her.
YOU ARE READING
The Impact of Intimacy
Romance***ONGOING*** Being the only virgin left in small town, Texas was a major fucking buzz kill. Bailey Sawyers didn't get invited to parties, she didn't get to gossip with the girls, and Bryce Hall certainly never looked in her direction. Which was wh...
