Page 55 of Reckless (Adventures in Love 3)
“That sounds like a plan.” I lean in to kiss Claire’s cheeks, making her laugh, then head for the door as Cybil says goodbye.
Twenty minutes later we pull into the parking lot of the steak house Everly chose for dinner, and as we exit the car, Cybil and I get a text from Margret letting us know that she and Everly have already been seated at the back of the restaurant. When we get inside, we bypass the podium in the front and walk through the dimly lit room to a curved booth in the back, the scent of grilled steak making my stomach growl.
“Were you waiting long?” I ask, arriving at the table and slipping off my jacket so that I can hang it on a hook next to our booth.
“No, I sent the text as soon as we were seated.” Margret pats the bench next to her in a silent demand for me to sit down, and I smile as I slide in to sit next to her.
“How was Sam feeling?” Cybil asks Everly as she takes a seat next to her.
“Of course he was fine.” She laughs, picking up the drink menu from the middle of the table. “When we got home, he refused to sleep, so we went to the park, which might work out better for my mom, since he will probably go to bed a little earlier than he normally does.”
“Is she keeping him overnight?”
“She is.” She passes the drink menu to Cybil, who looks at it for a minute before passing it to me. After deciding on a lemon-drop martini, I hand the menu to Margret, then look at the dinner menu on the table. I’m actually starved after not eating much of a lunch today.
“So I brought us some stuff,” Margret says a few minutes later after our waiter has walked away with our drink orders.
“Oh Lord,” Everly whispers as Margret pulls a large crown out of a black bag and passes it over to her soon-to-be sister-in-law. “You want me to wear this?”
“I don’t want you to; you have to wear it.” Margret takes it from her and places it on her head. That’s when I notice the pink, penis-shaped gems that are incorporated into the design of it.
“I love it.” Cybil laughs, and then Margret pulls out three smaller versions of the same crown.
“Well, this gives a new definition to the word dickhead,” I mumble, taking the crown from her and placing it on my head, and the girls laugh.
“Now these.” She pulls out of her bag a white sash with Bride-to-Be in gold and places it over Everly’s head, pinning it in place.
“Now you two.” She gives me one that is black stating that I’m single for the night and another to Cybil with Hot Mama on it before she puts on hers, which says Maid of Dishonor. “One more thing.” She gets out straws that look like penises and places them in our glasses of water.
“Do you have anything else in there?” Everly asks, trying to peek into the bag, but Margret waves her away.
“No, everything else is waiting for us at the bar.”
“Should I be worried?” Everly asks, and I laugh at the nervous look she passes around the table.
“Maybe.” Margret pats her hand, which is resting on top of the table, then adds, “Just kidding. It’s going to be fun.”
“I don’t know that your idea of fun and mine are the same,” Everly says a little over an hour and a half later as we enter one of the local bars in town. With Margret leading the way across the mostly empty room, we head to a table that is surrounded by dozens and dozens of floating, brightly colored penis-shaped balloons. A penis-shaped centerpiece with gold streamers shooting out of the tip sits in the middle of the table.
“Did you think you’d get away without having penises at your bachelorette party?” Margret asks, wrapping her arm around Everly’s shoulder.
“I hoped I would.” Everly laughs. “I’m just happy that there are no strippers.”
“Oh, but the night is young, sweet friend,” Margret says, making Cybil and me laugh while Everly turns bright pink. “I’m just kidding. My brother told me he would kill me if I hired a stripper, and for once I actually believed him.” She sets her bag down on one of the chairs, then walks across the room.
“Should I hide?” Everly asks as Margret goes to the bar and talks to the bartender, who smiles and laughs before bending to get something from the floor at their feet.
“Run,” I say, watching a life-size blow-up doll that looks like a man wearing nothing but jeans, boots, and a cowboy hat float over the bar.
“Darn, I really should have listened to you,” Everly whispers as Margret marches across the room toward us carrying the fake man with a wide smile on her face.
