Page 7 of Sterling Touch
But then another thought strikes, nearly knocking me back off the stool again.
If Vale is a member of the book club . . .
And Vale attends the meetings which include the sale of sex toys . . .
Then Vale must own?—
Aw, fuck.
I scratch underneath my chin with my knuckles like I can erase an image, because the very last thing I need in my head is the vision of Vale Sylver pleasuring herself with a little assistance.
Or a big one.
4
[Vale]
Ilive for Thursday nights. It’s the one night of the week I get to forget I’m a mom for a little while and feel like a woman. At thirty-four, I’m still young, but not as wild as my teenage years. Back then, if there was a party in the woods, I was present. And if there happened to be a cute guy flirting me up, I didn’t balk at heading behind the trees to make out with him. In my early twenties, I had my fair share of one-night stands and short-term romances, always hopeful for more in both physical satisfaction and emotional connection.
The best result of one of those experiences is Hudson.
My son is the lasting benefit of misplaced romanticism, but I don’t regret him one bit. I’ve been a single mom since his birth, and grateful once again for the love and support of my eldest brother who took us in. Long gone are my days of one-night stands and dating apps. I’m just not that person anymore. Unfortunately, I’ve been living in my childhood home withStone ever since Hudson’s birth, and sometimes I just need a break.
From a boy on the verge of adolescence.
From a grown man with a heavy weight on his shoulders.
From that old house full of conflicting memories.
Thursday nights are my night off from everything. As much as it pains me at times to be reminded I’m lonely without a life partner at my side or ring on my finger, I’mnotalone. I have good friends, some of whom are also single, and I have book club.
AKA the town’s secret: The Sterlets.
Named for the starlets of this community who recognize their worth as women. As in, women who deserve sexual gratification, even if some of us need to bring it upon ourselves.Thank you, sex goddess, for Meredith Mulligan and her side hustle of selling pleasure-inducing adult toys. The She Shed is a knitting store on the first floor of her business, but upstairs, in Meredith’s private apartment, our book club revolves around romance novels, copious wine, and conversations about the best dildo.
Before the official club meeting, a new tradition of getting together with the women in my brothers’ lives has evolved. Most weeks, Enya, Sebastian’s wife, is here, along with her sister Cadence, who happens to be my brother Ford’s fiancée. But Enya and Sebastian just had their second baby, sweet Annabelle, and Sebastian is being a beast of protection and love over the second-time mom and their new bundle of joy. Cadence recently announced she is pregnant and tonight she’s somewhere with Ford and his three young daughters.
Halle, Knox’s wife, and Mavis, Clay’s fiancée, have met up with me instead. Since I saw Trinity Haven outside Milton Roadhouse before I entered, I invited her to join us.
As the only sister in each of our families, we both agree boys can be stupid, and the long-standing riff between oureldest brothers is an example. I understand all too well the pain Stone suffered at the hands of Bailey Cummins, but my brother has been better off without her. He dodged a bullet, as they say. Unfortunately, Cortland caught the shot, and he’s been injured from that decision.
Maybe the former friends can never forget the situation, but forgiveness seems long overdue. Then again, I learned a long time ago that forgivenessdoesn’talways need to be granted to others. Forgiveness is more important to give to yourself.
For awkward situations.
For painful experiences.
For poor choices.
I’ve made them all and glancing across the bar, catching on the eyes of one such decision sends a tingle down my spine. Because Cortland Haven is staring back at me and it’s exactly how we got in trouble the first time. The only time.
Quickly, I pull my gaze away from him but too soon I’m glancing back in his direction again. He’s changed his clothes since the baseball tryouts into a flannel shirt and jeans. A baseball cap graces his head instead of the straw cowboy hat from earlier. My memory flashes back to a night more than a decade ago when he was dressed in a similar fashion, minus the hat and with a little longer hair. His eyes were on me just the same that night, sending shivers over my skin back then, like his gaze does now.
Then, the tickle was a thrill; now, the shudder is confusion.
What are the odds that for nearly a decade I haven’t seen Cortland Haven in more than casual passings and rare sightings, but today, I’ve encountered him twice? And of all nights, on my book club night, when I am looking forward to what Meredith calls her Spring Fling collection.
My gaze flicks away from Cort but almost like my eyes have a will of their own, they draw back toward him.
