Page 27 of Alonzo

This librarian job doesn’t pay much. It’s very entry level since I don’t really have a master’s degree in library science, only a fake one supplied by the FBI. But it, along with my stipend, pays enough to slip into the life of a girl who shops at estate sales instead of thrift stores.

And that’s how I furnished my apartment.

And now, Tara? Phoebe? Whoever you are? What do you think you’re going to find here in the thrift store today?

I don’t know.

The only thing I do know—it’s definitely going to be something from my past.

CHAPTER SEVEN - ALONZO

The next day I have one three-hour fishing trip with clients in the morning and that’s it. I offer them two free hours because I’m trying to keep my mind off Tara Tanner’s hot dildo blow job, and they take me up on it because they’re having lots of luck with the grouper. But by the time noon rolls around they’ve caught their limit—plus mine—and they’re ready to get back to land.

So it’s not even one o’clock in the afternoon and my work day is over.

I don’t mind being idle. I’m not one of those true workaholic types who needs to go, go, go all the time. But downtime comes with ample opportunity to think.

And I don’t want to think about last night.

Or no. I do. I want to run the whole thing back and forth in my mind until I’m certain I have every second memorized and maybe, if I’m being honest, jerk off to that memory too. But reliving last night leads to all the questions I suddenly have.

Questions like… do Tara and I have a future together? Or is it time to move on?

The answer is very simple. It is one hundred percent time to move on.

I’ve been pseudo-dating this girl for two years. What do I think is going to happen? She’s just going to throw away her life, and her friends, and her job to move down here with me? Because I’m sure as hell not moving up to Colorado. They don’t have an ocean there and I refuse to become some backwater, fly-fishing guide in the Rocky Mountains. Just the thought of standing in cold mountain rivers makes me shiver. I can’t imagine a life where wearing a shirt becomes mandatory. Every time I have to put on my white button-down disguise for a cam call I get all itchy and hot. I’m starting to think I’m allergic to sleeves.

And here’s a thought. Would sexy, sophisticated, bookish Tara even fit in down here? She wears a lot of clothes. And I get it. It’s Colorado. It’s the kind of place where lots of clothes comes in handy. But she wouldn’t last two hours in those tight, cover-every-inch-of-skin outfits. She’d probably pass out from heat stroke. And let’s face it, when a woman takes the time to put herself together the way Tara Tanner does—to cultivate a persona that comes with a costume, and a hairdo, and a certain shade of red lipstick—that image is part of her. It runs deep. She can’t just wake up one day and say, “I’m not going to be a sexy librarian anymore.”

Who would she be if she lived down here? What would her life look like? Maybe she could pull off that look in linen? Yeah, linen skirts could work. But wouldn’t her thighs get all hot and sweaty? She’d get heat rash for sure.

“Hey… isn’t that your new brother-in-law?”

I snap out of my thoughts and look up at my best friend, and first mate, Quint. “What?”

“That’s him, right? Jesse Boston?”

I swing my gaze over to where Quint is pointing, and sure enough, Jesse fucking Boston is making his way down the dock towards us, grinning like an idiot wearing thousand-dollar sunglasses and designer cargo shorts as he points his finger at me like a gun.

He, for the record, is not allowed to finger-gun point at me. That’s my thing.

Fuck. I forgot he was coming into town today.

“Lonz! What’s up, my man? Emma is in Europe for a week and I got bored. So I said to myself, ‘Jesse—you have your own cottage down there on Dumas Street. Right across the street from your new bro, Lonz.’ And one borrowed jet-ride later, here I am.” He beams and looks between Quint and I like this is a terrific new development and he wants to memorize our reactions. “I figured we’d get in a little brother-in-law bonding time, Lonz. What do you say?”

Oh. I can’t do this right now. Please, someone, if there’s a God, make this asshole go away.

I look at Quint and find him staring back at me with raised eyebrows. That look says, You OK, dude? But he doesn’t wait for an answer. Quint knows me better than any of my real brothers. We’ve been neighbors since we were five. Been working on this boat together since we were eighteen. And he knows all my family secrets.

He takes Jesse by the arm and starts leading him to the office. “Hey, Jesse. I’m Quint. Alonzo’s first mate. Let’s get you settled in the office while Lonz finishes up with the boat. Then I’m sure he’ll be happy to talk bonding time.”

Jesse looks over his shoulder at me as Quint drags him off. “So he’s Gilligan and you’re the Skipper, right? Am I right?”

I don’t answer and a few seconds later, Jesse Boston is pulled inside the office.

Thank you, Quint.

I do not have time for my stupid new brother-in-law. In fact, I kinda wanna pretend that my sister’s ridiculous wedding in Vegas last month never happened. If only we could’ve stopped that last one.