Etched in floral stationery was the announcement — obviously Elena’s pick. Jason was the king of clean lines and a minimalist to the bone.
We request the honor of your presence at the nuptials of Jason Joseph Barrett and Elena Rose Julian on Friday, the third of July, at seven in the evening. Willits Estate, 3300 East Drive, Willits Bend, Vermont.
Slamming a nut in a door was more appealing than getting hitched, but I was happy for the couple. Elena was already like a sister, and she made Jase whole, so that was all that mattered. They could enjoy wedded bliss, whatever that was, while I stayed on the fast track of unlimited pussy.
I slid the death certificate of my brother’s manhood to the back of the pile, grateful it’d never be me. At thirty-two, I was a rare breed in Briar, one of the few men not chained down. Watching them glare in envy while I fucked my way through the town’s crop never got old.
As I thumbed through advertisements, I came across a birthday postcard for my pride and joy with a picture of the beauty grinning ear to ear melting my heart.
While other men chased women who’d ruin them, I had Tally — the only girl I’d ever love.
“Tallybug! You got something, honey!”
She loved nothing more than getting mail. It’d been a long time since anyone sent her anything. The last surprise was a box of goodies from her Uncle Ethan.
Her feet pitter-pattered across the driveway as she fled the porch step, the crunch of gravel growing more rapid with each step.
I’d have to get her something extra special for her big day. While birthdays always saw bells and whistles in our house, turning five was a huge milestone for a little girl.
I flipped the postcard her way as she came to a stop. “Look what you got, sweetie!”
She craned her neck, peeking at the card. A smile tugged at her cheeks as she waited for me to read it aloud.
“Dr. Moore sent a card for my pretty princess!”
She barked at his name, bouncing from paw to paw, the only dog I’d ever had who actually liked the vet.
Well, she was the only dog I’d had, period, but whatever. Weren’t they supposed to hate thermometers in their ass? I didn’t even like fingers in mine. The thought of cold metal up there was more than a nope.
“That’s my girl!” I rubbed her side, her coat silky smooth from her latest grooming appointment. A vanilla lavender spa treatment was always a must for the princess.
I scrunched her floppy ear as it fluttered in the breeze, a fresh round of salt air skittering in from the inlet.
“You don’t have to see Dr. Moore for a while, Tallybug.”
My wallet appreciated that, too.
As I unleashed another round of rubs, a small SUV zipped by, catching my eye. Normally, I wouldn’t pay mind to speeders since I regularly flipped off the law, but the sharp turn around the bend ahead was better suited for a 25-mile-per-hour limit. Not that the town cared.
The SUV wouldn’t be its next casualty, however, cutting left into the driveway of Mrs. Sutton’s place with its tires screeching.
Well, what used to be Mrs. Sutton’s place. It’d been almost a year since she passed. The cozy cottage sat for sale since with no interest despite the views, its interior as ancient as its previous owner. I toyed with flipping it but refused to pay the outrageous price her son wanted.
Usually Dan the Douche would stop in to brag about the offers he had lined up, spewing nothing but crap as he did. It was odd he’d sold it and kept his mouth shut for once.
I shuffled mail, not wanting to be obvious as I lingered, ordering Tally to stay with a snap of my fingers as the love bug geared up to say hi.
Most people panicked when they saw seventy pounds of pit bull barreling their way, not that she’d hurt a fly.
A woman popped out of the driver’s side door, her blonde hair secured in a bushy ponytail. I couldn’t see much in the distance, but she definitely had legs for days, her long, lean frame hidden beneath a baggy t-shirt and jeans that hung from her like a clothesline.
A second later, a rear door opened, and a small boy appeared, his hair the same sunny shade as the woman’s. He had a tablet in one hand and a backpack in the other, almost toppling over as the bag swung to the side.
Tally whined as she eyed the pair. She’d visited Mrs. Sutton every afternoon when she got her mail until one day she didn’t; the day the sheriff found Mrs. Sutton dead in bed, a heart attack stealing Tally’s buddy.
“No,” I ordered firmly.
Aside from her breed, any animal running at you in our parts was shit-your-pants-worthy. Bobcats and bears roamed the forest, with the occasional coyote wandering down from the hills to raid trash.
When I looked back, the woman was wheeling a suitcase to the door of the shingled cottage, the small porch shrouded by overgrown elderberry bushes. The boy stuck close to her heels with his eyes glued to the tablet, resulting in the small fry toppling into her butt as she fiddled with keys.
As expected, the door stuck, years of readjustment coming undone as it sat. It desperately needed a new entryway, one that Mrs. Sutton hadn’t wanted. She loved the gaudy red door, and I tinkered with it as needed to make her happy.
With a not-so-delicate shove of a shoulder, the door gave way, and the two disappeared inside the weathered gray cottage.
The lack of bags pointed to them being vacation renters, explaining the lack of bragging from Dan. Hopefully, Dan screened whoever he stuck there well, because if he let anyone stay that fucked up the surrounding beauty, I’d whoop his ass.
Our houses were the only two on the remote stretch of Anderson Inlet Lane, with most of the
