Beers, Lies and Alibis (Warblers Point Series Book 2) (15 page)

With that, Finn closed her door and left her to stew in her own thoughts.
 

***

After visiting his parents in the hospital, Liam walked the perimeter of the fire-damaged cabins at The Sleeping Potato and took in everything they would have to fix. He wrote down notes as to what they would need to get, what they could salvage, and how much help they would need to take care of everything.
 
Three of the cabins were damaged. The one that actually started the fire was completely toasted. They would have to tear that one down and start from scratch, the other two only needed some roof-work and some work on the sides that were closest to the burning cabin.
 

Feeling a little relieved at the promise of not that much work ahead of them, Liam sat on a bench that overlooked the lake which bordered their parents’ property. There were so many happy memories that came along with the property he grew up on. He used to spend hours with his siblings, climbing the rocks that ran the edge of the lake, playing follow the leader, and scaring the living piss out of Bradon by hiding in in the bushes that lined the lake.
 

Liam laughed to himself as he thought about the time they actually made Bradon piss his pants from being startled.
 

“Laughing to yourself is a sign of crazy,” Bradon said, as he sat next to Liam. “Raff is all set to come over later today. He just got into the states yesterday. He was finishing up with some hot blonde before he headed up here. The boy is a machine.”

“It fascinates me that you two have different parents. I could have sworn you were separated at birth.”

“Nah, I’m way better looking than Raff.”

“And not full of yourself at all.”

They both laughed as Bradon handed Liam a coffee. “How’s Da doing?”

“Same,” Liam said solemnly. “I’m assuming Finn went over there this morning to bring Ma food and clothes, since you just asked how the old man was doing.”

“Yeah, he went to the hospital and I came here. I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

Surprised by Bradon’s rare show of compassion, Liam confided in him.
 

“I’m barely holding on by a thread. This whole thing with Neala is so fucked up. I just don’t understand why she won’t tell me what the hell is going on. It’s so frustrating. Needless to say, I will be happy to dive into some manual labor, take my anger out on some nails.”

“When does she get back…from wherever she is?”

Liam took a sip of his coffee as he looked out over the lake. “Not sure. But I plan on talking to her parents because this is bullshit. I might have to be a total dick about it.”

“What do you mean?” Bradon asked.
 

“I mean, she is still on my insurance. So I’m going to go to Neala’s parents and I’m going to threaten to kick her off my insurance unless they tell me what the hell is going on.”

“Would you really kick her off?”

“Fuck no! But they don’t know that. For all they know, I’m a ticking time bomb ready to explode at the drop of some crusty hooker’s panties.”

Bradon chuckled to himself while he shook his head. “Damn, why can’t I get that visual out of my head? You losing your shit when Looker the Street Hooker drops those droopy drawers of hers.”

Looker was the well-known slut in town. She took great pride in the flappy-ness of her overused lady parts. The only problem with Looker was she was about sixty-five and had more wrinkles on her body then a Yo-to-the-fucking-da himself. She patrolled the corner of Main and Lake Streets, shaking her sagging pea pods for any pedestrian who came within a ten foot radius and dry humped the light post from three to five while all the old timers were cruising in for the early bird special. The police never did anything about her because, one, she never got any business…clearly and two, she was kind of a Warblers Point institution. It was refreshing for the boys to say they had a well-known hooker in their parts, no one really needed to know it was a sixty-something-year-old geriatric with a fake hip and goggles as glasses.
 

Liam laughed. “I swear to God, the other day she was wearing fish net stockings over her saggy tits. One of her nipples was poking out of one of the holes as she danced away. It was fucking nasty.”

“She’s the only local I think I haven’t porked in Warblers Point.”

“I can go get her,” Liam looked down at his watch. “She should be starting her morning show. I’m sure she would be more than happy to take you back to her sex lair.”

“I think I’ll pass. Don’t want her croaking over the size of my dick, you know?”

“True, she’d think she went blind trying to search for that dried up macaroni of yours.”

“You know, when it gets wet, it expands like a motherfucker though.”

“I’m done with this conversation,” Liam said, as he finished off his coffee. He looked around the land, surveying one last time what they needed to take care of in order to get The Sleeping Potato back in working order before their dad came to. “It’s not going to be that bad, you know?”

“Rebuilding?”

“Yeah, I want to work our asses off so when Da comes back to us, he’ll have nothing to worry about.”

“Agreed.” Bradon was silent for a second before he said, “Hey, if you need help with Neala, just ask. I know I can be a dick most of the time, but if you honestly need something, don’t be afraid to ask.”

“Thanks man.” It was an extremely rare, but tender moment Liam was having with his younger brother. He tried to soak it in as much as possible.
 

“But I’m not going to promise to not make fun of your sorry ass for not being able to hold down your woman.”

And…the moment was over.
 

***

To my dearest Blaire,
 

The scent of vanilla mixed with lilacs keeps filtering through my senses and it’s driving me crazy because it’s the smell that permeated from your hair and imprinted the pillow you slept on. Occasionally, I’ll be walking the streets of Warblers Point and your scent filters past me, leaving me aching and on the verge of a meltdown from not being near you.
 

I don’t think you realize how much you have ingrained yourself into my body. You are everywhere. I bleed you, I breathe you and my soul is lost without you. I am a walking shell of the man I used to be. You were the spirit that made me who I was. Before you, I never knew what living was until you graced me with your presence your first night in Warblers Point.

 
I hope you know I would do anything for you. You are my forever, Blaire. I love you.
 

-Finn

Chapter 8

“Alright, babe. I’ll see you in a couple of hours. I love you.”

“I love you, too. Safe flight,” came Fiona’s soft voice over the phone.
 

Booker was finally able to get away from work and was on his way to Warblers Point. He was waiting out his first and only layover, thankfully.

Unfortunately, since he lent his plane to Fiona, he now had to fly with the rest of the pedestrians. Apparently, his plane needed a new part and rather than take the risk of flying in a malfunctioning plane, he was hoofing it with the rest of the traveling population.
 

Traveling with the masses was Booker’s least favorite thing to do. Not only was he groped very thoroughly by a very flamboyant TSA worker, but he had to wait at the gate with everyone else because he didn’t have any premium access with the only airline he could book. He knew he was being a bit of a princess, but he couldn’t help it, not when he was so used to his normal traveling standards.

Booker’s irritation level was at an all-time high. All he wanted was to be with his girl in one of his favorite little towns. Instead, he was the douche with sunglasses covering his eyes while inside and a hat on his head, making him look beyond suspicious. The guy next to him was eating overly greasy fast food and excreting putrid air from all orifices of his body, making Booker want to throw up on the nursing and almost bare-breasted woman in front of him.
 

Completely annoyed, Booker decided to take a little walk before his flight; he needed to get away from the smells radiating off of the heavyset, oxygen-hoarding man next to him.
 

Booker grabbed his bag, kept his head was down, and took off toward the main concourse to purchase some much-needed water and gum, hoping the combination would extract all the smells from his nose that he had just suffered through.
 

It wasn’t until Booker was chin-deep in a lady’s cleavage that he realized he should have been looking where he was going instead of trying to be aloof.
 

The soft tissue of the woman’s breast not only made his collision easy on his face, but, by God, the contact stirred him in his pants. There was something seriously wrong with him.
 

Mortified, Booker looked up and made eye contact with the same blue eyes that he had run into at the coffee shop, but this time she wasn’t coated in coffee, she was coated in some kind of pink frosty concoction.
 

“Oh shit, I’m so sorry,” Booker said, while trying to dab her shirt, which he realized wasn’t doing anything since he had no napkins. So, not only did he run into her and spill a drink all over her once again, but now he was feeling her up.
 

The sick part about it was he couldn’t help but be turned on by her breasts. Her nipples were standing at attention from the cold drink and he instantly hated himself for even looking at another woman, let alone being turned on.
 

“It’s okay…” The girl stopped and cocked her head to the side, making her look incredibly adorable. She grabbed Booker’s sunglasses and said, “Hey, it’s you…from the coffee shop.”

For some odd reason, Booker raised his hand and said, “Guilty.” Good God he was acting like a tool.
 

“Well, we can’t keep meeting like this,” she said with a saucy grin, delivering one of the corniest lines of all time. When she looked down at her shirt, her smile widened. “I think you owe me another shirt.”

Booker looked down at her shirt again and noticed how the pink drink was now fully soaked in and plastering itself to her body and, God, what a good body it was. It was as if she was a model of some sort with her brilliant brown hair that swept to the side and her gorgeously blue eyes. Booker couldn’t help but stare at her.
 

“Uh…eyes up here buddy.” She cleared her throat.
 

“Fuck, sorry. I just…I, uh…” What was his problem? Why was he a blubbering idiot? “Let’s get you a new shirt.”

Grabbing her by the arm, Booker escorted her to one of the novelty shops in the main concourse.
 

Quickly scanning her full outfit, Booker noticed she was wearing hip and leg-hugging faux leather pants, indecently high heels for traveling and a not-so-flowy-anymore blouse. Scanning the merchandise, he realized she was going to have to settle for a touristy shirt that was very common merchandise in airports.
 

Wincing, Booker turned toward the girl and said, “I think you’re going to make all the fashionistas out there cry about the outfit you are about to don.”

She looked down at herself and said, “Anything is better than this.”

“True.” Booker looked at the different shirts and then held them up and said, “You can either have an extra small Chicago shirt or a…” he looked closer and then laughed. “…a ‘Chicago blew me’ neon orange shirt.”

The girl chuckled, making Booker’s balls tighten at the adorable sound released from her pretty pink lips.
 

“Those are horrible options.”

“It’s either that or a double XL and, looking at you, I’d say that wouldn’t work.”

“You’re right. I guess I’ll go with the extra small. Might be tight, but Chicago did not blow me.”

Smiling, Booker paid for the shirt and then handed it over to her, along with some baby wipes so she could clean herself up.
 

“Thank you. Do you mind watching my bag real quick while I go change?”

“Sure, it’s the least I can do.”

The girl took off while Booker held her pink purse outside of the lady’s restroom. He looked like a totally whipped man. If it was Fiona’s purse, he wouldn’t have a problem with it, because he loved her and would do anything for her, but because it was a complete stranger’s purse whose cleavage he couldn’t stop staring at, he had unsettled feelings about it.
 

The girl came prancing out of the restroom and Booker nearly swallowed his tongue at the sight before him. Her shirt was definitely too small and gave a great view of her sculpted and braless breasts. Holy Mother of all that was good and plenty, he was going to pop a boner right there on the spot, in the middle of the damn Chicago airport.
 

“It’s a little snug, but it will do.”
 

It was snug alright, Booker thought as she tossed her shirt and…bra in her purse. The bra was stained, which let Booker know why he was getting a great view of her shapely breasts. There was no way they were real; they were too perfectly round.