Boomerangers: A second chance romantic comedy (Cajun Girls Book 1)
Boomerangers: Chapter 5

She didn’t call.

I don’t know why that surprises me, but it does. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about Spence since I held her in my arms this morning. I thought for sure she’d felt what I had. The pull. The spark. The electricity buzzing between us.

I unlock my phone, checking one last time for any missed calls or messages, finding none. Ah, well. There’s always tomorrow.

I turn off my truck and step out onto the gravel parking lot in front of T-Boy’s. There are exactly three other cars in the lot. Much to my disappointment, none of them are a black Tahoe.

The sinking feeling forming in the pit of my stomach is pissing me off. I know better than to get too attached to Spencer. Those kids aren’t going anywhere any time soon, and I can’t handle being around a constant reminder of what Spence and I should have had—what we’ll never have because she’s already given away our chance at a family. I can feel the bitterness threatening to consume me.

Taking a deep inhale of the cool, night air, I head for the hot pink neon sign that reads T-Boy’s in cursive letters.

T-Boy’s bar is a hole in the wall that’s been here for forever. The outside is dingy cypress, and the inside is exactly what you’d expect in a small-town bar. There’s a stage in the far right corner where local bands sometimes play on the weekends. The stage is empty tonight. In the center of the room are two pool tables with Budweiser lights dangling above and straight ahead is the bar. Working behind that bar is T-Boy’s niece, Josie.

Roy is already seated, chatting up the pretty blonde with a drink in hand.

“Howdy, stranger,” Josie shouts as I pull out the stool next to Roy. “What brings you back ’round these parts? Thought you done got married and hauled off to Texas?”

Good old Cedar Grove, where everybody knows all your business half the time before you do. I’m surprised word of my divorce hasn’t made it around town yet.

“Heya, Josie. You look good.” And she does. Always has. Josie has big, blue eyes and long, blonde curls that reach the middle of her back. She has perky tits and a nice, firm ass, which are both on display tonight in a low-cut crop top and booty shorts that do little to cover her ass-ets.

“Nuh uhn, don’t you try flatterin’ me, thinkin’ you’re gettin’ outta answerin’ my questions.” She shakes her long, bony finger in my face.

“Nothing gets by you, does it, girl?”

“Not a thing.” She reaches beneath the counter and pulls out a Bud Light, popping the cap and setting it on a cocktail napkin directly in front of me. “Now, spill.”

“All right. All right.” I hold up my hand, indicating for her to hold on while taking a long pull from my beer. “By the way, hi, Roy.”

“Hey, man.” He hits me with a handshake and a firm slap to the back. Then with a smirk, he dips his eyes at Josie. “Go on, now. Don’t keep the lady waitin’.”

“Get on with it,” she encourages.

I chuckle to myself, shaking my head as I answer. Guess they’ll all know by tomorrow. “I was married, and I did move to Houston for about three years. Got divorced a few months ago, and since Pops is getting ready to retire, I figured it was time to come back home and take over the firm.”

I know better than to think that’s enough to satisfy nosy-rosy. “I’m not tryin’ to be nosy or nuthin’ . . . ” I do my best not to roll my eyes. “But why’d y’all end up gettin’ divorced?”

I hate sharing the reason behind our divorce because people always give me that same “What the fuck is wrong with you?” look. But, I am nothing if not honest.

Josie and Roy both stare at me in anticipation.

“She, uh . . . Well, Kristy wanted children and I didn’t—don’t. So . . . yeah. That’s kind of a deal breaker.”

Just like I’d expected, Josie looks at me like I’m the devil incarnate. What kind of man doesn’t want to give his wife children? Even Roy has to clear his throat and take a pull of his beer to keep from reacting.

In Cedar Grove, marriage is still forever and divorce is just not done . . . That I threw a perfectly good marriage away over what is to most a natural progression when you’ve committed to sharing your life with another person will be the talk of this little town for years to come.

There’s an awkward moment of silence before Josie’s eyes widen and a shit-eating grin spreads across her face.

“Well, hot damn, if it ain’t Spencer LeBlanc.” Her hand starts waving wildly over her head.

She came . . . I spin around in my chair to find her, but I don’t have to look too hard. Because there she is, standing a foot behind me with an expression on her face that tells me she’s been there for a while. Long enough to confirm her suspicion that I’m some child-hating ass.

Fucking hell.

“Hey, Princess,” I say with feigned confidence. I’m fucking shaking in my boots beneath the glare in those haunting blue eyes. “You’re, umm, giving me that Momma look again, Spence.”

She crosses her arms on her chest, pushing her tits up in her low-cut black top. “Yeah, well. I can’t help that I look like a mom, Coop. As much as that may disgust you.”

My eyes roam over her body. From her waist long black locks, mouthwatering cleavage, painted on jeans, and fuck me heels . . . Kids be damned, I need to touch this woman tonight. It’s been too fucking long.

Spencer’s hands move to her waist as she cocks one hip to the side, continuing to stare as if she’s waiting on me to do or say something.

I rise from my stool, taking a few steps forward ’til I’m close enough to feel her body heat without actually touching her. God, she smells so damned good. I snake my right arm around her waist, cup her ass, and pull her body against mine. Dipping my head down to her ear, I whisper, “I’m finding you very—” I thrust the evidence in my jeans forward, making damned sure she can feel it “—very not disgusting right now.”

Her breath hitches and her eyes go all soft and wanting. Slowly, I begin to lean in, sure that she’s about to let me kiss her, when Spence pushes me away with both hands on my chest. “I’ll have that drink . . . or ten you promised me earlier.” She slaps her hands together a few times like she’s shaking off something dirty then walks over to the bar.

My heart is racing. My dick twitches as I scrub my hand over my face with a groan. Biting my lip in frustration, I return to my seat beside her.

It’s gonna be a long night.

“Is it just me, Roy Nelson, or did it just get awfully hot in here?” Josie chimes, fanning herself with exaggeration.

Roy laughs, Spencer blushes, and I take deep breaths trying to cool myself down. For once, I am definitely in agreement with Josie.

“Hey, girl,” Spence offers, ignoring her comment. “I’ll have a Crown and Coke.” Her eyes dart in my direction and she smiles. “Go ahead and make that a double, will ya?”

“Sure thing, girl . . . and can I just say that you do not look like you have three children.”

Again, I’m in agreement with Josie. Spencer is hotter than ever. But, I can’t look at her without seeing those kids. Three. Fucking. Kids. I half expect one of ’em to pop up at any moment, demanding her attention. Leeches.

My skin pricks as I down the rest of my beer, tapping the counter before I’ve even finished swallowing, indicating for Josie to bring me another.

“Thanks, Josie. It’s really sweet of you to say that,” Spencer says meekly, as if she doesn’t believe it. Her cheeks pinken slightly and her smile is flat. It doesn’t reach her eyes. How can she not know how drop dead gorgeous she is?

Spencer makes it a point to ignore me for the most part, catching up with Josie and a few other locals who’ve trickled in. She’s like a fucking celebrity or something. Everyone expresses their shock and excitement over having her back. But that’s always been Spencer . . . the life of the party. Everyone’s best friend, unless you cross her. Then she can be a cold-hearted bitch. I’m on the receiving end of that treatment tonight.

The more I drink, the more it really starts to bother me. How can she be so fucking pissed at me for not wanting kids? According to my parents and my college roommate, Derrick, I have no right to be angry at her for having children, even though I kind of am. Yet, she can give me the cold-shoulder for not having them? I’d have been fucking ecstatic to learn that she didn’t want kids with another man.

After another beer, I really want to call her out on this shit. I’m tired of the distance. We’ve been keeping each other at arm’s length for years because of boyfriends or girlfriends or spouses, or kids. I turn in her direction, ready to do just that, but the smile on her face stops me. I haven’t seen her smile like this in years. Spencer is enjoying herself, and I’m not selfish enough to ruin her night. It can wait.

After a few beers of her own, Josie is feeling even more audacious than usual. While only half paying attention to Roy, I hear, “Okay, girl. I’ve got to know . . .” Josie’s beer bottle lands loudly on the bar in front of Spencer and me. “Is it true you worked at some clinic teaching people how to have sex? I mean, I ain’t judgin’ or nothin’,” she slurs. “Just curious.”

Apparently, everyone else is, too, because it’s suddenly quiet enough to hear a pin drop.

I swivel in my chair, facing Spence, who is choking on her drink. “Jesus, Josie,” I mutter as I pat Spencer on the back.

Josie doesn’t apologize, just continues staring at Spence, awaiting her response.

Spencer clears her throat, scanning the room nervously. “I’m a sex therapist, Josie. I don’t teach people how to have sex or orgasms,” she says pointedly at me. “We talk. It’s nothing physical. I would never touch my patients.” Her head hangs forward just a little, her long hair shielding her from prying eyes.

“Huh.” Josie’s face falls with disappointment. “Well, that sounds a lot less exciting than I’ve been picturing all these years.”

Spence begins absentmindedly picking at the label on my beer as her face heats from all of the attention. “Sorry to disappoint you, Josie.” Without realizing it, her body moves closer to mine, and it feels good to know that even when she’s pissed at me, she’s still comforted by my presence.

Slowly, the noise level picks up and the beginning chords to our song start to play. I Don’t Want To Miss A Thing by Aerosmith.

“Dance with me?” I ask, grabbing her tiny hand in my own and tugging.

She’s still mad, but Spence allows me to lead her out to the dance floor, grateful for the opportunity to escape the hot seat. We’re the only two out here, but I don’t care. I just wanna hold her. Smell her. Breathe her air.

I wrap my arms around her waist and Spencer’s body stiffens. “Come on, babe. Dance with me.” My heart is pounding. So is hers. I can feel her pulse racing against the hand that’s gripping her wrist.

Spencer’s beautiful blue eyes glisten as she hesitantly lifts her arms and places them on my shoulders. “I don’t like you very much right now.”

I chuckle to myself. “That’s okay,” I whisper in her ear, pulling her closer. “Just give me one dance . . . for old time’s sake, huh? You can go back to hating me after.”

I feel her heart beating against my chest as she rests her chin on my shoulder, linking her hands behind my neck. Each time she exhales, her warm breath sends a jolt of electricity through my body.

I slide my right hand slowly up her back, and when my fingers trail over the clasp of her bra, it takes everything in me not to unhook it and undress this woman here and now. I’ve yearned for this moment for so long.

Every word of the song rings true. There is nothing I want more than to stay in this moment forever. To pretend that it’s still just me and Spence. No divorces. No kids. No regrets.

I can’t be certain, but I think I feel her lips brush the skin at the base of my neck. With my right hand, I grip her chin, turning her face up to mine. I meet her eyes and allow my own to drift down to her trembling lips and back up to her eyes. It’s a question, and when her tongue darts out to lick her bottom lip, I have all the answer I need.

My mouth crashes onto hers, and as our bodies sway in time to the music, our tongues dance to a rhythm that’s all their own. Spencer tastes of liquor and spearmint gum. She smells like heaven.

It’s as if we were never apart—like we’ve been kissing for all of our lives. Spencer moans against my lips, and I grip the back of her neck, kissing her harder, determined to leave my mark.

I haven’t felt this much with anyone since Spencer. I’d started to believe that maybe I’d imagined that kissing could be this good. But, my memory did not deceive me.

Soft touches turn frantic. Gentle kisses become bruising. Rapid breaths progress to sensual moans. I allow the moment to completely take me; getting lost in the way her body responds to mine.

There’s a slow clap and the bar erupts into cheers.

I feel her body stiffen at the attention, but she doesn’t pull her lips away. We stand there making out like two kids ’til long after the music has stopped. When Spence finally breaks for air, she grabs my hand, tugging me off the dance floor and down the hall to the women’s restroom.

“What’re you doing, Spencer?” I ask as she shuts and bolts the door behind us. When she looks up at me, the hunger in her eyes is unmistakable.

Spencer’s body slams against mine, and her hands fist into my hair as she thrusts her tongue into my mouth.

I groan, swirling my tongue around hers before pulling back. “Answer me, Princess, ’cause I am seconds away from ripping your clothes off and fucking you against this wall.”

She whimpers. “The kids . . .” Leave it to Spencer to bring them up at a time like this.

“Aren’t here,” I grit out, trying not to let my frustration show. It’s always about those damn kids.

She tilts her head back, offering me her neck to feast on. “Tell me what you want, baby,” I urge as I trail my tongue along her throat, feeling her body melt beneath me.

“I-I . . . Oh God.” Spencer’s head falls back as her eyes begin to roll up.

Fucking hell, she’s close already.

“I’m not looking for a relationship,” she rushes out.

I remove my lips from the skin above her breasts. “What are you lookin’ for, Spence?” I lower my hand, cupping her between the legs through her jeans and squeeze.

Spencer’s entire body jerks, shaking with need. “A friend?” she asks. “With, ummm . . . Oh God, that’s so good,” she breathes out as I trace the shell of her ear with my tongue.

“With?” I urge, continuing to rub her through her tight ass jeans.

“Benefitsss,” she says, bucking against me. “No st-strings.”

“You want me to fuck you, baby?”

Her head bobs as her legs begin to buckle. Spence can barely hold herself upright, and I can’t take her on the floor of this nasty ass bathroom. We don’t have many options, but I’ll make it work. There is no way in hell I’m missing this chance.

I unbutton her jeans, tug them down, and she slips out of her heels, holding on to me for balance as she works her way out of her pants. I lift her top over her head, taking a moment to admire the beautiful woman Spencer has grown into. She’s thickened up in all the right places, no longer a waif of a girl.

“Put the heels back on,” I rasp, admiring her long legs, and she does. “Goddamn, you are the sexiest woman I have ever seen, Spencer LeBlanc.”

She smiles, slipping her hands under my shirt, allowing her fingers to trace the muscles of my stomach as she slowly raises it higher.

Reaching over my shoulders, behind my back, I grab my shirt and pull it over my head, tossing it to the counter. She fumbles with the belt and button on my jeans, growing impatient as she jerks them down past my hips.

My cock springs free, and she gasps audibly. I’m rock hard already. Her soft fingers are drawn to me like a magnet. Spencer starts off slowly running a finger from base to tip and then testing the size in her hand. “I need you,” she pleads almost desperately.

“You can have all you want, baby girl.” I bend down to retrieve my wallet from the jeans that are now pooled around my ankles and grab a condom. “Put your hands on the sink and bend over.”

She does as I instruct. Her ass on full display. Her hungry blue eyes staring right into mine through the mirror as I roll the condom onto my throbbing dick. She licks her lips.

I place the head of my shaft at her entrance. But before pushing inside, and because I am a bit of a dick, I have to ask, “You aren’t just using me for my sperm, are you, Princess?” I let my hand rest on her flat stomach. “Ready for number four?” I goad.

Her eyes flame. “I’d rather pull my twat hairs out with tweezers than procreate with you.”

“Ouch.”

“Now get on with it before I remember I’m still mad at you.”

Such a fucking lady. And I almost lose it. Almost. “Well, all right, then,” I say, trying not to laugh, before pushing inside of the woman who always should have been mine.