dibs Read online

  Table of Contents

  dibs

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Four days before the cruise

  PART 1—The Dates

  Chapter 1~ Sam

  Chapter 2~ Mac

  Chapter 3~ Sam

  Chapter 4~ Mac

  Chapter 5~ Sam

  Chapter 6~ Mac

  Chapter 7~ Sam

  Chapter 8 ~ Mac

  Chapter 9 ~ Sam

  Chapter 10 ~ Mac

  Chapter 11 ~ Sam

  Chapter 12 ~ Mac

  Chapter 13 ~ Sam

  Chapter 14~ Mac

  Chapter 15 ~ Sam

  Chapter 16 ~ Mac

  Chapter 17 ~ Sam

  Chapter 18 ~ Mac

  Chapter 19 ~ Sam

  Chapter 20 ~ Mac

  Chapter 21 ~ Sam

  Chapter 22~ Mac

  Chapter 23 ~ Sam

  Chapter 24 ~ Mac

  Chapter 25 ~ Sam

  Chapter 26 ~ Sam

  Chapter 27 ~ Mac

  Chapter 28 ~ Mac

  Chapter 29 ~ Sam

  Chapter 30 ~ Mac

  Chapter 31~ Sam

  Contact the Author

  Acknowledgements

  Copyright

  Text copyright © 2016 by Kristi Pelton

  All rights reserved

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form without permission from the publisher, except by a review that may quote brief passages for review purposes. If you are reading this book and you have not purchased it or won it in an author/publisher contest, this book has been pirated. Please delete and support the author by purchasing the ebook/book from one of its distributors.

  Editor: Lisa Loewen

  Cover Design: Sara Eirew

  Formatter: CP Smith

  Dedication

  This is dedicated to all those 40+ year old women that have forgotten just how beautiful you are. And to those friends who will stick with us for a lifetime…enduring the good and the bad…always. Sisters by choice. The girls in my life…you know who you are.

  Four days before the cruise

  “Hey Juls,” I answered, shuffling in my booties down the hall of the hospital corridor.

  “Hey. It’s a three way. Kat’s on the line too.”

  “Hi, Sam!” Kat chimed in.

  “Hey, girls. I’m dealing with a breach baby, headed to the OR. What’s up?”

  I pushed through the double doors. There were only a few calls I’d answer at work…these girls definitely were on the list…at the top.

  “Kat and me were arguing over whether you’d bail on us or not,” Juls said.

  “Kat and I. What makes you think I’d bail?” I asked, nodding at one of the nurses assisting me.

  “You’re a doctor not an English teacher. And because you’re an OCD weenie with horrible anxiety who never enjoys life,” Juls added.

  “Juls!” Kat squawked. “Sam. That is so not true. Juls should not have said that.”

  What Juls had said was pretty accurate. I giggled. Juls…never wanted to marry…never wanted kids. Direct. Crass. To the point. No holds barred. She told it like it was.

  “Yes,” Juls spit out. “I’m so sorry for the horribly accurate things I say.”

  “I may or may not be there. If I’m not, set sail without me, OK?”

  “Sam, please come,” Kat pled. “Don’t make me travel with Juls alone. That would be awful.”

  “Suck it, Kat,” Juls growled with sarcasm.

  I readjusted the phone at my ear. “Look you two, I really have to go.”

  “Just answer!” Juls shouted. “You promised you’d come. I know you’ve had those lousy dates, and Becca says you’re really down in the dumps. We will find a guy that will have sex with you. I promise!”

  “Nice, Juls. I am done with this conversation.” Was finding a guy to have sex with me such a challenge? Yes…

  “You’re gonna come, aren’t you, Sam. There’s a small part of you looking forward to it, right?” Kat (aka Positive Patty) asked.

  I loved these girls so much but I was especially close to Kat.

  I stopped shy of the scrub-in room and took in a deep breath.

  “Looking forward to it? Hmm. Sure, girls. I’m looking so forward to some food borne illness causing me to shit in a paper sack because I can’t make it to the restroom. I’m looking forward to traveling in the Atlantic and Caribbean during hurricane season. I’m mostly looking forward to watching the hot, young girls gallivanting around us reminding us of years gone by. It should be loads of fun.”

  “Jesus, you are a downer! Now I don’t want to go,” Juls moaned.

  Kat giggled. “So we will see you in four days, yes?”

  “Yep. I’ll be there. Gotta go, girls.”

  “Bye.”

  “Bye.”

  As I stood at the sink scrubbing my arms and hands, I thought about the dreadful dates I’d endured over the past month. Two…blind dates set up through Becca. And two…I’d picked online. Never again. I was never dating again.

  “Dr. Casey, we’re ready.”

  I smiled. “Me too.”

  PART 1—The Dates

  Date 1

  Watching him gnaw on his stubby fingers and nails was about the most unsightly thing I’d ever seen, and I’d seen plenty of unsightly things. My eyes scanned every inch of his beautifully chiseled face, yet the only thing I wanted to do was punch him directly in the throat. As sexy as he was, there was no way in hell another date was going to happen. He’d eaten more of his flesh and nails than his dinner.

  “So, how long ago did he divorce you?” he asked as he used his fingertips to remove the chewed skin from the tip of his tongue.

  My nose pulled up in disgust. Gross. He wiped the skin on his khaki shorts. I slid the sweater on the back of my chair over my shoulders, not feeling particularly cold, but feeling repulsed and ready to leave.

  “Divorced about a year and a half,” I said, eating a pecan off my salad. “And I divorced him.”

  “So, will I be the first guy you’ve fucked since him?”

  I coughed so powerfully the pecan shot out my mouth, flying over his shoulder, and landed somewhere near the next table.

  “What the hell? That was gross,” he chuckled grimacing a bit.

  I was gross? Jesus, this guy might be stupid hot, but I wasn’t sure if I could endure sex with the finger-muncher just to get laid. Almost as if it were a sign, I watched as he pinched his finger where he’d pulled the cuticle so deep that he’d drawn blood. Without a second thought, he sucked on the finger as I cringed. Decision made. I was out.

  My already crossed legs tightened. This man was getting nowhere near my underused va jay jay no matter how desperate it was.

  “So, in all seriousness, Becca says you need to get laid.”

  Note to self: punch Becca next time I see her.

  RULE 17—Never set your friend up with someone you wouldn’t go out with yourself!

  “Becca has cancer. She’s undergoing chemo—clearly more confused than I realized. And obviously her judgment is off,” I said.

  My appetite was gone. I’d seen this guy, this pharmacist, around the hospital for months now. Every part of me was excited to see if this date might actually go somewhere. There was no doubt he was sexy, even a bit younger than me. But seriously, this guy was a moron.

  “So, I hear you’re a vagina doctor?” he chuckled at his sophomoric humor. “That would be awesome.”

  I couldn’t help but wonder if my heated face matched my m
ounds of curly red hair that I’d spent hours on for this date. With deliberate caution, I rested my fork on my plate so it wouldn’t wind up sticking out his forehead. And I vowed in that moment, if he started another sentence with so, I was walking.

  “Yeeeah. Neal, in big people terms, we call that an ob/gyn. It is a wee bit more detailed than just being a vagina doctor. How old are you?”

  He literally spit a fingernail out on the floor. The girls at the next table over were checking him out…please…take him!

  “I’m thirty. And I know you’re almost forty, but I’m willing to give that older shit a try,” he laughed, winked and finished his beer in a matter of seconds.

  My eyes scanned over the room looking for a hidden camera. This had to be a joke. Right? Like Punk’d or something. Was that investigative reporter guy from the Today show going to walk out of the kitchen any second laughing?

  For God’s sake, no man could be this uncouth. This vulgar. This uncivilized!

  I wiped both sides of my mouth and laid the napkin politely on the table. Anyone who knew me knew that I was anything but polite. I was the queen of sarcasm, but I’d promised Becca I wouldn’t be myself on these dates for the sake of getting laid…but this was a deal breaker.

  “What’s up, babe?” he asked as I stood.

  No, he did not just call me babe!

  “What’s up?” I asked. “Did you just say, what’s up?”

  He nodded as he chewed on the side of his pinky.

  “Clearly, not your IQ! Most people seem to live and learn, Neal. You, however, just seem to…live. Why would any woman want to be with you? You’re gross, insensitive and thoughtless.”

  His hands shot out to the side as if he was being attacked. “Hey. Come on, now. Did you know I’m a pharmacist?”

  Sarcastic laughter rumbled through me. “I’d like to see that degree. And please tell me what college you attended. Because, somewhere, right now, a village is missing its idiot, and you should go home!”

  I tossed a $20 on the table to cover my $12 salad.

  “So, you seriously don’t want to go home with me?”

  SO? There was not a damn thing I could do but stare at him in disbelief. My mouth parted and my eyes widened in shock at the magnitude of his stupidity.

  “So? Really, you’re not?” he repeated, completely serious.

  “Oh. My. God. You know what, Neal…I honestly think blondes tell jokes about you. ”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Exactly!” After grabbing my purse, I shook my head and dashed toward the restaurant entrance, unable to get out of there fast enough. My sandals slapped against my feet as I ran to my car. This dating thing sucked. First date after sixteen years of marriage. No follow up date. No kiss. No sex. Epic fail.

  Date 2

  “Sam?” The handsome but short, salt-and-peppered-hair guy asked.

  “Jay?”

  He nodded. “Nice to meet you.” His smile was warm and when he grinned, lines appeared at the edges of his eyes. After the last date…younger men were off my radar.

  “Nice to meet you too.” The highlight of gray in his sideburns was attractive.

  “What would you like to drink?” he asked, saddling up to the bar after pulling out a stool for me.

  “I’ll take a vodka water with a lemon.”

  Jay pointed at the bartender. “Tyler, give us a vodka water with a lemon and my usual.”

  Tyler acknowledged Jay with a flick of his head.

  Once the drinks were set in front of us, I sipped; he shot it back and ordered another. His khaki shorts looked fresh from the dryer. Mine were ironed perfectly.

  “Sam. I know you’re a friend of Becca’s. So…”

  Oh God, there’s that SO word from a few weeks ago! Anxiety disorders sucked and mine, which had started in college, had worsened with my divorce. My pulse raced as he motioned for another drink and turned toward me.

  “I’m sort of nervous about this evening,” he admitted.

  “Don’t be nervous,” I said, brushing my hand over his. Hello pot, this is kettle. “I’ve had one date since my divorce and it went…well, think Khardashian family fight.” I grinned.

  He threw his head back in laughter. Laughter…it had been so long.

  “How is the OB world?” he asked.

  “Certainly productive.” I winked. “Thank you very much for the care that you’ve given Becca. She simply adores you.”

  With his new drink in hand, he tilted the glass to me in acknowledgement of my words.

  “Becca said it’s been a while since you’ve dated or been with a man.”

  Blood inched up my face warming my cheeks. Here we go again.

  “Becca seems intent on informing Lake Tahoe and the surrounding area that I’m hard up,” I rumbled.

  After throwing back his second glass, he rested his hand on my knee. I’d known him all of fifteen minutes. Against my better judgment, and listening to my raging hormones, a checklist fired off in my head. Doctor—check. Single—check. Attractive—check. Willing—check. Older than me—check. Fuckworthy—check.

  “After you finish your drink, you want to go back to my place?”

  This was so awkward for me. Is this how it worked now? Frankly, I did want to go back to his place. Jake was at mine with his buddies studying for a final. The thought of being touched by a man created a longing in my abdomen… an ache that hadn’t been filled for some time. That ache needed filled damn it!

  “Jay. I’d like that. But listen, my life is crazy, and I have a son, and…”

  “Sam. I’m Becca’s oncologist. I have two kids. I know crazy too. I was just thinking if,”

  “Yes,” I interrupted. “As long as we both understand that…”

  “I got it. No confusion on my part,” he chuckled.

  We both laughed as he motioned for the ticket. Sad that this man I’d just met knew I was a sure thing. We didn’t work at the same hospitals, not even in the same network. At this point, I didn’t care if we did. This is what I wanted in this moment. I was going for it.

  I followed him to his freakishly spectacular home, trailed him indoors where he fixed us a drink. When he turned to me with pure desire in his eyes, a rush of excitement overwhelmed me. After downing his drink once again, he strolled toward me with intent.

  My pulse pounded in my throat. I’d not kissed a man in so long. When his lips parted, I followed suit trying to suppress the brewing anxiety in my chest.

  His lips pressed against mine only once before his whiskey flavored tongue plunged into my mouth. Instinctively, I pulled back, but his hand gripped my neck pinning me close. A nervous apprehension settled inside me, but being so desperate for a man’s touch, I ignored it, focusing more on my lower half than my head.

  Within a matter of minutes, a pile of clothes surrounded our feet. My bra and underwear were still on. Even though it wasn’t what I dreamed of and wouldn’t come close to satisfying my true needs, I could do this. A one-nighter. A booty-call. The girls said I needed this. Hell, I DID need this.

  My tentative hand reached for his cock. His boxers weren’t tented, but I reached for where I assumed it would be. Nothing…like nothing… So as he kissed my neck, I felt downward on the outside of the boxers until I found his dick. Soft. Limp.

  With unskilled hands, I began stroking him up and down with little to no success at getting a response. Zero blood flow. His lips pressed against mine again. I couldn’t shut my eyes. I tried to force them closed but they popped open in shock. Even as his lips pecked mine, I stared at his eyelids. Surely he knew that his lifeless penis lay in my hand.

  A groan scraped up his throat as if he was nearing an orgasm…as if. When he started massaging my breast, for the life of me, I felt nothing because the only thing on my mind was his flaccid dick.

  His smooth, un-calloused hands felt good running over my skin. Once they broke the elastic barrier of my panties, caressing my ass, I decided I had to say something.

&nbs
p; “Everything ok?” I asked, trying not to totally put him on the spot.

  “Yeah, Sam, what’s not ok?” he asked, nuzzling into my hair while gripping the cheeks of my ass with his fingertips.

  Was he joking? Releasing his genitals (I couldn’t even refer to it as a dick in my head), I was intrigued to see if it would stand at attention without the assistance of my hand.

  Plop. Nope! It was a dowsing rod pointing directly south. Too much alcohol or erectile dysfunction…

  “Jay, I don’t think I’m ready to do this,” I lied. My body was more than ready until the ED police put a stop to the possibility.

  He took a cautious step back. “Not ready?” he asked as if something was wrong with me. For real?

  I wanted to shout…YOU aren’t ready! But if I needed to shoulder this, I would. At this point, I just wanted to leave. Here stood the second person I was considering sleeping with after my husband of sixteen years, and he couldn’t get it up for me. How personal should one take that?

  Humiliated, I tossed my shirt over my head, not bothering to put on my bra. I didn’t really care that my nipples were poking through the sheer blouse like a well-done turkey…this walk of shame was necessary. Once I buttoned my shorts, he took hold of my arm.

  “Sam. What did I do?” he asked. Desperation lurked in his eyes.

  Keeping in the forefront of my mind that he said he wanted this as much as I did, I refused to hurt him. And I knew he meant something to Becca.

  “I just don’t think I can follow through. I thought I could. It isn’t you…it’s me.”

  His cheeks puffed out as he released a long, slow breath and nodded. A simple nod.

  “And the possibility of trying this again?” he asked.

  There was no part of me that wanted to experience this rejection again.

  “I’ll let you know, ok?”

  Another nod. “Ok.”

  Shuffling my feet, I finally swiveled around, my glance casting downward toward his shorts. On everything holy, I swear, his shorts were tented…but as I walked away, I didn’t look back.