Like a Fox Read Free

money clip and phone, placing them in my front pockets, “Yup.”
    All my sister did was throw on a flowing skirt and tight fitting top, boots, and chandelier earrings. She let her hair down so it’s mildly wavy and tousled. I love how effortless it is, but on her it’s jaw-dropping. I wish I had an ounce of her charisma.
    We walk the fifteen minutes it takes to get to the brewery. A major perk of living in a small town is being able to walk everywhere and get daily exercise just from living your life.
    “Hey,” Flynn, Maya’s boyfriend of almost three years, greets us as we approach the brewery. He’s the epitome of a surfer dude: unkept blond hair bleached from the sun, bronzed skin, blue eyes, always relaxed, and incredibly sexy. He’s also about the nicest guy you’ll ever meet.
    We go in to get a table before the crowds hit. Every Saturday night the brewery has a local band play. Paired with the homebrewed beer and brick oven pizza, the place is packed by seven.
    We order a few pitchers for the table to share, and within minutes of it arriving the rest of our crew joins us.
    “What’s up sexy bitches?” Chloe slides into the seat next to me. She’s been Maya’s partner in crime since high school. Her husband Keith is with her, the two practically on top of each other when they sit down, always having to touch in some way.
    Keith was my first boyfriend and the guy I lost my virginity to. You would think that would make this awkward, but it isn’t. We parted on mutual terms, so there was never ill-will or jealousy between us. I was even a bridesmaid at their wedding last summer.
    “Look! Tight Buns is here,” Maya eagerly nods her head to where my new favorite regular is sitting on a stool at the far end of the bar, right next to the wall, with a beer in hand, taking a few drinks while staring at the area in front of him, which happens to be the bar and the gigantic mirror behind it that reflects the rest of brewery.
    “Tight Buns?” Keith questions with a chuckle, referring to how we give nicknames to customers when we don’t know their names. “You guys are still doing that?”
    “Of course,” Maya answers like “why would we stop?” She nudges me, “Go talk to him.”
    “Talk to who?” Liza, my best friend since kindergarten, pries. She’s the best kind of friend to have: loyal, honest, and wears the same size clothes.
    “Tight Buns,” Maya says around her pint. Liza’s well aware of my infatuation, but Maya still informs the rest who he is, “She’s had a crush on him since the first day he came into the café. She ogles him the whole time.”
    I don’t deny it; it’s the truth. Look-wise he’s my exact type, the type I didn’t think I’d ever find living around here. I like my men with muscle, but not big and obvious ones; the kind you notice when he reaches for something or is simply brushing his teeth and they flex. The kind that can make you drool in a suit and have you stripping off your clothes in basic jeans and a shirt, with old-fashioned handsome features like James Dean or Marlon Brando. Nobody like that has ever been to our town. Until now.
    Chloe perks up in her seat, trying to take a peek.
    “Stop it,” I hiss. “He’ll notice.”
    “Go talk to him,” Liza encourages, even though she’s no better than me with approaching guys.
    “He’s a customer,” I remind her.
    “So?” Chloe cuts in, always ready to play devil’s advocate.
    “ So , you know I don’t date customers. Especially regulars.”
    Chloe wiggles her perfectly groomed brows, “So go make him someone you sleep with that also happens to eat where you work.”
    She makes it sound easy. It’s not that I lack confidence, I’m just not comfortable putting myself out there. “I can’t.”
    “Why?”
    “ Look at him,” I gesture towards him. “He’s definitely older than us. I’m probably just a child to him.” If I had to guess I’d say he was early thirties, which was part of my