Proving Paul's Promise(23)

Reagan looks at Pete and rolls her eyes. Then she motions for him to go ahead. Very slowly, Pete hooks his elbows in his shirt and draws it up over his head. The cheering from the crowd gets even louder.

Sky looks at Matt and motions for him to go next. “What?” she asks, throwing up her hands when he glares at her. “I am proud of my husband.” He pulls his shirt up high enough for the crowd to see the frog on his lower belly, but then he lets it drop.

He shakes his head and sits back down. “Not enough money in the cup,” he says.

“I have a thousand dollars for the three of you to do it!” someone yells from the back of the crowd. A lady walks forward, and we all laugh when we see that it’s Emily’s mom.

“That’s cheating,” Matt says. But he pulls his shirt off. Several women nearby sigh out loud.

Sky points to her round belly and says, “He has three at home already and two more on the way.” That makes me laugh, her feeling like she has to tell them that. But he just became the most wanted man out of the five because who doesn’t want a man who takes care of his responsibilities? Matt leans over and kisses Sky’s belly.

Logan strips his shirt off next. I hear some excited shouts and a few frustrated moans move through the crowd.

Paul is the only one left who is still wearing a shirt. “Your turn, big guy,” Mrs. Madison says. She fans her face, and the crowd goes wild. Paul stands up, turns to me, and says, “What do I get if I do this?”

I motion to the mass of people waiting. “Crowd approval?”

“Not enough.” He shakes his head and sits back down.

I lean over his table, resting on my palms, and ask, “What more do you want?”

The grin falls off his face. “I want everything,” he says. “But I’ll start with a kiss.”





Paul

Friday has paint smeared across her forehead and all over the side of her face, and I’ve never seen her look more beautiful. She leans over the table, and for once I can’t see her cleavage because it’s covered up by that T-shirt. Yet she’s so f*cking sexy she takes my breath away.

“You want a kiss?” she asks. She sits back and puts her hands on her hips.

I nod my head. “I want a kiss.”

I watch her throat as she swallows so hard that I can hear it. “If I give you a kiss, you’ll take your shirt off?” she asks.

I stand up. “I’ll do just about anything you want me to do for a kiss, Friday.”

“Off with it, then,” she says. The crowd starts to chant, led by my brothers.

“Traitors,” I say to them. They laugh and rev the crowd up.

I reach behind my back, over my head, and grab my shirt with both hands. Then I pull it forward the way men do, slowly pulling it over my head. Friday’s gaze slides up my body as my shirt goes up, and I feel like her eyes are touching me all the way from my belly button to my shoulders.

The crowd goes wild when I throw the shirt down at my feet. Then I take a step toward Friday. “Time to pay up,” I say.

She giggles and turns like she’s going to run away from me. I hook an arm gently around her waist, pull her back to me, and turn her so that her front is touching mine from top to bottom. I slide my knee between her legs, and hitch her higher with my hands under her bottom. I squeeze her ass and lift her up toward my waiting mouth.

Her eyes meet mine, and I freeze. At the last minute, I kiss her on the cheek with a loud smack and set her back from me. She wobbles on her feet, so I steady her with my hands under her elbows. “You owe me,” I tell her.

“I owe you nothing,” she teases. “You just forfeited.”

I lean down close to her ear. “When I finally kiss you, it won’t be in front of a crowd full of people. It’ll be me and you and no one else.” I kiss the corner of her lips, and she shakes her finger at me. I grab her finger and pull it against my chest. “And it will rock your world.”

“Prove it.”

I nod. “When we’re alone, I will.”

“Believe it when I see it,” she taunts.

Since the five of us Reed boys have our shirts off, Friday, Reagan, Sky, and Emily redirect the lines so that the kids go to Friday and the adults come to us. I’m fine with that. I deal with overly amorous women daily, albeit I don’t usually do it with my shirt off.

A woman who has to be in her eighties toddles up on her walker. She lays her hand on my chest and stares at my nipple piercing. Then she shakes her head and reaches for the top button of my jeans, unbuttons them, and stands back and laughs. “Now, he’ll earn some tips,” she says.

Friday snickers, and she suddenly can’t take her eyes off my stomach.

The older woman sits down, and I give her angel wings on her upper arm with her late husband’s name below it. She tells me the story of how they met, fell in love, and went on to have eight kids together. When we’re done, she sticks a twenty-dollar bill in the waistband of my jeans and winks at me. “Don’t let her get away,” she says, nodding toward Friday.

“I don’t plan to.”

“She’s going to give you a run for your money.”

I laugh. She already is.





Friday

The volunteers came around with water bottles and Paul sent Sam to get us all lunch in the middle of the day, but by five o’clock, I’m starving. The boys put their shirts back on when it starts to cool off, and our line starts to dwindle. We weren’t even supposed to be here this long, but we couldn’t turn down the people in line. They were all waiting so patiently.