Page 4 of Pressure

“Damn is right,” Braxton added.

“What are you guys laughing at?” I asked as my eyes scanned the crowd for something funny.

Was toilet paper stuck to someone’s foot?

Had someone trusted their fart and their white shorts were no longer white?

Did someone have food on their clothes?

Had a bird pooped in someone’s hair?

I was completely lost. Braxton leaned closer to the table and motioned for me to do the same.

“We were just noticing the Silver Fox over there,” Braxton said.

“Silver Fox? Fuck that.That’sa Daddy,” Quinn said.

I nonchalantly looked at the crowds and still couldn’t find the guy they were talking about.

“What is he wearing?” I asked, hoping that would point me in the right direction.

“Damn, are you blind, Cash?” Quinn asked. “Turn on your daddy radar,” he added.

“I don’t have fucking daddy radar, whatever the fuck that is.”

“Got that right. If you did, you’d probably be happier,” Quinn murmured. It pissed me off, but before I could say anything, Braxton stepped in.

“See the tall guy in the black shirt and gray shorts?” I skimmed the crowd. Black shirt … black shirt … black shirt. “Salt and pepper hair. Goatee. Look by the barbecues.”

“By the crowd of women, Cash. Look for the swarm of women,” Quinn pointed out. “He’s like, six-feet-fuck-me-three.”

Oh.

Ooh.

Wearing a black shirt and standing amongst about ten women, all who were silently begging for his attention, was the six-foot-fuck-me-three Silver Fox Daddy.

Until our plates were empty, the three of us sat there watching this guy interact with just about everyone near him. He was a people magnet. Quinn and Braxton were a bit more enamored by this man than I was, but I’d admit, the guy was good looking. Occasionally he’d look in our direction, but I thought he was probably looking over our heads at something else. Surely he couldn’t hear us from that distance.

We stayed for the fireworks, and quickly after that the crowd began thinning out. Braxton and Quinn gestured toward the cabin.

“I’m going to grab another beer and then will be back,” I explained. I wanted to give them time and privacy to get their fucking out of the way before I got back.

“Later, Cash.”

I nodded at Braxton, and we turned to go our separate ways. I made my way to the ice chests and looked for the one with the beer label on the lid. I flipped the lid up and was disappointed when I saw that the only thing in the chest was melted ice.

“Fuck,” I mumbled and let the lid creak closed. I stood and turned to walk away and bumped into an outstretched hand that held an icy can of Coke and bottle of water.

“Can I interest you in one of these?”

I followed the arm upward and met the dark eyes and warm smile of the six-foot-fuck-me-three Silver Fox Daddy.

Fuck me.

“Um,” I began. Suddenly my brain and body couldn’t decide if I needed to talk, swallow saliva, or breathe. I failed at all three and ended up coughing. The man stood there watching me while his hand held the Coke and bottled water.

I cleared my throat. “Sorry about that.” I took the Coke from his hand and popped the top open. “Thanks,” I said. I eyed him over the can while I took a few large sips of the cold liquid that I desperately needed.