The Sex Solution

SHE HAD TO FIND a hot man now.

A man was all that stood between Madeline and the fifty points she needed to prove to each of her old friends—as well as every other person at Cherry Blossom Junction—that she had, indeed, turned into the baddest babe in Texas.

Her focus shifted to the game card she’d just drawn.

If a bad girl is what you long to be,

Forthright and daring are always key.

Even the hottest man loves a bold miss,

So prove yourself and give him a kiss!

“What about him?” Every eye at the table turned to peer across the semicrowded dance floor.

“Girl, get out of here,” Janice shook her head. “Your roots are showing, Eileen.”

“What, like, is that supposed to mean?”

“That you’ve been married so long you’ve forgotten what hot means. We’re not talking sweaty.”

Eileen, a petite blonde, stiffened and straightened her baseball jersey that sported Team Mom in royal blue letters. “Well, when I, like, sweat, it usually means I’m hot.”

“Ignore her,” Janice told the other women. “She doesn’t get out much. So what about him?” Janice wiggled her eyebrows and pointed out a man currently two-stepping around the dance floor, a smiling redhead in his arms. “He certainly can fill out a pair of Wrangler jeans.”

“He’s not very handsome.” Brenda Chance, ex treasurer of the Chem Gems, adjusted her wire-framed, rose-tinted glasses.

Brenda worked as an interior designer in Austin now, but in her day she’d recited the elements table faster than anyone in Kendall County. While she had a practical head on her shoulders, she also had a romantic nature that had her wearing an old-fashioned lace dress that looked suspiciously like a pair of window sheers.

“That’s definitely a face only his momma could love,” Brenda went on. “My Cal has a great face.” She sighed dreamily, then glanced around before zeroing in on another man. “What about him?” She smiled as she indicated the guy from their high school past voted Most Likely to Spit on Old People. “He’s got nice eyes—the exact color of Cal’s.”

“Girl, he’s about as nice as a pit bull,” Janice said. “Besides, he’s got puny arms. We need some muscle.”

“And good hands,” Sarah added.

Back in her day, Sarah Buchanan had been part of the in crowd, the only one among the Chem Gems. She’d been smart and beautiful and the baddest bad girl in Cadillac. She’d changed her ways the day of Sharon’s death, however, and she now sat quietly, her long red hair pulled up in a tight ponytail, her mouth void of the red lipstick she’d always loved. Longing filled her eyes for a brief moment. “I used to love great hands on a guy.”

“And a mustache,” Brenda chimed in. “They’re sooo dreamy. Cal has a mustache.”

“They’re lethal to supersensitive skin.” The comment came from the bride-to-be. “She’s supposed to kiss him, not break out.”

“Let me get this straight.” Brenda adjusted her glasses again. “She has to dance with him and kiss him?”

“If she wants to win the game,” Sarah said.

“So what if she kisses him but doesn’t dance with him? Does she get half the points?”

“Girl, it’s all or nothing,” Janice said.

“So does she, like, kiss first or, like, dance first?” Eileen asked.

“It doesn’t matter.” Madeline fingered the game card and scoped out prospects. “I could do either.”

“You can’t just walk up to a guy and kiss him,” Brenda said. “It’s too forward. Whatever would he think?”

Madeline smiled and indicated the game spread out on the table. “That maybe I’m the baddest babe in Texas?”

“I say you dance with him first,” Cheryl Louise offered. “Talk a little. Then kiss him. It’s more romantic.” She sighed and gazed dreamily at a man standing near the bar. A group of men surrounded him, their beers lifted in salute. He glanced over his shoulder and smiled at her. She waved back. “That’s how Jack and I met. He asked me to dance at the Charity Chili Chowdown last year. We ate and talked and swayed. Afterward he kissed me so softly and tenderly that I just knew he was the one.”

“How totally sweet,” Brenda sighed.

“How tame.” Sarah looked wistful.

“How abnormal.” Janice gave a shiver.

“I don’t see how dancing and kissing and finding the man of your dreams can be construed as abnormal,” Cheryl Louise said.

“The bride and the groom having their parties at the same small-time honky-tonk is what’s whacked-out. Girl, how in God’s green earth are you supposed to let your hair down with your fiancé a few feet away?”

“I don’t have enough hair to let down. Besides, this is the only place in town that has a dance floor. The Pink Cadillac is much too small for two-stepping.”

The Pink Cadillac was the only bar inside the city limits. It was a great place to get together to visit and suck down a few cold ones, but it didn’t have the party atmosphere of a real sawdust-on-the-floor, country-crooning dance hall like Cherry Blossom Junction.

The bar was owned and operated by Eden Hallsey Weston, a bad girl in her own right who’d married the town’s golden boy a few years ago. The news had shocked everyone, especially Madeline, who’d heard from Janice, who’d heard from Cheryl Louise, who’d been at the wedding. Eden had always been so outrageous while Brady had walked the straight and narrow path set forth by his conservative family. They’d been opposites, yet they’d fallen madly in love anyway. Just like in a fairy tale.

Madeline didn’t do fairy tales. Hot, hunky, badass bad boys didn’t gravitate toward shy, geeky good girls.

Which was why she’d traded in the old Madeline when she’d rolled out of Cadillac the day after Sharon’s funeral. Maddie had seen for herself how precious life was, and she’d made up her mind then and there to live it to the fullest. That meant conquering her fears and taking chances. Being a bold, brazen woman who lived for the moment rather than the shy, geeky girl who’d spent her days dreaming and baking in her father’s doughnut shop.

While she wished Eden and Brady the best of luck, she wanted more out of life than a husband and a handful of kids and a boring existence in a desperately small town.

Particularly since said town held so many bad memories. Of being a nerd and getting overlooked by the boy of her dreams, and losing her closest and dearest friend.

Her lungs constricted and she forced her attention back to her friends and the conversation.

“…could have driven to Austin,” Janice pointed out. “I know this great little club that specializes in exotic male dancers.”

“And get back at the crack of dawn? I need my beauty sleep for tomorrow.”

“Half-naked exotic male dancers,” Janice added.

“I like knowing that Jack is here.” Cheryl Louise waved again and Jack winked back before shifting his attention to his buddies.

“Cute, half-naked exotic male dancers.”

“Give it up,” Madeline told her. “G-strings don’t interest a woman who’s helplessly in love.”

“Unless it’s the man she loves wearing the G-string,” Brenda pointed out. “Cal wears one for me.”