#yes i have done an absurd amount of research into hot tubs to write fic now lol

[pynkhues]

Sneak peek from your drive you mad (wear me out) sequel ? 🥺🥺🥺

Haha, sure! Hope you like it! ;-)

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Pop!

The champagne cork bounces off the far wall of the Boland Bubbles showroom, straight into one of the empty six-person lounger tubs (85 jets, 1700 liters, LED waterfall handrail with a Freedom sound system, and okay, Beth’s bedtime reading has been hot tub manufacturer packets for the last three months, so even right now, champagne fizz bubbling in her head, wobbly in her heels, she’s pretty sure she could sell a few).

“Ohhh!” Dean crows loudly behind her as he bounces forwards, knocking her a little in his efforts to get the waiter’s attention (along with everyone else’s). “Didn’t know we had a baller here! In the biz, we call that making it rain.”

Which - -

Beth blinks, a swell of embarrassment growing in her gut, and her eyes meet Annie’s dramatic, embarrassed wince a few feet away, even as a fresh wave of tipsy laughter overtakes the crowd. Which is all that really matters, Beth reminds herself, trying to swallow any – every – other feeling in the process.

It matters that these people find Dean funny and charming, instead of loud and stupid. It matters that they think he’s some charismatic, down-to-earth businessman, instead of - - well. Beth swallows, glances down at her drink, lets her eyes slip shut and her head briefly spin, and it’s the champagne and the no-dinner and it’s the memory of all those years ago, re-opening Boland Motors. It’s the easy and familiar lie that had for so long felt like a warm and pliant truth. Dean the ingenue son of the hardworking owner, Beth the trophy wife, and the business legitimate – really, actually legitimate, instead of - -

When her eyes peel back open, it’s only so they can slide sideways, find where Rio stands in the shadows at the back of the party, his lip curled in disdain as he watches Dean lumber through the crowd to slap a hand on the waiter’s back, riff another joke that has some shiny-faced motel owner doubled over in laughter. It doesn’t matter though, not then, what matters is that Rio’s own eyes are a little glassy, his cheeks slightly flushed in a way she’s never seen before, and it hits her that maybe he’s had as many drinks as her, and the thought is maybe a good one.

Too good, because maybe it means that he’s not enjoying this night as much as Beth’s not enjoying this night. Maybe he needs the distracting, dulling effects of the champagne too, only maybe not. Maybe that’s a lie too, because suddenly Autumn’s long and graceful hand is back on his shoulder, sliding up to poke gently at his neck, just enough to catch his attention.

And then he grins at her, something toothless, his eyes dark and his lashes fanned as he looks down at her, and then his hand is the one that’s sliding – down the woman’s back, stroking at the revealed skin there, then down again, further, further, to the swell of her perfect ass, and - -

And Beth throws back the last of her drink.