Her lips move along the open V of my collar, wet kisses that would normally set all my senses afire, and I feel nothing but mild irritation.
I gently push her away and take a step back. “Not tonight, sweetheart.”
One shoulder rises and falls. “Mm-kay,” she says, totally unaffected by my rejection.
My gaze follows her as she saunters across the patio, giving my libido one last chance to get with the program.
Still nothing.
And it annoys me more than I can say.
It appears the only woman I want is the one who compared my dick to her pinkie finger.
Great. Just great.
Twenty-Two
Tiger
“Bless it. The worst part of this whole experience is this blasted ski mask.” Sweat pours into my eyes as I haul the bucket of black paint and supplies up the ladder. I slip my thumb under the material at my chin and push up the fabric covering my face. I pause on the way to my target and let the brisk autumn air fill my lungs and cool my damp skin.
I’m still in shadows, so I take another scan to make sure no cars are coming. That’s the good thing about living in a small town—not a lot of traffic in the middle of the night. Also, it’s easy enough to find out the break schedule for the two deputies on patrol.
Coast is clear, so I step out onto the front platform of the billboard that’s a big FU from my ex-husband. I glance up, and all I can see are teeth. Good Lord, did they have to make my teeth so big?
Focus, Tiger.
I quickly unload my supplies and unhook the retractable telescope ladder from the pack on my back. This thing has been a lifesaver.
The first night I tried to do this was a spectacular disaster. I’d come completely unprepared for how large the billboard was and how difficult it would be to get to the places I wanted to paint. It was exhausting. I got so tired, I barely made it down the ladder attached to the side pole. And all I managed were a few swipes with the brush, giving my image a pitiful goatee. In fact, it was so ineffective that nobody even noticed.
I ordered the ladder, and some industrial paint supplies, the next day. Good thing my job is in construction, and I’ve got connections.
I quickly get to work. I think a pair of Harry Potter glasses and devil horns are in order tonight. Lord, I hope this does it and the town finally rises up and demands the billboard be taken down. Or that Brad will ultimately get tired of spending his own money to have it fixed, because I know that’s what he’s doing.
Maggie thinks I should let it be, but I can’t. I’m doing everything I can to move away from the person portrayed in this enormous photo.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m proud of the work I did with single moms as Miss Texas. I raised a lot of money and helped write some statewide legislation helping single moms cover the cost of childcare, but … the weight of that crown nearly broke me. A lot of sadness hid behind my plastic smiles, and a ton of insecurities and self-doubt were zipped up in those rhinestone dresses. In the end, I guess it doesn’t really matter, as long as the good things got done. At least that’s what I tell myself.
If I’m honest, I’m still searching for the acceptance I’ve been searching for most of my life. The kind that doesn’t have to do with anything I can give or what I look like, but just because I’m me, Tiger Lyons, flaws and all.
I extend the ladder and lock it into place, and begin to climb. Good thing I’m not afraid of heights because it’s a long way to the ground. One wrong move and this billboard will be the least of my worries.
When the last horn is painted, I head down the ladder and black out my two front teeth for good measure. I quickly repack my contraband supplies, then take one last look at my handiwork. Not bad, if I do say so myself.
I make my way down the rungs on the billboard’s pole, but when I’m about twelve rungs from the bottom, I see a pair of headlights in the distance coming at me fast.
Shit.
Shit.
Shit.
Scrambling to the ground like my life depends on it, I drop my supplies and run toward the safety of the trees