Girl's Night OUt

By Wendy Dalrymple

It was just supposed to be a girls night out… Kris is a 38-year-old stay-at-home mom to twins Courtney and Caleb. She loves her life and she loves her family but she can’t help but feel as though she’s lost a little bit of herself. Sometimes it feels like she could burst out of her own skin.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Bryant Street Shorts
• Release date: Feb 7, 2023
• ISBN: 9781094457772

Wendy Dalrymple

Wendy Dalrymple crafts highly consumable, short and sweet romances inspired by everyday people. When she’s not writing happily-ever-afters, you can find her camping with her family, painting (bad) wall art, and trying to grow as many pineapples as possible. Keep up with Wendy at www.wendydalrymple.com!

Book preview

1

Kristina Landis had wanted to go out and feel the night. She’d wanted to close her eyes, fill her lungs with fire, and let her body move with the rhythm of the city. She’d wanted to be untethered and free for a while; to escape from the endless tasks of remembering birthdays, planning meals, folding laundry, staring at the TV. Just a few hours to slip into a different, forgotten skin; the one that she used to feel at home in. Hair in loose waves at her shoulders. Red lips. Lashes thick and dark with mascara. A fitted dress designed to highlight her best assets and downplay those that make her feel insecure. Smiling. Laughing. Drinking. Dancing. It was just supposed to have been a girls’ night out. It ended up being so much more.

Are you texting Danny again? Moira threw a disappointed glare in her direction. A pink tiara rested on her crown of dark hair, and a pink and white Bride 2 Be sash was draped loosely across her chest.

Kris glanced up from her glowing phone screen. I know. I can’t help myself.

The kids are fine. Danny can handle it for one night. Moira took a sip of her fruity cocktail and motioned toward the phone. Put that thing away. We’re celebrating.

Right. She powered off her cellphone and slipped it back into her bag. Danny wasn’t answering her texts anyway. Sorry. I think this is the longest I’ve been away from them. I’ll relax. Promise.

I’m so glad mine are teenagers. Brittany threw back a tequila shot and wiped her lips with the back of her hand. Moira’s friend from work was wearing a matching Maid of Honor sash, hers drawn tightly against her strapless black satin dress. I don’t know how you do it. Twins are so much work.

It’s a lot of work, but I love it. Kris suppressed the urge to roll her eyes. She had heard this sentiment about parenting twins before, from well-meaning strangers and friends alike. Brittany wasn’t Kris’s favorite person, but she would tolerate her for Moira’s sake.

You are well overdue for some time to yourself, Moira added. You deserve a night off. Hell, we all do.

When you’re a parent, you’re never really off. Kris sighed. Sorry if I’m being a drag. I think I forgot how to have fun.

You’re just not drinking fast enough. Here. Moira picked up Kate’s drink and pushed it in her hand. Chug-a-lug.

Painkiller. Right. Kris stirred with the little straw in the rum-laden cocktail. Well, cheers. To the future Mrs. Worsley.

That’s Moira Ellington-Worsley to you, Brittany said, raising her own shot glass.

Kris’s lower lip fell open as she stared at Moira. You got Jonathan to agree to take your last name?

No. But I told him I wasn’t going to get rid of mine. Moira shrugged. We had a big old blowout over it. Hyphenating my last name was the compromise.

"Wish I had thought of keeping my last name. Brittany snorted into her cup. Was a real bitch to change everything back after the divorce."

Moira placed her glass on the bar. It’s never too late to change, you know.

Not for me it isn’t.

Kris took a contemplative sip of her drink and scanned the room. The Ybor City club where the intimate bachelorette party had ended up was essentially a warehouse that had been converted to look like a Gothic castle from the outside. Electronic dungeon beats thumped through the plywood floorboards as an old music video played on a giant screen over the bar; the patrons were dressed in a variety of styles from jeans and T-shirts to black fishnets and leather.

It had been nearly twenty years since she and Moira had first stomped up to that same bar in their low-rise jeans and black Converse sneakers, sporting thick bangs and even thicker eyeliner. The club had become an old haunt during their college days, back when dark lipstick and clove cigarettes had always been in Kris’s handbag. Now, as she glanced around the place, she fondly remembered the girl that she used to be.

Uh oh. Stalker at six o’clock. Moira jabbed a sharp elbow into her ribs and nodded to indicate the direction.

Kris turned her head toward a darkened corner of the room and met a pair of piercing eyes. Blood rushed to her neck and traveled up her cheeks as the owner of the broody gaze stared back at her. He was pale and slender with dark, slicked-back hair and a long, elegant nose. The man pulled his full lips into a smirking grin and Kris realized that she was staring, too.

Shit. She blinked and turned her attention back to her drink. I made eye contact.

He’s coming this way!

"No."

He’s kind of good-looking, Moira said. You should flirt with him.

Brittany chuckled. "He looks like a vampire."

I’m so not up for this, Kris groaned.

Hmm. I think I need to go to the bathroom. Moira raised her eyebrows and linked arms with Brittany. Good luck.

Where are you going? Kris hissed. "Moira!"

Byeee. Brittany threw her head back and cackled.

Before she could protest or will her frozen legs to follow them, Kris sensed a presence at her side. The stranger’s bulk sizzled and hummed at her hips and thighs as the volume of the music turned up. She didn’t want to flirt with this man— or any other man for that matter; she just wanted to have a drink or two with her soon-to-be-married friend, enjoy a little blast from the past, and go home to her family.

Still, her interest was definitely piqued. Some long-repressed, dark and sticky part of herself wanted to turn her head and engage with the stranger. Something deep down inside made her curious to see what would happen. A little voice told her that it was her turn to feel something more.

Hello, the man said.

Kris gazed up at the man under heavy lashes. His voice was smooth and low, the single word easily audible over the din of the club. He appeared to be younger than she, and better-looking and more refined than almost everyone in the room, for that matter. He looked like he belonged in the Gothic nightclub with his all-black ensemble and broody stare.

Kris, with her at-home haircut and department store wrap dress was just a mom in clubbing cosplay. She knew who she was and what she looked like. Why this man would speak to her out of everyone there was beyond her.

She cleared her throat and tried her best to appear disinterested and unimpressed. Hello.

You were staring at me. Weren’t you?

No. My friend was. Kris’s heartbeat pulsed heavily in her neck. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and turned her gaze to the floor. You’ll have to excuse them. It’s her bachelorette party and she’s a little over excited.

I’m not here to talk to your friend. I’m here to talk to you.

Kris scoffed and rattled the ice in her cup. Sure you are.

Looks like you need a refresher. The man nodded to the bartender and made a motion with his hand. Her next one is on me.

No! No, please. You don’t have to do that. Kris licked her lips and glanced toward the bathroom door. We were going to leave soon anyway.

It’s early.

She glanced at the bar as a fresh drink appeared. The man locked eyes with her again and gave her a smile that she felt all the way down to her bones. It was a sensation that she hadn’t experienced in a long time. Hunger. Urgency. Desire. Maybe this was what she deserved after almost five years of around-the-clock care for the twins as her husband worked out of town, enjoying himself in who-knows-how-many bars in the company of who-knows-how-many people. Maybe this was her time. Maybe just once she could let go.

The man picked up the glass and handed it to her, his lips pursing into a wry grin. Well? It’s a perfectly good drink. Would be a shame to waste it.

Where the hell is Moira? Kris sucked in a short, sharp breath, the beverage icy cold and tempting in her hand. A painkiller. Sure. She could use another.

Thanks.

She sipped the sugar-laden drink, the liquid cooling her throat and warming her insides all at once. The music slowed as the DJ spun a familiar tune. She nodded her head and closed her eyes, the sweet drink going down smooth and easy. Her hips swayed a little and a dose of feel-good chemicals flowed through her veins. She remembered this feeling.

She placed the half-empty glass on the bar, suddenly feeling very tired. I think I need to find my friends….

I love this song, the man said. Come on.

No.

A cool, soft hand snaked across her palm. His fingers laced together