Physical Distraction (The Physical Series Book 3)

by Sierra Hill

  But a girl could dream.

  Chapter Five

  Two and a half hours, four beers and one more shot later, Dylan was feeling pretty damn good. And from the looks of Jason and the sexy little twenty-something attached to his lips, they were both going to have a lot more fun soon.

  He’d enjoyed hanging out with Jason, and watching his friend try to put the moves on the girl, using goofy pick-up lines that were more humorous than sexy, in an effort to catch the eye of several of the younger women hanging around. A cute young redhead, who introduced herself as Laci with an “I”, tried valiantly to gain Dylan’s attention with her perky, bouncy tits and come-fuck-me glances. But he had little interest in anyone besides the hot California blond running things behind the bar.

  Sloane had wandered by about an hour earlier, clearing off tables and handing out business cards for the local taxi services to those in obvious need of transportation. He liked the genuine concern she showed for the safety of her customers, ensuring they were minding the no drinking and driving laws. He’d finished up his final beer thirty minutes earlier, and was letting his buzz dissipate, still enjoying the remaining effects while he kept an eye on Sloane.

  Her presence alone created a buzz, not unlike the one the beer gave him. Dylan would hear her throaty laugh from across the bar or the sweet soft voice as she spoke to her customers or joked with the bartenders, and it would fill him with a floaty happiness. It washed over him like the feel of sunshine on his back on a warm spring day. It flooded him with images of her naked body sprawled out underneath him.

  “Hey, can I get you guys anything else? Last call in about fifteen minutes.”

  So lost in thought, Dylan hadn’t realized he’d been staring straight at her as she walked up to their table. He lifted his glass of water and then glanced over to where Jason and his Taylor Swift-wannabe were currently getting to know each other quite well. Jason pulled his lips away from her mouth to say something in her ear, eliciting a giggle, as she nodded and snuggled closer in the arm he had wrapped around her shoulder.

  “Dude, you want another round?” Dylan asked, knowing his friend had already had plenty.

  “Nah, I’m good. Tiffany and I are gonna head out as soon as I’m sobered up,” Jason grinned, leaving no question as to what they would be doing as soon as they left. Jason’s expression then turned remorseful. “Uh, since I drove, do you mind cabbing it back home?” He shrugged in a half-hearted apology. Dylan wasn’t going to rain on his buddy’s parade.

  He wasn’t about to get pissed off that his friend was ditching him for a chick, or making him find his own transportation home. He was glad Jason found someone, even if it was just for tonight. He’d gone through a hell of a break-up, and whether he admitted it to Dylan or not, he knew Jason had suffered deeply.

  “Yeah, don’t worry about it. You go have fun. You’re okay to drive, right?”

  Jason stood up, wrapping the girl up in her coat and nodded.

  “You bet, bro. I’m good. I’ll see you after Christmas. Thanks for coming with me tonight, dude.” He clamped his hand down on Dylan’s shoulder and squeezed. “Tell your pops Merry Christmas for me.”

  “You bet. Take care, bro. Nice to meet you, Tiffany.”

  The girl giggled and wiggled her fingers in a goodbye, as they both walked toward the door. Dylan turned back in search of Sloane, who was still standing there, watching the conversation unfold with a slight grin.

  Dylan lifted his nearly empty water glass, shaking it vigorously. “I guess I don’t need to leave just yet, so I will have another round before last call. Mind if I come hang out at the bar with you?”

  “Of course, but I still have a lot to finish before we close for the night. I have to ”

  Before she could finish her sentence, the bar descended into complete and utter darkness. The only light available seemed to be streaming in from the streetlamps shining in through the small crevice windows above the front doors, and EXIT signs. The noisy chatter and laughter that surrounded them just seconds before had all but dried up. An almost eerie silence swept across the room. Everything was pitch black.

  Sloane’s voice broke the stillness. “What the…oh my God. Is this a blackout?” She let out a curse, and then an “Ow” when she bumped into the table behind her, and then directly into Dylan’s chest.

  Dylan’s hands found her shoulders in the dark, giving her a reassuring squeeze as his eyes slowly adjusted to purge of darkness around them. Curious as to what was going on, Dylan took several cautious steps toward the front door, swinging it open to find the snow-covered streets shining bright under the yellow street lights. All the buildings across the street were still lit up with Christmas lights and CLOSED signs, indicating that it was just the bar with the electrical problems. Either someone forgot to pay the electricity bill and the power was cut off, or a fuse was blown in the circuit breaker.

  A few people began filing out the doorway as Dylan wandered back to where Sloane still stood, rooted in the same spot he’d left her.

  “Afraid it looks like it’s just your place without power,” he confirmed, scratching his stubbled chin considering his next course of action. “I hate to ask this, but do you know if your uncle paid the electrical bill in the last few months before he, uh…passed on?”

  He could feel the movement of her body as she shook her head vigorously. “Yes. I saw the latest statement that showed he was current. So what else could it be?”

  “Well, let’s go take a look. Do you have a flashlight under the bar so we can find our way to the fuse box?”

  Dylan stood close enough to Sloane that he felt her breath against his neck. The darkness surrounded them, anchoring them in an albatross of sensory overload. He could smell the sweet scent of cinnamon and cloves that clung to her skin, as if she’d spent the day baking Christmas cookies. Dylan wanted to bend in and taste the spot between her breasts, where he knew she’d be sweet.

  Once again, he reluctantly brought himself out of the reverie as he reached out to find her slender wrist, letting her guide them in the direction of the bar. When they got there, after making their way through the maze of tables, chairs and bodies, it seemed like all hell had broken loose.

  “Donnie? Staci? Everything all right back here?” she asked tenuously, lifting herself up on her tiptoes to bend over the bar counter in search of a flashlight she must’ve had stashed below.

  The two bartenders assured in unison they were both fine. “Dylan here is an electrician. We’re going to have a look in the basement to see what’s going on.”

  A beam of light cascaded across the bar floor, as she pressed the button to illuminate the area. Turning back toward Dylan, she handed him another Maglite, pressing the cold aluminum weight into his palm.

  “In the meantime, can you close things down and try to get people out the door in an orderly fashion? Lock up the till Donnie, and keep the baseball bat handy behind the bar.” She pulled out a key ring and handed it over to Staci, the other bartender.

  “You got it, Sloane. No worries.” Dylan assumed the reply came from Donnie, since it was a very masculine and thunderous voice.

  From behind the bar, Staci turned on her flashlight and began lighting candles along the length of the bar so that they could now see shadows and solid shapes huddled around the space, frozen in their spots, unmoving. It reminded him of the Red Light, Green Light he played as a kid. Where everyone stopped, still as a statue, when given the word, and didn’t move until they were given the go-ahead signal.

  Taking his hand in hers again, Sloane led Dylan back through the kitchen doors, down a small, cluttered hallway, and to a door that led to the basement stairs. She turned the knob and opened the door, ready to head down into the unknown until Dylan squeezed her hand and pulled her back to him.

  “I’ll go first.”

  Dylan appreciated the fact that Sloane didn’t whine or comment about his bossiness, she simply moved to the side and allowed him room to enter. The s
pace was small, and his chest brushed against her breasts as he pressed past her. The breathy gasp, along with the quiet darkness, about sealed the deal for his cock, which shifted in eager response for something good to happen.

  “Sorry.” He mumbled apologetically, taking the first step down the old wooden stairs. The steps creaked under his weight with every step he took.

  Sloane was right behind him, so close that when he stopped suddenly to turn around, she toppled into him, nearly falling into his arms. His hand shot out to grab her by the hips to keep her upright.

  “Whoa there.”

  “Geez Dylan. I didn’t expect you to stop like that.”

  His hands remained on her hip bones, itching to roam. “My bad. But I just realized something.”

  She lifted her eyebrows with curiosity, the flashlight casting a shadow between the juncture of her eyes, making it look like she had a uni brow. He almost snickered, but caught himself before he did and then got smacked with the heavy weapon she held. She was still beautiful, even with the strange distortion. His fingers twitched, as she jutted her hip to the left.

  “Well, it might be helpful to have some tools on hand before we head down here. I have no idea what the problem is, but a screw driver, a wrench, and possibly some wire cutters will likely do the trick. Do you have a toolbox in a supply closet in the kitchen you can grab?”

  Sloane dropped the light from her face, turning around and lighting her steps back to the top.

  “I’ll be right back,” she said, but turned around at the top of stairs, shining the light underneath her chin, giving him a cheeky grin. “Don’t go anywhere or let the boogeyman get ya.”

  Dylan chuckled. “No worries. I’m not moving. I’m kind of scared of the dark.”

  Sloane’s own laugh wafted through the hallway before he heard the sound of a closet door opening, and the rifling noises she made on a quest to locate something in the pitch dark. Sloane was definitely a multi-faceted woman. Bold, fearless and self-reliant in one moment, yet feminine, shy, with a little bit of sadness peppered in at other times. He could see it in her eyes when he’d catch her drifting off into space. But as soon as he saw it, she’d cover it up with a bright smile.

  A few moments later, she scampered back to the open doorway, thrusting out her hand in excited triumph. “Found it!”

  Dylan grabbed hold of the small toolbox, which looked to be a relic from World War II, and began his decent down the rickety stairs, Sloane trailing close behind him like before. Part of him wanted to stop suddenly again, just to mess with her. And to feel her soft body pressed against his back. But they were on a mission to get things operating again before too long. No time to dick around. Even though his dick vehemently disagreed.

  “Hey, you don’t have to come down here with me. You should probably be upstairs getting things closed down for the night. I’ve got this.”

  A flap of her hand indicated her disagreement. “I’m fine. Donnie, Staci and Curtis have everything taken care of up there. That’s the one thing Uncle Patsy did well. He hired some really good people. I’m pretty confident they can manage the crisis without me butting in. Plus, I should at least see what you’re doing down here just in case I ever have to do it myself.”

  There was definitely truth in that statement, and he admired her logic. So did his libido, because it thoroughly enjoyed her continued presence. Dylan shook his head in agreement and continued down the stairwell. When he made it to the bottom step, Dylan twisted around, offering his hand to Sloane. She gestured to the right of him and flashed the light toward the back wall.

  Not letting go of her hand, he gently directed her to follow him, prudently making his way in the dark basement he’d just visited earlier that week.

  In his ten years as an electrician, Dylan knew his way around wiring and had seen it all. He’d briefly looked over the construction of this building’s circuit box during the walk-through a few days before, so he wasn’t the least bit surprised with what he found. In the majority of cases when it came to old buildings such as this, damage was either done through the work of frayed circuitry, corroded parts, or in this case rodents.

  Rats were common in Boston basements, especially in the over-populated commercial section of town. It didn’t surprise Dylan, and the idea of a rat-infested basement wasn’t new to him. Sloane, however? Yeah, it was probably a good bet that she was not going to be too pleased to hear what he was about to say.

  “I don’t want to freak you out, but it looks like this might be the work of some very hungry, or very devious rats,” he confirmed, holding up two exposed wires that had been gnawed through and chewed up to hell.

  Dylan felt the tightened grip of Sloane’s hand in his, which he had yet to let go of. Her body shifted closer to his, and he could feel the tension rising before she even said a word.

  “Wh – what? Rats? Did you say rats?” Her voice escalated two octaves higher than normal, riddled with panic. Dylan tried not to chuckle when her other fist gripped the back of his shirt, yanking him into her. “There are rats down here? Oh my God. I can’t stand rats. Seriously, I think I might scream. Or pass out. Or both. Shit…do they bite?”

  She fidgeted next to him, doing some sort of high step dance, like her feet were burning on scorching sand. It was pretty cute, given the circumstances. And at this, Dylan was at a loss at how to alleviate her worry. He could lie and tell her there was nothing to worry about, but it would make him an asshole. Because the truth was, these city rats were aggressive motherfuckers, and he wouldn’t put anything past them to be hungry for her sweet flesh. And they might be protecting their territory if they’d built some sort of home down here.

  But one look into her fear-laden eyes had Dylan deciding to paint the rosiest picture possible. There was no way he wanted to cause this woman any more panic than she was already in. Even the strongest of individuals had a breaking point.

  “I’m sure we’re just fine. Unfortunately, they damaged the main power component and until I can replace it tomorrow, the bar is going to be in the dark. So let’s just head back upstairs and we can work out the strategy for getting the place back up and humming.”

  ###

  An hour later, the bar was empty, save for Dylan and Sloane, who sat huddled over the bar. They’d spent an hour in the basement together, avoiding potential Rat King attacks, and isolating the problem with the electricity. Now sitting side-by-side, Sloane was regaling a story about her one and only rat encounter at the tender age of eight-years-old.

  “And he literally grabbed my PB&J sandwich from the picnic basket sitting next to me, mind you, and started eating it right in front of me! The sinister bastard kept staring at me with his beady little eyes like I was the one who just stole his lunch. That little fucker!”

  Dylan laid his head down on the bar, on top of his crossed arms, rolling in a fit of laughter at her outrageous story.

  “That rat was so rude!” she squealed, throwing back the last of her Jameson shot with a soft pfft. She placed the shot glass on the counter and closed her eyes for a scant second, giving him the opportunity to take in the details of her face.

  Her face was flushed, her cheeks rosy from joyous laughter, and her lips – God, her lips were parted, glistening from the remainder of the liquor left behind.

  Dylan watched as her warm chocolate eyes slowly flicked open again, blinking at him. Filled with mirth and desire. He wanted to lean over, wrap his hand behind her neck, and pull her in for a kiss. But that would be a bad idea. So instead, he prodded her on.

  “And then what happened?” His voice came out thick and reedy.

  Her sideways grin was adorable. “Well, two things happened after that. Actually three. My dad ended up throwing a Frisbee at the flee infested vermin and it ran off, leaving only crumbs of my sandwich along the way. The second is that I’ve never had another peanut butter and jelly sandwich again. It’s just too traumatic.”

  “Therapy required, I assume?”

  �
�Of course. Twice a week without fail. I’ve finally gotten to the point where I can watch a Tom & Jerry cartoon without running from the room screaming. I feel I’ve made real progress over the last sixteen years.”

  Dylan reached for the bottle of whiskey, offering to pour another shot in Sloane’s glass. She pressed her index finger to her lips, which pinched in thought, when she nodded her head in approval.

  “In all seriousness, I really did have nightmares for years afterward about giant, devil-like eyes staring me down, and gigantic prong-like teeth eating away at my flesh.” She shivered in response, shooting back the next shot.

  “Yikes. And the third thing?” he prodded.

  She leaned her elbow against the bar counter, her hair slipping over the edge and down her arm, her lips turning up into a gentle smile.

  “Picnics in the woods are out of the question for me.”

  Dylan immediately pictured Sloane sitting on a beach blanket, not in the woods, but on a sandy beach, wearing a barely-there bikini, eating grapes he fed her from his fingers. He had to control his voice to hold back the groan from the sensual image.

  “How about beach picnics? No rats by the water. I’m sure San Diego has plenty of great spots.”

  She was thoughtful for a moment. “That’s true, I suppose.”

  “Speaking of San Diego. Do you have family, or um, anyone coming to visit you for Christmas?” He had been curious to know about her relationship status since the moment he met her. How a beautiful woman like herself could be unattached and single was beyond him. She hadn’t mentioned a boyfriend, and although he hated prying, he had to know. If she was single, then Santa had him on his good list this year.

  The candle light across the bar top flickered, casting an ethereal glow over her soft features, her natural sexuality taking on an angelic quality. The awareness of her – her body, her heat, the scent of her hair – had his balls tightening and aching for relief.