Worth It

by Linda Kage

  I gazed into the still, dark pool as we stepped onto the ramp. “Do you come out here to go fishing?”

  “Nope. Can’t. Too much of the mining minerals saturated the water, it’s full of alkali.”

  I glanced at him curiously. “Alkali?”

  He nodded. “You know, the stuff that goes into batteries. Nothing can live in this pit because of the alkali...which makes it perfect for swimming.”

  I shivered. “Wouldn’t swimming in battery acid be dangerous?”

  Knox grinned as if my cluelessness was cute. Then he shrugged. “Never made me sick before. It stains my clothes an awful muddy brown, but that’s about it.”

  My breath caught at the thought of him wet and splashing around in this very pit. “So...you’ve swum here before?”

  He seemed to move closer without even really moving. “Every summer for as long as I can remember.” Even his voice was quieter. Deeper. I couldn’t breathe so well.

  Turning my attention to the water, I cleared my throat. “Did you build this dock?”

  “No. That must’ve been your father, or one of your brothers.”

  “Garrett, probably,” I mused more to myself. “He’s handy like that.”

  He didn’t answer. Instead, he toed off his shoes and sat on the edge. As soon as he swung his legs over the side and let his feet dangle into the water below, he eased out a big sigh.

  Then he grinned up at me. “If you hand me your shoe, I can rinse it off in the water for you.”

  I made a face. “And let you stain it with battery acid water?”

  He rolled his eyes. “I think the shoe’s already ruined. I was just offering you a less muddy walk home.”

  Ugh, he made a good point. “In that case, I can do it.” I slipped off both shoes and took the muddy one in hand before bending over the dock and out into the water.

  “Careful,” he cautioned, grasping my hip. “Don’t fall in.”

  I hadn’t been in any danger of falling at all until he went and touched me. At contact, I jumped like a scalded cat. He had to tighten his grip and yank me against him to save me from a strip pit full of battery acid.

  “Damn, City Girl,” he murmured into my ear. “What’re you so jumpy for?”

  He knew exactly why I was jumpy, and that cocky little grin he sent me said so. I frowned. “You’re really going to call me City Girl from here on out, aren’t you? You couldn’t think of anything else.”

  “Nope. I like City Girl. It suits you.”

  “Does not.”

  “Does too.” He kept holding my hip until he had me sitting next to him, close enough that our thighs brushed and I was nearly in his lap.

  I forgot to argue back. Taking a deep, shuddery breath, I laid my shoe out on the dock next to the clean one to dry out in the sun. Then I dangled my legs over the side of the dock to dip my toes into the water.

  Knox smiled approvingly and caught a piece of my hair.

  I sighed, happy and relaxed as he began to play with a couple locks. The dock bobbed in a lulling rhythm under us. “It’s nice out here. The water feels great on my feet.”

  “Yeah.” He sounded distracted. “We should wear our suits tomorrow and go for a swim.”

  I snorted. “You’re crazy if you think I’m swimming in water that stains clothes.”

  With a shrug, he grinned. “We’ll skinny-dip, then.” As my mouth dropped open and words failed me, Knox just kept smiling. “Can’t stain clothes if you’re not wearing any.”

  “I...you...that...”

  He threw back his head and laughed. “I’m kidding.”

  I would’ve slugged him on the shoulder again and told him how funny he still wasn’t, but his brown eyes danced with so much enthusiasm when he looked at me, I forgot what I was going to say.

  I knew he could read all the temptation and longing in my expression when his smile died.

  “Do you ever think about kissing me?”

  My mouth dried up and my mind turned to mush. “Wha...what?”

  He just kept watching me as he coiled my hair around his finger. “Because I do. All the time. Right before I go to sleep each night, first thing when I wake up in the morning, whenever I’m coming out here to meet you, whenever I’m with you.”

  The last part was a whispered confession he made as he leaned in and pressed his forehead to mine.

  I closed my eyes, afraid to breathe and even more afraid to reopen my lashes in fear this moment would end and I’d find out it was all a dream.

  “But what the hell am I thinking?” His whisper turned harsh. “You’re a Bainbridge. I’m a Parker. We should hate each other on principle alone. I shouldn’t even be your friend, much less want to kiss you.”

  My eyelashes fluttered open. “You shouldn’t?” I have no idea why I asked that as if to make sure he was certain of his claim. He’d just said he shouldn’t, so he shouldn’t. Except I really wanted him to.

  His brown eyes blazed into mine. “I won’t,” he swore, his jaw hard with resolution.

  “You won’t,” I murmured.

  He shook his head. But he was right there; our faces were so close. Maybe I could be the one to just lean in and...

  When I did lean toward him, he leaned toward me, meeting me halfway. Oh God, I was going to kiss Knox Parker. I was going to press my mouth to his and—

  What the heck did I think I was doing? This was insane. “You’re right,” I said, shaking sense back into my head and pulling away, dislodging his hold on my hair. “We probably shouldn’t even be friends. I should go.”

  I yanked my feet from the pit and began to pull on my slippers.

  “City Girl,” he said, as if apologizing, trying to explain.

  “No, you’re right. This is... It’s insane. I’m going home and never—”

  “Hey,” he whispered.

  He caught my hand when I tried to stand.

  After drawing in a bracing breath, I turned back to meet his gaze. I expected him to spill out some other significant reason why we shouldn’t kiss, why even talking together and meeting in the woods was so wrong, why we were supposed to be enemies, blah, blah, blah, but instead...his mouth pressed against mine.

  Too stunned to respond at first, I just knelt there, my knees digging into the dock, as he cupped my face in one palm and leaned in close. Then he tipped his head to the side and brushed his lips across mine again.

  My eyelids dragged closed, and a whimper escaped my throat.

  His mouth was so freaking soft. And warm. I pressed back, clutching his shoulder until my nails burrowed into his shirt.

  He made a sound that was somewhere between a groan and a growl, and his second hand cupped my face too before his palm slid across my cheek so he could sink his fingers in my hair. When his lips parted and his tongue came out to touch the seam of my mouth, I gasped from the bold sensation it caused...between my legs.

  “Sorry.” He pulled his face back immediately but kept his hands in my hair. “Too much?”

  He meant, not enough, right?

  Breathing hard, I only gaped. “But you said...we shouldn’t...kiss.”

  He grinned and swept his lips over my cheek. “Yeah, well, I couldn’t handle making you sad. And you looked sad when you tried to leave.”

  A smile bloomed, bright and broad, across my face. He smiled back and bit his bottom lip. Drawn to him and tempted beyond anything I’d ever felt before, I leaned toward him, but he jerked back.

  “We should probably stop there,” he said, looking a little panicked. “I don’t...I don’t know if I can trust myself after too much more.”

  I nodded, but couldn’t help but feel saddened. I already missed the feel of his mouth against mine. But he was right. We’d already crossed too many boundaries. So, I started to turn away, except he growled and caught my wrist, spinning me back to him.

  “Stop that,” he demanded, his eyes flashing with anger, right before he stamped his mouth back to mine.

  My fingers instantly grippe
d his hair as I pushed up onto my knees again and arched into him. “Stop what?” I asked, breathless, before his lips attacked mine again.

  “Stop looking so sad when I don’t kiss you, and stop trying to leave when you’re sad. You’re not allowed to walk away from me unless you’re smiling.”

  “Then stop trying to be so noble and not kiss me,” I growled back.

  “Fine,” he snapped and yanked me in for a scorcher. “I won’t.” This time, when he opened his mouth, I was ready for him. My tongue met his, and he jerked in surprise before he slid his into my mouth.

  And oh my God... Nirvana.

  I have no idea how many kisses followed that, or how long we spent just making out, mouth to mouth, but my lips were pleasantly swollen and my brain felt permanently dazed when I finally pulled away and said I needed to get home before someone actually started to worry.

  He nodded and gave me one last closed-mouth, chaste kiss before pulling away and watching me push to my feet.

  “So...I’ll see you around,” I said, suddenly uncertain.

  His eyes glittered with amusement before he merely nodded and answered, “Yeah. See you.”

  I have no idea why his response rubbed me the wrong way when I was the idiot who’d said the same exact thing to him first. Gah, I was the most insecure weirdo I knew.

  Tucking my hair behind my ear, I sent him one last unsure wave and spun away to hurry down the ramp to the shore of the strip pit.

  Before I reached it, however, he called after me. “Hey, City Girl.”

  A giddy joy bloomed in my chest. “What?”

  “Seriously, bring your swimming suit tomorrow. We’ll try out the alkali water.”

  Spinning to face him, I walked backward away from him. “I don’t know. I don’t really need my batteries charged.”

  He grinned. “After I get done kissing you hello, you will.”

  I threw my head back and laughed.

  And that was the first of many trips I walked away from him that summer with swollen lips and a silly grin plastered to my face.

  I followed Pick through the front doors of the Forbidden Nightclub Thursday evening, expecting the scent of maybe mold, sour alcohol, and sweat, because my childhood home had always smelled like that after my dad went on a bender. But I was surprised by how clean it smelled, like new wood, recent construction, even the hint of fresh paint.

  The nightclub had a dark ceiling that made it seem lower than it probably was. Tables and chairs took up the left side while the center was open and a small stage encompassed the right. Since the actual bar was located at the back, I continued to follow Pick that way where a handful of guys were milling around.

  One sat on a stool at the bar with his back to us as he popped a sucker in his mouth and watched something on the screen of the laptop in front of him.

  “Hart, what the hell are you watching?” Another guy, whom I immediately recognized from the hospital as Ten, asked the stool sitter as he approached from the side to see for himself.

  “Man, check this out. Someone put Taylor Swift’s ‘Shake it Off’ song onto this eighties workout video, and it synched freaking perfectly. Holy shit, just look at that.”

  Ten watched for a second before he turned his face aside to give Hart an odd look. “Dude, really?”

  “Whoa.” Another guy approached them from the other side of Hart to watch the video. “Someone please tell me guys don’t still wear tights like that. That’s way too much TMI for me.”

  Ten slapped a hand to his chest. “Jesus, you disappoint me, Lowe. How can you even see what the dudes are wearing when the chicks’ tits are bouncing around like that?”

  “Okay, what’s all the fuss about over here?” A fourth guy hopped over the bar so he could see the screen of the laptop as well. But as soon as he saw a second’s worth, he immediately backed away and lifted both hands. “You guys need help.”

  That’s when Pick chose to announce us. “Hey, everyone. This is Knox Parker. He’s our new bartender.”

  All four men spun around, and every gaze landed on me.

  The fourth guy finally wandered closer, eyeing me up and down. “Since when do we have a new bartender?”

  “Since today,” Pick answered casually.

  Mr. Curious hitched his chin Pick’s way. “Is this the ex-con?”

  Pick shook his head and sighed. “Ten,” he muttered. “You got a big fucking mouth, you know that?”

  “What?” Ten shrugged. “Was I supposed to keep that secret?”

  “Just...” Pick lifted his hands. “Let’s not go spreading his record around outside the six of us, okay? In fact, for the first week or so, you all don’t even know his name. Got it?”

  None of the other bartenders seemed to get it. They stared at him as if he’d lost his mind. I gave him my own confused glance, wondering why he wanted even my name kept under wraps. But he didn’t explain himself.

  Finally, the one Ten had called Lowe pointed at me as he asked Pick. “Is he—”

  “Yes,” Pick clipped out, sending Lowe a hard stare before Lowe whirled back to me and studied me from head to toe.

  A moment later, he huffed out a strange sounding, “Oh.”

  I had no idea what they were talking about, so I transferred a leery scowl between the two of them, hoping they’d clue me in. But all Lowe did when I glanced at him was offer me a nervous smile and a greeting nod, which only made me warier.

  What the hell?

  From his barstool, Hart tipped his chin up and decided to talk to me directly. “So what’d you do time for?”

  I turned my attention to him, and something in my gaze must’ve intimidated him because he took an untrusting pull back in his seat. Since it was obvious I already skeeved him out, I couldn’t help myself; I answered, “Rape and murder.”

  A pregnant pause followed before Ten exploded, “What the fuck, Pick? You just hired a murdering rapist to work with us? Dude!”

  Pick sent me a dry glance as if to tell me to keep my mouth shut. But I only gazed back, unrepentant. It wasn’t as if I’d lied. I had done time for both accusations.

  Rubbing a spot on his forehead, Pick frowned at his bartenders. “How long have you idiots known me? Do you honestly think I’d hire a rapist?”

  The disgust in his voice seemed to relieve them, but the one still standing closest to me, visually inspecting me, asked, “What about the murdering part?”

  Pick shrugged. Then he glanced at Lowe and murmured, “I’m sure he had a good reason for that.”

  “Oh, great. That’s just great.” Ten threw his hands into the air and spun away, before facing Pick again. “When he rapes and murders me, please tell my wife he probably had a good reason for it.”

  Hart, still sitting in front of the laptop, snickered. “If he murdered you, Ten, he would have a good reason.”

  “Shut it, motherfucker.”

  “Make me, douche stick.”

  “Better watch it, cock licker, or I will.”

  “Fellas.” Pick lifted his hands. “Jesus, my toddlers are better behaved than you two. Just...believe me when I say Knox is trustworthy. Okay? Now let’s get back to work. Gamble, you’re on training duty.”

  “Yeah, thanks.” The guy next to me snorted out his sarcasm before drawing in a deep, irritated sigh and waving me to follow him behind the bar. “This way, Parker. Looks like you’re with me tonight.”

  I paused, sending Pick a doubtful glance for pushing me off on these men who obviously wanted nothing to do with me. Except maybe Lowe. But I wasn’t sure what he was about, so I probably trusted him least of all.

  Pick merely waved me on. “That’s Noel by the way. Noel Gamble. He was a big football star back in the day.”

  I pulled back to get a better look at Noel, recognizing his name. They’d let us watch football behind bars; I’d probably seen a dozen, if not more, of his games.

  “Was?” Noel scowled at Pick. “That ‘was’ was only like a year ago, douche. Way to make me sou
nd ancient and decrepit.”

  Pick merely shrugged and pointed at Ten. “And you’ve met Dipshit, aka Ten, aka Oren Tenning.”

  I blinked in shock. Oren Tenning was another name I recognized from television. I never would’ve known him by his face since I’d only ever seen him on a screen in football pads and wearing a helmet.

  “Another football star,” I said, suddenly placing where I’d heard the name Quinn Hamilton before, too. Zoey’s husband had replaced Gamble after he’d gotten hurt and was the current football quarterback for Ellamore State these days.

  “Right,” Pick answered with a nod. “And this is Asher Hart. He was the new guy before you came along.” Setting his hand on Asher’s shoulder, he closed the guy’s laptop before adding, “He’s been with us over a year and sings in some little band.”

  Asher snorted and reopened his laptop. “He means an awesome, kick-ass band. We perform here every Friday if you want to check us out.”

  Grin flitting across his face, Pick pointed out the last guy, who was stacking glasses against the back wall. “Last but not least, that’s Mason Lowe. We’re basically related since his woman and mine are first cousins, so I kind of have to play favorites with him.”

  “What the fuck ever,” Ten called from where he was taking a chair off a table. “I’m your favorite, and you know it.”

  “So have you ever tended bar before?” Noel broke into the introduction, obviously ready to get to work.

  I hadn’t even been old enough to drink before I’d been arrested, so no, I’d definitely never tended a bar before.

  I shook my head.

  His jaw tightened briefly before he asked, “Waited tables?”

  “Nope.”

  “Of course not.” He rubbed a spot on his forehead and sent Pick a scowl. “Couldn’t have made this even a little easy for me, could you, Ryan? Thanks a lot.”

  Pick waved Noel’s resentment away as he seated himself at the bar and pulled out his cell phone to check something. “He’ll be fine.” Then he grinned. “His dad was an alcoholic; he probably knows how to mix most drinks already.”

  When Noel sent me a questioning glance, I shrugged. My old man hadn’t bothered with mixing; he’d mainly drunk shit straight from the bottle. But if it helped Noel assume I had any more experience than I did, I’d let him think it.