Cross Crease (On The Edge Book 3)

by Elizabeth Hartey

  “What can I get you, sweetheart?” the hot bartender, with his tan skin, disheveled blond hair, and inviting blue eyes leans in to take my order, and while doing so gives me an obvious up and down scan. I think I hear Wolfe growl. I ignore him.

  “Could I get an AMF?”

  “Sure thing, Gorgeous.” Am I loving the fact D is standing there listening to every flirtatious word the bartender says? C’mon now. Of course, I am.

  I’ve read more than romance novels to learn all about the sexual attraction between humans. My analyses have also included all the most pertinent research studies out there: The Kinsey Report, and Masters and Johnson’s The Human Sexual Response. I’ve even read Helen Gurley Brown’s Sex and the Single Girl.

  I didn’t get all buffed and shined to have no one notice me. Unfortunately, the cute bartender wasn’t the one I wanted to notice my spruced-up chassis. But there’s nothing wrong with testing my newly acquired seduction engine until the right guy does notice.

  “Whoa. You better take it easy on those things, little girl. They pack a punch. And I heard it on the DL you ladies have been sucking down Mimosas all day,” D offers his uninvited, annoying advice.

  “Excuse me? Little girl?” I turn so he can get a good look at the black halter dress I’m wearing.

  The front of the dress is covered in floral sequin designs. They are strategically placed to cover my most intimate parts. Surrounding the designs are black mesh cutouts. The dress’s design doesn’t allow for a bra, but since I’m not as voluptuous as the woman sitting on D’s other side, I can pull it off without any wardrobe malfunctions. Judging from the way D’s jaw is clenching, I’d say he gets my not so little girl status. But just to be sure, I turn my back to him and call for the bartender’s attention again.

  “Make that two, please.”

  “You got it.”

  It gives D a chance to get an up close and personal view of the backless dress. It’s cut down to the small of my back, and the stretchy black fabric hugging my ass leaves nothing to the imagination.

  “Holy fuck,” D gasps.

  “I’m sorry, did you say something?” I turn to him.

  “That dress is…it’s…”

  “Something a little girl shouldn’t be wearing?” I help him finish his sentence since he seems to be somewhat tongue-tied.

  “I was going to say, it’s amazing.” He moves closer and brushes up against me. Or rather his obvious erection brushes up against me. Did I do that? My heart catapults inside my chest. “And you look amazing in it.”

  “Thanks. But since you made it abundantly clear you have no intention of using that,” I glance down between his thighs, “at least not on me, I think you better back off.” I smile sweetly and flutter my lashes at him. But he doesn’t move.

  “I’m sorry. I don’t think I met your friend.” I lean into the bar to look past him, so I can see Blondie. I will not give in to the hormonal siege going on inside my body in response to him. I will not behave like a drooly lovestruck fool. Been there. Done that. And I was left bare-assed and humiliated. I inhale a calming breath and take a napkin doily from the bar to wipe my mouth. Whatever. It’s only one small drop of drool.

  “Hi. I’m Heaven.” I stretch my hand out toward the beautiful girl.

  “Hi.” She extends her hand out for mine. Since D’s in between us, we shake hands in front of his glorious erection. On second thought, maybe she’s the cause of D’s excessive…zeal.

  “Oh. Sorry.” D decides to back up a bit after all. “This is…um…Heaven, this is…” Oh boy. He can’t even remember her name. If I wasn’t so happy he can’t remember her name, I’d have to agree with his hockey mates, D is a dick when it comes to women.

  “Alison,” the girl blurts out in frustration.

  “Right. Alison this is P…Heaven.” He turns back and forth between us. I’m sure the fact he’s sandwiched in between two attentive women is right up his whoring alley.

  “Nice to meet you, Heaven. Beautiful name. So unusual,” Alison comments in a somewhat mocking tone.

  “Thanks.” I don’t react to her snarky comment because I mean, really. What were my parents smoking? “Can’t take credit, I’m afraid. All my mother’s idea.” Meanwhile, D keeps looking back and forth at us like he’s at a ping pong tournament.

  “Sheesh, D. Are you having a senior moment?” I decide to let the poor boy know I remember he’s here. “How could you forget such a beautiful woman’s name? I have to apologize for him. He can be such a guy sometimes.” I roll my eyes to emphasize my feigned disgust.

  “Have you known Wolfe long? You seem to know him so well.” We continue to converse past D, while I do my best to ignore the way my body is heating and my pulse is racing in double time from his close proximity.

  “Oh, I’ve known Heaven since she was just a little squirt. She’s Dak’s baby sister. You know, the groom?” D interjects with his snide comment.

  “Oooh. So, you’re old friends through your brother. Makes sense,” Alison says in a relieved tone. What does she mean ‘makes sense?’ Why couldn’t I be more to D than a friend through my brother? Do I look like someone he could never be interested in as more than a friend’s baby sister?

  The hot bartender delivers my drinks. I gulp the first one down in one long swallow.

  “You’re with the wedding party right, sweetheart? Should I put that on their tab?”

  “Yes. I’m…”

  “What’s with all the sweetheart bullshit? Show some respect, asshole, or I’ll have to come across this bar and teach you some,” Wolfe snarls.

  “Sorry, dude. Just being friendly. Didn’t realize she was with you. I thought you were with Alison.”

  “He is,” I quickly offer. “I’m not with him. He’s just a self-appointed bodyguard. I’m Heaven.” I extend my hand to the bartender, who’s looking more attractive with every gulping swallow of AMFs.

  “You certainly are.” The smooth-talking bartender takes my hand in his. “Beautiful name to match a beautiful lady. I’m Matt.”

  “Hi, Matt. So nice to meet you.”

  “I can understand why you need a bodyguard. That body definitely requires guarding. I get off at ten. Are you staying in a guest cottage?” The somewhat fast moving, beach boy mixologist seems to have no intention of letting my hand go until D pulls my arm away and closes his massive paw around Matt’s in a handshake.

  “Nice to meet you, Matt.” By the grimace on Matt’s face, I’d say D is greeting him with a vigorous grip. “You better get back to tending bar. There are a lot of people waiting to be served and my friend, Heaven, isn’t one of them. Understand where I’m coming from, dude?” D asks while continuing to hold Matt’s hand in a vise grip.

  “Su…sure, man. I…I get it,” Matt stutters as his knees begin to buckle under him.

  “So, we’re clear?” D leans in, while at the same time pulling Matt halfway across the bar.

  “Com…completely clear,” Matt, in obvious pain, strains out the words.

  “Stop it, D! What’s wrong with you? You’re behaving like a Neanderthal.” Would I mind D behaving all territorial and possessive like a caveman protecting his woman? Um…well…no, if I was his woman. But since he made it clear it’s never going to happen, he needs to stop the whole vagina blocking thing, or I am going to be the Virgin Heaven for the rest of my life. And while the name has a lovely spiritual ring to it, it sounds boring as hell to me!

  D lets go of Matt’s hand. “Good. As long as we’re clear.” D rubs his hand down his pant leg like he’s wiping off the toxic waste he squeezed from Matt. Poor Matt shakes out his arm like he’s trying to get the blood circulating down to his fingers again.

  “I’m so sorry, Matt. I…” I begin to apologize for D’s boorish behavior.

  “Yeah. Whatever. Crazy fucking asshole,” Matt grumbles as he makes his way down to the other end of the bar still massaging his right hand. He whispers something to the gray-haired man tending bar in the other sectio
n. The man makes his way down to our end of the bar, apparently trading workstations with Matt.

  “Well, that was interesting,” Alison says, reminding me she’s still there. “It’s sweet how protective you are of your friend’s little sister. And kind of hot,” she whisper-breathes like a serpent into D’s ear. It’s loud enough I can hear her seductive hiss.

  I’ve had enough. This on again off again hot and cold game D keeps playing with me is ridiculous and…hormonally confusing.

  “Yes. D can be so sweet when he’s behaving like an idiot,” I mumble into my glass before gulping the last swallow of my second AMF.

  The drinks are sloshing around in my stomach like a perfect storm. It’s my cue to call it a night and head back to my cottage if there’s any hope I’m going to be able to get up bright-eyed and bushy-tailed in the morning for my brother’s wedding.

  What I really want to do is drag D away from beautiful Alison and pull him all the way to my cottage. Unfortunately, I’m not feeling AMFing brave enough to act on my desires. Even if I were drunk enough to be uninhibited, it still wouldn’t make me brave enough to be able to handle another possible rejection from D.

  “I’m outta here.” I wave my empty glass in the air like I accomplished an amazing feat. “Don’t shtay up too late, Mr. Wolfe.” I waggle my finger at him. “Doing whatever it is people get to do when shomone doesn’t ruin their evening.” I can’t seem to get my tongue to work properly. “Remember we’re having breakfast at my parents’ cottage bright and early tomorrow morning before we join the cel…celbratory lineup.” Mom insisted me and my designated groomsman should have breakfast with her and Dad before the wedding.

  I have a sneaky suspicion she’s getting desperate and joined the Trace and Nikki Matchmaking Incorporated team. I thought Mom would be thrilled when she called me last week and I told her I started seeing Dak’s friend Josh. But all she did was mumble, “the auras aren’t right” and hung up on me.

  After offering my unsolicited advice to D, I take a step away from the bar and stumble.

  “Oops. Maybe I chugged those Mother Fuckers a little too quick.” I giggle until I realize D has his arm wrapped around my waist. “Get…” I push his arm away from me because I can’t handle the tingly goosies running up and down my body his touch elicits. “Away.” In the process, I stumble over my feet yet again.

  D reaches out for me once more. I hold my hand up like a traffic cop to stop him. “I’m good. Perfectly fine. Good night beautiful, very blonde Alishon. Good night V-jay blocking Wolfe. ‘Good night, good night! Parting is shush shweet sorrow.’” Oh God. I’m drunk quoting Shakespeare. Bedtime for sure. Don’t know where Nikki and the girls are but I’m sure they’ll understand if I don’t say goodnight.

  “Wait, Pip. I’m going to walk you back to your cottage,” D informs me.

  “No no. No ashistance required.” I turn and trip on the barstool and fall against D’s lovely granite-like chest. “Jeez, what did they do, put shom kind of no walking formula into those AMF’s?

  “And some kind of no pronunciation formula too, it seems.” D chuckles. “I’m walking you,” he insists. “Bartender?” He holds a hundred dollar bill out to the guy who took over Matt’s station. “Give the lady anything she wants.” He tips his head toward Alison. “And keep the change.”

  “You’re leaving?” Alison spits out the straw she was twirling her tongue around. I’m not into girls, but I have to admit she has some provocative skills at the whole tongue twirling, seductive sucking on a straw routine.

  “Sorry, hon. Can’t be helped. As you can see, something’s come up.”

  D takes my arm and starts to walk me away from the bar just as Alison adds, “Something’s come up with the sugary little virgin? Huh. Going to end up being quite a frustrating night for you, sweetie,” she sneers.

  “Heyyy,” I spin around D like he’s a pole and point my finger right in Alison’s stunning flawless face. “Who you calling a virgin? Bet I could show you a few moves…”

  “Okay, Dr. Ruth. That’s it. Let’s go.” D steps between me and the latest woman willing to give up all self-respect for him.

  “And do me a favor…ah…ah…” He turns to say something to Alison but apparently is once again having trouble remembering her name. I want to wrap my arms around his neck and give him the biggest thank you kiss in the whole world, but instead, I help the big jerk.

  “Alishon,” I loud whisper in his ear.

  “Right. Alishon…uh…Alison. Here’s the thing. If we’re going to continue to be chums for the weekend, don’t talk shit about Heaven.” D doesn’t wait for her to respond. He takes my hand and leads me out into the balmy, beautiful Santa Barbara night.

  Chapter Eight

  Wolfe

  “There is absholutely no need for you to walk me back to my cottage. I told you I’m fine.” Pip continues to protest in slurs but doesn’t take her hand from mine.

  “If you think I’m going to let you roam around alone at night in that dress with the masses of horny, tanked-up, predatorial hockey players here for the bachelor party and wedding, you’re even more sozzled than I thought.” I know what these scumbags are looking for. After all, I’ve been a brother scumbag my whole life. There’s no way I’m letting Pippa traipse around the torchlit, silvery moon-shining resort all by herself like shark bait.

  “I am not sozzled. I’m pleasantly numb. There’s no need for you to go out of your way to walk with me,” she scoffs.

  “I’m not going out of my way. My guest cottage is right next door to yours.” I shrug a shoulder like it’s a big coincidence. She doesn’t need to know when I checked in I greased a few palms with some hefty tips to make sure we ended up next door neighbors.

  “Really? What a co-inky dink! Then I’d say you’re the only predatorial hockey player in the immediate vicinity.” She waves her hand out over the darkened horizon. Have to admit she might be right.

  I don’t remember ever having such a sensorial awareness of the environment all around me. The flaming torches are the only light guiding our path other than the full moon, which looks bigger and fuller than I’ve ever seen it. Its reflection fluoresces a shimmering pathway over the ocean. The resort sits atop a cliff and the waves crashing on the beach below sparkle with every lap onto the sand. There’s a faint perfume of lavender and grapes carried on the warm breeze. Jesus. I might be growing tits. I’m sure my newfound poetic vision has something to do with my companion, even though she’s being all snarky and not the least bit romantic.

  “Anyway, I told you a thousand times, I hate hockey players.” She sticks her chin out and smirks, blasting me from my sappy reverie.

  “Right. Except for Carson with his babymaking pecs and Sanders with his orgasmic biceps.” I haven’t forgotten the way she salivated while describing my teammates.

  “Don’t be silly.” She waves me off.

  “Me? You’re the one who used the overzealous descriptions.”

  “I mean, don’t be silly. It’s Sanders with the babymaking pecs and Carson with the orgasmic biceps.” She glances at me sideways and giggles.

  I stop dead in my tracks, Pip is tugged backward by my abrupt stop. “You aren’t such an angel after all. You really are an evil little monster, aren’t you,” I tease and tug her into my arms.

  “I’m not the one who totally cockblocked you tonight.” She tilts her head and wiggles against me. Jesus Christ. The teasing little minx has no idea what she’s doing to me. Or maybe she does.

  “I believe it was you scaring away my prospects,” she adds and pushes away from me and keeps walking. “What’s your problem?” She stops short, turns and pokes her finger into my chest. “When did you become the stuffed shirt in this duo?”

  The poking transforms into her running her hands up and down my chest. Every muscle in my body tenses. I’m about to scoop her up in my arms and carry her caveman style back to my cottage. But then she stops feeling me up and jolts me back to reality.

&n
bsp; “Not me. This weekend I’m letting go,” she chants while stepping back, spreading her arms and spinning in a circle. “I’m vibrating higher.” I reach out and catch her arm when she stumbles, too dizzy to recover from the spinning.

  “I’d say you better go low key on the vibrating high for the time being. At least until the AMFs wear off.” I bite back a smile.

  I didn’t think it was possible, but she’s even more adorable in her tipsy state, and at the same time exquisite, standing here with the torches illuminating her in glimmering firelight. My pulse is in overdrive watching her. With all my past experience, I’ve never felt this raw, insatiable need to touch a woman. Is it the fact she’s off limits? Wanting her is driving me crazy.

  “Pfft.” She pushes my hand off her arm and continues her unsteady walk down the path to her cottage. “Speaking of which, you are free to let go and return to the lovely, waiting and willing Alison. This is my cottage.” She stops at the white guest cottage with a gated arbor. The eight-foot-tall gate is ajar enough to see the wildflower garden beds surrounding the front terrace.

  “Christ. You left your gate open. I bet you didn’t even bother to lock your door.”

  “Really. What is with you tonight? We’re at a five star fabulously exclusive resort. I’m pretty sure no stalkers are going to be hiding under my bed.”

  “Just to be sure I’m coming in with you.” I walk ahead of her through the open gate and onto the terrace. Sure enough, when I test the knob, the door swings open. I turn and shake my head at Pippa for her lack of discretion. She’s standing next to me with her spiked heels dangling off her fingers—the heels I’ve been imagining draped over my shoulders all night.

  “What? I was in a hurry. No biggie.” She pushes past me and drops her shoes as she continues toward her bedroom. “I’m ex-haust-ed,” she calls from the bedroom, accentuating each syllable.

  She’ll probably be asleep the second her head hits the pillow. I walk around the cottage and then out onto the private patio, checking to make sure everything is safe and secure before I leave. Yes. I am definitely going. Even if I convinced myself I should do what she asked me to do, I’m not a big enough scumbag to fuck her in the condition she’s in right now.