“Sarah.” Hannah’s voice was in my ear, soft, lilting with the accent of our mother tongue. I looked up at her through my fingers. “It’s all right. I know how scary this can all be. But you do have admirers, and that’s not such a bad thing, is it?”
I wet my lips. “I don’t think that’s the case,” I replied in strangled, appropriated Dutch. “They’re probably looking at you, not me.” Even as I said it, I knew it was a lie. The one with the black hair had stared right through me. We’d locked eyes. I could still feel the heat of his gaze, still see the glitter of his irises in the dark. They were terrifying, those eyes—filled with forbidden knowledge, witness to the kind of things I couldn’t even imagine, yet things that were perceived as normal here. The way they’d made me feel, though… like I was the only woman in the room—no, all the world… That delicious beat he’d inspired low in my belly, and further south still…
Hannah pulled my hands down gently and looked into my eyes. I remembered how she’d always protected me, growing up—Beth, too. Hannah was our guiding star as children. She was so tough and so wise. Now was no different except that she was also worldly, educated in matters beyond my and Beth’s comprehension. We were not on equal footing, Hannah and I, nor had we ever been… but the gulf between us seemed wider now.
Still, her protective embrace brought me comfort. Softly, I told her, “Even if he was—looking at me, I mean—he’s got a beard, Hannah.”
She blinked at me. “And… that matters why?”
I frowned. Had she really forgotten? Two years was a long time, but was it really that long?
“That means he’s married,” I whispered, and Hannah’s jaw dropped just a tad. Her lips moved, as if she wanted to say something… and then she laughed. At me. Again. I slumped forward into the bar, trying to find a way to curl up and disappear. I felt so foolish here. So much like I didn’t belong.
“You’re talking about Amish standards!” Hannah said, pushing my wine glass closer to me. Even that was strange and new. I’d never seen a glass that looked like that before. “Out here, men grow beards for fun, not as a symbol of their availability.” She eyed the stranger I’d been intrigued by. “Anyway, I’m willing to bet he’s single as can be. Guys like that usually are.”
I tucked a strand of hair back into my bonnet. “Guys like what?”
“Bad boys,” she said with a shrug, picking up my untouched glass and downing its contents all in one go. I widened my eyes at her but she just shrugged. “Cocky. Sexy. You know.” She gestured vaguely. “Hot. Eligible! And they like to stay that way. For as long as they can, at least.”
“You’re not exactly pleading his case,” I replied as Hannah waved to Jake to fill up her glass again. This time, she handed it to Beth, who took a long sip. I slapped her arm and gave her a look, but she ignored me—I even caught her shooting me a petulant glare out of the corner of her eye. The nerve… Looking back at Hannah, I added, “By the sounds of things, I should stay far, far away.”
“Oh,” Hannah said, smiling slyly, “I don’t think that will be possible.”
I wrinkled my nose at her. “And why is that?” Did Hannah think I couldn’t resist whatever temptation that man offered? Did she think I’d get a taste of the world beyond our borders and vow never to return, as she did? I wouldn’t have put it past her. Hannah often believed her way was the right way, and there legitimately was no other. I wasn’t so sure that in this case, she was right.
But she just grinned at me a little wider and said, “Because he’s on his way over here, kiddo. And he hasn’t stopped staring at you the whole way.”
My stomach dropped to my feet and I whirled so fast on my stool I almost lost my balance. Hannah was right. The tall, dark stranger was on his feet and swaggering over to me, running a hand through his black hair to push it away from his chiseled face. Wolf’s eyes, I realized—he had the eyes of a wolf. Of a predator.
And judging by the way he was looking at me, I was his prey.
3
Reid
I couldn’t believe I’d actually agreed to this. This was such a stupid idea. A stupid bet. Not only was it straight out of some late-90s romcom, but I’d given Ash ground for the sake of my pride. Let him pick the easiest of our three marks, just so I could save face. The closer I got to the girl with the reddish-gold hair, the more I realized just what a challenge this was going to be for me and Wyatt. We were being regarded with wide, frantic eyes, and I could practically smell the fear like a perfume wafting across the bar.
Easy, I told myself, flashing one of my dashing smiles. Don’t scare her away.
That, however, was easier said than done; she even seemed to regard my smile as menacing. Shit, it probably was. I was used to dealing with women who liked that kind of thing, but I was getting the feeling that my bad boy charms weren’t going to work with this girl as easily as they have with others, so I was going to have to tone it down a bit to start.
I was in no way about to lose this bet right off the bat, especially not in front of my brothers and a whole room full of people to bear witness. Giving her some space, I mounted the stool beside my mystery woman and set my beer bottle down, ordering another.
“What can I get you, darlin’?” I asked my prize. But she just stared at me, those pretty lips trembling. I blew air from my nose in a little laugh and offered her a much softer version of the smile I’d given her before. “Sorry, where are my manners? I’m Reid Brody. That’s my brother, Wyatt…” He was lagging a little behind the rest of us. He walked up just in time to hear his name and ran a hand through the mop of his hair, his smile shy. I rolled my eyes. Put that boy in the middle of a fight and he was all teeth and claws. But next to a pretty girl? He was like a puppy who’d just been neutered. “And that’s my other brother, Ash. They call us the Brody Bunch around here…”
She stared up at me, her expression blank. Of course she wouldn’t get the joke. She had no frame of reference, no idea what the punchline meant. Over her shoulder, Ash leaned over the table and grinned at the eldest of the girls. “I think we’ve met before,” he told her, offering his hand.
“I think you’re right,” she said, gripping his palm. “You bounce here sometimes, right?”
“That’s right. And you tend bar. You’re Hannah.” Ash lifted her hand to his lips and kissed the back of it. “I never forget a name when it’s attached to a pretty face.”
“Charming,” Hannah said, but she rolled her eyes. “These are my sisters, Beth and Sarah.” She indicated the short, blue-eyed girl and the one in front of me, respectively.
Sarah. So that was her name. It was beautiful and simple, just like her. She blushed when Hannah said it and looked away from me, but it wasn’t long before her gaze swung back to mine, however tentatively.
“Sisters?” Wyatt said, raising his brows. “All three of you?”
“It’s the clothes,” she replied, waving her hand. “When we’re dressed alike, we look alike. But right now, these two stand out like a sore thumb.”
“Are you all Amish?” Wyatt asked. I gave him a withering look, but Hannah replied before I could.
“I used to be,” she said. “These two still are. They’re on Rumpsringa—it’s like Spring Break… kind of.” She nudged Sarah. “I bet she could tell you all about it, if you’re interested.”
“I am,” I said, turning my attention back to Sarah’s wide eyes. “Very interested.”
“I’m interested, too,” Beth said. I glanced at her and saw she was talking to Wyatt. “In all of you, I mean. You’re so… different from the people we know back home. The way you dress, the way you look…” She laughed, light and airy, like a twinkling of bells. “Sarah thought you were married,” she said to me.
“Huh?” I looked at Sarah. “Why would you think that?”
Sarah had pulled a strand of hair loose from her stark white bonnet and was plaiting it into a small, thin braid. Her eyes dropped. “Um… it’s your beard,” she mumbled. I could just
barely hear her over the din of the bar. “Where we come from, men don’t grow those until they’re married…”
“That so?” I frowned. “Well, damn. Maybe I should shave it. Don’t wanna give off the wrong impression…”
“No!” Sarah said suddenly. A few patrons glanced at her and she lowered her voice, looking up at me through the thick fetters of her lashes. “Don’t do that. I think it looks very…” She trailed off then, as if she’d had a word or two in mind but had lost the courage to say either of them. Finally, she found her voice again. “I think it suits you.”
I felt my lips curling into a smirk. “Guess I’ll have to keep it, then. Only since you like it, though.”
Any other woman would have giggled. They would have turned away, feigning shyness, and then sucked their drink straw into their mouth the way all flirty women did. Their eyes would’ve shone like a cat’s, flashing from the shadows, knowing they were being pursued but harboring no desire to run. Sure, we’d go back and forth a bit. She’d pull away and I’d slip nearer, until neither of us could hang on to our sense of self-control anymore. But it was hardly ever a chase. More like a dance—one I knew the steps to quite well.
Sarah didn’t do any of that. She wasn’t playing coy with me. When she dropped her gaze, it was earnest. Real. So was the color on her cheeks and the way she shifted on that wobbly stool. This was not familiar territory for me—and obviously not for her. I chewed the inside of my cheek. Shit, Ash was right. This was going to be a challenge.
A challenge he’d wimped out on, picking the goddamn bartender. But when I glanced at them, it was clear he was having some trouble in his own way. Hannah kept a certain amount of distance between them, rolled her eyes a lot, and gave as good as she got. None of Ash’s usual “charms” seemed to apply here. I could tell by the way he was sitting that he hadn’t expected this level of resistance—if that’s what it was. Maybe she just enjoyed toying with him as much as he did with her. Either way, he ordered another whiskey. He was going home alone tonight. Then again, we probably all were.
If I had any chance at all of winning this bet, then I needed to make sure we were all playing the long game. Ash had the advantage—that Hannah wasn’t really Amish anymore. That she didn’t have the same hang-ups about men and sex that her sisters clearly did. But now, knowing they were sisters, the scales had tipped in my favor. Hannah was the oldest, and that meant she’d want to protect Beth and Sarah. That meant she’d be looking out for them, which would make her less interested in Ash than he’d wagered. If I could keep them all together like this, at least for a little while, Wyatt and I had a real shot. Well, maybe not Wyatt. But I sure as hell did.
I would need to get Sarah alone, eventually. But for now, having them all together would negate the head-start Ash had. Hannah would be constantly looking over her shoulder to make sure her sisters were safe, and I’d have the time I needed to coax Sarah into trusting me. Into wanting me. Maybe this wasn’t going to be a cakewalk, but my job had suddenly got a hell of a lot easier.
“What’s it like, where you come from?” I asked Sarah, picking up my new beer. “I take it this is all pretty damn new to you.” I scanned the room, all the bodies in it, more than a few of them scandalously close to one another. I had no real frame of reference for Sarah’s life; this was something of an interrogation. I needed to know her boundaries and which ones I could cross. I needed to know how to push her buttons and which ones would get me what I wanted. I also needed to relate to her in some way. I was gonna go nowhere fast if I couldn’t at least make her feel comfortable around me.
Sarah fidgeted. I ordered her a drink—nothing alcoholic, though. Just a Coke.
She wrinkled her nose at me. “It’s fine,” I assured her. “Just a soda.” But she looked at Hannah anyway, who side-eyed Jake, who nodded. Hannah nodded her consent as well, and Sarah finally lifted the glass to her lips and drank.
She set it down almost immediately, covering her mouth and her nose. She laughed. “I’m sorry… it’s the bubbles. They tickled. Are they supposed to do that?”
I grinned. There was an almost childlike delight in Sarah’s eyes when she said it. Shit. She’s never even had a damn soda before? Something about that warmed my heart on contact. For a second, she wasn’t a means to an end. She was a woman who had never lived. A woman who had never had the chance to. And suddenly, I wanted to be her chance. I wanted to show her… shit, I wanted to show her everything. As long as it meant I’d get to hear that laugh again, see her blue eyes light up like the Fourth of July, I was down.
“Yeah,” I told her. “They’re supposed to do that. That’s half the damn fun.”
“And the other half?” she asked, taking another wary sip.
“The sugar,” I answered. “And the caffeine. It’s a rush. You know what caffeine is, right? You at least have coffee where you come from?”
It was an honest question, but Sarah looked at me like I was making fun of her. When I held up my hands disarmingly, she smiled again, poking at the ice in her drink with a small, red straw. “Yes, we have coffee. Tea, too. Sometimes fruit juices, usually in the summer. Father brought us soda once, but it wasn’t like this, and it was bottled, so… no tickling. I bet you have soda all the time, though, don’t you?”
I shrugged. “Well, I drink beer, mostly. But yeah, it’s around. It’s damn near everywhere, in fact. We even got these machines you put a dollar into, spits out a can or a bottle. Just like that.” Sarah looked impressed, so I continued. “There’s a bunch of flavors, too. Not just that one and whatever your dad brought you. You close to him? Your dad, I mean?”
It was kind of a weird question—not sexy at all—but it was the best segue I could come up with. Sarah frowned at me like I’d grown a second head. “He’s my father. Why wouldn’t I be?” When I indicated Hannah, she added, “It’s not like that. Hannah ran away and never came back. This is just Rumspringa for me.”
“So you’ll go back?” I asked her, trying to hammer out some kind of timeline. How long did I have until she slipped away? “Whenever Rumspringa is up, you’ll go home and I’ll never see you again, huh?”
That gave Sarah pause. Looking only at the condensation on her glass, she said, “That’s probably true. Your world… isn’t my world. You English are…” She laughed. “Completely insane.”
I smiled and leaned on the table top with both arms. It put me close to her, our elbows nearly touching. Lowering my voice to a conspiratorial pitch, I told her, “Tell me about your world then, Sarah. Tell me about where all the sane people live. You do that, and I’ll show you just how insane this world can be.” I couldn’t help but grin, showing teeth. “But only the best parts.”
Sarah bit her lip. It seemed like something she did often—this close to her, I could see the indents of her teeth, marks left behind by repeated nibbling. I hoped to fit my own teeth into those divots soon, but for now, I leaned my cheek against my fist and held her eyes, urging her not to look away—to confide in me.
“You really want to know?” she asked incredulously. “You won’t think we’re odd? Too simple?”
“If there’s anything I’ve learned about women, darlin’, it’s that there’s not a one alive who can be called simple. But odd? I think there’s a little of that in all of us.” I ventured even closer. Sarah didn’t pull away. Like a deer caught in a pair of headlights, she stared at me with some kind of mixture of fear and awe. “Now, c’mon. We’ll make a game of it. You tell me something, and I’ll tell you. That’s a fair trade, isn’t it?”
She looked to her sisters again, but both were entangled in their own conversations. Beth was talking animatedly, a big smile on her face, her hands waving. Wyatt jerked his head toward the other end of the bar and she nodded, then followed him as he led her away from the group. Hannah and Ash wouldn’t be moving anytime soon—Hannah was on the clock, and she’d served a couple of patrons while talking to him, whenever Jake was too busy. I smirked. So much for this being a str
oll down Easy Street, bro.
Realizing she was the only one hesitating, Sarah finally nodded. I watched her steel herself, straightening her posture, hands clasped firmly in her lap. “All right,” she said. “What do you want to know?”
I took a slow pull from my beer. How to make you want me, I thought. That’s what I want to know. But what I said was, “Hopes and dreams. Let’s start there. Those are the most interesting parts of us all.”
4
Sarah
Hopes and dreams. Reid couldn’t have chosen a more difficult topic for an Amish girl if he’d tried.
We weren’t supposed to have hopes and dreams. Not the way the English do. Our whole existence was about simplicity. There was no room for ambition. Imagination. No way to advance past one’s station. The lines between us were all very clear, and we were all tucked into a nice, neat box by the time any notion of independence came about.
Hopes and dreams. What was I to tell him? Hannah or Beth were the ones to ask about that. Not me. I’d never entertained the idea of a life outside the options I’d been given.
“To be an obedient wife and serve our Lord God,” I said at last. Hannah had told me that not everyone in the English world was so fervent about their beliefs, but I didn’t want to lie to Reid. He said he was interested in me. Why paint a false portrait of who I was?
Reid snorted derisively and muttered, “Wow, you really are religious.” I frowned.
“Is there something wrong with that?”
He shrugged. “Only when it gets in the way of you livin’.”
I raised a brow. “And wanting a husband isn’t living?”
“Not if it’s the only thing you want.”
The Brody Bunch Collection: Bad Boy Romance Page 3
