I rest my head against her shoulder, hoping the slight buzzing will stop. “You should follow your dreams. I’d miss you though.”
My phone beeps with a message.
It’s from Hunter.
Message me when you get home safely.
Another message comes through.
And thank you for the presents. You are something else, Riley.
I smile to myself, eyes still closed.
“YOU’RE A MURDERER.”
I lift my head, my eyes slamming open, the words that haunt me still lingering in my head. I cover my forehead with my hands and let my thumbs rub my temples, hoping to ease the pain. If only it were so easy. When there’s pain inside of you, nothing can heal it but yourself, your thoughts, your own conscience. And mine will never let me be at ease, ever. I don’t think that I deserve to be happy. I don’t know how to get past it, maybe I’m never meant to.
“You need to go grocery shopping,” Callie says as she barges into my bedroom. She’s wearing nothing but a loose T-shirt I gave her to sleep in last night and her underwear. She doesn’t have a shy bone in her body and, from what I’ve seen, is pretty much comfortable in any situation.
I yawn and move over as she slides onto my bed. “What do you want to eat? There’s cereal and toast. And coffee. What more can a girl want?”
“I feel like pancakes, or ham-and-cheese croissants.”
“There’s ingredients to make pancakes,” I tell her, rubbing my eyes.
She pauses, then says, “Who makes pancakes from scratch? It’s modern times, Riley. I don’t need to be doing that old housewife shit.”
I laugh into my pillow. “I’ll make you some.” I pause. “Only if you do the dishes.”
“Deal,” she says instantly, stretching her arms up in the air and making a sound like a mewling kitten. “Does your head hurt? I feel like hangovers are getting the one up on me these days.”
“Happens as you get older,” I advise her. I reach over to my bedside table and pop out two ibuprofen for her. “Here, take these.”
“Thanks,” she says, closing her fingers around them. “I feel a two-day hangover coming on. Last night was worth it though. Have you heard from Preston? We didn’t even message or call to see if he got home safe.”
“I’ll send him a text now,” I tell her, picking up my phone. When my phone beeps I assume it’s a message from him, but it’s from Hunter instead.
Good morning. How are you feeling?
Confused, that’s how I’m feeling.
I know I shouldn’t be looking at getting involved with anyone romantically, casual hookups or more. But Hunter is different.
I just know he is.
When I’m around him, I feel safe, I feel beautiful, and I’m always laughing. There’s something there.
I’m distracted right now, not blinded.
I know what I can feel, but it’s just so soon. On the other hand I need to think about how I would feel if he gave up on me, stopped being patient, and decided to pursue someone else. I’m not really being fair on him. I’m giving him nothing, yet he’s still waiting for me.
“There’s no rush with these things,” I mutter to myself, sliding off the bed. “The pancakes, however, aren’t going to make themselves.”
I head toward the kitchen. She sits on the counter, dangling her feet off while I make her pancakes.
And then she does the dishes.
Why can’t other relationships be this simple?
“I HOPE THIS BEARD trend never goes away,” Callie murmurs the next morning, fanning herself with her hand. “I mean, seriously. Love me a good beard.”
“Hunter has the best beard,” I say without thinking. “No man can beat that.”
I’ve always wondered how he got away with the whole beard-and-tattoos thing, but it’s easy to see that at the firm, they’re a family. There’s no judgment, and I don’t think that they care how many tattoos Hunter has.
I do find myself wondering though. Just how far down his body do they go? Maybe I should ask him. Or wait to find out.
Callie’s eyes dart to me, and the smile she gives me is all mischief. “Really? I hadn’t noticed.”
“Liar,” I tease, stepping to the side to grab a tea towel to wipe the wet glasses.
“Okay, I’m lying,” she admits, puffing a breath. “But he’s yours, so I need to keep my eyes and hands off him. Warning you that I can’t control my mind though.”
I laugh and shake my head at her. Callie can joke all she wants, but she’s a good friend. “Duly noted. Can I ask you something?”
“Sure,” she replies cheerfully, turning to face me, giving me her full attention.
“I know you joke about it, but do you think you’ll ever actually go back to law?” When I first hired Callie, she told me her story. Law graduate, dropped out of her associate’s position after a fling gone wrong with a coworker and the passing of her mother.
“I’ve somehow gotten lost,” she’d said.
I know the feeling.
In completely different ways, two completely different people in different places in their lives became kindred spirits.
When I got lost though, I was weak and turned to drugs to take my mind off things. Callie just pulled away from her career goals and decided to work in a pub until she figured her life out.
I wish I could have taken her route.
She nods. “I do think I will. I just need this break for now, maybe for a year, then I will get back on track. It was always a dream of mine to be a lawyer, and I’m not ready to completely let that go just yet.” She tilts her head to the side and adds, “Plus, who are you going to find to replace me? No one else will be this good, this attractive, make as much in tips . . . and don’t get me started on my witty personality. I’m the backbone of the establishment.”
“Don’t forget humble,” I insert, rolling my eyes. “And I’m pretty sure I’m the backbone, dear.”
“Po-tay-to, po-tah-to,” she grumbles, but her following smile lets me know she’s just playing. “Do you know who is also pretty hot? Preston’s friend Parker. Don’t you agree?”
I shrug, not wanting to be mean, but he’s not really my type. “I guess so.” Parker comes in every week for a drink and a chat with Preston. Their bromance is kind of hilarious, and it’s never a dull moment when he’s around. “Are you going to harass the poor man?”
“Maybe.” She shrugs, closing her eyes and smiling to herself. “You never know with me.”
“You’re a bit of a wild card, aren’t you?” I say, studying her. “When’s the last time you had a boyfriend?”
“I don’t have boyfriends,” she says in all seriousness. “Boyfriends are for high school.”
I blink slowly, once.
“Don’t even try to understand her,” Kat says as she sits down in front of us. “She’s got an ethereal angelic appearance about her but the mentality of a male.” She pauses, and then adds, “A male whore.”
“Hey,” Callie growls, no heat in her tone. “I didn’t think you were coming in today.”
She reaches her arms out to hug her best friend over the bar.
“Me either, but I had a long-ass morning, and I needed a break.”
“Wine?” Callie offers, but Kat shakes her head.
“I’d love to but I have to get straight to work soon. I was hoping for a chocolate sundae though,” she says to me, smiling. “Please. I’ve been having a craving for ice cream all day.”
“Are you pregnant?” Callie gasps, eyes going wide. “If you are, can I have your job?”
“No,” Kat replies instantly, while I go and ask Cheffy to make a chocolate sundae for my friend. When I return Preston is also leaning over the counter chatting to Kat—and Hunter, who has now joined them.
“Hello, beautiful,” he says to me, smile on his face.
“Hunter,” I say in response. I look like I usually do for work, in all black, red bandanna tied around my hair like a headband, my dark hai
r up and out of my face. Callie tells me I have a pinup girl look to me, which I guess is the kind of style I like. I’m not wearing much makeup today because I was running late, just some mascara and lip gloss. “Having a good day?”
“Much better now,” he murmurs, eyeing Kat’s sundae that arrives moments later. “I want one of those. Why haven’t I tried one of these before? Can I have one?”
My lip twitches. “Just the dessert? Or do you want lunch too?”
I don’t bother to pull out my notepad, or pretend to write down his order, because we all know he orders the same damn thing, even Cheffy knows his order by heart, but at least trying a different dessert is something new.
“Lunch too, please, but can I get the ice cream first?” he asks, a boyish grin playing on his lips.
“ ’Course you can,” I tell him, amused. He can be such a contradiction sometimes, an overbearing Neanderthal some days, and others sweet and charming. “Do you want anything else, Kat?”
“I’m good, hun,” she says, smiling around a spoonful of ice cream. “This is just what the doctor ordered.”
I hand in Hunter’s order and then return to them. Callie moves to serve some other customers who walk in, but I stay and chat a little with the two of them.
“So Arabella never sent me a bill for her services,” I tell Hunter, leaning against the table. “And when I called up to tell her so, she said it had been covered and I didn’t owe her a cent. Care to explain?”
“She owed me a favor,” Hunter explains. “You don’t have to pay anything. I thought you knew that.”
“I don’t feel right not paying,” I tell him, glancing to Kat. “Are favors the currency of the lawyer world?”
“Something like that,” she murmurs, lip twitching.
“How do you think I got your ex as a client?” Hunter says with his eyebrow raised.
I never thought of that. Huh. “Well, thank you. But you know I’d never expect you to do something like that for me. I don’t expect anything for free.”
“I know,” Hunter replies in a dry tone. “We know exactly what you’re like, Riley. It’s not really a big deal. She owed me a favor, and I called it in. And trust me, she got off easy.”
I blink slowly. Did he just use the words got off in regards to a woman he’s slept with?
Yeah, I’m not touching that one.
“I seriously don’t know how to thank you guys,” I say, looking between them. “Other than giving you free shit when you’re here, so don’t even bother trying to pay today.”
“Why do we have the same argument every time we’re here?” Kat asks, scraping the bottom of her bowl with a spoon. “First, stop thanking us. We didn’t do anything, got that? No one is keeping tabs here, you don’t owe us anything, and we’re not leaving here without paying.”
“What she said,” Hunter murmurs, taking off his suit jacket. He’s in a light blue shirt today, and it looks good against his smooth tan skin. When he starts to absently roll his sleeves up, one by one, exposing his tattoos and muscular forearms, I can’t seem to drag my eyes away from him.
“Did you hear what I said, Riley?” he asks, breaking me out of my Hunter-induced trance.
“What? No, what did you say?” I ask, licking my suddenly dry lips. I can almost forget what sex is except when he’s around, and then all of a sudden it’s all I can think about, flashes of him on top of me, behind me, and inside of me running through my mind.
“I asked if you’re feeling okay. You look a little flushed . . . Do you want me to get you some water?” he asks, brow furrowing in concern. At first I think he’s teasing me and calling me out on my perving on him, but I soon realize that he’s serious, he thinks I’m not feeling well, when really I’m just flushed from looking at him.
Oh God.
“Oh, she’s flushed all right.” Callie smirks as she rejoins us. “But water isn’t going to help. Only thing that will is some d—”
I cover her mouth with my hand, cutting her off. “Don’t you have any work to do, Callie? Because if not, I can totally give you some.”
I remove my hand and dare her to finish saying the word dick. Yes, it may be true, but she doesn’t need to be saying it in front of the man who owns said dick that I’m curious about.
“Ahh, come on, we all want to know what she was going to say,” Hunter teases, amusement written all over his face. He braces himself on the bar and leans forward. “What will help her, Callie? I’d be happy to provide whatever it is for her.”
“I’ll bet,” Callie and Kat mutter at the exact same time.
“Jinx!” Callie calls out, and the two of them share a grin.
“Why are you guys even my friends?” I wonder out loud. I bring Hunter his dessert and place it in front of him.
“Thank you,” he says, our hands touching as he takes the spoon from me. “Do you want a bite?”
“I’m okay, thanks,” I tell him.
I’m working, and he wants to feed me over the counter with a spoon?
The thought amuses me.
When he finishes, I bring him his meal.
“You never mentioned what surprise Jaxon had on your desk for you on Monday morning,” I say as he picks up a fry and takes a bite.
“I was right, it was doughnuts, but there was also a voucher sitting next to them,” he explains, shaking his head in amusement.
“Voucher for what?”
“For a lap dance at Toxic,” he says, referring to the local strip club.
“Oh yeah? Are you a regular there?”
He chews slowly, lips kicked up at the corners. “No. I have been there before though. Have you?”
I shake my head.
“Maybe you should use the voucher then,” he teases, offering me a fry.
I shake my head again. “No, thank you, to both.”
He licks the salt from his lips before saying, “I don’t need it. Maybe I’ll give it to Preston; I’m sure he’d enjoy it.”
“Why don’t you need it?” I ask, tilting my head to the side, eyes narrowing. What single man would say no to a free lap dance?
“I just don’t,” he murmurs, eyes raking over me. “Things change, Riley. You just have to keep up.”
I clear my throat and glance away from him, his blue eyes too intense for me right now.
“How’s Bear?” he asks, and I’m so thankful for the change of subject that I sigh in relief.
“He’s great. I’m so happy to have him home. Coming home to him is everything.”
“Good,” he says, nodding once.
We chat a little more about how the pub is doing, and some promotion ideas I was thinking about. He tells me some funny stories about Yvonne, who he seems to be pretty close to, and his other colleagues. He eats slowly, as if wanting a reason to stay longer, and I pretend that I don’t notice.
And when he leaves, there’s money with a large tip on the table left behind.
chapter 15
RILEY
“LOOK AT THAT SLAPPERASAURUS rex,” Callie growls, watching as the woman openly flirts with Hunter, batting her eyelashes and reaching out her bloodred nails to stroke his arm. It’s a busy Friday night, and Hunter and Yvonne have come out for a few after-work drinks. Still in his business attire, Hunter is getting all the women’s attention in his white shirt and black slacks. I haven’t seen him touching anyone, or anything like that, but he has been smiling and conversing with a few of them. Not that there’s anything wrong with that. He’s single after all, right? I mean, technically. Yes, he’s made his interest in me apparent, but we aren’t together, and that’s because of me. Then why the hell do I feel this stab of jealously every time one of them makes him laugh? What the hell are they saying that’s so damn funny?
When did all the female occupants of my pub become fucking comedians?
Should I hold an open mic night or something?
“It’s fine,” I tell Callie, forcing a smile. He’s not mine. “Can you clean a few of the tables for m
e, please? I’ll get everyone served.”
“Sure,” she replies, her eyes still on Hunter though. “You’re hotter than all of them anyway.”
I hide my grin at her petty, yet oddly satisfying comment and continue to attend to all the customers until there are none left standing at the bar.
“I think tonight is the busiest night we’ve had,” Preston says to me, shaking a cocktail mixer. “It has to be my one-of-a-kind drinks. The ‘mother puncher’ one I created has been a big hit tonight.”
“I’ve noticed,” I reply, giving credit when it’s due. “Good work, Preston. I knew there was a reason I hired you, and I’m only realizing what that reason is now. Almost worth all the other shit you put me through. Almost.”
He sticks his tongue out at me. “I’m the backbone of this place.”
I roll my eyes. “Why does everyone here keep saying that to me?”
“When I grow up, I want to be Hunter,” he murmurs, and I follow his gaze to where Hunter is talking to a beautiful blonde. “Chicks love him. Maybe I need to grow a beard.”
I’m about to reply but a few more customers arrive, wanting drinks and food. With the live music playing and people dancing, the place has just the atmosphere I wanted it to, and I can’t help taking a moment to enjoy watching my dream become a reality.
When Callie approaches me, I can tell something is wrong by the look on her face, her lips tight and her brow furrowed.
“What’s wrong?”
“That guy wants more alcohol but he’s pretty drunk. I think he drove here too,” she explains, nodding her head to a young gentleman stumbling on his feet.
“I’ll handle it,” I tell her, walking over to the gentleman. I notice he’s spilled alcohol all down his white T-shirt and onto his blue jeans. I speak to him for a few moments and realize he is indeed extremely inebriated, and he admits that he drove here. His dark eyes are all red and glassy, and he slurs his words a little. I never let people drink and drive. I’d never have that on my already heavy conscience. One mistake can ruin and impact the rest of your life, and I wouldn’t wish that on anyone. “I’m sorry, sir, but you need to have some water. We have a responsible service here, and I’m going to have to cut you off. Would you like me to call you a taxi so you can make it home safely?” I offer.
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