And so much for being stealth.
With the grace of a quarterback lunging for the end zone, I drop down on the dance floor and start stuffing my knickknacks back into my bag. Indeed, my ass is hanging out the back of my dress but a girl can only deal with so many crises at once.
My efforts are in vain, though. I know that it’s too late when I sense a dark, ominous shadow stretching over me. A well-worn leather boot appears on my periphery.
I heave a loaded breath and let my shoulders fall in defeat. I’ve been spotted. I press my eyes shut for a few seconds to summon the remaining scraps of my dignity. Then slowly, I tilt my head up from my squatted position.
My gaze travels unhurriedly up his tall, muscular body. I’m quietly dreading the moment when our eyes will lock. And when I make contact with those powerful, twinkling cobalt irises, the impact has me grasping at the leg of my stool for support.
"Are these yours?" Ben flicks his wrist back and forth, drawing attention to the string of condoms pinched between his fingers.
The air of amusement on his face gets my blood boiling. "Oh, gimme that," I grumble as I snatch it out of his hand. My inelegant attempt to stand up is punctuated by the unmistakable sound of synthetic fibers shredding at the seams.
I jolt. My eyes bulge and my lips curl into a mortified ‘O’. My hand flies across my ass to survey the damage to my dress. That’s when I lose my balance for real this time. I’m on my way down…
Dear Universe, how many more rungs am I gonna have to fall before I actually hit rock bottom?
But just as my bare bottom is about to hit the sticky floor, Ben swoops in and catches me by the armpits. Those strong arms haul me up to standing position.
Now, we’re chest-to-chest, bodies flush against each other. I should be yelling at him. I should be demanding that he get his hands off of me. But the lump in my throat is like a bathtub stopper, keeping my protests from spewing out. Instead, I’m instinctively arching my spine and pushing my chest up into his as his hands drop, slowly outlining the slope of my torso.
Uh-oh…this isn’t good…
His fingers slip an inch under the hem of my dress and pinch the fabric. He gives it a gentle tug so that it’s covering more of my legs. God—I like that. My skin buzzes with delight.
He keens closer…lowering his face to mine…almost like he's going to kiss me…
My body goes rigid. My lips part and a pathetic whimpering sound comes out on an exhale. His nose plunges close to my mouth.
Did he just sniff my breath?
His eyes glitter with mirth. “So tequila, huh?"
At the sound of his voice, I snap back to my senses. I totter out of his grip, moving in reverse. “What?" Running my palms down the raised flesh of my arms, I try to drive the goosebumps away.
The colored strobe lights play on his perfect skin. He leans in closer, his lips by my ear. I can’t see his expression but his sardonic tone tells me everything I need to know. "You turned down my invitation for hot chocolate. Looks like you have a preference for tequila."
He’s being judgy and right about now, I don’t appreciate it one bit.
I shove the condoms into my purse and zip it shut. "What are you doing here?"
He gives me a hard look, all playfulness quickly slipping from his expression. "The question is what are you doing here?" His gaze travels down my tight, revealing clothing and my exposed legs. There’s a hotly possessive flare in his eyes and a subtle throb in his jaw.
He's jealous!
My not-too-sober shoulder-devil is kind of in love with it. All this coulda been yours, bae.
I bat my eyes innocently and lean casually against the counter. “I’m a girl in a short dress at a bar. You put the puzzle pieces together.” I bite down on the corner of my lip, further provoking him. I definitely have the upper hand at this point.
His body is nearly vibrating as he steps closer. Too close. His pupils darken. His arms bracket me, each hand clenching on the lip of the counter. I’m locked against the bar. My skin feels warm, tingly. The space between my thighs is in reactive mode, growing fluttery and liquid at an alarming speed. Fuck—my power is slipping fast.
The low menacing sound of his voice pushes me too close to the edge of my control. "It’s the dead of winter and here you are, at a bar, half-naked—"
My hand flies up to his chest and I push firmly against the wall of muscles flexing beneath my palm. "You don’t get to look at me like that," I challenge, hissing through my teeth. “And you definitely don’t get to have an opinion about how I choose to spend my Monday night.”
He stares at me, without blinking, without moving. His Adam’s apple rises and falls as he swallows roughly. “You’re right…”
His jaw is still clenched tight and his gaze is still hot with anger and wanting but his hands drop way from the counter. My traitorous body mourns as he takes a step back.
Something deep inside of me aches at just how easily he’s giving up on me. What is wrong with me? Quickly digging into my memory bank, I stitch together a quilt of memories of all the hurt this man has caused me. I smother the blossoming feeling of abandonment under the slapdash patchwork of resentment.
I don’t need him. I don’t want him.
Careful to arrange my skirt just right so that I’m not flashing my bare ass to half of the bar, I try to slide gracefully onto my stool. Like a woman who's got her act together. Ben shrugs out of his jacket and slips into the seat next to mine.
I give him a harsh glare. “If you’ll excuse me. I'm actually meeting someone and I'm not about to let you cockblock."
With a smirk that has those dimples collapsing into his cheeks like potholes, he faces straight ahead and coolly shrugs a shoulder. “I’m not trying to cockblock at all. I’m meeting someone, too."
My eyes dart to his in the mirror. His grin deepens. He swivels his stool toward me and extends a hand. “By the way, I’m SmallTownHotBoyXXX. Nice to meet you, LadyElectraHuskyLover.”
My body goes cold and my stool does a quick spin. Apparently, it has a mind of its own. “How did you know it was me?”
His expression goes all playful again. “Sorry, I don't disclose sources and methods. That’s the number one rule of covert operations."
“You’re stalking me?” Outraged, I hiss through my teeth. “Seven years ago, you dumped me without a second thought. And now, you’re stalking me?”
“Don’t jump to conclusions, Gigi—”
“Okay, I’m not playing this game.” I grab my purse and stand on my feet. I’m just the right amount of pissed off to not be drunk anymore. “I’m leaving. Have yourself an excellent night, Ben." I stride for the door.
I don’t get too far before he grabs me by the elbow, his movements nearly desperate. "Okay, okay. Just wait, Angie.” I spin around to face him. He’d better choose his words carefully because I’m ready to claw his face off. “Your username gave you away,” he says with a soft smile.
When he utters those words, my heart thumps insanely hard against my ribs.
LadyElectraHuskyLover
I didn’t put too much thought into choosing my CheekyChat user name. I picked the first thing that came to mind because I was so eager to just be at this bar, sitting in the company of an interesting man, having an interesting conversation. A man who’d give me all of his attention, just for tonight.
Yet, here’s the boy who broke my heart, sitting across from me, telling me that he knows the hidden meaning of my silly user name. He remembered?
The curve to his lips is slight, nearly rueful. “Of course I remembered,” he says softly, almost as if he’s reading my thoughts word for word.
Electra was my dog. Our dog. The gorgeous abandoned husky I rescued from the local pound when I was 17. With her silver eyes and her shock of snow-white fur, she was absolutely regal. Lady Electra was the only name that really fit her.
My mind flashes back to Ben’s profile picture. That tattoo on his arm—my god, he’s not lying.
My breathing falters. "You remembered…" I say on a wispy exhale. My weight sags and I lean into the counter to prop myself up.
His expression is somber and thoughtful. "How could I forget? That dog caused so much drama.” He laughs a little. “Remember, your parents wouldn’t let you keep her. And you threw the most epic fit. So I convinced my dad to let me take her in. Mom was not happy but you had the woman wrapped around your damn finger so she let the dog stay. I remember it clearly.” The humor melts slowly from his face. “And you fell apart when she died. Dilated cardioma…”
“Dilated cardiomyopathy…”
“Yeah.” He nods reverently. “I remember all of it, Angie.”
We hold each other's gaze and a flurry of memories spill into my mind. I loved that damn dog. I haven’t allowed myself to think about her for a long time because memories of her go hand in hand with memories of Ben and me together. But now that I’ve opened the floodgates, an avalanche of emotion engulfs me. My fingers flex, clawing at the sticky surface of bartop. My eyes grow heavier with each picture that flits across my thoughts. My heart feels incredibly sore.
The tips of Ben’s digits touch the tips of mine. His fingers slide smoothly between mine, fitting perfectly like the long-lost pieces of a puzzle. I drop my head to hide the tears. The thumb of his free hand brushes my chin, gently lifting my face. "Can I buy you a drink?" he asks softly. “I just wanna talk.”
I shouldn’t be this weak. I scold myself internally and make an attempt to hold onto my resentment. “You lured me here under false pretenses.”
“Only because you wouldn’t give me the time of day. Gigi, please…” That damn nickname…“Have a drink with me.”
Swallowing hard, I glance toward the door and then at Ben again.
The stunning blue eyes. The dark blond hair. The strong, chiseled jaw. The soft, plush lips.
I have a choice to make.
A sliver of a memory flashes before my mind. I’m 17 all over again. I’m standing on the driveway outside of his house. I’m telling him that I love him. I’m begging him to change his mind…but he turns on his heel and goes into the house, slamming the door behind him.
The memory is like a dash of cold water to the face. Every trace of compassion that was beginning to form in my blood instantly dissipates. Nah—no second chances.
My resentment toward him comes back in full force. I jerk my hand out of his grasp. “You don’t deserve a minute of my time. Not after what you did.”
I don’t wait for his retort. I don’t spare another look at his handsome face. I just grab my purse and yank my jacket off the back of my stool, sliding my arms into my sleeves as I go.
He calls after me. “Gigi—let me drive you home.”
“No thank you.”
“You’ve been drinking. You can’t drive in this condition.” He’s right behind me. He doesn’t have to touch me for me to feel him. My resolve almost falters. Almost.
“Don’t you think I know that?” I snap out. I’m trying my darnedest to be tough, but the sting of rejection in his eyes causes me to soften. God—I’m so damn weak. “Don’t worry about me. I’ve got my back. I’ve had it for a very long time.”
His eyes plead. “Angie…” He reaches out but his hand stops just short of my cheek.
“Look—I’m not trying to be a bitch to you just for the fuck of it. I’m only trying to protect myself. Please respect that.”
He waits a beat and then his head bobs up and down in acceptance. He takes a step back.
I march out the front door of the club and he lets me. As I stagger down the street to the Sapphire Inn to claim my rented hotel room, I try to reason with myself. I made the right decision walking away. I did. I repeat the mantra to myself until I fall asleep, all alone in the cold queen-sized bed.
Chapter Seven
Ben
"Some things never change, huh?"
I slide the metal prongs of the fork out of my mouth as the sweet, syrupy taste of cooked apples invades my tongue. Fuck, that's good. I take half a second to swallow and only then do I lift my eyes to my mother's smirking face. "What things never change?"
A hearty laugh pours out of her chest. "I say 'pie' and you come running."
I scoff, pretending to be appalled by her self-satisfied tone. "So, this was a bribe?" I wiggle the container in my hand and the decadent goodness bounces from plastic wall to plastic wall.
Her eyes dance. "I wouldn't call it a bribe. ‘Bribe’ is such an ugly word. ‘Incentive’, maybe." A network of lines shows up on her face when she laughs.
My pace stalls completely and I clasp my hand on her shoulder to stop her. I know my mother and I know that she's only half-joking. She hates asking for help. It's like she thinks that her rare requests are a burden on Madden and me. They're not. We’ve got her back. I just wish she'd believe us. But the fact that I’ve been so doggedly focused on work lately only adds to her hesitation to reach out for help. Well, since I screwed up the meeting in the hospital’s auditorium, I’ve been rethinking my priorities. Especially since a certain stubborn, doe-eyed brunette is back in town. Maybe I need to lay low at work for a while.
I turn her to face me. "Incentive? Mom, when something is wrong, you call me. Or Madden. We don't need incentives or bribes or—"
"I know, I know,” she says snappily, her gaze falling instantly to the floor.
She called me this morning on my day off and asked me to swing by to help her get Clyde to the hospital. I didn’t hesitate. For family, you never hesitate.
She shrugs out of my grasp. All levity has disappeared and now, all I see in her blue irises is distress. “It's just that, you and your brother are busy with work. And Clyde isn't your father. And—"
"It doesn't matter that Clyde isn't our father. He's family and if something is wrong with him, I want to know. And Madden feels the same.” I pull in a deep breath and the pungent Iodoform hospital-smell is so thick in the air I can taste it. “You don't need to be going through this shit alone."
I bite down on my tongue, silently wishing I hadn’t let the swear word slip. My mother is as sweet and wholesome as the apple pie she’s so famous for baking. The last thing I want to do is offend her sensibilities.
Her gaze lingers on the ground and I know that after all these years, she still feels guilty. Clyde and my father had the type of friendship they make movies about. Golf partners. Drinking buddies. Die-hard Packers fans in a town full of Chicago Bears enthusiasts. They were both lieutenants on the fire department, friendly competitors in the running to be the next captain. Mom would poke fun at them all the time—my father was Peanut Butter and Clyde was Jelly.
So when dad got taken out by a heart attack that no one saw coming, it was natural for Clyde to step in, I guess. He helped with the funeral and with all the paperwork mom had to sort through. He was around to handle house repairs and garden work. And soon, he and mom became something more. Too soon.
Of course, Madden and I tried to resist it at first. We were just teenagers, sad that our dad was gone and defensive at the thought that some other man was trying to take his place. We both rebelled against it in our own way. Made stupid decisions that could have forever fucked things up. But Clyde came to our rescue more than once and with time, we all adjusted. Hats off to the guy for taking on a woman with an intimidating pile of debt and a pair of know-it-all 17-year-olds intent on giving him a hard time. He earned his place in this family and today, I'd never challenge that.
My mother heaves a hard breath as we continue our stroll down the hallway. "I don't know what I ever did to get so lucky. All my life, I've been surrounded by strong, protective men. The men I grew up with, your father, Clyde, now you and Madden..." We pass by a group of idle nurses as we swing a left toward the old, rickety elevator.
"You deserve it. You're a queen, Polly Riggs-Tolbert." I throw her a wink as I stab my fork into the pie again. "Now, tell me—how long has Clyde been having these stomach pains?"
At the que
stion, she presses both palms flat to the center of her chest. That quiet panic flickers in her eyes again when she looks at me. "On and off for the past few weeks. At first, we thought it was indigestion. I've been cooking a lot of Mexican lately. And those jalapeños just strip the poor guy raw. We didn't want to take it seriously." Her voice dips low. "But Benjie, it's serious. I can just feel it."
I deliberately avoid her eyes as I balance the pie and fork in one hand to press the call button on the elevator. "Don't go jumping to the worst. It could just be indigestion. Or stomach ulcers. Or—"
"Or cancer," she says shakily as she steps onto the lift.
Cool, calm, collected. Like the word doesn't rattle me. That's the vibe I try to give off as I follow after her. "Jeez, lady, would you have a little faith? For someone who sits in the front pew every Sunday morning, I'd expect a bit more optimism from you."
The elevator commences its wobbly descent and my mother's hands clasp tightly around the leather strap of her purse. "I just don't want to be taken by surprise this time. I already lost a husband with no warning. I'm so scared that that will happen again." We step out onto the hospital's ground floor and she grabs my arm. The urgency in her grip forces me to stop moving again. "If he dies...if Clyde dies...this time, I'll really be all alone."
Her fear stabs me straight in the chest. I lower my face so that we're eye to eye because I need her to hear this. "Mom—as long as Madden and I are around, you will never be alone. Never. You hear me?" Tears dance under the lenses of her glasses as she smiles. "And as for Clyde, he's tough. And he loves you way too much. He's not going anywhere. Not without a hell of a fight...So shut up with all that scary cancer talk. You're ruining my pie."
That gets her to laugh and the noose on my heart finally loosens. “So lucky to have you.” She pinches my cheek as I pivot forward and we continue our stroll down another quiet hallway.
Just as I'm shovelling into the pie for another bite, my eyes catch on one hell of an ass bent over in front of the vending machine outside of the cafeteria.
The Blue Collar Bachelors Box Set: The Complete Blue Collar Bachelors Series Page 66
