Something Tattered (Joel Bishop Book 1)

by Sabrina Stark

  "But nothing. They weren't my type."

  So, he had a type? Maybe I wasn't his type either. And yet, something in his gaze suggested otherwise.

  I was swimming in unfamiliar waters. Usually, I was the one backing away. But with Joel, it was different. Everything was different.

  I liked having him here. And I loved being close to him. I'd been sitting crammed up against him for at least two hours now. And the longer we sat here, the more my imagination ran wild.

  Probably, he was a terrific kisser.

  I was still considering this when, from the far side of the booth, April called out, "Hey, Melody!"

  When I looked toward her, she said, "You've got to tell us. For your birthday, did your crazy aunt get you another stripper?"

  Chapter 19

  I froze. Suddenly, everyone in the booth was staring. I gave Joel a nervous glance, praying that he wouldn’t feel insulted all over again.

  In his eyes, I saw a flash of humor that caught me off guard. Back in the boardroom, he hadn't been amused. But of course, that probably had something to do with Derek, who'd been awful from the get-go.

  Before I could even begin to sort things out, April's voice rang out again. "So? Did she?"

  Hoping to end this now, I called back, "Nope. Not this year." And then, desperate to change the subject, I made a show of looking around the bar. "So, how about this crowd, huh?"

  But April didn't take the hint. Instead, she leaned forward and laughingly announced, "Wanna know my favorite? It was the policeman, for sure."

  I cringed. I knew exactly which "policeman" she meant. He'd been my first stripper, a gag gift for my eighteenth birthday.

  With a nervous laugh, I said, "Speaking of policemen, did you see the new traffic light?" Into the blank stares of everyone around me, I added. "You know, by the library?"

  Dorothy, who actually worked at the library, gave me a perplexed look. "Sure, but what does that have to do with anything?"

  Nothing, actually. But I was kind of hoping no one would notice. Still, I gave the diversion my best shot. "Well, you know. Like if people don't notice the light, they might get stopped…" I cleared my throat. "…by a policeman?"

  April laughed. "Yeah. Maybe." She grinned across the table. "But he wouldn't look like 'Officer Night Stick,' that's for sure."

  A newer friend, Francine, asked, "Who's Officer Night Stick?"

  I gave a dismissive wave of my hand. "No one. Just a joke." Desperately, I turned to Joel. "Hey, do you wanna dance?"

  The corners of his mouth lifted. "You mean with you, or…?"

  My face was burning now. Feeling like a total idiot, I stammered out, "Well, um, I didn't mean for me or anything." I forced an awkward laugh. "I mean it's not like I'm confusing you with a stripper now."

  Unlike in the boardroom, obviously.

  "Yeah?" he said. "Good to know."

  Suddenly, April called out, "Hey, Joel!"

  He turned to look. "Yeah?"

  She laughed. "You're not the stripper. Are you?" At this, the whole table erupted in fresh laughter, except for me and Joel, even if he did look vaguely amused. He looked to April and said, "You see a cop uniform?"

  "It's not always a cop," she said. "Like last year, it was a construction worker." She looked to me and said, "Right?"

  "Uh. Yeah." I felt my brow wrinkle in confusion. "But how did you know? I mean, you weren't in town or anything."

  She smiled. "Get this. My mom sent me the pictures."

  "Pictures?" I swallowed. "What pictures?"

  "You know," she said. "From the ribbon-cutting ceremony. There was that article in the weekly paper. C'mon, you must've seen it."

  "Oh. The article? Yeah, I saw it."

  Unfortunately.

  And yes, the article did have a few pictures. The biggest one showed me, looking absolutely horrified as Mister Hard-Hat strutted his stuff.

  Even worse, the article had been picked up by a national news service. This meant the story, along with the photos, soon found its way onto Web sites and gossip pages around the country. Or cripes, worldwide for all I knew.

  It was a total nightmare. Just thinking of it, I sank down in the booth and tried to disappear.

  "Oh come on," April said, "don't be glum. It was a riot."

  For her sake, I tried to laugh. "Maybe for you. But trust me, after a few birthday strip-a-thons, the joke's not nearly as funny, you know?"

  I snuck a quick glance at my watch. Soon, it would be midnight. The way it looked, my aunt was actually going to keep her promise.

  No more strippers.

  Thank God.

  I glanced to Cassie, who'd been sitting in relative silence across from me. In the short time that I'd known her, I'd never seen her so quiet. When our gazes met, she winced.

  I gave her a questioning look.

  After a long moment, she mouthed one terrifying word. "Sorry."

  I tensed. "For what?"

  Wincing again, she pointed to a spot somewhere past my left shoulder. "For that, actually."

  Chapter 20

  I whirled in my seat and heard myself gasp.

  Oh, crap. There he was – an obscenely handsome stranger in an overly sexy cowboy getup. He was lugging a portable music player, and heading straight for us, strutting in a way that I knew all too well.

  Praying for some sign I was wrong, I studied the guy's outfit. I saw fake leather chaps and a brown suede vest, open nearly to his navel. No shirt underneath. No cowboy boots. Just black running shoes with white laces.

  My eyes narrowed. This was no real cowboy.

  I whirled back to Cassie and said, "She didn't."

  But obviously, she had.

  Aunt Gina.

  Damn it.

  Cassie gave me an apologetic look. "Sorry. I didn't know." She bit her lip. "I mean, the way your aunt talked…"

  Oh yeah. Aunt Gina. The one who'd promised oh-so sincerely that she was done with this sort of thing.

  Apparently not.

  I glanced toward the nearest exit. Happily, I was sitting at the edge of the booth, with no one blocking my path. If nothing else, I wouldn't need to crawl over anyone to make my escape.

  And I was planning to escape.

  From across the table, April's voice drifted through the noise. "Oh, man. A cowboy." Her voice became almost husky. "I love cowboys." I looked to see her eyeing the guy like he was the last pork chop at a meat-lovers convention.

  On impulse, I said, "You want him? You can have him."

  Her face broke into a huge, sloppy grin. "Seriously?"

  Again, I glanced toward the exit. "Seriously." I turned to give Cassie an apologetic smile. "Sorry I'm being so weird about it." I started talking as fast as I could. "But hey, thanks for the party. And the cake. And everything. It was really, really thoughtful. I owe you one, okay?"

  Next to me, Joel said, "You're not leaving."

  That's what he thought. With or without him, I was bolting while I had the chance. I turned toward him and said, "Oh yeah? Why not?"

  "Because you haven't given me that dance."

  I did a double-take. "Huh?"

  "Hey, you asked. Remember?"

  Yes. Of course, I remembered. And he'd turned me down. Hadn't he?

  No. That wasn't right. He'd turned me down for a kiss. About the dance, he'd never answered at all.

  Still, I recognized this for what it was – a way to avoid the stripper without hurting anyone's feelings. It was the perfect lifeline, and I was grabbing that sucker while I had the chance.

  I gave Joel a vigorous nod and practically leapt out of the booth, only to collide face-first with the chest of the cowboy, who stepped back and said in a big, Texas drawl, "Sorry ma'am."

  I stared up at him. "Uh, that's okay."

  He gave me a wink and tipped his hat. "So, are you the birthday girl?"

  My mouth opened, but before I could say a single word, April's voice, loud and clear, carried across the short distance. "It's me!" she ca
lled. "I'm the birthday girl! Howdy, howdy, howdy!"

  I could've kissed her – and the rest of the table, too, when no one spoke up to contradict her.

  Escape time.

  I grabbed Joel's hand, and practically dragged him out of the booth. Without looking back, I pulled us into the aisle that led to the dance floor. Walking fast, I didn't look back, and I didn't stop until we'd disappeared into the middle of the dancing crowd.

  We'd barely stopped when the band transitioned from a familiar rock number to a slow, steady ballad from sometime before I'd been born.

  Thankful for the switch, I fell into his arms and buried my face against his chest. Soon, I was laughing with relief, and yeah, more than a little bit embarrassment.

  Against his shirt, I said, "Thanks for that."

  "For what?"

  "For rescuing me, of course." I pulled back and rolled my eyes. "Again."

  His eyes filled with humor. "Who says you weren't rescuing me?"

  "What? You're not a fan of cowboys?"

  "That kind?" He grinned. "No ma'am."

  Again, I had to laugh. "Sorry. I guess I panicked back there."

  "If you panicked, imagine how I felt."

  It was a nice sentiment, obviously designed to spare my feelings. But it couldn’t be true. I barely knew this guy, but one thing was already obvious. He wasn't the panicking type.

  If he'd been truly panicking, he would've taken the quicker way out. He would've simply followed me to the exit and called it a night.

  But he hadn't.

  So I had to ask him, "Why'd you do it?"

  "Do what?"

  I glanced around. "This. I mean, you could've just driven me home and called it good."

  "Is that what you wanted?"

  "No," I admitted. "Not really."

  "Well, there you go."

  Yup. There I went. And here I was, dancing with the hottest guy in the whole place. And yes, that did include the cowboy. Sure, the cowboy was undeniably hot, even in that ridiculous outfit, but Joel was something more, and not only because of his beautiful face and rock-hard body.

  He was real, and he was solid. And his hands felt amazing, resting on my hips. True, it wasn't skin-to-skin, but I liked the feel of him and the motions of him, too. But most of all, I liked how thoughtful he'd been in aiding my escape.

  I gazed up at him, wondering which Joel was real – the jerk I'd left at the campsite, or the nice guy who'd been rescuing me nonstop ever since.

  Searching his face, I couldn’t be sure. He was full of contradictions, and there were so many questions I wanted to ask.

  Where did you come from?

  How do you know Derek?

  And then, there was the scariest question of all. If it weren't for the cowboy, would you still be out here, dancing with me?

  But I didn't ask any of those questions. Instead, I leaned into him and rested my warm face against the cool cotton of his T-shirt. His chest was hard, and his movements were smooth and easy, soothing me into a blissful trance that felt way too good, all things considered.

  I let my eyelids flutter shut, and tried to block out everything else – the drunken crowd shifting around us, the muted whoops and hollers from the booth I'd just left, and the certain knowledge that the song wouldn't last forever.

  Unfortunately.

  Chapter 21

  Sure enough, the song was over way too soon, replaced by a different slow song, newer than the one before. Reluctantly, I pulled back and smiled up at my rescuer. "Thanks again."

  But he didn't let go. Instead, he glanced toward the booth and asked, "You wanna go back?"

  Through the shifting crowd, I looked toward my party, only to feel myself cringe. It was almost as bad as I feared.

  Surprisingly, the cowboy was still wearing all of his clothes. But, on the squirmy side, he was straddling April's lap and thrusting against her while the others cheered him on. As for April herself, she was grinning like it was her first time at the rodeo, and she'd just won herself a prize bull.

  Watching her obvious enjoyment, I had to wonder if something was wrong with me. Why didn't I like that sort of thing?

  It's not that I didn't appreciate a good-looking guy. And it's not that I was completely inexperienced when it came to sex. It was just that, well, I liked things to be a little more private – and preferably not the result of money changing hands.

  I looked back to Joel and said, "I guess I'm not quite ready."

  The corners of his mouth lifted. "You and me both."

  Relieved, I leaned back into him and sighed with contentment when his arms closed tighter around my back, shielding me from the spectacle that I'd been desperate to avoid. Soon, we were moving in time with the new song, and I thanked my lucky stars that Joel hadn't escaped when he had the chance.

  And yet, my thoughts remained a jumbled mess. For what seemed like the millionth time, I asked myself why I hated something that everyone else seemed to love.

  I was still mulling that over when I heard Joel's voice, quiet against my hair. "Regretting it?"

  I pulled back to gaze up at him. "Regretting what?"

  His gaze shifted to the booth, where the rodeo ride was still going strong.

  Oh, that.

  I had to laugh. "Heck no. When you've seen one, you've seen them all."

  I froze in mid-motion. Oh, crap. That sounded terrible, didn't it? Hoping for a recovery, I resumed moving and tried again. "I don't mean that all guys are alike or anything. I just mean…" Again, I looked toward the booth. "It's just embarrassing, you know?"

  As I watched, April threw back her head and laughed as the cowboy shimmied toward her. She wasn't embarrassed. She was loving it.

  Then again, why wouldn't she? Unlike me, she had the cloak of anonymity. If April were caught ogling some professional hottie, she wouldn't wake up the next morning to see her own image in the weekly newspaper, or worse, on some gossip channel.

  She wouldn’t have to hear how stupid she looked, or see the intrusive articles that accompanied every single photo. She wouldn't have to read the one ghastly paragraph they always included, every single time, without fail.

  By now, I could recite the thing from memory.

  Melody Blaire is the heiress and only daughter of Blaydon Blaire, the world-renowned artist who died with his wife in a private plane crash.

  His wife.

  My mom.

  They never mentioned that part. Did they?

  But they did mention all the other stuff – rumors of affairs, fights, and whatever other drama they could dream up.

  None of it was true. But that didn't stop anyone from speculating, even now.

  I was so tired of it, I wanted to scream. But I didn't. Instead, I leaned into Joel and mumbled something about loving this song way too much to think of anything else.

  Happily, Joel didn't push the issue. Instead, he cradled me tighter and moved against me, soothing my unsettled nerves until I almost forgot all of those things that I couldn’t change.

  And besides, I had so much to be thankful for. I had amazing friends who'd shown up for my party. I was dancing with an amazing guy. And, I had an aunt who, crazy or not, never, ever forgot my birthday.

  When the song ended, I pulled back to tell Joel, "Thanks again. I owe you, okay?"

  He smiled. "Why would you owe me?"

  "Mostly for being here." I gave a shaky laugh. "I mean, this can't be your idea of fun."

  "Yeah? Why not?"

  "Well, for one thing, we're all drunk, and you're sober."

  "And that's a bad thing?"

  "Isn't it?" I asked.

  He leaned his head closer and said, "You want the truth?"

  I felt myself nod.

  "I wasn't gonna drink anyway. So forget that, alright?"

  "Oh." I wasn't sure what to make of that. "Why not? Are you a…?"

  "Recovering alcoholic?" He laughed. "No."

  "Then what?" I asked.

  Without answering, he glan
ced toward the booth. "Looks like the show's over."

  I turned, and sure enough, the cowboy, still fully dressed, was hoisting his music player onto his shoulder. He turned and began walking away, leaving April and the others ogling his backside.

  I squinted in confusion. Had the guy stripped at all? If so, he had to be the fastest stripper on the planet, or I'd blinked and somehow missed it.

  Regardless, it was time to go back. Together, Joel and I waded through the crowd and settled back into the booth.

  April was laughing. She looked to me and called out, "You don't know what you missed."

  Her laughter was contagious. I called back, "That's what you think."

  "No, I’m serious," she said. "The guy was hysterical."

  I gave her a confused look. "As in funny?"

  "Oh yeah. Totally."

  Wow, that was a first. Even the clowns hadn't been hysterical. I was just about to ask for details when, across from me, Cassie muttered, "Oh, crap."

  I leaned forward. "What's wrong?"

  She pointed past me. "Look who's here."

  Chapter 22

  I turned and spotted Derek, barreling through the back entrance. He looked like a man on a mission, assuming the mission was to kill someone and hide the body.

  Next to me, Joel said, "Let me out."

  I was sitting on the end of the booth, with Joel squashed in beside me. My gaze remained on Derek. "What?"

  Joel gave me a nudge. "I said, let me out."

  "Why?"

  "You've gotta ask?"

  Derek's angry gaze bounced around the room, as if he were searching for something – or more likely someone – in particular.

  I felt myself swallow. Me?

  From the look on his face, I sure hoped not.

  I looked to Cassie. "Do you think he's here for the party?"

  "I don't know." She gave Derek a worried glance. "You're the one who said he wouldn't show."

  I looked back to Derek, only to feel myself freeze. He was staring straight at our booth, looking angrier than ever. Almost before I knew it, he was pushing his way through the crowd, heading in our direction.

  Next to me, Joel muttered a low curse. A moment later, I felt movement beside me and turned just in time to see him shoving himself up and jumping onto the table. His heel bumped an empty daiquiri glass, and it fell sideways – not breaking, thank goodness, but making me nervous, just the same.