by Heather Lyn
Telling her I’ll be back, I stroll to the other side of the bar to take an older man’s order. He asks for a pitcher, which I promptly fill, and then I head back over to Lindsey. She’s running her finger around the rim of the glass, her eyes focused on the television above the bar.
“You a Preds fan?” I ask, resting my hands on the bar top.
“Nope. I hate sports.”
“And you’re in a sports bar?”
“Yep. My sisters chose the bar tonight. Normally I would go with a couple bottles of wine and my couch, but alas, here we are.”
Draining her beer, she winks and slides the glass forward. Shaking my head with a smirk, I fill her drink and hand it back to her.
“Maybe I would like to start a tab,” she mumbles. Nodding, I take her card and swipe it. Handing it back to her, I watch her tongue run along her bottom lip, and it takes everything in me to not reach across the bar and cover that spot with my own lips.
Get a fucking grip, Walker. Christ.
§
A couple hours later, the game is over and the crowd in the bar is starting to die down. Looking down at my watch, I see it’s only ten thirty, but I’m exhausted. I was up at five this morning to help my older brother Garret move into his new place, and I’m ready for midnight to come so I can close this place down. Lindsey went to the bathroom, and I’m hoping when she comes back I can actually get her number.
We’ve spent the better part of the evening just talking, and we still haven’t exchanged numbers. She broke down and told me her sister dared her to ask me for it, but I actually want her to have it. She’s been super flirty with me, which is probably just the four beers she’s had, but still. I like her, and I want to see if she likes me beyond her blood alcohol level.
Leaning my hip against the bar, I wait for Lindsey to come back from the bathroom. My phone buzzes in my front pocket, a series of texts from two of my good friends, Grayson and Hunter.
Great. Fucking group chat.
Pulling it up, I take a moment to scroll.
Hunter: Hey, fucker. We’re getting together next week. Do you know of a good bar?
Grayson: Dude, he owns a bar. Idiot.
Hunter: I KNOW. Called sarcasm. Jesus, calm your tits.
Grayson: I don’t have tits. Just a beautiful chest chiseled from marble.
Hunter: Marble cake, maybe.
Brody: What’s up, children?
Grayson: Brody, my man! Where you been?
Brody: Working, unlike you jackasses.
Hunter: Busy working out your hand, I’m sure. Drinks next week? We’re bringing Noah. He hasn’t been out since Owen was born.
Grayson: Fuck yeah! Next Saturday at 8?
Brody: I’ll see you then.
Locking the screen, I’m putting it back in my pocket when I feel a warm hand on the back of my arm. Tuning around, Lindsey stands in front of me, a smile on her lips. I return the smile, but before I can ask her what’s up, she grabs the back of my neck and her warm lips are on mine. It takes every bit of self-control I have to not lift her into my arms and kiss her back. As much as I would love this, I can’t. It’s just not right.
Before she so much as attempts to take the kiss further, I pull back, stepping away from her.
Looking into her wide eyes, I scrub a hand down my face, trying to calm myself. She snakes a hand around my waist and I step back again.
“Lindsey, stop. We can’t.”
“Brody….”
“No, darlin’.”
Running my thumb down her cheek, I watch her eyes fill with tears and her cheeks redden. Avoiding eye contact, she reaches around me for her purse and steadies herself, finally looking at me. “I’m sorry. I thought you’d want me to kiss you.” Without another word, she rushes from the bar, and I’m left standing there like the biggest asshole in the world.
Shit.
Yelling a quick command to the other bartender to watch the bar, I rush after her. Hurrying to the parking lot, I find her toward the back, standing next to a black Accord. Running, I make it to her in seconds, and I force my way between her and her car.
“Lindsey, stop. You aren’t leaving like this.”
“It’s fine, Brody. It’s just been a long day, and I just threw myself at you like a slut. I’m completely mortified, and if it’s okay with you, I’d like to just go.”
“That’s not what I mean.”
In the bright light of the parking lot, Lindsey looks up at me, makeup smudged around her eyes, bottom lip swollen from where she’s been worrying it with her teeth.
“You can’t drive. I know how much you’ve had to drink, and I can’t let you go.”
“Brody, I’m not drunk. Jesus, I had four beers. How much of a lightweight do you think I am?”
“Linds….”
“My name is Lindsey, and I am perfectly fine to drive. I had a huge burger before I came out, and I handle alcohol well.”
Shaking my head, I have half a mind to just walk inside and let her be. This girl clearly doesn’t want anything to do with me, but I can’t help worrying.
“Lindsey. I’m sorry, I’m not trying to force your hand, but I’d truly rather you took a cab home or something. Or I can take you home.”
“Brody, seriously….”
“Lindsey, you have two options. Pick.” Before she can stop me, I reach out and swipe her keys from her hand. Laughing when she lunges for them, I hold them up and out of her reach, which isn’t hard considering her height.
“Jesus, Brody. Fine. You’re fucking annoying, you know that?”
Chuckling, I watch her walk away, cell phone pressed to her ear. When she comes back to me a few moments later, she holds the phone out to me, showing me the screen.
“My older sister Blair is coming back for me. Happy?”
Popping her hip, she rests a closed fist on it and raises an eyebrow.
“I’m doing all right, thanks for asking.”
“Again, are you twelve? Lord Almighty. She’ll be here in ten minutes. I’m going inside to use your restroom, and then I never want to come back here again.” She moves to brush past me but I grab her arm and spin her, her body bumping against my chest. Looking down into her eyes, I can’t help smiling at her frustration with me.
“So how about that number? Think I could get it now?”
“In your dreams, Walker.”
Yanking from my hold, she stomps back inside, hair whipping behind her. Following Lindsey inside, I take my place behind the bar again, the crowd almost completely gone. A few stragglers are left and I start cleaning up.
Five minutes later, I watch her storm from the bar. Out the window, I see her get in a black SUV.
Tossing the rag on the counter, I hear the jingle of her car keys from my back pocket. I know I should race out after her to make sure she gets them, but I don’t, sure Lindsey will come back for them.
But she doesn’t.
At least she knows where to find me when she needs them.
CHAPTER THREE
Lindsey
Son of a bitch.
Blair is putting the car into Park when I realize I don’t have my keys. I have a spare house key in my clutch, but Brody motherfucking Walker has my set.
“Son of a bitch!” I shout, Blair jumping in the seat next to me.
“Jesus, Linds, what?”
“That asshole has my keys,” I seethe, brushing my hair off my face.
My sister’s shrill laugh fills the car, and I turn to her in annoyance.
“What’s so funny?”
“Oh, I don’t know. The fact that you’re not really mad at him, you’re mad he turned you down. You’re probably horny, and he gave you a case of the lady blue balls is all.”
“Real mature, Blair. And no, that’s not why I’m angry.”
“Then spill. What’s wrong with him, other than the fact that he owns his own business and he’s hot as fuck?”
“He’s not that hot.”
Blair laughs harder,
her blonde hair whipping me in the face as she tosses her head back.
“Not hot? You’re insane. Did you see his ass? Or I don’t know, that smile? Linds, that man is sex on a stick, and I’m not talking a pogo.”
Despite my frustration, I laugh, shaking my head at her antics.
“Okay, fine. I’m pissed,” I concede, leaning my head back against the seat. “I never put myself out there, and after five seconds of the hottest kiss in the world, he dropped me.”
“Because you’ve been drinking. I think that takes balls, Linds. Any guy could’ve taken advantage of that and tossed you to the side. No, instead he respected you and asked for your number. Don’t let your embarrassment get in the way. You have to see him again at least once.”
I nod, knowing my older sister is right. And I hate that. Leaning over the console, I give her a hug and promise to call her if I need a ride to get my car.
Strolling to my ground-floor apartment, I wave and head inside, locking the door behind me. Kicking off my shoes, I toss my clutch on the kitchen counter and head to my bedroom, needing a shower and ice cream.
Twenty minutes later, I emerge from the bathroom in an oversized T-shirt with my wet hair up in a bun. I grab the pint of Häagen-Dazs from my freezer and a spoon, settling myself on the couch. Taking a bite, I scroll through the channels, trying to find something to watch. Some channel is airing a Harry Potter marathon, so I turn it on and get comfy.
While I watch the movie, my mind keeps drifting to the events of the night. Grabbing the remote, I hit Mute and reach for my cell phone. Opening the browser, I search for Walker’s Taphouse and find the phone number.
Taking a deep breath, I click on the number. When it starts ringing, I wait for it to go straight to an answering machine or something. But it doesn’t.
“Walker’s Taphouse.”
“Uh, yeah. Hi. I’m looking for Brody?”
“One sec.”
I hear a loud noise in the background, and then his deep voice fills the line.
“Brody Walker.”
“Hi, it’s Lindsey. From earlier.”
“Well, hey there, darlin’. Kinda figured I’d be hearing from you again, just not so soon. What can I do for you?”
“You know why I’m calling, Walker,” I grumble, leaning forward to set my ice cream down. I hate the butterflies that dance in my stomach when his raspy chuckle fills my ears.
“Forget something?”
“Yeah. What time do you open tomorrow? I don’t have work but I need my car.”
“Three. But I’ll be in around eleven to do paperwork.”
“Okay. Can I come before opening?”
“Absolutely. Do you need a ride?”
My eyebrows rise in surprise, but I shake my head at the idea. “No, I’ll take an Uber.”
“Suit yourself. I’ll see you then.”
“Bye.”
Ending the call, I lock my phone and toss it onto the couch next to me, huffing in annoyance.
Stupid Brody Walker.
Couldn’t he at least be ugly? Or rude? It’d be so much easier to not like him.
§
Pulling my long hair into a ponytail, I thank the Uber driver and head into Walker’s Taphouse. It’s eleven thirty, and I got a call an hour ago that they need extra coverage at the hospital, so I have my scrubs in my duffel bag all ready to go. There’s only one vehicle besides mine in the parking lot, a large black Ford, which I assume is Brody’s.
Making it to the front door, I pull only to find it locked.
Annoyed, I bang on the heavy glass, eyebrows narrowed.
“He knew I was coming,” I grumble, banging even harder. Peering through the glass, I see Brody rushing across the bar toward me, a huge grin on his face.
Quit smiling, fucker. You aren’t cute.
Unlocking the door, Brody swings it open, resting his shoulder against the frame.
“Hey, you,” he greets, running a hand through his disheveled hair.
“Hey.”
“How are you doing?”
“Fine, can I come in?” I try to push past him, but he holds his ground.
“Pretty presumptuous, Linds. I barely know you.”
“My name is Lindsey.”
“I don’t know, you seem more like a Linds to me. Feisty, but level-headed.”
“Brody! For God’s sake. I got called into work and I need my keys. I don’t have time for this shit.”
Chuckling, Brody steps back and pulls the door fully open, gesturing me inside. I walk into the bar and to the counter, seeing my keys there. But Brody rushes around me and snatches them up before I can get to them.
“Brody….”
“You can have them when I get your number.”
Rolling my eyes, I try to grab them from him, but he’s faster and shoves them into his front pocket. Taking a deep breath, I drop my bag and sidle up next to him. He’s in a short-sleeved shirt, so I reach out to grab his forearms, his skin warm under mine. Brody raises an eyebrow at me, and I lean forward, pressing my body against his.
“Lindsey….” His voice is husky, and it sends shivers through my body. Ignoring my own desires, I rise on my tiptoes to press my lips to his neck. His pulse is racing, and his rough hands come up to rest flat against my lower back.
Knowing this is my chance, I gently place my lips to his, and the second he takes them in a searing kiss, I pluck my keys from his front pocket.
Laughing at his loud groan, I grab my bag from the floor and toss it over my shoulder.
“Thank you for holding on to these, but I gotta get going.”
Strolling away with a grin, I’m almost at the door when I turn around.
“My number, Brody? You still want it?”
“Obviously, darlin’.”
“Yeah, it’s 867-5309.”
With a wink, I hurry from the bar, needing to get to work. As I pull out of the parking lot, I glance in the rearview mirror. Brody was hot, and I regret not actually giving him my number. But I have too much going on, and I’ll never see him again anyway.
He’ll get over it.
§
A week later, I’m nearing the end of a twelve-hour shift filled with drunk idiots and puking children. I have never wanted a shift to end faster than I do this one. I’m going out with Hollie tonight, my coworker and good friend. We started working at Memorial Hospital about a month apart and we just clicked. Plus, I’m pretty sure every blonde needs a sassy redhead sidekick. Tightening my ponytail, I grab the clipboard off the desk and head over to the newest arrival. Glancing at the clipboard, I scan the paper and roll my eyes.
Pushing the curtain to the side, I find a guy, barely out of high school, holding a bag of half-frozen peas to his face. A girl is sitting on the foot of the bed, typing out something on her cell phone.
“Hi, I’m Lindsey, and I’ll be your nurse today. What brings you in?”
“Marcus was just defending me. That douchebag shouldn’t have grabbed my ass.” The young girl barely looks up from her phone.
I glance at Marcus. “Okay then. Well, let’s get a look at your eye and we’ll go from there.”
Reaching for the box next to the door, I pull on a pair of latex gloves and step toward the bed. Lifting the bag, I notice a small cut over his eyebrow, not too deep but definitely needing stitches. He winces when I touch the area around it, and I look down to find him staring directly at my chest. Shaking my head, I pull off my gloves and toss them out, sanitizing my hands.
“Doesn’t look too bad. You’ll probably need a few stitches. Let me grab what I need and we’ll have you out of here in no time.”
“Thanks, doll.”
Rolling my eyes again, I pull the curtain behind me as the girl starts shrieking at her boyfriend.
Hollie sees me coming out of the room and starts laughing.
“He hit on you as well?”
“Nah, just caught him staring at my chest. God, when did nineteen-year-olds become so disgusting?”
She laughs, shaking her head at me.
“Oh, I don’t know. Always?”
“True. I’m just ready to get out of here. Where do you want to meet tonight?”
Hollie shrugs. “Doesn’t matter to me, Linds. Liam is going to have some friends over tonight, so we could always go to a movie, maybe dinner too, if you want.”
Thinking it over, I end up agreeing with her. “Sounds good, Holl. I’ll head over after I stop at home to change.”
“Perfect.”
“See you there.”
Plans made, the rest of my shift goes smoothly and in two hours, I’m finally heading home.
§
After taking a shower, I’m drying the final chunk of my hair when my phone lights up with a text. Shutting off the hair dryer, I pick up my cell and see a text from a number I don’t recognize.
Unknown: So, guess who has caller ID?
Lindsey: Excuse me, creep?
Unknown: It’s Brody, Linds. My phone at the bar has caller ID.
Lindsey: Son of a bitch.
Brody: I told you I’d get your number.
Lindsey: Hardy har. You should be a comedian.
Brody: I like my job better, but thanks for the vote of confidence.
Lindsey: You’re weird. I’m busy, gotta go.
Brody: We’ll talk later, I’m sure.
Lindsey: You wish, buddy.
Rolling my eyes, I curse myself when I save his number, a tiny smile on my face. I don’t have any interest in a boyfriend—I work too many crazy hours—but a friend?
I could always use one of those.
CHAPTER FOUR
Brody
“Brody, my man!”
Grayson Michaels comes walking into the bar, Hunter Daniels in tow. I’m actually getting ready to go home. Normally I’m here almost every night, but I recently hired a manager, so I’m trying to give him more responsibility.
Clapping Gray on the back, I bump fists with Hunter and lean against the bar.
“What are you guys doing here?”
“Kenni had an evening Mommy and Me class, so Carmen joined her,” Grayson says, referring to their wives.
