by M. E. Carter
“It got in my way,” I growl but make a concerted effort to rein in my temper a bit. Tucker’s a great teammate and great friend. I don’t need to be taking out my issues on him. He’s not the one who body-checked me into that wall last year and popped my shoulder out of place somehow.
“Uh-huh. That doesn’t explain why you look like you could throw down at any moment. Do we need to gear up and hit the ice so you can throw a few punches without messing up my face?”
I scowl and drop to the bench, grabbing my stick to retape it. It doesn’t need to be done, but the familiar wrapping motion does more to relax my body than this conversation.
“I’ll take that as a no,” he finally says when I don’t answer. “I have a better idea anyway.”
I have no idea why Tucker is so determined to continue this conversation. I’m not good company right now and nothing he can pitch will change that. Only some whiskey and maybe a woman will help tonight.
“I will allow you to grill me up some grass-fed steak with that spicy homemade marinade…”
I snort a humorless laugh. Tucker is always trying to get me to cook for him. Somehow, he doesn’t realize my hobby doesn’t include feeding him.
“… and then let’s go hang at Frui Vita.”
Okay, maybe he’s more in tune with me than I thought.
Tucker taps his finger on his chin. “I don’t think it’s Trivia Night but that’s okay. We can drown our sorrows in a bucket of Shiner. Maybe see if we can finally smoke Dwayne at pool.”
That gets a small, amused reaction from me. From what I can gather, no one has ever beat Dwayne at pool. He’s been going to Frui Vita since it opened and long before the current ownership took over. Now it’s a premier spot for the professional athletes in the area to hang out away from the public eye, but Dwayne remains. His ability as a pool shark has become the favorite way to haze rookie players on their first visit.
The more I think about it, the more Tucker may be onto something. I could go for some steak. And a night of shooting the shit with other guys who could give a fuck about what I do for a living sounds about right.
Tossing the empty tape roll aside with a much gentler throw, I finally use words instead of sounding like a Neanderthal.
“Yeah. I can do that.”
Tucker claps his hands together and rubs a few times. “Excellent. I’ll send out a group text and see who wants to go. But no one gets steak except me.”
I nod once and decide it’s time to head for the showers. But first I pop four Advil hoping to take the edge off the throb in my shoulder. Mix a few drinks in and I should be able to sleep with little pain tonight. At least, that’s my hope.
• • •
A few hours later, we’re at our favorite sports bar, our favorite drinks in hand courtesy of the pretty brunette we’ve all come to appreciate.
“Thanks, Kiersten,” I say when she hands me two more fingers of whiskey. The first one went down quicker than I thought it would, but the warmth in my gut is exactly what I needed. Now I feel like I can relax.
“No problem. I assume you want to run a tab tonight?”
I nod in response. “Just don’t let Tucker convince you to add his drinks to my account. I’m not paying for his shit again.”
Kiersten lets out a hearty laugh. “Kade is still so embarrassed he fell for Tucker’s charm.”
“Charm?” I ask with a haughty laugh. “That asshole straight up scammed Kade. Poor kid never saw it coming. Hell, I didn’t either until it was time to pay the bill. What an asshole.” I shake my head but suppress a smile.
I’m not sure how long Kade has been working here, but what I do know is that he’s trying to pay his way through college which I find admirable. I was lucky to have a full ride so I didn’t have to leave my comfort zone to make my way through school. And considering Kade is a little on the shy side and doesn’t exude self-confidence, I’m sure working at a family-owned sports bar that caters to a mostly alpha male clientele is out of that zone for him.
Which is why I can laugh about him getting swindled by Tucker now. The look on Kade’s face when I yelled about the bill is not something I’ll ever forget. I thought the kid was literally going to shit his pants. But, of course, as soon as he explained what had happened, I turned my anger where it was supposed to be—on my teammate. Who, just laughed, slapped me on the back, and thanked me for a good time. Dick.
“We got it all squared away now, Liam. Even had an employee memo go out about it.”
My eyes widen. I didn’t know it was that big of a deal for him. “You’re kidding.”
Kiersten rifled around below the bar for a second before slapping a piece of paper down on the counter. It reads, “Don’t believe anything Tucker Hayes says about tabs! He’s a liar!”
A laugh rumbles through me. “I assume that’s Kade’s handwriting.”
“You know it,” she says with a wink before putting the paper back beneath the counter. “And I already got Tucker’s credit card on file so if you need some payback… “
I hold up a hand to stop her. “I’m good. I’m still weighing my options.”
“I’ll expect a full report when whatever payback is all over. Let me know if you need anything else.”
She turns away to address someone at the other end of the bar when I call out, “The hubs at home tonight?”
“Even the owner needs to stay home and play dad sometimes,” she calls back before returning to her work.
Swiveling on my stool to face the rest of the room I consider what a nice family they are. It’s no wonder we all feel so comfortable here. They even let Dwayne continue hustling people at the pool table every night. Not many owners would put up with that.
Speaking of, it appears Tucker made good on his promise to challenge the pool shark again.
I push away from the bar and make my way to the pool table. There’s nothing I love more than watching Tucker get his ass handed to him. This is turning into a fun evening after all.
Chapter Three
Ellery
Wiping the moisture off my cheeks, I try to focus on the road in front of me. Between the tears that won’t stop leaking and the deluge of rain outside, I’m lucky to still be on the road and not in a ditch already.
I could go home, but I can’t convince myself to hide out in my apartment. It doesn’t feel safe there. It feels like a museum of memories waiting to attack the second I walk in.
Seven years. I gave that man seven years of my life and for what? As it turns out, it was for nothing.
“I don’t love you like I thought I did,” he’d said, making me wonder if I was having some sort of nightmare.
“It was just young love. It’s run its course,” he’d said, shattering my heart to a million pieces.
Young love that ran its course? We’re in our twenties for heaven’s sake, not teenagers. Our entire relationship, the career choices I’ve made, the apartment I chose, even the way I style my hair, all meticulously chosen with him in mind. Because that’s what you do when you’re in a relationship, right? You make life decisions based on not just your own needs, but the needs of the person you love. You compromise for the good of both of you, not arrogantly plan for yourself with no regard for the other.
Or maybe it’s just me that makes selfless decisions. Maybe none of his choices ever had me in mind.
Realizing visibility is getting worse from the storm and my emotions, I know I can’t keep driving, no matter how restless I feel. I may be heartbroken, but I’m not suicidal and even in my emotional haze, I recognize road conditions are really bad. I need to pull over soon.
Following the only lights I see, like a beacon to safety, I pull into a small parking lot. It’s full of dark-colored SUVs. Weird. I wonder if it’s some sort of meeting hall with like-minded individuals inside working together for the good of the community.
“Ridiculous,” I scoff. “No one cares about anyone other than themselves these days,” I say out loud to no one but my
self since I’m all alone.
Alone, because Kevin doesn’t love me like he thought he did.
I bite my lip, hoping to hold back the tears. I don’t want to feel vulnerable. I don’t want to feel lonely. But try as I might, I don’t even know if I would take Kevin back. How is that possible? I loved him for seven years and it’s as if his harsh words cut off the supply of feelings I had. Like turning the water off under the faucet, there’s nothing left to draw from. Or maybe I’m just numb from crying.
I have to stop thinking like this. I’m generally a happy, even keel person. I don’t want one traumatic breakup to change the fabric of who I am. Well, maybe after tonight. Tonight, I’ll let myself wallow in self-pity.
Looking again at the building in front of me, I squint, trying to read the small marquee above the door. Whatever this business is, it’s all lit up tonight.
“Frui Vita. Is this a restaurant?”
A clap of thunder makes me jump and I realize being in my car probably isn’t the safest place to be right now. Maybe this is fate. Maybe hanging out in some random establishment that serves alcohol is exactly what I need to get out of my head and distract me from my heartache. I hope they serve alcohol. Suddenly shots seem like a really great idea, and I don’t drink.
Grabbing my purse, I swing the door of my very reliable, but not flashy Kia Sorrento open and run for lights. It’s pointless. Even parked in the front row, the rain is so heavy I’m drenched by the time I’m standing under the awning.
“Great,” I mutter and try to smooth my hair. Not that it matters. The tight chignon I wear to be professional at work isn’t going anywhere. No, it just lost any volume I had on the top. Figures.
Sighing, I pull open the heavy door and step inside.
“Whoa.”
This is not at all what I expected to find. The large open space has dim lighting, but it’s still bright enough to see. The walls are a pale gray with black accents everywhere, including the front of the large bar. Modern furnishings are scattered around the room, inviting people to sit and stay awhile.
All the large vehicles in the parking lot suddenly make sense when I notice the customers. There are lots of couples here, but most of them are grouped together in cliques, and all of the men are huge. Not that everyone isn’t huge compared to me. At just over five feet, I tend to dwarf next to just about everyone. But these men are different. Even sitting down, I can tell almost all of them are well over six feet. No compact vehicles for them.
I’m surprised to see the bartender is a woman about my age, although I’m not sure why I’m surprised. Maybe I’ve been in the corporate world long enough, I forgot other people still work to live instead of vice versa.
Making my way to the counter, I slide onto a stool, noticing how much more comfortable the seat is than I anticipated.
Wow. This is such a fancy place. I wonder why the outside is so dingy and non-descript. Seems like they could get a lot more business if they gave the outside a fresh coat of paint and made the sign easier to read.
I don’t notice the bartender, too busy taking in the environment, until she’s standing right in front of me.
“Welcome to Frui Vita. What can I get you?” I’m struck by how beautiful she is with her long dark hair and lean body. Even the act of tossing a napkin down in front of me seems somehow graceful when she does it. I’m suddenly feeling very intimidated and unsure of myself.
“Um… I think I’d like… uh…” I stumble over my words as I try to remember what, if any kind of alcohol I’ve tried and liked before. I appreciate she just stands there patiently while I try to decide. “Whiskey, straight up,” I finally blurt out.
This elicits an eyebrow raise from her making me second guess myself.
“That’s not the right answer, is it?” I ask quietly.
She smiles kindly at my complete ineptness when it comes to alcohol consumption. “There’s not really a right or wrong answer but… well… can I ask you a question?”
I nod vigorously.
“You don’t drink very often do you?”
My nod turns into a shake.
“And I’m guessing from looking at you, today’s been a really hard day and you’re just trying to take the edge off.”
I release a deep breath, my shoulders slumping. “Is it that obvious?”
“Only because we’ve all been there. Driving around in the rain so you don’t have to go home. Finally ending up in some random bar ready to drink your night away.”
I feel my eyes widen. “Really? I’m not the only one?”
She bobbles her head back and forth. “Plus, you’ve got the swollen eyes and splotchy skin. I hate getting those things.”
My hands are immediately over my face, not that they can wipe away the red splotches I didn’t realize were there. “Oh my gosh, I didn’t know I looked that bad.”
“You don’t. I promise. I’m just a woman, too. We can see these things in each other.” She leans on the counter, fingers clasped together. “And let me just say, woman to woman, whoever he is, he didn’t deserve you.”
I feel my eyes well with tears again, not out of sadness, but grateful for her kindness. “Thank you. I haven’t quite decided how I feel yet.”
“You will. In the meantime,” she pushes off the bar and reaches for a glass. “I’m going to make you an amaretto sour, light on the amaretto. I know you want to drink your cares away, but I think taking the edge off is probably more your style.”
Oddly, I feel some relief that she’s not encouraging me to do anything rash like taking shots or do a keg stand or something. Physically, I could do it, that wouldn’t be a problem. But I still have to work tomorrow morning. I don’t need to smell like stale booze when I walk by Mrs. Welch in the hallway. As it is, I’m not even positive I still have a job now that Kevin and I aren’t together. This is the curse of working for your boyfriend—er, ex-boyfriend’s mother.
The bartender, whose name I should probably ask at some point since I feel like I should know her, places a small glass of yellowish-orange liquid in front of me. I like that it has a small orange slice attached to the rim. It’s a funny thing to appreciate, but right now, it seems like the little things are more important than ever.
Taking a sip through the tiny straw, my mouth is flooded with flavor. “Mmm,” I remark and take another sip.
“Hits the spot, right?” she asks with a smile, although I’m not sure if she’s pleased with herself for having guessed correctly or if she’s genuinely happy she put a smile on my face.
“It really does. Thank you.”
“No problem. If you need anything else, just holler.”
She leaves me to my thoughts that I try to keep solidly out of the breakup zone and fully engaged in observing the people around me. Not only are all the men huge, but everyone also looks like they have money. I don’t mean the decent amount I get paid as an accountant, but lots of money. Like in the millions. Their clothes are all high-end and they seem to walk with that swagger of someone who isn’t keeping tabs on how much they’re spending tonight.
My gaze zeros in on one man in particular. I’m not completely sure what it is about him that draws me in. Maybe the way he’s comfortable not being the center of attention while his buddies are definitely vying for that spot. There’s a definite calm surrounding him. He’s at least six-four. The dark jeans and blue button-down he’s wearing show off his broad shoulders and tapered waist. His hair is cropped close to his head and dark scruff covers his face. A face that has scars and a large bruise on one cheek.
He is both terrifying and sexy as all get out.
And he’s walking right toward me.
Chapter Four
Liam
I noticed her as soon as she walked through the door. She was drenched, courtesy of the downpour outside, her hair pulled back but obviously not how she had done it this morning. Her business attire clinging to her small body making me wonder what is underneath. But that’s not what draws m
e in and keeps me there. It’s her eyes.
Eyes that should never be sad but look like they have been releasing tears for hours.
I observe for a while as Kiersten chats with her. The more I watch, the more I want, no need to know what’s wrong with her. I don’t know why it feels like I’d been punched in the gut or why I’m having such a visceral reaction to someone I’ve never even seen before, but there it is. My physical pain is of no consequence anymore. Her emotional pain is what I’m focused on.
When Kiersten finally walks away, I begin my approach.
From a distance, she’s beautiful. Up close, even more so. Her perfect facial features are the kind that would be stunning with makeup or without, depending on her mood. I can’t help wondering what her dark hair would look like down. I can only assume it’s long. Is it wavy? Straight? Thick or thin?
If I weren’t so focused on how her eyes widen when she sees me coming, I’d slap myself for sounding like a love-sick sap. Love-sick is even pushing it. Lust-sick might be more like it. I’m not even sure. All I know is I’m captivated and need to know more about her.
I’m finally close enough that there’s no turning back. Not that I want to. No, sliding onto the stool next to her seems like a much better plan.
“First time at Frui Vita?”
It’s not my best pick-up line, but I couldn’t exactly start by asking her who’s ass I have to kick for making her cry.
She smiles shyly. Interesting. And a little concerning. In my experience, shy women don’t typically visit strange bars alone.
“How do you know I haven’t been here before?”
There’s a subtle “back off” tone in her voice which makes me happy. She’s still got some feistiness left in her. Even if she’s full of shit.
“Because we come here regularly and I know I haven’t seen you before now.”
She looks at me, a cute little crinkle in her brow. “You hang out at bars in the middle of the workweek regularly?”
My eyebrows raise just a touch. “That’s a little judgmental, don’t you think?”
