Like I said, I was an ass.
Maybe I still am.
That’s what I’m told, anyway.
Danielle’s kid sister, Robin, may not know all the details of this fucked up backstory, but I’m sure she knows enough to steer clear of me. And I should leave well enough alone.
“Good to know,” I mumble as Rusty places the full ice-cold pitcher of what’s on tap in front of me. Reaching into my pocket, I pull out my wallet for a few bills. “There should be enough here to get your stage acts any drink they want…although, she may not be old enough.”
He nods. “I’ll put it in their tip jars and they can figure out what to do with the cash. And by the way, she’s legal,” he confirms with a grin. “You should know that I make it my business to never hire jailbait, not even for stage gigs.”
I walk back to my friends at our table, and take my seat, ignoring the slim, blonde, overly flirtatious waitress named Sally, who has been campaigning hard for a second date with me for months. She balances her tray in her right hand and rests her left hand on my shoulder.
“Hi Reid,” she says, leaning down toward me and leaving nothing to my imagination as she shows off her full cleavage.
A glance in my friends’ direction tells me they’re happy to take in the free show of Sally’s ample tits.
“Hey Sally. How’s it going?”
“Good, but it could be a lot better if we go out again,” she purrs, tracing a line from my shoulder down to my forearm.
“I’d bet.”
“So, is that a ‘yes’, honey?”
It’s not a ‘yes’. It’s a ‘hell no’. I don’t do second dates. The thing is, I like Rusty, and this saloon, so I need to let her down gently. Fighting back the urge to groan, I give her a weak smile. “Things are pretty busy with work. How about I let you know?”
Sally pouts at me and starts to bat her eyelashes, like it would make a difference. Thankfully, a customer waves at her from a few tables away. “Looking forward to it,” she tells me as she leaves.
Perfect timing.
Robin Sparrow is about to start another set on stage.
As she raises her microphone to her lips, she’s staring right at me and looks mad as hell.
I guess I’ve been made.
2
Reid
I can’t help myself.
Robin begins to sing, and all I can think about is how much envy I have for her handheld mic. The way her tiny hands grip tightly around the sleek length of the handle, and how her fuckable lips come so close to and sometimes brush lightly against the mesh metal ball head grill.
If only I could be so lucky.
It’s wishful thinking, though. If Robin knows anything about what happened with her sister, and I’m pretty damned positive that she does, there is no way in hell that she’ll give me the time of day. I have no business looking at her, let alone wanting her.
Too late.
I look.
I want.
The only two questions now are, does she know or care about ancient history, and am I setting myself up for a world of hurt or worse? I stop myself from this messed up line of thinking and relax into my chair seat to enjoy the song she’s already halfway through.
The song.
The singer.
The two, together, have me and everyone else in the room captivated. My mind seems to toggle back and forth between her roughly five-foot-five form. I begin to picture my hands resting on the spot just a bit higher than the flare of her hips, then running up her back, and reaching forward to cup the swell of her breasts before continuing up to the nape of her neck. My fingertips are almost burning, wanting to anchor into her silky hair as I gaze into her blue eyes, and close the space between us as I cover that mouth with mine. I can probably fantasize for hours about the things that mouth would do to me, but I’d prefer the real thing.
I make my decision there and then.
Fuck staying safe.
She’s worth the risk.
When Robin finishes this current set of songs, I’m going to find out what she knows and whether she’s game for drinks or more with yours truly.
Except she beats me to it while the audience is applauding.
I’m taking the last few gulps of my drink when she puts her mic on the bar stool that’s center stage, straightens her shoulders, and sashays right up to me. She rests her arm on the back of my chair, gives a slight nod to the guys at my table, and leans down to look me right in the eye.
“Well, if it isn’t Reid Atkinson,” she hummed.
“Hi,” I greet her without acknowledging her name. “That was a great performance. You have an incredible voice.”
“Thanks. You know, I thought my mind was playing tricks on me, but there you are, soldier. How on God’s green earth are you?”
Her face is inches from mine, and there’s nothing but sultry sweetness in her eyes. Is that real, or is he putting on a show?
I smile. “I’m great. Looks like you’re all grown up.”
“I sure am. How long have you been back in town? Or is this a temporary layover before your next tour with the military?”
“This is pretty permanent. I got back to Vegas over a year ago.”
“Oh, that’s interesting. I haven’t seen you in the old neighborhood.”
I nod. “That’s because I live about fifteen miles west of our part of town.”
“Very good. And work? No more army stuff?”
“No.” I motion over at my buddies. “We’re in private security these days. Our office is west of here too.”
Nodding, she pats my shoulder with authority and confidence, and then, she straightens up to full height. “That’s just great. I’m sure glad I bumped into you here, Reid. Do you want to know why?”
“Sure. Tell me.”
That’s when the sugary sweetness disappears from her face, only to be replaced by contempt that’s strong enough to poison an ox.
“It just saves Danielle the trouble of finding out you brought your sorry ass back to town. You remember Danielle, don’t you? Blonde, wavy hair, light brown eyes, about my height, and you left her high and dry without so much as a Dear Jane letter?”
She pauses as though she’s waiting for me to respond, but I’m not one to challenge the well-masked fury of a woman scorned.
Or her sister, in this case.
Robin cocks her head to one side, and she adds, “Do me one favor, Reid. Stay the hell away from my sister. Matter of fact, stay away from my family. Got it?”
She doesn’t wait for me to answer. Robin pivots on the heels of her cowboy boots, whipping her waist-length red tresses around, and heads off in the direction of the restrooms.
“Well, shit,” Jared says, with a gurgly chuckle that’s annoying as hell. He slaps me on the back. “I guess your little songbird already had a taste of your track record, once removed. And my guess is she don’t want seconds.”
Robin’s little order makes me curious. There has to be more to explain her anger. I left for basic training over nine years ago, yet the way she spoke sounds like it was just yesterday that it all happened. She is way too angry about this. Something doesn’t add up, and now I have to get the missing puzzle pieces that will give me the whole picture.
Deciding to make at least one attempt at getting some answers from the convenient but wrathfully sexy source, I follow her past the bar and around the corner of a narrow hallway to wait outside the ladies’ room.
Robin steps out after a few minutes. The second she lays eyes on me, she presses her lips together into a disapproving scowl, scrunches up her nose, and folds her arms under her breasts.
“Oh. You again. Do you have a hearing problem, or did you not get me when I told you to keep your distance from my family?”
I lean my back against one wall of the corridor, and mirror her stance by folding my arms. “I heard you, all right. I’m just trying to understand a few things.”
She huffs out such a long breath that the s
tray strands of hair hanging over her eyes and beside her temples fly up for a moment, and then come back to rest around her heart-shaped face. Her eyes slowly blaze a trail from the center of my chest—which is eye-level for her—right up to my hair, then back down again, stopping briefly at my groin before resuming her inspection all the way down to the tips of my handcrafted Anderson Bean cowboy boots.
“There’s nothing for you to understand, except to stay the hell away,” she finally says in a cold, clipped tone.
“Well, I’m curious about a few things.”
“Forgive me for looking like I was put on this planet to satisfy your every whim,” she deadpans. Except, the last four words of her statement comes out slowly, in a breathy murmur that has me certain I’m having an effect on her.
If that’s the case, there’s only one solution.
Concentrate the impact to emotionally throw her off balance.
Maybe then, I’ll get some answers.
Taking a step toward her, I return her earlier favor and rest my hand on her shoulder. It’s no surprise to me. Her breath catches, her pupils dilate, her chest rises and falls like she can’t get enough air into her lungs, and her heart rate is off the charts. Her reaction confirms that some of this energy between us is simply of a physical nature. She’s attracted to me. I have a reaction too. It’s the electrifying sensation at my fingertips where I made contact with her bare skin—and the other response that starts to take effect in my groin area.
“Fine,” I tell her. “Let me explain. First of all, I didn’t recognize you until Rusty told me who you were. You were just a little kid when I left town, yet you seem to know me well enough to recognize my face in this crowd. Care to share how you knew it was me?”
“You dated my sister all through high school, Reid. And you lived one block from our house.”
“That was nine years ago,” I counter. “I hardly look like I did back then.”
“Who needs to memorize your face when all anyone has to do is take note of that massive air of arrogance you carry around?” She rolls her eyes but does not move out of my hold. Maybe she likes me touching her more than she thinks. In fact, her body language completely contradicts her speech. “What else? And make it quick. I’ve got one more set to finish, then my guitar player partner and I have to be somewhere.”
“Another gig?”
“That’s none of your concern. Oh, and darn, I’m out of time now, so let’s save the third-degree for…well, never. No one in my family owes you anything. Have a nice life, Reid.”
Again, her words don’t jibe with her body. Robin says goodbye, but she doesn’t move an inch.
I leverage her apparent paralysis by continuing. “Not so fast. I can’t help but notice that you’re more bitter than a recently pissed off rattlesnake, which makes no sense at all to me. The stuff that happened between your sister and me took place almost a decade ago. What’s with the fresh hatred?”
Something I said makes her left eye twitch and her bottom lip trembles as though she’ll cry any second now.
“You’re such a jerk!” she hisses.
This time, she shoves my hand off of her shoulder and pushes past me. I’m not one to resort to harassment, so I let her storm off towards the stage. Robin demonstrates that she is a professional. Her face transforms back to that sweet and cheerful expression she wore at the start of her performance. Good for her. I take my time to get back to the guys. They’re more focused on the women standing around flirting with them than on Robin or me. She whispers something in the ear of the guitar player. He nods, not looking up as he retightens a string on his Gibson acoustic guitar.
That’s when she picks up the microphone and announces she’s about to deliver a song dedicated to her sister.
This can’t be good.
3
Robin
It takes every ounce of my self-control not to get the hell out of Whiskey Jacks Saloon. I should never have been so stupid, going up to Reid like that in the first place. What I should have done was finish that song, drink a glass of water to calm myself down, and get ready for this last set.
But I’ve never been too good with impulse control.
Case in point.
I inform Barclay, my guitarist and best friend, that we’re going to perform a song that Danielle and I wrote a few years ago, and instruct him to follow along with a basic chord. Barclay and I have been singing and writing country western songs for years, so he’s used to me switching up our sets. He knows the song too, but maybe he doesn’t realize that the song will be directed to Reid.
Barclay nods, and his shoulder-length brown hair swings forward. He doesn’t even ask me why as he plays with his neatly trimmed goatee. I look over at him after announcing to the audience that I’m dedicating the song to my sister. He doesn’t suggest I may be taking a risk by singing something this emotionally charged. Okay, it’s an angry, sad country ballad. This would be the ideal time for someone to talk me off a ledge. I wish he didn’t trust me so much.
Taking a seat on the backless bar stool set up behind the microphone stand, I take a breath, avoid making eye contact with Reid at all costs, and I sing.
* * *
Are you ever gonna tell me why,
You upped and left without a damned goodbye,
What did I ever do to make you leave here,
You took my heart away with you, dear.
* * *
I was crying in my bed,
Because of words you never said,
Bye Bye Hero,
Why Why Hero.
* * *
So many nights I could not sleep,
Too bad my soul was yours to keep,
Can’t seem to get over you yet,
Tell me, do you have some regret?
* * *
I was crying in my bed,
Because of words you never said,
Bye Bye Hero,
Why Why Hero.
* * *
Just don’t come back expecting sunshine,
Matter of fact, just don’t come around,
I’ll stick to family, friends and wine,
To make up for the loss I found.
* * *
You’re someone else’s hero now,
They must all be so damn proud,
A part of me just ain’t too sad,
One day you’ll see what we had.
Bye Bye Hero,
Bye Bye Hero.
* * *
By the time I finish the first verse, I realize singing this particular song is a big mistake. I get to the bridge and a few hot tears blur my vision, refusing to be blinked back. What Reid did to my sister had a profound effect on us all. He walked out of her life, and we were left to handle the repercussions. A tear runs down my cheek as I let out the last line. I’m a wreck, and I can only be grateful that Barclay and I have been performing gigs on tiny stages like these for so long that not even the waterworks affect my voice.
Crowds like this just love sad old country songs that hit them in the gut, which is why most everyone gets out of their seats for this closing round of applause. Clasping my hands together over the mic, I nod and thank them for listening. Patrons from a several tables come up to the front to congratulate us personally and put cash into the stage tip jar. I’m also thanking the stars that Barclay added a long enough guitar solo to my song, so we can wrap it up as the last song of our gig this evening.
We settle up with Rusty for our pay and split the tips.
“You were awesome tonight,” Barclay tells me as he packs up his gear.
“Thanks. You were too. I liked those chords you ran with for the last song.”
“Hey, while you were in the restroom just now, Rusty came by with some good news.”
“Please tell me he invited us back.”
He nods, smiling with pride. “He sure did! Three nights a week, starting tomorrow.”
“That’s great! Going by the tips we got tonight, I’d say we could be making a
few hundred bucks a gig here. Lord knows I can use the money.”
“You and me both.” He looks at his watch. “We’d better get going. We have twenty-five or so minutes to get over to Stars and Spokes Bar.”
“Let’s go,” I say. We can’t leave here soon enough. It means I don’t have to see or speak to Reid for the rest of the night.
But it seems that he hasn’t gotten the memo.
“Robin,” Reid says from a few feet behind me as I follow Barclay to the front entrance.
Ignoring him, I keep walking. I don’t want to look at him right now, simply because I have no idea if I can control my runaway mouth. I may spill a secret that’s not mine to share.
Reid catches up with me outside the front door. He grabs my elbow lightly. “Will you just tell me what the hell is going on?” he shouts in a voice that commands my attention.
Barclay whips around from his spot in the middle of the parking lot. He sees Reid’s hand on me and returns to my side, taking a protective stance a few inches ahead of me to serve as a buffer between Reid and me. Already, this is not going well. He gives Reid a genuinely dangerous stare-down, a familiar expression I’ve seen on his face a few times before. Barclay and I are just friends, but he wouldn’t bat an eyelash put himself in harm’s way to fight for me.
“Robin, is this guy bothering you?” Barclay asks, lifting his Gibson off of his left shoulder to prepare for a potential fistfight.
“It’s okay,” I answer, turning to look up at my sister’s ex. “My…friend was just leaving…weren’t you, Reid? Because I know for sure you don’t want any trouble.”
Reid releases my arm and steps back. “You’re right. I don’t, but I also prefer not to show up at your parents’ house to find out how to get in contact with Danielle so she can tell me what’s going on.”
Shit.
He’s got a point there.
His Ex’s Little Sister: Insta-Love on the Run, #1 Page 2
