Stone Heart_A Single Mom & Mountain Man Romance

by Rye Hart

  “And yes, we were talking about the shop,” Lindy said.

  “It’s a stupid idea. It’ll never work,” my mother said.

  “We’ve already saved up—.”

  “Lindy. No,” I said, shaking my head.

  “Saved up what?” my mother asked.

  “Nothing,” I said.

  “You’re living in my house and under my roof. You’re supposed to be helping me with bills,” my mother said.

  “And I do. I pay the electric bill, the water bill, and I stock the fridge. Plus, you drink for free. Whatever I do with my money outside of that isn’t your damn business.”

  I pulled another shot glass from beneath the counter and poured her a shot. She threw it back, and I promptly refilled it as Lindy’s eyes grew wide.

  “How much has she had already?” she asked.

  “Not fucking enough,” I said.

  “Okay,” my mother said breathlessly. “Let’s go see if his cock grew a bit.”

  “I don’t think you understand how alcohol works,” I said.

  “How do I look, Emma?” My mother gave me a drunken twirl and landed flat on her ass. She was giggling and hiccupping as a few men began to gather around her. She looked up at them with this disgusting desire in her eyes, and I turned my back so I wouldn’t have to watch. They were ogling over her like she was in some porno, and I wasn’t going to watch my mother paint herself as that type of woman.

  “You okay, Emma?” Lindy asked.

  “Just let me know when she’s gone,” I said.

  I hated it when my mother got this way. I hated it when she told me I would never amount to anything. Mostly, I hated it when I prayed that she would somehow transform to be a good mother when she was sober, only to be disappointed time and time again.

  My mother was going to get herself into trouble one day, and she was going to end up coming to me for help. And now, she had an idea that I was stowing away money somewhere.

  Which meant she was going to go looking for it.

  My only hope was that that I had pumped her with enough alcohol to make her forget all about this conversation.

  “Okay, everything’s good now, I think,” Lindy said.

  “You think?” I asked.

  “I mean, it depends on what ‘good’ is. She’s leaving.”

  “Yep. That’s a good thing.” I turned around and saw my mother hanging off the guy who had his hands on her hips earlier. I had no idea where the younger girl was, and I didn't care. We had bouncers at this bar for a reason so, if something had happened, then they were on the case. All I knew was that I saw my mother—who was two shots away from throwing up her guts—shoving her hands down the pants of a boy who looked barely twenty-one years old.

  “I gotta fucking get out of here,” I said.

  “I can take your shift if you want,” Lindy said.

  “No, no, I don’t just mean tonight. I need to get out of this bar period. Out of my mother’s house. I can’t fucking stand it anymore,” I said.

  “Well, I’ll make my deposit in the morning, and then we can go shopping for a place to put a cash offer. We’ll find a place that has that loft or whatever you’re looking for, then we can start moving you in. It might not have electricity or running water, but it’ll be better than what you’re in now.”

  “You’re damn right it will be,” I said.

  “When’s your next day off?” she asked.

  “I’ve got Sunday and Monday,” I said.

  “Let’s shoot for Monday then? The deposit will have hit, and I can go with you. I don’t think I have Sunday off.”

  “Monday, it is, then.”

  CHAPTER 2

  Another night, another shift at The Skull.

  The bar was one of the most popular in my home town, Lucas Corner, California. It was a small desert town in the southern part of the state, surrounded by motorcycle clubs, which meant there was always some excitement brewing somewhere. The Skull was the only bar in town that didn't have a club designation, and it gave us an edge over our affiliated competition.

  We served all the clubs without bias, and the only rule was that they couldn't start shit while they were in there. The bar’s reputation spread, and our little shithole quickly became a neutral meeting ground whenever issues needed to be resolved. If club members had problems, or if people wanted to cross-pollinate and marry into other clubs, they could meet in the bar, have a drink, be offered unbiased service, and leave with answers.

  And if anyone kicked up any shit, they were tossed out on their asses.

  My boss called me up and asked me if I wanted to have an extra shift, so I told him I would come in and help. The bar was always empty until eleven at night, but sometimes pre-game stragglers came in. These were the people who wanted to get drunk before they went off to their club-affiliated bars scattered throughout Lucas Corner. From eight until eleven, I recognized everyone. It was always the same people asking for the same drinks every single time. The monotony helped me mentally slip into the rest of my shift, which would work me like a dog until four in the morning.

  I was so fucking ready for my two days off.

  But instead of the monotony I was ready for, I had an unexpected little surprise. Three men came in through the doors of the bar. I had no idea who the fuck they were, but it was obvious they were related. They were all tall, with black hair and blue eyes, strong jawlines, and there were bulging muscles underneath their clothes that made my nipples harden.

  Fuck. They were beautiful.

  Their eyes scanned the bar before the three of them locked onto me. They headed toward the bar, and I readied myself for whatever drinks these men wanted. My heart was hammering against my chest as they got closer, and once they sat down, I could smell the fresh scent of their leather.

  Holy hell, it was attractive when a man took care of his leather.

  “Can I help you?” I asked.

  “Wrong question.”

  The tallest one with the iciest blue eyes locked his gaze on me. His voice was deep, like distant rolling thunder. He sat with his back leaned against the chair and his shoulders upright with confidence. His chest was puffed out, pressing his chiseled muscles against his tight white shirt.

  I felt myself growing weak in the knees just looking at him.

  “Then what’s the right one?” I asked.

  “What can we do to help you?”

  One of the other men with the mesmerizing blue eyes had my attention now. His shirt was cut a little deeper down his chest, revealing the top of a tattoo. He was slightly thinner than the other two, but his forearms boasted of strength. Pulsing veins so hot that I wanted to rake my tongue across the tattooed rose on his skin. His voice was commanding, but lighter than the man who had previously spoken.

  “Help me?” I asked. “What do you mean? I’m pretty sure I’m the one that’s supposed to be serving you drinks.”

  “Doesn’t mean you don’t need help.”

  The third one that had been quiet up until this point had spoken, and his voice was rough. Edgy. Pulled tight like he was stressed. He looked wound up like something had pissed him off.

  I could think of a few ways to help him unwind if that was the issue.

  “There’s not anything that needs to be done,” I said. “You guys thirsty? The bar’s officially open.”

  “Looks like you still have chairs to put down.”

  My eyes connected with the stressed-looking one as I set my hands on the bar.

  “You got a name?” I asked.

  “Depends. Do you?”

  “I do.”

  “Ladies first.”

  “Emma.”

  “Adam,” he said.

  “Excuse our brother. He’s a bit high strung.”

  I looked back over to the one with the icy blue eyes. His eyes were much lighter than the rest, and his temples were dusted with salt and pepper.

  My guess was that he was the oldest.

  “I’m Jacob, and the o
ther one down there’s Nick.”

  “Hello,” Nick said.

  “And what my asshole brother’s trying to get across is that it does look like you still need help. No one’s in the bar yet, so we figured we could be of service,” Jacob said.

  “So, you peeked into a bar and decided to help instead of drink,” I said.

  “We’ll be drinking, don’t worry,” Adam said.

  “Good. Because you look like you could use it.” I saw a shadow of a grin tug Adam’s lips and it drew my gaze down to his mouth. His lips looked soft. I wanted to lean over and kiss them, press my body against his strength and feel his hands on my ass.

  I pulled myself from my trance before I drew in a deep breath.

  “The chairs do need to come down, and I have to get some glasses from the back,” I said.

  “We got the chairs,” Nick said. “You go get those glasses.”

  “Need help with them?” Jacob asked.

  That was so fucking hot. Ballsy, but hot.

  “Nope. I got it,” I said.

  What were the chances of three smoking hot men in beautiful leather cuts strolling into the bar and asking if they could help? They were all chiseled with muscles I wanted to feel against my body. They all had kissable lips that I wanted to feel wrapped around my nipples. As I gathered the glasses from the kitchen, my mind fluttered to unspeakable places. Places where my body was spread out on a table for them to devour; where I was riding one brother while sucking another off. Places where I had the three of them at my disposal, in my own place, and at my own time, at my every whim.

  Shit, I’m in trouble if they stay around here all damn night.

  I stacked the glasses while the three of them put all the chairs down. I threw a rag to Nick so he could start wiping down the seats as Jacob went back to get more glasses.

  Did I die and go to heaven?

  Adam sat at the bar and helped me dry off shot glasses, and I could feel his eyes heavy on my body.

  “You work often?” he asked.

  “As often as I can,” I said.

  “I like a hard-working woman,” Adam said.

  “You’re shit at flirting, Adam,” Nick said. “Let me show you how it’s done.”

  “Oh, and you think you can do better?” I asked.

  “I can. And you want to know why?” Nick asked.

  “Why?” I asked.

  “Because even if I couldn’t, you’d be worth the effort.”

  “That was pretty good, I’ll give it to you,” I said with a wink.

  “Nice ass,” Jacob said as he came out with more glasses.

  “That all you got?” I asked.

  “Nice tits, too,” Jacob said, grinning.

  “Ass and tits. That’s all men ever want,” I said, sighing.

  “Not all men,” Nick said.

  His words halted me in my tracks as my eyes panned over to him.

  “Oh, really? And what is it you want?” I asked.

  I could feel their eyes on me as Nick drew in a breath. But before he could answer me, my boss, Booker, came strolling through the front door and ruined my fucking moment.

  “The crowd’s about to settle in, Emma. You ready?” he asked.

  “Yeah, boss. I’m good,” I said.

  “You’ll be the only bartender until midnight, so try to keep up your energy. You eat yet?”

  “Nope. You rolled me off the cot, remember?” I asked.

  “Doesn’t sound very nice,” Nick said, mumbling.

  “Here. Eat a protein bar.” My boss tossed me a piece of chalk, and I laughed. It was a literal piece of chalk. Booker was an asshole, but he was an entertaining asshole.

  “What? Don’t like the protein bars I leave you on your desk?” I asked.

  “No, now stop doing it. I like my chicken wings.”

  “But your heart doesn’t,” I said.

  “And she gives a shit. That’s nice,” Jacob said.

  I looked at the three peculiar brothers and shook my head. What were they buttering me up for?

  “I can hear the hordes of regulars about to descend. You three want anything? Because if you do, get your order in now,” I said.

  “How much does a shot of you cost?” Jacob said.

  “Okay, okay. You’ve proved your point. You can stop flirting,” I said. “It’s painful.”

  “What if we don’t want to?” I stared into Adam’s ocean blue eyes and found nothing but sincerity in them. His voice was harsh, but his words were softening quickly. People started shoving through the front doors, sitting in chairs and calling out their orders. I slid out from behind the bar and ran around to them, writing shit down on my arm before I got to work.

  And the entire time, the three brothers sat at the bar and talked to me.

  “You sure you guys don’t want anything?” I asked.

  “Beers would be great,” Nick said.

  “Three beers coming up,” I said.

  I popped open three beers and handed them out before I leaned against the bar. The fucking waitress was late, as always, and I was prepared to take every damn tip from every table I’d already served. She knew the drill. She only got paid for tables she worked. The more tables I worked meant more of a headache for me, but it also meant more money.

  And I could fucking use all I could get.

  The brothers sat there all night, talking and staring. Their company was nice, but I had no idea what the hell their plan was. They came in here, helped me with shit, then sat there nursing two, maybe three beers all damn night while making casual conversation with me.

  Thankfully, my mother stayed the fuck away that night. If she hadn’t, she’d be all over these men in a fucking heartbeat. The embarrassment would have been too much. They made me laugh and kept me going until the bar finally started to wind down around three, then they took their leave so I could clean up and close down.

  As I was heading to my car, I got a notification from my bank on my phone. An updated statement on my joint savings account with Lindy. I opened the attachment and jumped up and down in the parking lot like a mad women, when I saw that Lindy’s deposit had already hit.

  After two years of working ourselves half to death and saving every single penny we made, we had all the money we needed to finally find our store.

  Shit was finally heading the right direction.

  CHAPTER 3

  “Did you know Booker started closing the bar on Sundays and Mondays?”

  “Lindy, I haven’t had coffee yet. I can barely hold this damn cell phone up against my ear,” I said, groaning.

  “When did he start doing that?” Lindy asked.

  “Uh, it’s been a few weeks. Why?” I asked.

  “How the hell did I not know this?” she asked.

  “I honestly don’t know.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me the bar was closed when I told you I thought I worked today?”

  “Because we were swamped, and my mother was acting like a drunk maniac.”

  “Your mother is a drunk maniac.”

  “Yes. We’re now closed Sundays and Mondays. Though I think Booker rents out the place sometimes Sunday nights. Maybe that’s why you thought you were working?” I asked.

  “Maybe. I don’t fucking know. All I know is the bar’s closed and I don’t have shit to do. Want to get lunch?” she asked.

  “What time is it?”

  “Two.”

  “In the afternoon?” I asked.

  “It’s light outside, so I’m assuming so.”

  “I can hear that fucking smirk,” I said.

  “I love you when you haven’t had coffee. I’ll come over with some. Then you can ride with me.”

  “Sounds like a plan.” I rolled myself out of bed and dragged my body into the shower. I still smelled like stale cigarettes and expired whiskey. For the first time in two years, I had money to spare for a lunch with Lindy, and I was ready to talk shop with her. We could start going through listings of places we could buy to st
art the clothing store. We had one hundred and thirty thousand dollars to work with for expenses. If we played our cards right, we could put a down payment on a place, get a loan for the rest, then purchase our first three rounds of clothes out of our pockets.

  I was ready to make it happen.

  “Coffee,” Lindy said.

  “Holy shit! How the fuck did you get in here?” I said, startled.

  I wrapped my towel around my body as my mother’s snores trickled into the room.

  “She didn’t even go anywhere last night. Did she?” Lindy asked.

  “You didn’t answer my question,” I said.

  “Everyone knows where your mother keeps her spare key.”

  “Wonderful,” I said. “I can’t even get privacy here.”

  “All the more reason to talk about the buildings I’ve found for us to buy.”

  “Wait, you what?” I asked.

  “The alert on the bank account came through yesterday, and I was too excited to go to sleep. I’ve already been looking up some places. Most of them are scattered on the outskirts of town, but a couple of them are in town. I can’t wait for you to see them.”

  “They’re all online, right? Because I’m starving,” I said.

  “Of course. Girl, I got you. Come on. Get dressed so we can go get food.”

  I pulled on some jeans and threw on a tank top before I grabbed my leather jacket. Though it was January, southern California never got too cold. My leather would keep me warm. I took my coffee from Lindy's hand and started to chug as we walked out to her car. I thought about locking the door, pausing as Lindy's comment dawned on me. If everyone knew where the spare key was to our house because of my mother's hookups and drunken tirades, it made no sense to lock the house anyway.

  So, I left it unlocked, and we headed to lunch.

  The two of us stayed silent as we drank our coffees. That was the rule. When we needed coffee, there was no talking until coffee was finished. We traveled through town and passed by the bar, flipping it off as we went by. I could already feel the freedom whipping through my hair. I was within inches of being able to quit that dingy place and start my own business. I became more excited as the luxurious caffeine made its way through my veins and, as we pulled up to the diner, I was ready to talk.