by Toni Blake
“Another round?”
Mike looked up to the bartender at the Dew Drop Inn, Anita Garey, a saucy forty-something woman who he’d quickly grown to like and respect since her arrival in Destiny more than a year ago. Usually, Mike and Logan headed to Crestview, the next town over, on a Saturday night, but the Dew Drop had gotten a lot nicer since Anita bought the place.
“Sure,” Mike said, and she uncapped three bottles of beer—one for him, one for Logan, and one for the brunette hanging on Mike’s shoulder. It was just like he’d been thinking earlier—he’d bought her a beer and now she wouldn’t leave him alone.
Not that he knew why he was so glum about that—she was an attractive girl, even if a little giggly for his taste. And she wasn’t shy, and that usually worked out fine for the kind of hookup he preferred—quick, easy, no muss, no fuss.
But he still hadn’t managed to get over his bad mood from earlier, which went a lot deeper than a reckless driver in a potentially stolen Mustang. Like so many nights, thoughts of Anna—and questions without answers—lingered on the edge of his mind.
He knew he should let go of it, knew he should have let it go years ago—but he just didn’t know how you let go of something that awful. And every so often, some little thing set him off, took his thoughts in that horrible direction, and he wasn’t able to shake it for a while. Today, it had been a guy in a Mustang.
“To an adventurous night ahead,” the brunette said, and Mike realized she was toasting. So he clinked the neck of his bottle against hers, then turned to do the same with Logan, who sat on the other side of him at the bar—only to see Logan raise his eyebrows knowingly. Mike could easily read his look. The Italian Stallion strikes again.
“So, Tracy,” Logan leaned around him to ask, “you live around here?”
Hmm, she must have said her name was Tracy—Mike had missed that. And he guessed Logan was doing the social part for him since he wasn’t making much effort.
“Over in Crestview,” she said, giggling—at what, he had no idea. “I manage the Full Exposure Tanning Salon, next door to Bleachers—I think I’ve seen you guys there.”
Well, that explained a couple of things. Like why she was unnaturally tan, and why she looked a little familiar. Bleachers was a sports bar they frequented.
“Yeah, Mike and I get over there pretty often, especially once football season rolls around. Don’t we, Mike?”
Feeling Logan’s pointed stare, he drew his gaze absently from his beer bottle upward, to the girl. “Um, yeah.”
Then he heard Logan’s sigh. “You’ll have to excuse him. He had a rough day on the job.”
“Oooh, did you catch some dangerous criminal?” the brunette asked.
And that’s when it hit him—girls liked him because he was a cop. Even in a tiny little town like Destiny. Why had it taken so long to figure that out? Well, maybe because he didn’t exactly see himself as the hero type. “Uh, no—nothing like that,” he answered.
“What then?” Tracy asked.
And now it was his turn to sigh. He didn’t want to be rude, but…“I’d rather not talk about it. In fact, it would probably only make my mood worse.”
“Well, we wouldn’t want to do that,” she said, giggling some more. “What do you want to talk about?”
In response, he just looked to Logan—since his buddy seemed a lot more into this conversation than he was anyway.
And Logan let loose the grin that chicks always went gaga over and said, “Why don’t you tell us…all about tanning. Everything there is to know.”
Mike shot him a sideways glance, knowing full well this was Logan’s way of torturing him and trying to make him laugh at the same time. And Tracy merrily launched into a long, painfully detailed lecture about tanning beds and settings and various skin types, giggling all the way. It wasn’t long before Mike wanted to gouge his eardrums out—but instead, he just took a long swig from his bottle, hoping to feel a little more amused by it all. Damn, why’d he buy the girl a beer in the first place? He hardly even knew—habit, maybe—but now he just plain regretted it.
After all, it was pretty bad when your wingman had to take over for you. But that’s how it was with him and Logan. They had each other’s backs, always, without ever even discussing it. Logan had been there when all the bad shit had happened, back when Mike had been only twelve, Logan ten. That was probably why Logan tolerated him. And it was why Mike would put his life on the line for Logan in a heartbeat.
“So if you guys ever want a tanning package, I could get you a discount,” he heard the girl still glued to his shoulder saying. He vaguely wished he could have his arm back so he could reach for some peanuts without having to set down his beer. “Although, you,” she went on, mooning at Mike, “have such gorgeous coloring that you’d never need a tan. Are you Italian or something?”
He looked up. “Uh, yeah—half anyway.”
“But I, on the other hand, am a dog?” Logan asked, teasing, flirting.
“No, silly, you’re a total hottie, too. And you’ve got a nice tan going already. But the bed would even you up around the edges, you know? Hey, do you guys have any change? I want to play something on the jukebox.”
Since Logan started digging in his pockets for quarters, Mike let him. And when his buddy had supplied the girl with coins and she went gliding across the floor to select a song, Logan said, “How about her?”
Mike barely glanced up, more interested in peanuts than Tracy now that his arm was free. “How about her?” he asked absently.
“For your grandma’s party?”
Mike turned to Logan with a look of disbelief. “Are you kidding? No way in hell.” Because Mike’s family had recently started giving him a hard time about being thirty-five and unmarried, and because Mike’s parents were coming to town soon for his grandmother’s birthday party, Logan had suggested Mike bring a date to shut them all up and at least make it appear he was trying to remedy the situation. Even though he wasn’t. Because in his mind, there was no situation to remedy. He’d told Logan he had no intention of giving anybody the idea he was even thinking about marriage—since he just didn’t see that in the cards for himself—but every time he was around a girl lately, Logan brought it up anyway.
Now, Logan just shrugged. “Look at it this way. They meet her and they might prefer you stay a bachelor.”
Mike couldn’t deny the idea held some merit. But not enough for him to torture himself with a whole party’s worth of tanning talk. “I’ll take my chances alone, thanks. And I’ll thank you to butt out.”
That’s when Tracy returned, latching back onto Mike’s arm. So much for the damn peanuts.
Just then, the door opened across the room and Mike glanced up to see three women walk in—and one of them was Rachel Farris. He had no idea what made him look—there were plenty of patrons coming and going every few minutes; people shot pool at the tables in the corner, and music and talk filled the bar. But something drew his attention, and when he saw her, every muscle in his body tightened. Including the one between his legs.
Damn, she knew how to make a simple pair of blue jeans look good. And the rest of her was easy to look at, as well. As usual, she appeared city-chic and confident, and the hot pink top she wore hugged her breasts and brought out the blue in her eyes. Shit, something about this woman messed with his radar like a fuzzbuster—despite all his resolve, she had a way of getting past his defenses merely on sight.
That’s when he realized he was staring at her.
And that she was staring back.
And that there was a girl attached to his side.
Did Farris look annoyed by that? Maybe.
Not that it mattered. He still had no intention of hooking up with someone like her. And if he was staring, well, could be he’d finally started feeling his beer.
So he drew his eyes back down, pushed the bottle away since he was driving, and decided maybe the tanning bed queen wasn’t so bad. God knew she was a lot friendlier than
Rachel Farris, and there was a lot to be said for friendly when a man was getting a hard-on.
“I’m gonna go find the little girls’ room,” his babe-for-the-night said.
He nodded absently, then watched as Rachel Farris and her friends—the same from the bookstore, Amy and Tessa—took a table near the jukebox.
Logan gave him a nudge. “Dude, not that I want to criticize your technique, but it’s bad form to undress a woman with your eyes when there’s already another woman hanging on your shoulder.”
Hell, he was looking at her again—so he turned around to face the bar. “The last thing I was doing is undressing Rachel Farris with my eyes,” he lied.
Logan raised his eyebrows. “Oh, that’s Rachel? Amy mentioned she was coming home for a while. Damn, she grew up nice.”
“Nice to look at, maybe—that’s about it.”
Logan tilted his dark blond head accusingly. “What’s wrong with her—did she speed or something?”
Yep, Logan knew him too well. “Sixty-five in a forty-five,” he replied, tipping his bottle for another drink.
And Logan just chuckled. “Shit, bud—doesn’t take much to get on your bad side.”
“She’s got a smart mouth, too, and she’s reckless as hell—and as far as I can tell, she thinks she’s too good for this town and everybody in it.” With that, he set his beer aside again, remembering he hadn’t meant to drink any more. “I don’t think much of her.”
“Except that she’s nice to look at. And you were so undressing her with your eyes. Practically having sex with her on the bar.”
Mike drew back and flashed a doubtful expression. “With a Farris? Not likely.”
Logan just let out another light laugh, lifting his beer to his mouth.
And Mike looked at her again.
He didn’t mean to.
But once his eyes went there, it was hard to pull them away.
What devil art thou, that dost torment me thus?
William Shakespeare, Romeo & Juliet
Three
Rachel tried like hell to focus on her conversation with Tessa and Amy, especially since she was the one talking, but Officer Romeo was ogling her. More specifically, he was making the juncture of her thighs tingle with his gaze.
So she just kept talking, trying to distract herself from the sensation, and from those eyes. “Anyway, then I handed Edna her cane and she got this happy look on her face and said how nice it was to have me here. And the truth is, as worried as I am about my job, in that moment, making Edna happy kind of…made it all worthwhile.”
“See,” Amy said, smiling. “Being in Destiny isn’t so bad.”
Whereas Tessa just slanted Rachel a look of disbelief. “And ya think ya know somebody.”
“I can be nice,” Rachel insisted. Then she gave her head a playful tilt, realizing she kind of dug having Mike Romo’s eyes on her—in a way she felt at her very core, like it or not. She found herself wanting to look gorgeous and like she was having a fabulous time.
“Yes, but not usually when you’re being duped,” Tessa pointed out, drawing Rachel’s thoughts back to Edna.
“True,” Rachel agreed. “But there’s a part of me that’s starting to wonder…if maybe Edna’s actually telling the truth. Maybe her knees really do hurt.”
“Why do you think that?” Tessa asked, looking surprised.
And Rachel hesitated, weighing it. “I’m not sure. It’s just…something in her eyes.” Even if she was loathe to admit that—since it might just mean she was the only Farris gullible enough to believe Edna’s tall tales, and Rachel liked to think she was far too sharp for something like that. Besides, maybe she was wrong—maybe Edna just had her feeling sentimental or something. So she changed the subject. “Um, where’s Sue Ann? You said she’d be here.”
Amy let out a sigh. “Sophie got sick.”
“Bummer,” Rachel said. Sue Ann was another old friend, one she hadn’t seen since high school. But she knew from having other mom friends that a sick kid trumped a night out.
“Jenny and Mick might stop by, though,” Tessa added.
According to Tessa and Amy, another girlfriend from their youth had come home last year and ended up marrying one of the baddest bad boys the town had ever known, Mick Brody. “I still can’t get over that—Jenny with a Brody.” Jenny had been a fellow cheerleader for the Destiny Bulldogs and the ultimate good girl, never letting Rachel lead her into trouble no matter how hard she’d tried.
“Sometimes opposites attract,” Amy said.
Then Tessa leaned closer, lowering her voice. “And from what Sue Ann lets slip, Jenny says the sex is amazing.”
Rachel popped a peanut in her mouth from the bowl on the table just as their drinks arrived. “Sue Ann’s still got a big mouth, huh? Well, tell me this—how does Mick Brody look? Because…I never said anything, but in high school I secretly thought he was hot.”
Both her friends erupted into loud laughter and Rachel wasn’t sure why, until Amy said, “Us, too! And Jenny and Sue Ann, too!”
“And he still is,” Tessa assured her.
“So, what’s her dad think about all this?” Jenny was Police Chief Tolliver’s only child and he’d always been over-protective.
“Well, in the beginning,” Amy said, reaching for her amaretto sour, “there was lots of sneaking around and secret-keeping. But it eventually worked out—because Chief Tolliver couldn’t be too judgmental of Mick after he started dating Anita Garey.”
“Who’s Anita Garey?”
Tessa answered over her glass of white wine. “The woman behind the bar talking to Mike Romo.”
“Whoa,” Rachel said when she looked. The lady bar-keep was built and not afraid to show it, wearing a sparkly, low-cut top. “Edna was right—times do change.”
Of course, her glance toward the bar had also informed her Officer Romeo was still staring at her. And despite herself, she was glad she’d bothered to change clothes before coming out—she wore a silky, slinky top that showed off her shape nicely, too. She only hoped he didn’t think she’d been looking at him, since she hadn’t.
“So,” she said, focusing squarely on her friends—and not on the hot cop, “you never told me what happened to Mike Romo. His tragic past and all that.”
As Rachel took the first sip of her margarita, Amy looked aghast. “Well, I’m not going to do it here, with him right across the room. I wouldn’t want anyone hearing and telling him we’re gossiping about him. It’s just bad form.”
“Yes,” Tessa said, “it’s much nicer when we gossip about him behind his back.”
Amy made a face, and despite herself, Rachel supposed she was right—even as she continued to tingle under the table.
And that tingling was beginning to become a concern—at the moment, a bigger concern than whatever had happened in Mike Romo’s past. Because a reaction to a guy’s attention was one thing, but this particular sensation was on the verge of becoming…nagging. Sheesh.
Stop it, stop it, stop it. You cannot keep having the hots for a mean, nasty Romo.
Then, as Amy chatted about how she and Logan were working the concession stand at some ballgame next Wednesday night, Rachel ventured a subtle look back across the room at Officer Romeo, and thought—Oh, hell. Who am I kidding? I seriously have the hots for a mean, nasty Romo.
But she’d just have to keep trying to ignore it, that was all.
And how does a girl ignore her lust for a guy? Find another one to lust for! It seemed the perfect solution—and suddenly spurred her to announce, “I just thought of a bright spot if I get fired!”
“You can stay in Destiny?” Amy suggested.
Rachel scowled. “Bite your tongue. I love you girls, but small town life is not for me.” Then she perked up again. “No, the bright spot is that there’s always been a mild flirtation between me and my very debonair boss, Chase Alexander, and if I’m no longer employed by him, we can finally explore that. And frankly, I could use some good sex right
about now.”
At which Tessa laughed and Amy pursed her lips. “Rachel,” she scolded.
And Tessa said, “Ignore her. All that Jane Austen has brainwashed her into thinking women must remain prim and proper at all times.” All their lives, Amy had been a huge Jane Austen devotee.
“Well, thank God this is the twenty-first century,” Rachel muttered, “since I’ve never been very good at prim and proper.” And if you knew what I was feeling right now, because of Mike Romo’s eyes, you’d know just how prim and proper I’m not.
Just then, the chick who’d been hanging on Romo came back and resumed the same position—which kind of brought Rachel down. She’d thought Yuck and good riddance when she’d first seen them together, but when the girl had disappeared, she’d decided maybe it had been only a momentary flirtation. And now that she’d admitted to herself, straight out, that she was attracted to him, it made her heart pinch up a little. Think of Chase, think of Chase. Chase really was handsome. And much better suited to her than any small town guy like Mike Romo could ever be. And she really had always been attracted to him.
But then—the clinker. The clingy girl with Romo giggled and said, loud enough to be heard across the room between songs on the jukebox, “I bet I know a way to cheer you up,” and then she whispered in his ear.
Although it was pretty easy to figure out what she was offering. Especially when she and Mike stood up from their bar stools a minute later.
Oh Lord. They were leaving together. To go have sex. For some reason, it hit Rachel like a brick. Her gut clenched and she prayed her emotions weren’t as apparent to everyone else as they always were to Edna.
Amy motioned in the direction of Mike and his “date”—as if they weren’t already being completely obvious and noticeable. “Guess it’s true. And apparently not just in Crestview.”
“Who cares?” Rachel said, then bent over her margarita for long, cool drink. She’d just decided it was a good time to get drunk. So she wouldn’t have to think about what Officer Romeo was doing with his too-tan girlfriend. Which was a ridiculous worry anyway. You barely know him! And he’s been nothing but mean to you! So who cares what he does with who? Not me. No way, no how. She punctuated the thought with another lengthy sip.
