I was lame.
I wanted to call him.
I had done the same thing every passing day.
I made a big show of ignoring the note on my old, scratched-up coffee table. I got home from work, I made something to eat, and I would pretend the existence of the note with male scribbling wasn’t taunting me.
But every day, I sat on the couch and it distracted me from whatever book I was trying to read. After an hour, I would hold the note and look at it, trying to decipher any hidden message, and then try to figure out if I should call.
I didn’t.
Not once.
For an entire two weeks.
But I did think about it.
Until tonight.
Tonight, I shook my head at myself and texted You’re welcome, quickly setting my phone down, chastising myself. For all I knew, he had already forgotten about the weekend he had been here. Grabbing the note, I stood and walked to my small kitchen, tossing it into the trash as I passed by it, and started preparing lunch for the next day. A ping sounded from my phone, and I stilled, my hands freezing as they held the bag of wheat sandwich bread.
“It’s probably just Kip. Or Carly,” I mumbled to myself as I set the bag down and walked to my phone. His number stared back at me.
It meant a lot to me, his message read, and I frowned. Grabbing my phone, I did something I normally wouldn’t have. Without a thought or a plan, I responded.
Me not taking you to the hospital, like I should have?
Small bubbles immediately appeared, and I was enthralled. There was no other word for it. A message popped back, his response clear.
You taking care of me.
His answer stared back at me, and I didn’t know what to do with it, so I responded politely.
You’re welcome. The message showed it had been read, and then there was nothing.
I don’t know what I was expecting or hoping for, but it didn’t surprise me. The moment you hoped for more from people, you opened yourself up for a world of disappointment.
Chapter Four
Stefanie
Taking a sip of my diet Coke, I laughed with Kip as he made a face about me going up to sing, even though I knew he secretly enjoyed it.
“You really going to do this again, girl?” his voice rumbled like gravel under your heels. I winked at the old man who owned the bar. For some weird reason he had agreed to start a karaoke night at my request.
It wasn’t like I had pestered the guy month after month or anything.
“I have the perfect song tonight, Kip.” He shook his head.
“Alex, you have your earbuds ready for this?” Kip asked the new bartender seriously, but I knew him better than most.
He had let me hang out in the old bar from the moment I walked in here. A scrawny eleven-year-old with a black eye and bruises on her arms. He never asked questions. Looking at him from where I sat on my usual barstool, the same one from that day, was like I was transported back.
School had been crap.
Mary Santiago and her little cronies had been real bitches that day, taking my backpack and stealing the one pair of gym clothes I owned. Without them and having been as quiet as I had been then, I had been sent to the principal’s office, since it wasn’t the first time I hadn’t changed into my PE clothes. After talking to me and me only answering her with one- or two-word answers, Mrs. Andrews had then called my foster mom. Who in turn was not at all happy having to stop whatever the hell she did while we were at school—because it sure as hell wasn’t like she worked—and taught me a lesson. Sneaking out of the house was never hard, but in a small town that was slowly dying, there weren’t many places I could go.
The bar had a bright neon sign that blinked OPEN, and I was fed up with people being dicks, so I didn’t think and took a chance. I almost wanted to smile as I remembered how I had walked in like I owned the place. I had been sick of being a quiet little mouse everyone pushed around, and bone tired of being beaten. I strolled right up to the bar, took a seat, and asked for a water on the rocks with a slice of lime, not lemon. Kip had glared at me, probably taking in my face and scrawny arms. I remember bracing, ready to get thrown out.
I wasn’t stupid.
I knew I shouldn’t have been there, and I knew I didn’t have two pennies to rub together, much less tip him anything. Instead, the tall salt-and-pepper haired man had thrown a white towel over his shoulder and had done just that. Grabbing a glass with ice water and a slice of lime, bringing me a sandwich with chips from the kitchen after a couple of hours of being there.
“You okay, kid?” Kip’s voice asked, and I blinked away the memory of how I made my first real friend. Not that he would actually call me that. Not to my face, anyhow. I was fine with that. He wasn’t the touchy feely type.
“Only way to be, Kip.” I scrunched my nose at his scowl and laughed. Used to my answers, he simply shook his head. His now less pepper and way more salted mustache lifted on one end before he turned and walked to the other end of the bad.
“When you going to let me buy you dinner?” Alex asked. I turned to look at him with wide eyes. He was handsome, there was no denying it. Tall with lean muscles and tan skin and dark hair with even darker eyes, and an incredibly symmetrical masculine face. Women twenty-one and over fawned over him on a nightly basis.
“I’m not your type,” I answered honestly, a smile still gracing my face. I wasn’t. I was too short and underwhelming in the looks department for a guy like him.
“You wound me, Stef.” He winked, and I rolled my eyes looking around the bar. “One day, you are going to change your mind.”
“Maybe when you’re old and fat and gray,” I playfully answered. “But seriously, what about taking Celia to dinner?” I pointed to my friend Celia, who was at a table with her co-workers.
Happy hour had obviously lasted longer than an hour as they celebrated her birthday. She was beautiful, not just because she was five seven with pretty, salon smooth hair and big, Bambie-like eyes, and would look amazing on Alex’s arm. She was also smart as a whip and super kind, the type to give the shirt off her back to a stranger. If that wasn’t enough, she was really funny. She also had a crush on Alex, so I knew they would hit it off if he ever gave her a chance.
“Na,” he playfully answered, throwing the dish towel over his shoulder as he moved to the opposite end of the bar.
To anyone not paying attention it would have seemed like he wasn’t interested. But I watched as he glanced back toward her, a gaze so full of longing I couldn’t help but sigh dreamily, waiting for a real-life love story to unfold in front of me. One day.
“You need to leave those two alone,” Kip warned in a deep, hushed tone as he took my glass. I stared at him.
“I didn’t do anything.” I shrugged, trying to feign my innocence.
“Mhhmm,” he mumbled, shaking his head, and put both hands on the counter before pointing to me. “I can’t wait for the day someone walks in here, grabs your attention, and makes you fall head over ass, kid.”
“That’s not going to happen.”
“That’s going to be a fucking show. Just wait and see.” I smirked at his threat.
That would be the day.
In the back of my head I knew no one like that existed. I had long ago settled on that and put it away in a dark corner of my soul. I might have only been twenty-five, nothing but a young kid according to Kip, but having lived the life I had, I knew. As much as I loved reading romance novels and watching sappy Hallmark movies, at the end of the day, love was something everyone else had in their lives.
Everyone but me.
The closest thing I would ever have to love and family was a grouchy old barkeep who would probably prefer being water boarded than admitting he even saw me as a friend. And I was okay with that.
“You screeching tonight?” Kip asked in his usual surly tone, and I laughed. I couldn’t help it. He wasn’t lying.
“Harsh.” I mocked being hurt, and he shook his head.
“Have you tried the coffee scrub I made you?” I asked as he rounded the bar and passed me.
“Do I look like the kind of guy who would do a coffee scrub?” he asked over his shoulder, not glancing back at me.
“It will help with your circulation,” I shouted so he could hear me as he walked away, only to see his hands making a talking gesture.
This was our song and dance.
He pretended not to like me, and I tried to watch out for him; all while we both acted like we didn’t give a shit about one another. I wouldn’t have it any other way.
_______________
The lights on the stage were bright and hot, but that didn’t stop me from singing—or screeching, as Kip liked to refer to it.
Singing “Cups” from Pitch Perfect was always fun and my go-to for a Thursday night.
“You’re going to miss me when I’m gone….” I belted out, smiling so big my face hurt.
The regulars in the crowd went crazy, like they usually did when I sang my heart out. They were used to my sound. Dancing and jumping around in all my awkwardness, I sang about how he, whoever he was, would miss me. He would miss me by my hair, and he would miss me everywhere he went when I was gone. It was one of my favorite songs. The idea of someone caring so much he would ache and miss you so damn much. Ugh, what could I say? I was a hopeless romantic.
I took a big dramatic bow at the end as the crowd whistled and cheered. Stepping off, I handed the mic to the next guy up and walked down and through the bar of people I recognized and knew. Mostly locals and people I grew up with. I got hugs and did some small talk on my way back to my trusty old stool in the dead center of the bar.
Being a Thursday in a dead town, it was more packed than usual, and when I finally reached my seat, it was taken.
By a tall drink of water who made me stop dead in my tracks. He looked familiar, but he wasn’t bloodied or bruised anymore, so I couldn’t be sure. Damn, I had been right. Without the beating he had taken to make him the mess he had been two weeks ago, he was hot.
No.
He was beautiful in only a way a man’s man could be. Rugged and sexy in a way magazines and movies could only wish to get to transpire. Not even with my wild imagination fueled with the help of a slew of romance novels would I have been able to contour an image like the one he made.
He was all man.
From the faded denim that covered his obviously long, muscular legs to the way the black cotton tee seemed to stretch great lengths across his broad back and over his ripping biceps. Holy Mother Mary, he is beautiful. Not that I had missed the Adonis shape of his body under my care. I hadn’t. But I had been busy hoping he wouldn’t somehow have internal bleeding and die on my watch.
His profile was like the sun. It was beautiful, but he needed to carry a sign that warned from looking directly at him, because if you did, you could go blind.
Taking a step back, I bumped into Kip.
“What are you doing, kid?” he asked, his hands on my forearms saving me from falling.
“I… I, umm…” I stuttered. I couldn’t help it.
“Girl?”
“Someone is in my seat,” I mumbled and watched Kip look at the beautiful being sitting there as he scowled.
“Is that—”
“Yes,” I answered too quickly and too enthusiastically. “I mean, I think so.”
“What the hell does he want?”
“I don’t know,” I shrieked, taking a step back, not missing the way Kip’s frown turned into a scowl.
“Did he do something to you?”
“What? No!”
“Since the day you darkened my door, you have never had an issue telling people to scoot off that chair,” Kip pointed out, his eyes wide on me before returning to a frown as his eyes moved back to the bar.
“I… He’s just—” I shrugged. Kip’s scowly face changed, his eyes widening before scrunching together.
“Tell me you took him to the hospital like you promised.”
“Well—”
“Jesus,” he muttered. “Took in a stray,” Kip kept mumbling before looking at me and pointing toward me. “You promised.”
“I know,” I whispered, my heart thundering in my chest. What is he doing here?
“You promised, but you took him to your place!” Kip’s almost all-white brows moved up toward his hairline, and I sighed.
“He didn’t want to go to the hospital.”
“And?” A vein in Kip’s forehead rose.
“I just… He stayed at my place. I watched over him. He’s okay. I was okay.”
“Do you see the size of that motherfucker? Do you not get that bad shit happens, girl?”
“I know bad shit happens,” I softly answered, looking down at my shoes.
“Damn it,” Kip cursed before lifting my chin with his finger and taking a moment to study me, “You think he’s good looking?”
“I… What?” My eyes widened, and I couldn’t get myself to straight out lie to him.
“Older than I thought would do it for you,” he teased, letting go of my chin and crossing his arms on his chest.
“What?” I gasped, my eyes wide. Kip opened his mouth to respond, but Alex called for him.
“That’s your seat. Don’t let anyone take it.” He patted my shoulder. “Even if you think he’s a dreamboat.” And before I could deny it, he walked away and toward the bar.
Kip was right. It was my seat. Had been for the last fourteen years. It didn’t matter that the most handsome man that ever graced the earth was sitting on it.
He was just that. A man.
With pep talk playing on repeat, I walked toward the bar and to the left of him. As I breathed in to relax, my panties melted away at the scent that suddenly surrounded me. His scent. Jesus. What was my issue?
“That was horrible,” the sexy sort of stranger muttered under his breath, not glancing once in my direction, and I couldn’t help myself. Just like that, my nerves washed away, and I grinned from ear to ear. He was talking to me. I laughed.
Loud and obnoxious but very me.
He turned, only proving exactly how damn right I was.
Looking at him was like looking at the sun. But even so, the moment his eyes met mine, I saw something flash in them before it faded. He had been momentarily surprised to see me smiling.
“Fancy seeing you here. Scoping out hipsters to give you another beatdown?” I winced right after I spilled the last word. I was so damn awkward!
He blinked once, then twice, studying me, trying to somehow get a read on me. Funny. I was doing the same with him. His expressionless face was cold, but it was his eyes that gave him away. They were warm and couldn’t hide he thought I was amusing before they went blank. I missed their heat. Instead of answering, he raised an eyebrow, his stone-like expression probably one he used too often. I didn’t know him from Adam, but I had a feeling he used it to keep people at a distance. And even though he was trying to scare me, he didn’t.
If anything, I could feel my own smile deepen.
“Are you trying to scare me away?” I found myself asking as he kept staring silently.
His frowned deepened, creating lines on his forehead. Lines my fingers itched to touch to smooth away and set at ease. His face was set on stubborn a second before he turned away from me, his dark gaze settling on the bottles in front of him. I couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed.
“Okay,” I said slowly.
Looking away from him, from the impossible dream of a man he was, I tried to shrug off a feeling I had no right feeling. He was a real man in every sense of the word. The kind of man who would never in his right mind spare a second glance at me. Our paths had crossed for whatever stupid reason. I leaned toward the bar, trying to get Alex’s attention.
“Are you usually this grouchy?” I as
ked while I waited, not sparing a second look in his direction, attitude lacing my every word.
“Yes,” he muttered, his voice so deep and scratchy, my toes curled in my Chucks.
“Goody,” I responded, winking at Alex as he approached. “Diet Coke, please,” I ordered, and Alex winked at me.
“No problem, babe. What about you, man? Get you another?” he asked the surly stranger.
“Make that two diets and add ‘em to my tab,” he said. My eyes widened, and I looked at him, about to tell him it wasn’t necessary, when he turned and surprised me again. “Was that your first time doing that?” he asked, his voice making the tempo of my pulse pick up in speed, and being me, I laughed.
“Doing what? Singing or taking in and Nightingale-ing a man back to life?”
“You can hardly call that singing, babe.”
“Not even close,” I admitted.
I was as awkward as they came, but it topped the cake when I was around new people. I was about to turn away when his hand covered mine, and I couldn’t get my mind to order my eyes to do as they should.
“You’re telling me you do that”—he pointed to the stage, and I tilted my head—“on a regular basis?” I couldn’t put my finger on how he meant his question. Between trying to feign boredom and slightly incredulous, something about it—or better yet, him—calmed me.
“Every Thursday night at nine twenty-five,” I informed him. My face hurt from how big I was smiling. Stop smiling! He probably thinks you look like an idiot, I chastised myself.
“On purpose?” he asked, and I giggled and nodded. Just when I thought I had a feel for him, he threw me off my game.
He turned toward me, slightly caging me against his body and the person sitting on the stool next to me. I felt small, tiny, but for the first time, not in a bad way. Yes, I was short, but next to him, it was more. I felt feminine and delicate in a way I’d never felt but had only read about.
“So?” he said, and I tried to remember what he had asked.
“What?” I shook my head trying to keep up.
“You do that every week?” he clarified, and something that sounded like a mix of a giggle and a snort came out of me. Of course. I was such a nerd.
CHEAT (Right Men Series Book 3) Page 3
