And that is why it would be my forever home.
Suddenly, out of nowhere, the feeling of being watched slammed into me with a force I’d never experienced before. My steps halted and I froze in the middle of the dance floor while the few people that were dancing continued to sway to the music around me, completely oblivious to the intense, overwhelming feeling swarming me.
I eagerly scanned the crowd, searching the dark corners, the perimeter of the dance floor, and the occupied tables and chairs for any sign of who was giving off the intense vibes crashing into me. The feeling intensified and excitement bubbled inside me. I felt no fear. I felt exhilaration. I felt like I was being stripped naked, and my body was put on display for whoever wanted to see.
“You good?” Andy asked, touching my arm softly and bringing me back to reality.
“Yeah,” I replied with a smile, trying desperately to hold his gaze instead of continuing my search.
“Well then why are you standing like a statue in the middle of the dance floor with a weird as fuck look on your face?”
Shit balls.
Busted.
“It’s nothing.” How the hell was I meant to tell him that I sensed some unknown person was watching me, and was making me squirm in the best possible way? “Honestly, I’m good.”
“Why don’t I believe you?”
I smiled, wrapped my arm around his waist, and gave him my best puppy-dog eyes. “Of course you can believe me.”
His chuckle told me that I’d gotten away with it. “Come and find me when you and Missy want to leave. I’ll drop you home.”
“Watch out, Andy, people might think you are getting soft.”
“Or they might think that I’m a lucky son of a bitch and taking home two hot women.”
“You are such a ladies man.” I laughed.
Through all of this, the feeling of eyes burning into my body didn’t falter. My skin tingled in delight. My confidence soared. My cheeks warmed. I didn’t want the owner of the mystery eyes to leave, and more than anything, I didn’t want whoever it was to become distracted. Selfishly, I wanted their eyes only for me.
For some unknown reason, I had a feeling it was a man.
And I wanted to see him.
Seriously, how strong were those Appletinis?
My phone vibrated from inside my bra, the classic place for women to store their phone, and I pulled it out and looked at the screen.
UNKNOWN NUMBER.
“Go and use Drew’s office,” Andy suggested, and shot me a wink. “I better do some work before you fire me.”
I laughed as I rushed toward the office, answering the call just after closing the door behind me. “Hello,” I greeted, crossing the office and pulling out the leather chair behind the desk. “Hello, anyone there?” I repeated, louder, as I sat down.
Still no answer.
I pulled the phone away from my ear and looked down at the screen. The call was still connected, so whoever was on the other end clearly had no intention of speaking.
I ended the call and placed it on the desk. I had no time for prank calls at any time of the day, so I sure as hell didn’t have time for them at midnight. I rested my head against the leather of the chair and closed my eyes. Silence hadn’t been my friend for the past thirteen years, and now in the silence of the office, my turbulent mind screamed louder than ever.
My aim for tonight had been simple: erase the day and forget the night. After working from sunup to sundown and not taking a break, there was no other choice but to move girl’s night to Hamilton’s. Free booze, the distraction of Andy, and a night with my girls were promised. But as usual, every time I came here, she crept into my thoughts. My mother. My anger had never faded. Over the years, it had grown into a cruel reminder that never disappeared. It sat just below the surface, simmering until something triggered it and it boiled over. The moment she appeared in my thoughts, the knife imbedded in my heart twisted a little further, reminding me of the choices she made. My memories were the light switch that illuminated the truth if I ever thought of letting someone close to me.
That’s what she had left me.
The worst kind of gift that continued to give.
I shook away the memories and browsed around Drew’s office and desk. Papers were strewn everywhere—monthly liquor forms, staff rosters, and entertainment booking sheets. But it was a piece of paper with my full name, Sasha Abigail Hamilton, in bold capital letters that caught my attention.
My gaze frantically ran over the paper, taking in every word and sentence. The legal jargon jumped out at me, slapping me in the face as I tried to understand what I was reading. I read it three times, every word, every sentence, before I placed it back on the desk and sat back in the chair. My hands shook, and it felt like my stomach had sunk to my toes.
How could he do this?
The fact that it was after midnight didn’t cross my mind. I scrolled through my phone and pressed the call button when I got to Drew’s number. I’d continue calling until he answered. As I waited for him to answer, or for the call to go to voicemail, I pushed back from the desk and started to pace the office. My head throbbed as I tried to process what was going on, and I could barely catch my breath.
I froze when the call connected, then I unleashed my hurt onto my unsuspecting brother. “Why the hell am I looking at a change of ownership contract for Hamilton’s?” I asked, my level of annoyance and hurt evident in my tone. “Seriously, Drew, what the hell?”
“Sash, listen to me,” he murmured, the calmness in his voice shocking me. How could he possibly be calm? “What are you doing there? Its Wednesday night, for fuck sake.”
“I’m twenty-nine, I really don’t need to explain why I am at the bar we both own on a Wednesday night,” I said, emphasizing the fact that the bar was mine as much as his. Our father had given Drew the reigns of Hamilton’s when he turned twenty-five. Even though he got control of the day-to-day running, we shared ownership. “Now, you need to start explaining. Why is my name on a change of ownership form?”
He sighed, and I imagined him running his hand through his hair like he always did when he was frustrated. “We are not talking about this over the phone.”
I blew out a deep breath in defeat, and my gaze shot to the ceiling. Our relationship had changed a year ago, and I was still trying to figure out the turning point. Yes, I still saw him when I came to Hamilton’s, but it wasn’t the same. He had become distant, and I hated it. I’d lost my brother somewhere along the way, and I had no clue where to find him.
“I’m not signing it,” I said firmly. “Absolutely, no way.”
“Meet me at Missy’s tomorrow. I’ll be there at noon.”
He didn’t give me a chance to respond.
Silence hit my ears.
What the hell?
2
SASHA
“Sasha Hamilton, you’ve still got the sweetest ass I’ve ever seen.”
I froze.
Please, God, tell me I imagined that voice.
After jamming the final pillow into its spot, I shifted around on the ladder, held onto the top rail, and looked down. Sure enough, there was Edward O’Leary, with his eyes locked onto my ass, which was wrapped in a super tight skirt.
The O’Leary’s had moved in next door when I was nine-years-old. Their family mirrored mine: husband, wife, and two kids. I instantly became friends with their daughter, Holly, but that friendship only lasted a year before she was sent to boarding school in New York and I never saw her again. Edward, however, stuck around, and he and Drew became friends, which meant he was at our house a lot. When I turned sixteen, Edward noticed me. He was ten years older, but that didn’t deter him from asking me out, or making his intentions clear. I said no, but that didn’t stop him from trying. Not only were Edward and Drew friends, but so were our fathers. It was assumed, and often implied, that Edward and I could bring our families together. I found him sleazy then, and I found him sleazier now.
“Hi, Edward,” I mut
tered, as I started my descent down the ladder. “What are you doing here?”
“Dad’s not well, and I couldn’t visit Monroe and not see my favorite girl.”
I swallowed hard and ignored his favorite girl comment. “What’s wrong with your dad?”
When I reached the bottom of the ladder, I stood before him and cringed as his eyes traveled eagerly over my body, lingering on my breasts.
See, total creep.
Creepiest of the creepy.
Creep factor one billion.
“All those years of drinking at Hamilton’s have caught up with him. Liver disease has got him,” he revealed when his eyes finally met mine.
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“He won’t be around for much longer, so I’m in town to finish some business for him." he said, his voice changing drastically and almost sounding scary. “Also, thinking it’s time I got to take you out.”
I should have known it was coming. Every time he came to town, he asked me out, and every time I said no. If it would have been a friendly catch up, I’d consider it, but there was nothing friendly or innocent about Edward’s intentions.
“I’ve been asking for twelve years. There’s only so much patience a man has," he said low, stepping toward me. “What’s it going to take to get you to come out with me?”
I don’t know what possessed me. Maybe I experienced a brief moment of insanity. Maybe I felt sorry for him because of his Dad’s illness. All I knew was that I wanted him to finally get the point that nothing was ever going to happen between us. Right now, desperation was making me do a ridiculous thing.
“Next week, and it’s not a date. It’s one dinner. One hour. That’s it.”
A smug smile spread across his lips. “I’ll pick you up at eight. We’ll go to Da Maria’s.”
“I’ll meet you there,” I replied quickly.
He gave me another once over, licked his lips, and left.
A chill ran down my spine.
What the hell had I just agreed to?
“Sasha Abigail Hamilton, get your sweet ass over here and start explaining,” Missy demanded the second I stepped inside her 1950s inspired diner.
“What’s up?” I asked casually as I pulled out a stool at the counter and hauled myself up.
"Please, for the love of god, tell me I did not see O'Leary slither out of Sass," she said, leaning over the counter and staring at me with wide eyes.
Best friend code meant Missy knew, in great detail, all the levels of creepy Edward O’Leary possessed. She’d been there numerous times when he asked me out, she was the first person I called when he slapped my bikini-clad ass, and she was the one who put her finger down her throat and pretend to vomit when he started hanging around us like a lost puppy.
I already knew her reaction was going to be explosive, so I took a deep breath and told her the truth. "I'm having dinner with him next week."
"What!" she shrieked loudly, causing everyone around us to look our way. "Are you drunk? Babe, you cannot be serious?”
"I'm going to lay it out to him one last time. If that doesn’t work, I’m making up a boyfriend, or grabbing the closest man and laying a hot kiss on him, and diverting him that way.” I sighed in frustration. “I don't know what else to do.”
She started looking around the diner, swinging her head from the door to each corner, before moving back to me. “Where is the camera crew? Am I getting filmed right now? This has got to be a joke.”
I laughed. “I’m not joking.”
Her eyes narrowed. "You do realize he is obsessed with you."
"I wouldn't call it obsessed.”
"Do I need to remind you of the hundred roses he had delivered to your place on your eighteenth birthday? We both know it was because you were legal and he wanted to get in there, and by there I mean your vagina. How about when he turned up on your first date with Danny and then joined you two for dinner? Or, oh, what about when . . . "
I cut her off. "I get your point."
A customer moved in beside me and thankfully took Missy’s attention. The last thing I wanted to do was talk about Edward O’Leary, so I needed to move to my usual booth by the window and hope Missy forgot about what she saw. Swinging around to flee, I took one step before slamming into a solid wall. A solid wall that moved, grunted, and engulfed my senses with a unique scent of sandalwood and leather. My hands shot up, grasping anything to prevent my fall, and a strong arm slid around my waist. I found myself getting drunk off the scent swirling around me, and I dared to shift my gaze from my hands to travel up the wall of chest in front of me. I sucked in a breath as a sharp jaw peppered with flawless stubble greeted me, followed by plump, inviting lips, and finally eyes that were the most stunning shade of dark blue I’d ever witnessed. Those stunning blues were staring back at me and showing a hint of humor, but also a shitload of interest.
Then it hit me.
The same euphoric feeling I’d felt at Hamilton’s last night.
It was him.
It was his eyes that had washing over me and made my skin come alive.
“Sorry, sweetheart, I didn’t mean to startle you.”
My body shuddered with delight as his voice, which held the rough edges of an uncut diamond, wrapped around me and squeezed the breath out of me.
“You were at Hamilton’s,” I gasped, looking up at this man who suddenly felt nothing like a stranger.
His eyes flashed. “You saw me?”
I shook my head and let pure honesty fall from my lips. “No, I felt you.”
Something shifted between us. I’d read about it so many times in my favorite books and heard people say they’ve experienced it, but I never truly believed it. But right there, in the middle of Missy’s Diner, I became a believer. Because right then, with my hands still on his chest and our eyes locked tight, nothing else existed but the two of us. The world could be spinning out of control, yet all I saw was him. All I felt was him.
I stood speechless, staring at this fine specimen of a man. Since when had Monroe men looked like him? More importantly, since when had I become a starstruck woman who allowed herself to get or swoony over a man?
“I’m enjoying the feeling of your hands on me.” His voice rumbled so low that it vibrated through my core. “But I’ve got a call to make, so I’ve got to break the connection we’ve got going on.”
My cheeks flamed, and my hands shot off him so quickly it was as if I was touching a hot plate. “Crap, I’m sorry.”
“Never apologize for that,” he mused, the side of his mouth lifting into a smirk. “Having the hands of a beautiful woman on you is what every man wants, and I sure as fuck have no complaints about yours being on me.”
His intense gaze dropped to my body, travelling enticingly over every curve and inch of me. He did this not once, but twice. I don’t think I took a breath. Who was this man? Even though I’d cursed my outfit when Edward O’Leary ogled me, now I was silently high-fiving myself.
“Your phone call?” I breathed when his eyes came back to mine.
“Phone call is the last thing on my mind, sweetheart.” He shook his head subtly. “Fuck, you are something else.”
The suggestive tone in his voice shot fire through my veins. I had no doubts, he claimed the title of the sexiest man I’d ever laid eyes on.
I tore my gaze from his and allowed myself the pleasure of taking in all that he was. Well-worn jeans caressed his muscular thighs and encased his slim hips. His black t-shirt fit snug against the chest—a chest I knew by touch was defined, firm, and gloriously all man—and a black leather jacket completed his look. His hair was a mass of chocolate brown crazy, and it gave the impression that he’d either just crawled out of bed or ran his hands through it wildly. Not only was he sexy, he was also beautiful.
“Believe me, so are you,” I admitted, my brow rising suggestively while my voice sounded like a purr. “And completely unexpected.”
The edge of his lips twitched, and impatiently I
waited for what he’d say next. We’d stepped into some weird yet enjoyable flirt fest, and I didn’t want it stopping any time soon. But wanting something didn’t guarantee you’d get it. Abruptly, it all came crashing to a halt when his face twisted hard, and his attention left me and narrowed in on something or someone behind me.
“Fuck,” he hissed, his blue eyes turning dark and his strong jaw ticking with aggravation.
It was then that I was slapped in the face by a high-pitched voice behind me. “Baby, I’ve got us a table.”
You have got to be kidding me!
I scoffed and swung around as my blood turned ice cold. The owner of the voice stepped into view with daggers shooting from her eyes as she glared at me. Moving toward Mr. Blue Eyes, her super white blonde bob bouncing with every step she took, she slid her arm around his waist and stepped in close when she reached him.
“Want to tell me why you had your hands on my man?” she hissed. Her pencil thin brow rose accusingly.
“Kat.” Blue eyes warned in a scarily intense voice. His eyes flashed quickly to mine, before narrowing on hers. “Pull the claws back in.”
I couldn’t hold back the knowing grin from hitting my lips. Of course, he was spoken for. He had a vibe about him, an allure and intrigue that got your attention at first sight. But he’d got my attention before I even saw him. What was with that? A feeling? I felt him? What the hell? The fact he had a woman shouldn’t have surprised me. He was a walking threat to women’s libidos, so of course someone had snapped him up. It was just a shame that I wouldn’t get to see if he had the equipment to give one-night-stands a whole new meaning.
“Bitch, are you ready to stop looking at my man like you want to fuck him right here?” she spat, giving me the once over. “Yeah, he is my man.”
I did not appreciate being called a bitch. I didn’t usually cuss, but she deserved to receive the wrath of Sasha.
“Unlike you, I don’t fuck men when I just meet them.” I went for the low blow first. She gasped, and I swear I heard Mr. Blue Eyes laugh. “It’s not often you see men like him in Monroe, so when they give you attention, which I did not ask for, you sure as hell take it.” I shot him a look that screamed pissed off before turning back to her. “So, you might want to keep your eye on your man. Good looks and the potential of what’s underneath aren’t everything, and probably not enough to justify you acting like a raging bitch in the middle of a family friendly diner.”
All That I Am (Men of Monroe Book 1) Page 2
