“Those freaks in the corner?” she asks, assessing the situation as one of them tipsily tries to stand on a chair.
“How’d you guess?”
Tammy sighs in response. She’s beyond swamped keeping up with her own tables. I feel like a jerk asking her to babysit me in addition to everything else.
“I get the tip?” It’s not really a suggestion, and I nod emphatically. That is, if they’re coherent enough to leave a tip. It doesn’t look promising. We’ll probably bust our butts for nothing. At this point, it’s not about the money.
Samuel, the short-order cook, rings the bell on the kitchen counter. Their order’s ready. I hope they don’t puke it up in ten minutes. I’m pretty sure Tammy draws the line when it comes to mopping up vomit.
I signal her to follow me, and we stack the plates on our trays. Burgers, fries, nachos, hot wings, mozzarella sticks—it’s enough to feed an army. Tammy cuts through the throng like a pro and I’m right on her tail. Without inquiring who ordered what, she automatically starts transferring the dishes onto the table.
“And who might this lovely lady be?” the groomsman perched on the chair inquires, leering at Tammy. “I’m all about doubling up.”
Depositing the last of her load, Tammy kicks the chair out from under him. He stumbles, falling right onto my tray. His momentum sends me flying to the ground with him on top of me. My face is splattered with a combination of marinara sauce and melted cheese. But what I’m most aware of is that the bar got a lot quieter as everyone’s attention focuses on the source of the crash.
Within seconds, Connor is at my side, pulling the guy off of me. “What the hell is going on over here?” His tone is lethal. This isn’t going to end well.
“That bitch of yours assaulted me.” It’s the climber, and he’s whining like a little girl. It doesn’t help matters that he has a greasy hamburger patty stuck to the front of his shirt.
Connor turns his back on him to help me up, and the guy grabs the collar of his shirt. “You listen to me when I’m talking to you.” Enraged, Connor swings around, landing a blow to the guy’s jaw.
I scuttle out of the way as they go at each other. As the other groomsmen start to gang up on Connor, Tammy runs to the phone behind the bar. Two of them are holding Connor’s arms while another mercilessly punches him in the face. I can’t let this happen. They’re going to kill him. I lunge from a crouched position, throwing my arms around his assailant’s waist and push him to the floor. We take a table down with us. The force leaves the guy lying on his back, momentarily stunned. I hoist myself off of him, but he grabs my ponytail. I struggle to get free, but he backhands the side of my face, sending me reeling.
It’s bedlam in the bar as the other patrons either engage in the fight or try to break it up. Police sirens sound outside as flashing red and blue lights ricochet off the window. Making the most of the situation, people scatter out the front door without paying their tabs. A logjam forms as the cops trying to enter the building halt the impending stampede.
A stranger picks me up and carries me to one of the barstools. Blood is dripping from my mouth. I run my tongue across all of my teeth, and thankfully I’m not missing any. It’s only a split lip. I reach for a soggy napkin under an abandoned gin and tonic and apply pressure to stem the bleeding.
Twirling the stool toward the melee, I search anxiously for Connor. Luckily, the fighting has stopped and he’s propped up against the wall talking to one of the cops. The climber, shackled in a pair of handcuffs, is vehemently protesting that Connor started it to anyone who will listen. Unfortunately for him, his fellow groomsmen aren’t saying a word. It’s funny how they sobered up in a hurry. I guess the threat of spending the night in jail does that to a person.
An authoritative voice cuts through the commotion. “That’s right, officer. I saw it all with my own eyes. That guy attacked my boss, and that’s all there is to it.”
Involuntarily, the muscles in my face attempt a smile. I wince as the gash on my lip widens, but it’s all worth it to hear Tammy set the record straight, knowing she’s the one who started the whole thing.
Chapter Thirty
Connor and I are finally alone. After dealing with the cops and attempting to clean up the worst of the mess, we sent everyone home, closed the bar, and headed upstairs. Connor refused to go to the hospital so the paramedics stitched him up as best they could. But there’s still a lot of dried blood covering his face. Urging him into the bathroom, I flick on the light. He turns down the seat cover and sits on the toilet. I rummage through the counter under the sink to search for first aid supplies. Finding some gauze, I twist the knobs on the faucet until the water temperature is lukewarm. Running it under the tap, I squeeze out the excess and kneel down before him.
His face is a mess. There are six stitches above his right eyebrow, and a yellowish green bruise is forming underneath. His lip is swollen and there are scratch marks on his chin. I can’t stand seeing him like this. It makes my heart ache to think this happened to him because of me.
Nervously, I run my tongue against the bandage covering the left side of my bottom lip. It’s throbbing. Good. I deserve it. After the beating Connor endured on my behalf, I’ll wear it like a badge of honor.
Raising his hand, he gently runs his fingers across my mouth. He releases a sigh. Weaving his hand into my hair that’s no longer in a ponytail thanks to that asshole, he gently pulls me forward. Bending down, he carefully places his lips on mine. Lightly caressing the side of my face, he reluctantly breaks away. Gazing up at me through his eyelashes, he wraps his arms around my waist and buries his head against my chest. His body trembles. Reassuringly, I stroke the back of his head.
“It’s okay,” I murmur against his neck, my breath warm on his skin.
Releasing me, his eyes meet mine. “I’ll never forgive myself for putting you in danger, allowing you to get hurt…”
“Connor, it’s not your fault. Those guys were out to cause trouble the moment they walked into the bar.” His battered appearance is cutting me up inside. I struggle to keep my voice under control. “I’m the one who should be apologizing to you.”
Mad at myself, I stand up to apply more water to the gauze, but Connor grips my knee. “Don’t leave.”
That does it. I can barely breathe. I can never leave this man, not now, not ever.
Pivoting around, I drop before him cradling his face. Feeling the stubble of his cheek beneath my fingers, I begin to slowly clear the dried blood away. Placing my lips to his ear, I whisper, “I’m not going anywhere.”
Chapter Thirty-One
The paramedics warned me that Connor may have a concussion, and they recommended that I keep an eye on him overnight. I tuck his arm through mine, and he doesn’t resist as I lead him to his room. Throwing back the comforter, I smooth the sheet and fluff up the pillows. He gingerly starts removing his shirt, but he winces when he tries to get it over his shoulders. Taking the initiative, I guide him over to the bed and have him take a seat. Taking one sleeve at a time, I slide the shirt off his arms then over his head. I shudder. There are black and blue marks all over his torso. Those guys really did a number on him. He’s going to be sore for days.
I bend down to loosen the laces of his boots. Gripping him behind the knee, I pry one off and then the other. Scooting back, he rests his head on the pillows and I draw the sheet over him. The wall unit air conditioner is running on low, but it’s still stuffy in here. I crank it to high and glance around for a chair, but there isn’t one. Since there are no other options, I lower myself onto the bottom corner of the bed. His eyelids flutter open as my weight shifts the mattress.
“What are you doing?” He’s groggy and somewhat miffed that I’m disturbing him.
“I have to monitor you for signs of a concussion.” I place my elbows on my legs in an attempt to alleviate the crick already forming in my back.
“So you’re going to sit on the edge of my bed all night?” He raises a hand to shade his
eyes against the moonlight spilling through the window.
“That’s the plan.” I’m spent, but I don’t want him to notice.
“C’mon.” He slides the sheet down, patting the bed beside him. “Get in.”
“But what if I fall asleep?” He’s in my care. I can’t neglect him.
“You won’t. My snoring is bound to keep you awake.” The tiniest of grins spreads across his face.
“And how do I know you won’t make a move on me?” He’s down for the count, but I can’t resist teasing him.
“Because I’m fairly comatose at the moment, in case you haven’t noticed.” He grimaces, and I can tell he’s fighting through a great deal of pain.
“Okay, but I may have to wake you up during the night to check on you.” I kick off my shoes and stand up.
“Do what you have to do.” He’s barely holding onto consciousness as I approach. As I slide in, he pulls my head onto his chest. This isn’t what I had in mind. His ribs are bruised and way too tender to be supporting my weight.
I sit up and push my hair out of my face. “Connor, I don’t want to hurt you.”
But he’s out like a light with his arms sprawled out across the pillows. There’s nowhere else for me to go. It’s a twin bed with not much room to maneuver, and if he’s really asleep I don’t want to risk waking him.
Gradually, I ease back into position. The hair on his chest tickles my nose, so I shimmy up closer to his neck. His rhythmic breathing is lulling me into oblivion. Placing my arm around his waist, I hook my finger through one of his belt loops. Hopefully it’ll keep me from rolling off the bed in my sleep.
About ten minutes go by, and right when I’m about to drift off, his arm slips down, pressing me even tighter against him. What a rascal. I smile as I snuggle deeper into his embrace. He’s incorrigible, but damn, does he feel good.
Chapter Thirty-Two
I’m freezing. Blindly I grope for the comforter at the end of the bed, covering us in one fell swoop. Maybe leaving the air conditioner on high wasn’t such a great idea. It’s like a meat locker in here. But my efforts get an assist from Connor as he rolls on top of me, the warmth of his body covering mine.
His skin burns through the thin covering of my tank top. His legs intertwine with mine. I run my hand up his back as he fills my senses. Foregoing my better judgment, and despite the fact that he’s injured, I grasp the back of his hair and pull his lips onto mine. He moans, fully awake now. His tongue explores my mouth as I shift to wrap my legs around his waist. Instinctively, I want to arch my back, but his weight is pinning me beneath him. Frustrated, I move against him, seeking some form of release.
Drawing me up with him, he only breaks our kiss when he raises my arms above my head. In one swift move, he removes my tank top and drinks in my appearance. “That bra,” he murmurs, running his palms over the cups. It’s the fuchsia one that drove him wild during our first grope session. This time I want him to take it off, all the way off. But something about the memory triggers a reaction in him. He moves away from me.
“What’s wrong?” Missing the heat of his body, I pull the sheet closer.
“Michelle, I can’t…”
A wave of anxiety washes over me. “Aren’t you feeling well?”
“No, it’s not that.”
“Then what the hell is it?” My anger cuts through. Why does he always end up rejecting me?
In the light of day, he looks terrible. The area around his stitches is inflamed. The skin surrounding his eye is purplish blue. The scratch marks on his face have reopened and are starting to bleed. He appears on the outside how I feel on the inside. We shouldn’t be doing this, not now.
Not waiting for his answer, I get up and fumble for my shoes. I can’t find them. They must be under the bed. I’ll get them later. Leaving half my clothing behind, I head for the door. At least this time I’ll be the one walking away from him.
“I promised your parents that I wouldn’t touch you, and I’m not going back on my word.”
His declaration roots me to the spot. WTF? My parents?
He continues. “They put their trust in me when they allowed you to come here. Maybe if things were different, but…”
“Things are different! Don’t you see?” I spin around, eying him wildly. “I’m not a little girl who needs protecting. I’m a grown woman who knows what she wants.” In three strides I’m back on the bed with him. “I want you.” Kissing him with all the passion I possess, I claim him for my own. Sitting astride him, I push him back against the pillows, but again he sits up, releasing himself from my embrace.
“I’m not right for you, Michelle. I’m not the kind of guy you need in your life.” His voice sounds strained, like he doesn’t want to be having this conversation, but there’s no getting around it. I pushed the issue, and now he’s going to settle it, once and for all.
“I know who you are, Connor. You’re not fooling me. I’ve seen every side of you there is.” Annoyed, I sit beside him.
“But you’re nineteen. You’re not going to stay here for the rest of your life. You’re going to move on to bigger and better things.” The hope radiating from his eyes turns my stomach. Who is he kidding?
“Yeah, like back to Pennsylvania, where I’ll make a great wife and pop out a couple of kids? Give me a break.” Placing a pillow in my lap, I knead it with my fingers.
“That’s not what I meant. You’re going to go back to school in the fall and get your life back on track.” The enormity of his delusion floors me.
“Are you sure you’re feeling all right? You are suffering from a major head injury, you know?”
He frowns, determination emanating from him. “You’re going back to school, and that’s final. Your parents spoke with the dean. They’re accepting you back into the program, no questions asked.”
“Well, I’m glad somebody decided to consult me to see if that’s what I even want!” I’m beyond livid. The glare I give him forces him to retreat a bit.
“You can still live here, if you want, if it’s where you feel comfortable. You can always pick up a shift here and there on the weekends.” He’s really serious about all of this. He and my parents have it all mapped out.
“Connor, you need to get this straight. I have no intention of going back to school. I’m trying to build a new life for myself, and…”
He interrupts me, his voice firm. “Michelle, bottom line, you can’t stay here if you don’t go back to school. End of story.”
I whack him hard across the face with the pillow. I want it to hurt.
“Michelle, what the fuck?” He’s angry now, too. Good. It’s about time.
“So how long do I have, huh? Until the end of August, then you’re kicking me out? I need to know so I can start making plans.” If he’s going to play hardball, then so am I.
“I told you, you don’t have to go anywhere…”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Cut the crap. As long as I abide by Mommy and Daddy’s rules, then I can stay. Well, I’m not. So get used to it.” I hurl myself off the bed. I can’t stand to be near him any longer.
“You’re not going to hide behind 9/11 as your excuse anymore, Michelle.” How dare he go there.
I turn on him. “But you can, right? Sleeping around, smoking three packs a day, acting fucking erratic all the time…”
“You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about…” He kneels forward on the bed, enraged.
“Jeez, if it wasn’t for me, you wouldn’t even have gotten the bar back up and running again, and don’t try to deny it, Miguel told me exactly what happened.”
He raises his hand to slap me, and I brace myself against the impending blow. But it never comes. Warily, I open my eyes. He looks stricken, like he can’t believe what he almost did.
“I didn’t sleep with those girls you saw me with.”
Holding my ground, I question him. “But you went home with one of them.” “Yeah, and left before anything happened.”
&nb
sp; “But you didn’t come home until the next morning.”
“No kidding. I drank about eight cups of coffee at the twenty-four hour diner on Eighth Avenue.”
“Why didn’t you just come back to the pub?”
“Because I was still trying to deal with you finding out about Danny.”
“So you wanted me to think you spent the night with her.”
“Yeah, so?”
“That’s fucked up.”
I have no energy left to fight. I end up back where I started—sitting on the bed next to him.
“And what about that other chick from my first morning here?”
“Same thing.”
“You mean you didn’t even…”
“No.”
“Then why…?”
I’m so confused. Tears are threatening to spill forth. I cover my face with my hands, willing them back.
I can tell he’s disgusted with himself for making me feel this way. He really botched this one up. He owes me a full explanation, so he keeps going. “Because I had to set the ground rules from the get go. Send the message that I was off limits. That I was just some prick who went after anything in a skirt.”
“But it didn’t work.”
“Yeah, no kidding.”
“Then why fight it?” I challenge him head on. He can’t deny the level of attraction between us.
“Because, in case you haven’t noticed, I’m a fucking mess.” He swallows hard. “And you deserve better than that.”
“Can’t I decide that for myself?” This time, the tears run down my face unchecked, and I swipe them away.
“Michelle, you’re not meant to be a waitress in some bar. Of that, at least, I’m certain.” My heart breaks a little when I see he’s not going to give in. His mind is made up.
“Then why lie to me to get me to come back to New York? Making me think you wanted me working for you?”
He looks uncomfortable. “It was never going to be permanent. It was just a way to get you back on your feet. Honestly, I thought you’d be sick of it by now.”
Unexpected Page 9
