by Sarra Cannon
“Jack and ginger,” I say.
Leigh Anne’s eyebrows go up and I smile. I’m determined to have a good time tonight. I’m so over being depressed about Mason all the time. Why can’t I get him out of my head? He has me so turned around, I can’t even get through a single night without thinking about him.
But if he doesn’t want me, then fuck him. His loss.
Of course, I’ve given myself this little pep-talk several times over the course of being in love with Mason Trent. It usually only works until the next time I see him, when my knees buckle again and my heart breaks as it hits the floor.
Well, dammit, not this time.
If he’s really done, then so am I. And if moving on means dating guys like Braxton for a while, then so be it. I don’t have to marry the guy, right? Maybe I’ve been going about this night all wrong. Instead of trying to calculate our compatibility and see him as a potential boyfriend, I should just be trying to enjoy myself and go with the flow.
Knox sets my drink down, and I lean over the bar.
“Can I get two shots of tequila, too?”
Knox looks at Leigh Anne and she holds her hands up. “Don’t look at me,” she says. “She’s a grown woman. She can handle it.”
Knox pours the two tequila shots and I slide one across the wood toward Braxton, throwing him a challenging look.
I expect him to push it away or tell me he doesn’t plan on staying long. Instead, he lifts the shot glass up in a kind of toast, then throws it back without so much as a wince. I’m impressed. I grab his hand, then pour salt between his thumb and index finger. He raises his eyebrows at me, but doesn’t pull away. I lean forward and seductively lick his hand, then down the shot. Braxton picks up a lime and I eat it right out of his hand, my lips grazing his fingers. He bites his lower lip and I realize that narcissist or not, he’s hot and he’s interested in me. I suck the juice from the lime, then toss it on the counter.
With the alcohol buzzing in my system, I throw my arms around his neck and kiss him, hard and strong. A couple of people around us whistle and clap and my lips smile against his.
“Want another?”
He kisses me again and I close my eyes, then tap the bar and hold up two fingers.
Chapter Eleven
By the time Knox shuts the bar down, I’m well on my way to wasted.
Braxton only did the one shot with me and has been nursing his beer for the past half hour.
Now that the bar is officially closed, Leigh Anne is ready to start drinking. “Until I’m twenty-one, I just don’t want to get Knox into any trouble,” she says.
I love Leigh Anne with all my heart, but I wish I could find a few flaws in her every once in a while. If nothing else, it would make me feel better about being such a mess lately.
“Do a shot with me,” I say, laying my head on her shoulder.
“Okay, but not tequila,” she says. She leans over the bar to get a closer look at the bottles. “Can you make me something that’s going to taste good on the way down?”
Knox leans toward her and gives her a long kiss. “Whatever you want, my love. Tonight’s your night.”
I grab Braxton and kiss him again, but it’s empty and meaningless. A poor substitute for what Leigh Anne has. I feel like a cheap knock-off, and I hate myself for it.
The door to the bar opens and Leigh Anne clears her throat and gives me a subtle tap on the arm.
I break away from Braxton’s kiss and turn to see who has come through the door.
Mason stands alone just inside the entrance. He’s staring at me with a mixed expression I’m way too drunk to decipher, and I realize I couldn’t have timed it more perfectly if I’d tried.
He had to have seen me kissing Braxton, and he doesn’t look happy about it. At all.
Preston comes through the door and nearly runs right into him. Mason seems to wake up. He stuffs his car keys in his pocket, then shakes his head and tears his eyes away from me, but I’m glad that for once, he actually showed some kind of reaction. I’m glad it bothered him. It’s about time he got a taste of his own medicine.
I never expected him to be alone tonight, but I’m glad he is. Now, it’s his turn to sit back and try to pretend he doesn’t care that I’m with someone else tonight and he can’t have me. I don’t even turn to say hi to him. I work to focus all of my attention on my date, but my body is hyper-aware of Mason’s presence now. My skin flushes with warmth and I have to sit down.
Braxton sits on the stool opposite me and starts telling some story about a vacation he took to Germany earlier in the summer with some of his buddies. I think it has something to do with the beer he’s drinking, but I can’t concentrate. The room is spinning now, and I feel sick to my stomach. In some dark corner of my mind, I’m aware of the fact that I’m out of control. I know I’m doing a horrible thing by leading this guy on just for the sake of having a fun night and making Mason jealous.
But I can’t stop myself. This night is like a rollercoaster. It started out bumpy, but once I got over that first hill and decided to make the most of it, I’ve been in a free fall toward disaster.
I grip my most recent drink in my hand, focusing on the feel of the cold glass against my skin.
“Have you ever been to Munich?”
I blink, forcing my attention back to Braxton. “What?”
“Munich?” he asks, putting his hand on my knee and moving it up and down my leg. “Oktoberfest. I go every fall. You should come with me this year. I’m renting a house with a few buddies of mine, but I’ll have my own room.”
It takes me a second to realize he’s actually talking about a future with me. Or at least sex. Flying across the deep blue sea and staying in his room with him.
I have no idea what to say to that. I guess there’s a possibility I misjudged him or that if I give him a real chance, he’ll surprise me more and more. But the truth is I can’t see a future with this guy. I just wanted to kiss him for a while. Is that so wrong?
“What do you say?” he asks. “Do you think you would want to go?”
I look down at my shoes, and that’s when I realize there’s an extra pair of feet standing to my right. I look up and see Mason standing beside us.
“Hi,” I say. I’m clutching the cold glass even tighter now, begging my stomach to stop turning.
“Hey,” he says. “I didn’t realize you were bringing a date tonight.”
“Mason, meet Braxton the genius med student,” I say, waving my hand between them. “Braxton, meet Mason the guy who keeps breaking my heart.”
Oh shit.
I don’t know why I said that, but the second the words came out of me, I wanted to stuff them back inside.
“What?” Braxton asks. He takes his hand from my leg.
The music is still playing, but I feel like it’s one of those moments where everything else should have gone silent. Like in an old western when the big bad walks in the room and everyone stops to look.
Mason closes his hand around my upper arm and my body pulses at his touch. “Can I talk to you in private for a minute, please?”
I want to say no, but I can never say no to him. He lets go of my arm and takes a step back, and all I want is to feel his touch on my skin again.
“I’ll be back,” I tell Braxton.
“You sure you’re okay?” he asks, standing. He places himself a little between me and Mason, as if he’s protecting me. “We can just go somewhere else if you don’t want to talk to this guy.”
“Stay the hell out of this,” Mason says. “I’ve known Penny a lot longer than you have, so don’t offer to sweep her away like you’re some kind of knight in shining armor here to save the day. I just want to talk to her.”
“You’re right,” Braxton says. He steps even more between us. He’s a little bit taller than Mason, but there’s no doubt Mason’s stronger. “I don’t know your history, but until you walked in the door, Penny and I were having a great time tonight. I don’t want you ruining t
hat or upsetting her.”
“You need to take a step back before you get your ass beat,” Mason says. He clenches his fists and the muscles in his arms ripple.
I come around Braxton and stand between them. “Just give us a minute.”
I grab Mason’s hand and pull him toward the front door. He doesn’t take his eyes off Braxton until the door closes and we’re standing outside alone. I’ve seen Mason fight before, and I know it would not have ended well for Braxton tonight.
“What is your problem?” I say. The alcohol is making my thoughts fuzzy. I put my hand on Mason’s chest and push him back.
He comes right back at me, but doesn’t touch me. He just gets close enough that I can smell the heady scent of his cologne. I’ve buried my head in that scent so many times, it sends an electric shiver down my spine.
“My problem? You’re the one who’s draped all over some stranger one minute, then telling everyone I broke your heart the next,” he says. “Why would you say that?”
“Because it’s true,” I say. “And you know it.”
“Doesn’t mean I want all our friends to know it,” he says. “We agreed to keep those things between us.”
“No, you insisted we keep everything a secret,” I shout. “That was never my idea. That was never what I wanted.”
“How was I supposed to know that?” Mason lifts his hand in the air. “Until last week on the boat, I had no idea you felt that way about me. And I was honest with you from the start, Penny. I’m not the kind of guy—”
“Not the kind of guy who falls in love,” I say, finishing his sentence for him. “You’ve made that abundantly clear.”
“Then you have no right to go around telling people I broke your heart,” he says. “I warned you not to give me your heart in the first place.”
“By then it was too late,” I shout. “I loved you long before that first night on the boat.”
Tears of anger and frustration roll down my face. I didn’t expect to end up out here arguing with him tonight. I wanted to look happy and carefree. I wanted him to know I was over him. Instead, I’ve just managed to make an even bigger fool of myself.
He steps toward me and puts one hand on my cheek, then tilts my face up toward his.
“I didn’t know,” he says.
I stare up into his eyes. “Yes you did.”
Chapter Twelve
Mason leans toward me and I’m helpless to do anything but lift up to meet him.
His warm lips cover mine and I am gone.
This is nothing like Braxton’s kiss. No, this kiss is an explosion. A symphony. A match that ignites an even stronger fire within.
I lift my arms around his neck and press against him. The world around me spins and pitches, but as long as he’s kissing me, I have an anchor.
He walks me backward until the back of my legs bump against the front of his car. He leans me back against it, the hood bending a little underneath me as he presses his weight against my body. I wrap a leg around him, pull him closer. I lift my hips and he grows hard against me.
He groans and leans his head back. I kiss his neck and run my hands along his arms, his back, his stomach.
He pulls away, then reaches down and grabs both my hands in his and lifts them over my head, pressing them against the hood of the car. I stare up at him, my breath coming in short gasps. My chest rises and falls rapidly and the place where I feel him against me pulses with need.
“Don’t stop,” I whisper.
He shakes his head. “I don’t know why I can’t just walk away from you,” he says.
I clasp his hands tighter. “Maybe it’s because you’re supposed to be walking toward me,” I say.
He searches my eyes and for a moment, I think he’s going to kiss me again. To let in the possibility of love between us.
But whatever keeps pulling him away from me grabs hold and yanks him backward. He releases my hands and punches the hood of the car.
I feel him slipping away as he stands.
“I can’t be with you, Penny,” he says. “I don’t know how to make you understand that.”
I don’t know why I do it, but with a quick movement of my wrist, I dip my hand into his pocket and pull out his car keys. I’m so angry and hurt. So tired of this game.
Before he can grab me, I have the car door open. I slip inside and slam the door closed. Mason lunges toward me, yanking at the handle on the door just as I press the button to lock the doors.
He’s too late.
I slide the key into the ignition and rev the engine.
He’s never let me drive his car before, but just like mine, this car wants to go fast.
“Penny, stop,” he shouts. He bangs on the window with both hands, but I barely glance up.
My heart is racing. I’m in no condition to drive, but I’m also in no condition to stop myself. I put the car in gear and press hard on the gas. The tires squeal and the car bursts forward. I go straight over the curb, the car bouncing and lurching to the side.
I hit the brakes and stare ahead, lining the wheel up with the lines on the road.
Adrenaline surges through me and I press my foot down on the gas again, accelerating fast on the straight-away, then braking and turning the wheel hard to the right. I turn onto Broad Street and punch it again.
It’s the third turn that gets me. I don’t slow down enough and pull the wheel too far. Too fast.
My heart skips as I feel the tires slide across the road, then catch, then let go.
I scream as the car rolls over. My head slams into the seat, then jerks toward the window.
Then the world goes black.
Chapter Thirteen
Lights flash and people shout.
My eyes flutter open. A piercing pain explodes near my temple, and I moan and try to lift my hand. But I can’t move my arms.
Panic shoots through me and when my eyes focus on what’s happening around me, I see that my arms are strapped down on a gurney, a needle stuck through my arm.
I let my head fall back and my eyes close again. Nausea rolls over me, sending me twisting and tumbling through the darkness in my head. Sounds are muffled and when I swallow, my throat is dry as a bone. I’m lifted, then jerked forward.
Behind me, I think I hear Mason’s voice, but maybe I’m dreaming.
Maybe I’m dying.
My eyes open again, and I see tight white walls and a man in uniform peering over me. He shines a light into my eyes, then shouts something to a person behind me.
Doors slam shut and a siren wails as the ambulance begins to move.
Someone takes my hand, and I look over to see the wide, worried eyes of my twin brother.
“Preston,” I say, but my voice is raspy and harsh. An involuntary sob escapes from my mouth and my breath hitches. Tears well up in my eyes and roll down the side of my face and into my hair.
He leans forward. “You’re going to be okay,” he says. “I’m here, Penny. It’s going to be alright.”
I concentrate on the sound of his voice and the feel of his strong hand on mine. I stare at the ceiling of the ambulance, but don’t really see it. I can’t seem to stop my jaw from trembling.
When we get to the hospital, the gurney I’m on bumps and jerks, then glides as they roll me toward one of the rooms. Preston runs beside me, never letting go of my hand. I keep my eyes on his face as the doctors examine me, poking and prodding and taking blood. There’s a rush of activity in the room for a while, but I don’t listen to anything they’re saying. I just watch my brother’s face and know that as long as he’s still in here, everything is going to be okay. If I was dying, they’d send him away, right?
Someone dabs cold liquid on a spot on my jaw and I wince.
I feel like I’m going to throw up. I squeeze Preston’s hand harder, every muscle in my body tense with pain and sickness.
I’m glad he’s not yelling at me. Or telling me how stupid I am. As time passes and the shock wears off, the consequences o
f what I’ve done start to bring up an entirely new kind of fear.
I might be lucky the accident didn’t kill me, but I’m going to be even luckier if my parents don’t come in here and finish the job.
And oh god, Mason’s car. I close my eyes, the tears coming harder now.
I have no idea what happens to someone who is drinking and totals their car. Am I going to go to jail?
There’s nothing about this that’s going to end well for me. What the fuck was I thinking? I don’t even know. I hardly remember taking Mason’s keys, just that one minute he was kissing me and the next, I was speeding away. I didn’t even make it that far.
Slowly, the piercing pains turn to a dull throbbing.
Preston strokes my hair as I cry, and gradually, mercifully, I finally fall asleep.
Chapter Fourteen
The door to my room sails open and I jerk awake, the sudden motion sending a fresh wave of pain through my sore body.
My father storms through the door, his face filled with rage and worry.
Mom follows him inside. Her eyes are ringed with red and her hair is a wild mess. I’ve never seen her in public looking like this. She must have gotten out of bed and threw on whatever was closest without even bothering to brush her hair.
Guilt presses against my chest. They had to have been scared to death to get that call so late at night.
Preston stands, and for the first time in hours, he lets go of my hand and steps away.
I struggle to sit up straighter.
Mom rushes to my side and pulls me into a hug. “Thank god you’re okay,” she says, her hand on the back of my head. She presses her cheek to my uninjured side and I feel the wetness of tears on her face.
“What in the hell were you thinking?” My dad’s voice booms across the room. He comes to stand on the other side of my bed, his large hands gripping the bed-rail.
I lean back against the pillow and feel the tears starting up all over again.
Mom rubs her hand along my forearm. “You scared us out of our minds,” she says. “What happened? The doctor told us you’d been drinking.”
They look at me, expecting answers. I don’t even know what to say. I’m an emotional wreck, and I have no excuses for what I did. All I can do is find a spot on the wall and stare.
