Last Call (Book #2 - Heat Wave Series)

by Alannah Lynne

He couldn’t hold back his smile when she snapped her mouth closed again and shook her head, as if disgusted with herself for asking the question. He found her honest emotional reactions refreshing and felt lighter and happier just being in her presence.

  With her blond hair piled on top of her head and the freckles scattered across her nose, she looked like a teenager. But, apparently, a vixen lived under that skin, and she was the one who chose Sunny’s wardrobe. She was also the part of Sunny’s personality that brought all kinds of down-and-dirty lascivious thoughts to Gavin’s mind.

  He shifted on the barstool and answered her question. “I live in Myrtle Beach.”

  “You’re not originally from there. You have an eastern North Carolina accent.”

  Not only pretty, but smart. What a turn-on. “I didn’t hear a question in there, but you’re right. I’ve been in Myrtle since college.”

  She poured the girls’ drink into a frosty pitcher, set it and three glasses onto a tray, then turned to the young man still leaning against the counter behind her. When he didn’t take the dirty blender from her hands, she shook it at him. “Here, now you have something to wash.”

  His eyes shimmered with amusement, and Gavin realized that, in addition to Sunny’s curly, blond hair, he also had her eyes. The kid laughed and took the container from her, then disappeared through the kitchen door at the end of the bar.

  “Kid brother?”

  She tried to hide her smile, but gave up the fight and laughed. “Yep. Twenty going on forty.”

  “Has he always been this protective? Or do I bring out the pit bull in him?”

  She laughed and rummaged through a jar of Dum-Dums on the counter. “We take care of each other.”

  At this rate, the pitcher of margaritas would be lukewarm before he got it to the girls, but he didn’t care. He wasn’t ready to end his conversation with Sunny yet. He looked around the bar and said, “This is a neat place. Who owns it?”

  Her hand froze on the wrapper for a fraction of a second before she slipped it off and slid the sucker into her mouth. As he watched the candy disappear between her pink lips, his body tightened and his mind became a blank slate.

  Her eyes shot toward the room behind him, and a mischievous expression crossed her face. She pulled the sucker from her mouth, then licked her lips. “I think you’re in trouble.”

  High heels clicking on the hardwood floor, along with a push of perfume, warned him of Callie's approach. “Gavin?” She slid between his body and the barstool next to him and rested her elbow on his shoulder. “Where's my drink?”

  Locking gazes with Sunny, he said, “I’ll take that beer now.”

  She grinned, jabbed the sucker back into her mouth, and reached into the cooler. The stick wiggled in circles as she worked the candy with her tongue, and he almost groaned out loud.

  In a move guaranteed to cause him a tremendous amount of grief, probably for the next ten years, he picked up the tray and carefully handed it to Callie.

  Her eyes widened and her mouth fell open. “You aren’t going to carry it to the table for me?” She rolled her eyes toward Sunny, and her upper lip curled. “Since she’s unwilling to do her job and take it for us.”

  An irrational need to defend Sunny sent a wave of anger from his gut to his chest. “Callie, if you want this, you’ll take the tray out of my hands. Otherwise, you’re shit out of luck.”

  If he hadn’t seen it with his own eyes, he wouldn’t have believed it. She actually huffed and stomped her foot like a two-year-old. When his only response was to cock a you’ve-got-to-be-kidding-me eyebrow, she took the tray, turned on her heel, then tottered back to the table.

  Sunny set the beer in front of him, then scrunched up her nose like she was about to sneeze. “You’ve probably already picked up on this, but in case you haven’t… your girlfriend’s not happy.”

  He watched her wiggle her nose again and realized Callie’s perfume was bothering her, too. He had to keep the windows cracked during the drive, so he could breathe. But having it bother Sunny made it even more annoying. “She’s not my girlfriend.”

  A delicate blond eyebrow arched, and a sparkle lit her pewter eyes. “Does she know that?”

  He laughed and took a sip of beer. “Yeah, but it doesn't keep her from trying.” And wasn't that the understatement of the century?

  Rumblings from the end of the bar distracted Sunny, and she cringed while cursing under her breath. The two weathered salts, probably in their mid-seventies, sat on the stools at the end of the bar, wearing identical expressions.

  Sunny narrowed her eyes and glared—a universal sign all men knew meant keep your damned mouth shut. But based on their wicked grins and wily eyes, they weren't the least bit threatened by Sunny's death-glare.

  The one on the left, who reminded Gavin of his grandfather, said, “I've been hittin' on you for years, and you've never flirted with me. Why not?”

  Color flooded Sunny's cheeks, but she straightened her spine, tossed the empty sucker stick into the trashcan, and propped her hands on her hips. “Your wife would kick both of our asses. Miss Jane may only be five feet tall, but I've seen her ten feet of mad.”

  Gavin bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. Sunny didn't seem to be much over five feet herself. But he'd bet, with enough provocation, she could reach ten feet of mad, too.

  “Remember last year when you forgot her birthday? The way she came in here and yanked you out by your ear…” Sunny shook her head in dramatic fashion. “Uh-uh, I don't ever want to be on her bad side.”

  The man on the right adjusted his ball cap and stared at his beer while his shoulders shook with laughter.

  In contrast, Miss Jane’s husband’s shoulders slumped and his face sagged.

  Sunny mumbled something under her breath that sounded like, “Sensitive old coot,” before taking a few steps toward him. She cocked her head to the side, batted her eyelashes, and said, “I don't care how hot you are, Ed. It's not worth being on the wrong side of Miss Jane.”

  Ed turned to the other man. “Wouldn’t ya think after forty years of marriage a man could get a year off for good behavior?”

  The other man sipped his beer and nodded. “Sounds reasonable to me.”

  Ed nodded and looked serious. “I think so, too.”

  Gavin rested his forearms on the bar and smiled. He liked this place. Without Callie and the bubble-headed bleach blondes, he could have a good time sitting here, drinking beer, listening to the locals give each other shit. And, of course, there was Sunny. He could sit here and watch her all night.

  He jerked upright as a ridiculous idea beat at the back of his brain. “How late do you work?”

  She wiped a towel across the top of the bar, then dropped it into a bucket of soapy water. “As late as folks stay.”

  He glanced at his watch. Eight o’clock. “How late is that, normally?”

  She shrugged. “It varies. On a weeknight, it’s usually around eleven. Weekends can be as late as two. It depends on the season and how much fun everyone’s having.”

  He twisted his head and peered over his shoulder. The girls were about halfway through the pitcher. Another ten minutes and they’d be finished. If he left now, he could take them home and be back in two hours.

  He shook his head. What a crazy, ridiculous, impulsive, teenage kind of thing to do. “Do you think you’ll be here until eleven tonight?”

  Sunny’s gaze settled on the pool table where two young couples were playing. The guys seemed serious about the game; the girls were picking at their fingernail polish, talking. “I’ll be here until eleven fifteen.”

  His eyebrows drew together. How could she be so certain of the exact time?

  Reading his unasked question, she said, “Those kids come in here two nights a week. Every week. They have to be home by eleven, but they live right down the road, so they don’t leave until ten forty-five. By the time I get everything wrapped up, it’ll be eleven fifteen.”

  A lot
of years had passed since he’d done anything this impulsive, and a sliver of excitement raced down his spine and shot him in the ass. “Can you close out my tab for me?”

  His abrupt exit seemed to confuse her, and the smile slipped off her face. “Uh, sure.”

  He wondered if his departure disappointed her for personal reasons, or because of the loss of business. He hoped for the first and, without thinking, reached across the bar and grabbed her hand.

  She glanced down and sucked in a sharp breath.

  Afraid he’d frightened her, he let go and eased away from her. “I’m going to take them home and then come back.”

  Her brows dipped and she stared at the bar, deep in thought. Glancing up, she said, “I thought you lived in Myrtle Beach.”

  He grinned and winked. “I do.”

  Driving across the bridge into Anticue, he wasn’t sure how he’d feel about being back here again. But after being here this short length of time, he was more relaxed than he’d been in a long time. Doing something crazy for a change made him feel alive, and the compulsion to come back alone was too strong to ignore.

  He signed the receipt for his tab and said, “I’ll be back in two hours.”

  ***

  “I’ve got twenty that says he’ll be back,” said Ed, as he tossed the money onto the bar.

  Joe reached into his wallet, then paused. “Back tonight, or another night?”

  “Tonight.”

  Joe threw a twenty on top of Ed’s. “You’re on. I say he’ll be back tomorrow night.”

  Robby pulled two tens out of Sunny’s tip jar and added them to the pile.

  Before he could state his bet, Sunny snatched the tens off the pile and jammed them into the back pocket of her jeans. “I knew you were tapping into my tips.”

  He smiled sheepishly and shrugged. “Only in emergencies.”

  She rolled her eyes and grabbed a glass. “This is not an emergency.” She poured herself a Pepsi, then closed her eyes and conjured up a cigarette in her mind. Since quitting a month ago, she’d gone through a million Dum-Dums, and still, the nicotine cravings weren’t easing.

  Especially when stressed, which was most of the time. Right now, she was light-headed from the tension.

  She wasn’t sure what to think about Gavin coming back. She knew she’d read his signals right—he was definitely interested—and her inexperience at playing sexual games added to the anxiety squeezing her chest. She felt like an awkward teenager who wanted the captain of the football team to ask her out and an amateur player who could easily get in over her head. Thinking about him coming back, and not knowing what to do with him if he did, made her heart stutter, and a wave of nervous anticipation washed through her.

  The cigarette she’d fabricated in her mind evaporated and was replaced by his smoldering stare. Remembering the way he’d admired her necklace made her stomach clench and her nipples harden. The clips attached to them tightened, and a delightfully painful sensation shot from her breasts to her sex and beyond.

  She hadn’t had sex in years, and she wasn’t sure she could handle a man like Gavin. The prospect of finding out made the nervous excitement turn to a rush of nausea.

  “I think he’ll be back this weekend, but I’m not happy about it.” Robby’s uncharacteristically serious tone had Sunny’s eyes peeling open. He stood in front of her, arms crossed, eyes narrowed.

  “Why?” She wasn’t going to live her life based on her brother’s wants and needs forever, but she respected his opinion. She was curious why Gavin made Robby’s light-hearted personality disappear and his hostile side emerge.

  “I don’t know.” He shrugged. “He was definitely into you. But what about those women? Why did he bring them here and then act like a total jerk toward them? And why was he in Anticue in the first place? Surely he didn’t drive all the way up here from Myrtle Beach just to have a drink.”

  Sunny grabbed another Dum-Dum from her stash under the counter. Unwrapping it, she sighed and sank back against the lacquered wood. “I don’t know. I had a lot of the same questions, but…” She diverted her gaze and worked the sucker around in her mouth. Something was niggling at the back of her mind; something he’d said had bothered her, but she couldn’t remember what it was.

  “But what?”

  She glanced at Robby, but found herself unable to meet his gaze head on. “I liked him.”

  From her peripheral vision, she saw Robby’s mouth drop open. If he’d made that statement, she’d have laughed it off and told him it was his hormones talking.

  The same could be said for her in this instance, but she was usually a good judge of character, and her instincts told her Gavin was okay. However, what she wanted didn’t matter.

  She pulled the tens out of her pocket and added them to the pile. “I say he won’t be back. At all. It sounded like a good idea at the time, but once he gets halfway to Myrtle Beach, he’ll come to his senses and change his mind.”

  Chapter Four

  The clock on the dashboard read ten fifteen as Gavin turned off Highway 17 onto the causeway leading to Anticue. “I’ve lost my damned mind,” he muttered with a laugh and a shake of his head.

  While driving back from Myrtle Beach with the windows down, the sunroof open, and the stereo cranked full throttle, he decided he liked the temporary insanity. It had been a long time since he’d felt this free. It had been even longer since he’d done something irrational.

  Since going to work for Holden Enterprises his senior year of college, he’d operated with one purpose in mind: career advancement. He hadn’t taken a vacation in years. Hell, most of the time, he didn’t even take time off in the evenings. And he couldn’t remember the last time he’d been on a date.

  So what about Anticue made him break form?

  Maybe it was the fond memories of being here as a kid with his granddad. Or the cheerful, whimsical atmosphere of the bar. Or, as was more likely the case, the sexy bartender and her crazy cast of characters.

  Whatever prompted his actions, he liked the feeling. He was damned glad he’d acted on the impulse to take Callie and her friends home, and he was looking forward to enjoying what little bit of the evening was left.

  As he pulled into the parking lot, he inventoried the remaining cars: an old beat-up Honda Civic, an equally decrepit Ford Ranger pickup, three newer model trucks, and several cars. All the same as when he’d left, except… His eyes narrowed as he stared at a motorcycle parked near the door.

  An uncomfortable chill settled into his chest as he headed toward the entrance. Because of the way Sunny had flirted, he hadn’t considered the possibility of her having a boyfriend. Until now.

  He pushed his hands through his hair and blew out a harsh breath. If he walked in and found Sunny with biker guy, he’d shrug it off and get back to his original purpose for being here: assessing the bar. He’d take his time looking around at the pieces on display and get the names of the artists.

  Contingency plan in place, he pushed the door open and stepped inside. A whoosh of relief left his lungs when he saw biker-man relaxing in an Adirondack chair with a sweet-looking redhead curled up on his lap. The two old salts were still at the bar; the kids were playing pool.

  All eyes turned toward the door, and Ed let out a whoop and grabbed a pile of money off the bar. Joe shook his head and tipped his bottle to Ed in salute, while Sunny stood statue still, eyes wide, jaw sagging.

  He settled onto the same barstool he’d used earlier and smiled. “Let me guess… There was a bet on whether or not I’d be back.”

  She bit her lip and flushed. “Yeah.”

  “What did you bet?”

  She wiped off the bar—something he figured she did when nervous—and said, “I didn’t think you’d be back.”

  “Tonight? Or ever?”

  She flicked her gaze to his, then glanced away. “Ever.”

  “And… In your estimation, was that a good thing?”

  Her silver gaze, filled with a ton of uncer
tainty, met his. “I’m not sure.” She reached into the cooler, grabbed a Bud, and popped the top. Sliding it across the bar, she said, “That one’s on the house.”

  “Thanks.” He took a drink and watched Sunny do her wipe-and-swipe thing on the bar.

  She seemed more nervous and less confident than earlier, and he realized she probably viewed his return as bold and aggressive, like he was counting on banging her on the bar before the night was over.

  God knows, he couldn’t imagine a better way for the evening to end than in a wild, sexual frenzy. But his crazy actions had been more about self-discovery than learning Sunny’s curves and what made her hot.

  Hoping to explain his crazy actions and get her back into a playful, flirtatious mood, he said, “I’ve always enjoyed coming to Anticue.”

  She sipped from a straw and tipped her head to the side. “So you have been here before?”

  He nodded and rested his forearms on the bar. “My granddad and I used to spend a lot of time on the fishing pier next door. From what I could tell earlier, Anticue hasn’t changed much in twenty years.”

  The bright smile reappeared, and her eyes sparkled. “Probably not. Folks are pretty content to keep the status quo. We like our quiet little town.” She shrugged. “Myrtle Beach is okay. I used to live there myself. But nothing beats this solitude.”

  “Are you from Myrtle Beach?” She didn’t roll her r’s like a native, but her accent was a strange mix of regions that he couldn’t place.

  “Not originally. I worked there for several years, learning the bar business, before we moved here.”

  “We may have already met, then.” Although, it wasn’t likely since he never went out. And he was sure he would've remembered her, if for no other reason than her eyes.

  “I don’t think so. I would've remembered you.” Flushing from the admission, she turned away and adjusted the liquor bottles on the shelves of the mirrored wall behind her.

  “Sunny,” Ed called from the end of the bar. “Close us out, girlie.”

  She glanced at the clock on the wall. “Why? You still have time for two more.”