Hustle Him (Bank Shot Romance #2)

by Jennifer Foor

  “When is that happening?” I was going to miss the way Sue never asked questions.

  “When she’s feeling up to it.”

  Vessa came walking in, which put an end to the uncomfortable conversation. “Are you going to stick around for a while? I can make coffee.”

  I waved my hand around. “No thanks. I need to get going. Thanks for dinner, though.”

  The women walked me out to the porch and said their goodbyes. All in all, it wasn’t such a bad time. They didn’t press me about things and I appreciated that. Maybe one day I would be able to open up and socialize again the way I used to. I just missed my girls too much to be able to let them go.

  Chapter 6

  Vessa

  The accident set me back, but gave me time to help the kids get adjusted to living in a new place. I was happy to see how easily they were able to make new friends. My recovery was slow and I didn't want to chance reinjuring myself, especially my head.

  Since my aunt was so happy that we were there, she'd pretty much made up her mind that I was going to slowly start taking over her shifts at her bar. Her late husband had left it to her, and since his death, she'd devoted every second to keeping it up and running.

  It needed some TLC, but it had character. My aunt Sue had collected a bunch of unique decor through the years. Since her main business was travelers, mainly truckers, you can imagine that some of the items were vulgar. Several sets of plastic breasts were hung on the walls with beads hanging over them, like Mardi Gras. It was my son who noticed them all, the moment he first stepped foot in the place. I think my aunt was devastated over it. She wasn't used to kids, but was trying her hardest to get to know both of them.

  Some days it was hard because she reminded me so much of my mother, who I missed terribly. In other ways, it was a godsend that she was here, opening her home and life to us. I appreciated her so much for it.

  When I got out of the hospital, Gavin begged me to come home. He made all of his usual promises about changing, but it was all bullshit. His girlfriend was pregnant and during one of my heated arguments with my mother-in-law, she'd slipped and admitted that the girl was living at my house. To think about her being there and sleeping in my bed, made me sick.

  The longer I was away from Gavin, the more I realized that it was exactly what I should have done. His lying was continuous and I didn't deserve that; neither did my kids. To keep the peace though, we agreed to meet halfway every other weekend, so that he could have them for a couple days.

  After the first visit, the kids didn't seem too thrilled about their father's new relationship. I'd asked him to hold off on telling them, but apparently the girl had no place to go. Gavin told me that her parents had kicked her out when they found out she'd dropped out of school to hang out at a tattoo parlor and get knocked up.

  My daughter seemed more upset than my son. I think it was because she was old enough to understand why I'd left their dad. She cried that night, once we got home and she was tucked in bed. To cheer her up, while she went to school the next day, my aunt went to the paint store and we painted her room her favorite color; making it really her room.

  Since I was one of my aunt's only living relatives, and the closest, she'd always told me that I was like a daughter to her. I regretted being so distant to her for so long, especially when I knew she didn't have anyone else. I think some days she overexerted herself trying to make us feel welcome.

  Some days were better than others. I could put on a fake smile and pretend that my life was right where I wanted it to be, but inside was a different story. I was literally dying inside. To be cheated on, repeatedly, was awful. I felt like it was all my fault. Most nights I would cry myself to sleep, or not sleep at all. With Gavin continually calling me, it made it even worse to wear that smile. I did my best around the kids, knowing that my happiness fed theirs.

  For the most part, my day to day struggles to accept my new life were increasingly improving. I didn't have the money or resources to seek professional counseling, but knowing that my aunt was around did help. Going back to work helped even more.

  After that sheriff came for dinner, and had been so quiet, I couldn't believe that he would be one to hang out in a bar. It wasn't that he was mean. He was just not sociable.

  But there he was...walking in the door with that same hard look on his face. I have no idea why I did it, but I ducked in the back room to avoid him seeing me. Frantically, I started straightening my clothes and looking at my reflection in the metal door to see if I looked decent.

  I'd never cared what any of my patrons thought of me. I was always that married bartender that was a good listener and nothing else. It wasn't like I was desperately trying to impress anyone. This was just all so new to me. Still, ever since I woke up in that hospital and saw him sitting there, a part of me had to know more about him.

  I was never the kind of girl to hit on a man, or even one that was remotely promiscuous. I'd loved Gavin for as long as I could remember, but here was this hot man that was so mysterious. I couldn't help wanting to impress him from afar. He would never get into my pants; I was hardly interested in hooking up. Most men were pigs anyway, or so I'd come to notice. This one probably had an affair and lost everything when he had to pay out of his ass for alimony. I’d heard pretty much every story.

  While trying to make excuses for my sudden vanity, the back room door flew open, slamming into me.

  "Sue, you got customers out ...Holy shit, miss, I am so sorry."

  I held onto my jaw and backed myself up against the wall. The pain was instant, but the embarrassment took a few seconds. That hot ass sheriff had his eyes on mine and his hand on my arm.

  I pulled away and started walking past him, out to the bar area. After looking around and noticing nobody else, I turned around to see him standing there. I moved my jaw around, realizing that the pain was already starting to subside. My cheek would be red, I was sure.

  "My aunt isn't here." I grabbed a glass out of the freezer and put it against my injured face.

  "I can see that." He put his hand up to assess my face, but dropped it back down just as quick. "I'm real sorry that happened. I thought you were your aunt and usually I say hi to her. When I don't, she gets all mad at me. Are you alright?"

  His voice was deep and raspy. I bet he could sing in a real sexy voice. Making it a point to not look him directly in the eye, I answered him. "I'll be fine. Obviously, I am no virgin to injury."

  Did I really just say that? What had come over me?

  "Yeah, I've noticed."

  I didn't give him another second to laugh about my predicament. "So, what can I get you?"

  "What's on the menu tonight?"

  "Meatloaf with mashed potatoes and stewed tomatoes." My aunt had made them up and baked them at home before I came into work. It was easier to just reheat them as they were ordered. She'd said that the truckers loved her home cooked food.

  "Sounds great. I'll have that and a Jack and Coke. No ice!"

  He obviously knew what he wanted. I started making his drink without replying. This was the second time that I had seen him in normal clothes and not his olive colored attire, which consisted of an all-black uniform with a black baseball cap that had a police emblem on it. Tonight he was wearing jeans and a t-shirt that revealed every muscle on his upper body.

  Yeah, he had to be a cheater. There was no way that this man could ever just have one woman, with the way he looked. His hair was in between a brown and dark blonde, but his facial hair was darker. I could tell from the five o'clock shadow that was starting to appear. Perhaps he hadn't shaved this morning at all.

  I continued to glance at him as I handed him the glass. "Do you eat behind the bar, or are you going to sit down somewhere?"

  It was a good question, but as he cocked his brow at me, I realized that the way it came out was quite bitchy.

  Without saying a single word, he grabbed his glass and walked away.

  My customer service skills w
ere falling short. I thought about apologizing, but he didn't seem like he would care either way, so I headed to the back to make his food. When I came back out, I found him sitting at a table in the far corner. It was the darkest, most remote table in the whole place. I sat his plate on the table and went to walk away when I felt him grab my arm again. "You think I could have some silverware?"

  I looked down at the table and realized that he didn't have anything to eat his food with. "Oops! Be right back."

  Once I got behind the bar, I whispered profanities at myself for being so air headed. Ramsey was sitting back in his seat with a smirk on his face. "Here you go. Sorry about that."

  "So are you new at this?" I took offense to his question.

  "No! I have been bartending for a long time. I'm just out of practice, I guess." I watched him start cutting his meat with his fork. "Do you need anything else?"

  "Nope, you can get back to whatever you were doing and pretend that I'm not even here. If I need anything, I will holler."

  He was cold again and I didn't like it. Maybe he was offended by my tattoos, like some people were. They only showed on my one arm. My clothes hid the other few and I was dressed appropriately, but I knew I wasn't ugly otherwise. This was just weird to me. For so long, my looks had gotten me good tips and lots of conversation. I wasn't attention hungry, but I didn't like to be brushed off.

  A few scruffy looking men came walking in the bar. I turned my focus on them and ignored Ramsey like he'd requested. When the men had their drinks, and had ordered food, they headed toward the billiards area. I prepared their food and headed out to deliver it to them. The first thing I noticed was the one guy staring at my tits as I reached over to put his plate on the table. "What happened to the old lady?"

  "She's my aunt. She doesn't work nights anymore."

  "Her loss was our gain." The other guy said while nudging his buddy. "You're a real pretty one. You got a man somewhere?"

  I'd been asked this a million times before, except then, I really did have a man. "Sorry guys, I have a girlfriend."

  Did I actually just claim to be a lesbian to avoid these guys?

  Oh yes, I really did. To make matters worse, I said it loud enough that even Ramsey heard it. I saw him shake his head before finishing off his drink. I knew there were amazing parents out there that were homosexual, and had nothing against them, but it upset me right away that I had lied about myself like that. Still, in my line of work, it was worth it.

  The bar filled up shortly after that and soon I was too busy to care about what I should or shouldn't have said in front of the sheriff. I still don't understand why I even cared about his opinion anyway. I had too much on my plate to worry about. Ramsey came up to the bar and I quickly gave him a refill. He didn't smile or even say thanks, so I was feeling like he had major issues in his life and maybe he was just a mean person. It was a shame, because he really was a nice looking man. Had his attitude been better, he could probably have any woman he wanted.

  My eyes followed him walking toward the pool tables. After a brief couple of words to the two men, he was grabbing a stick and starting a match. I missed shooting pool and socializing with all of my old customers. Here, I was just a new face. It would wear off and I would be stuck tending to overly horny truck drivers and an asshole sheriff of the town over. It didn't sound very appealing, at all.

  The sounds of the balls breaking were louder than the jukebox and I couldn't help but look over every time I heard it. The familiar sound kept my attention and I found myself staring at the men playing.

  I gasped when I watched Ramsey bend down and stroke the stick, before cutting a ball in the side pocket. He clenched his jaw when he concentrated. It was extremely sexy. Every muscle in his arm moved when he held the stick. He didn't see me looking and I was glad. Maybe it was because I had not had sex in so long, but watching him gave me chills up my spine.

  When I noticed that his drink was getting low, I scurried over and sat a new one where he was sitting. He looked down at the glass and then up to me. "I have legs. If I need something, I'll let you know."

  I wanted to kick him in the balls. I was just trying to be nice and he was being a complete dick. What was with me being attracted to assholes?

  I pouted behind the bar, only looking into the room when necessary. By the time midnight came around, the bar emptied and only the three men in the bar remained. I could tell that they'd all had too much to drink. Their voices were loud and they were rambling on and on to each other.

  Finally, the two truckers pulled out money and handed it to Ramsey. I couldn't believe the 'good sheriff' was gambling. If he was nicer, I would have teased him about it. Honestly, I wanted him to just walk out and leave. Instead, he headed right for the bar. Without saying anything, he pulled out thirty bucks and slid it across the bar. Then he adjusted his hat and walked out the door.

  I shook my head and started cleaning up so that I could close and go home.

  Nearly thirty minutes later, I was locking the door and heading out to my aunt's car. I rummaged through my oversized purse to locate car keys. When I had them in my hand, I dropped them on the ground, by accident. Laughing caught me off guard, coming from behind me. This was just a little town. There was barely any kind of crime here, but I still felt scared.

  When I turned around, I spotted one of the truck drivers. He was fast approaching me. "It's a shame you only like pussy. I could give you a real good time, if you'd let me."

  I backed myself up against my car. "I bet. Did you need something?" My teeth were chattering. I was so scared.

  He got closer and brushed my blonde hair away from my face. "Maybe you just need a good fuck to turn you back to straight."

  I ducked my body and moved away from him. He smelled of beer and motor oil and I wanted nothing to do with the situation. "No thanks. Maybe you should just head out."

  He grabbed me by both of my arms. "Why don't you come back to my truck with me? I got a big bed in the back with plenty of room for both of us."

  As I struggled to free my arms, the man’s arms were jerked off of me. When he fell to the ground, I looked up and saw Ramsey standing between us. "You alright?" He looked right at me.

  I hugged myself and backed up against the car, without answering him. I'd just been assaulted and I wasn't sure how I was feeling.

  Ramsey grabbed the guy by his shirt and pushed him towards his truck, and away from me. "Get your ass out of here, before I put you behind bars for the night!"

  His threat worked and the guy hauled ass to his truck. Ramsey waited until he pulled out of the parking lot before turning around to me. "Miss, you alright?"

  "It's Vessa. My name is Vessa."

  "Are you alright?" He reached for my arm, but I pulled away.

  "I'm just peachy."

  "We'll then, get in your car and go home. Those guys were talking all night about what they wanted to do to you. I parked around back and waited to make sure it didn't happen. You need to be more careful."

  "I'm glad you were here."

  He clenched his jaw again. "Just try to be more careful, miss."

  When he started to walk away, it irked me that he kept calling me that. "It's Vessa!"

  He never turned around and acknowledge me or my name. Instead he climbed in his truck and waited for me to pull out of the parking lot before he did the same.

  That man was annoying and an ass. I was more certain of that then before.

  Chapter 7

  Ramsey

  Trouble.

  That is what she was to me.

  A real pain in my ass.

  Ever since Sue had filled me in on letting her niece take over her shifts, I had avoided the bar like the plague. There was just something about her that I was drawn to and I didn't like it.

  After nearly taking off her face with the door, I stayed far away, keeping our conversations to a minimum. I wasn't ready to open up and clearly, she had her own skeletons in her closet. Who else travels in the m
iddle of the night with two kids? There was definitely something going on with her.

  I think it made things easier after she announced that she wasn't interested in men. Of course, it made me wonder if that was just a ploy to get those guys off her back. I knew the one was going to be a problem. The whole time we were shooting our matches, they were deciding which one of them was going to get his turn first with her.

  I wasn't new to that game. Most of those guys went weeks without seeing their wives. They were horny and willing to do anything for a piece of ass. Vessa wasn't like the women that usually ran these types of establishments. She was beautiful and had curves in all the right places. Hell, even her hairstyle was too nice for this rundown place. They'd probably mistaken her for some ex-stripper, the way she was all done up for work.

  I was suspicious of her prior occupation until she told me that she was a bartender. Obviously, the place she worked at last had a different kind of clientele. This bar was rundown and housed only the dirtiest of people. I picked it because of that. It was the kind of place where nobody wanted to know who you were; where nobody would ask questions about my life and my past.

  Though haunted by their memory, the next couple months went by quickly. I only went to the bar a couple nights a week, never giving Vessa a moment to ask me questions. I could tell that it offended her. The more distant and cold I acted, the more she seemed to be interested. Some may have thought it to be funny, but I wasn't one of them.

  I was used to my life. It was fine with me to go home and never communicate with anyone outside of work. Shooting pool was my only escape and even then, I never had to talk about my life. When people shot for money, they didn't really ask your whole life story.

  Each time I went into the bar for a hot meal, she was there, with those sexy eyes, trying to figure me out. I didn't blame her. It was what a good bartender did. It was what a cop did.

  I often wondered if she'd asked Sue about me, and if she had, what was said about it. Nobody knew the real truth. None of them knew that I carried the burden of killing them. They didn't know that I was living in a real life Hell.