This Sky

by Autumn Doughton

  “How about him?” Julie points out a guy with shaggy black hair who is sitting at a table with a girl.

  “Jules, I think he’s on a date.”

  “So?”

  “So?” I repeat, glaring at her.

  “Corner him when he gets up to go to the bathroom. I’m pretty sure he was checking you out something fierce. And, hey, there will be no slut-shaming from me.”

  My eyes roll with amusement. “You are out of control.”

  “That’s the way I like it!” she crows.

  I laugh, my head lolling and my eyes skipping down the bar where they land on a broad, muscular back.

  Holy Hot Bartender.

  He’s easily six feet tall. Low-slung dark jeans cling to his legs and narrow hips. He reaches for a glass on a high shelf and his snug black shirt rises, exposing a slice of skin and I note that he’s got on boxer briefs. Pro move.

  “And who is that?” I ask, taking note of the long lines of his body and the unruly brown hair that lightens to a shimmery gold at the tips. I can feel my heart beating in my ears and the back of my mouth.

  Without even looking up, Claudia answers, “My brother.”

  “Your brother?” My mouth bobs for a second.

  “Yes.”

  “Your brother?”

  Now Claudia looks at me. “Yeah, Landon is my brother. My fraternal twin actually, and he’s in 8B so that makes him another one of your new neighbors.”

  Landon must hear Claudia say his name because he swivels in our direction and flashes a lazy salute, giving me a glimpse of his clean-shaven face and his tanned, sinewy forearms.

  Wow.

  I glance sideways at Julie and whisper gruffly, “Is everyone in San Diego your neighbor?”

  She merely shrugs, already turning back to Smith. Me? I’m stuck with a flock of wild birds trapped inside my chest.

  I watch Claudia’s brother—Landon—brace his left arm on the edge of the bar and tap his long fingers impatiently against the surface as someone asks him a question. He nods once, picks up a silver shaker, pours the clear liquid into a tall ice-filled glass, garnishes it with a slice of lime and slides it across the top of the bar in one smooth movement.

  Now that I’m looking for it, I see the resemblance between the siblings—the serious, almost pouty mouth and the thin, narrow nose set off between large, dark eyes. On Claudia, the features are soft and pretty. On her brother, they manage to be masculine and handsome. Go figure.

  “So Claudia,” I start, tipping back and taking a sip of my drink. My stomach is rolling over itself and I am dangerously close to breaking into a sweat. Is this what Julie was talking about when she mentioned static?

  I clear my throat loudly. Then I fall off my stool.

  Seriously.

  I.

  Fall.

  Off.

  My.

  Stool.

  Floor, this is Gemma.

  Gemma, this is Floor.

  I know how it sounds—like the move of a befuddled Jane Austen reader who has just encountered a real-life Mr. Darcy. And I am actually a Jane Austen reader, but I swear it’s not like that.

  I swear!

  Sure, my mind is catching fire with possibilities, my hands are clammy and my breathing is ragged. And yes, Claudia’s brother is hot, but that’s not why I’m sprawled on the floor of a bar flashing the world my pink and white underwear.

  It’s not.

  The heel of my shoe got caught on the bottom rung of the barstool and I lost my balance and tipped over. Because gravity.

  Once I’m upright again with my dress back in place, and Julie and Smith have recovered from a spell of raucous laughter, I risk a brief glance in Landon’s direction.

  He’s staring at me. One brow is arched. His arms are crossed over his chest. His eyes are full of hard edges and his mouth is straight and tight—not even a little friendly.

  Great, I’m on a rebound mission and the first guy I find interesting thinks I’m either a mental patient or a total drunk. I consider grabbing Julie’s hand and making a quick dash for the nearest exit as I shout Abort! Abort!

  Claudia, who took my fall quite well, says, “Gemma, I have an idea.”

  “Hmm...?” I’m still mortified and consumed by thoughts of Tall, Dark and Glowering over there. “What’s that?”

  “You said you needed a job?”

  “Yes. I mean, I guess so.”

  “Well, what about here?” she asks as she uses one of those little soda guns to add Diet Coke to a short tumbler of bourbon and ice for herself. “We had a server quit last week so I know we’re looking to hire someone.”

  This gets my attention. “A job here?”

  Claudia inches back from the bar, bristling. “ I know Aunt Zola’s is nothing fancy, but it’s work and the pay is decent.”

  I shake my head, gathering my thoughts and willing my heart to slow down. “I didn’t mean I wasn’t interested. I just have absolutely no restaurant experience. And, in case you missed it, I fell on my ass five seconds ago. I don’t know that the move spoke volumes toward my coordination. Can you imagine me with a tray and food?”

  Claudia makes a low grumbling sound. “Dude, if you want to compare notes, I’d win. I once toppled off a stage in front of a live audience when I was supposed to be giving a serious monologue about death.” I laugh and she goes on, “And don’t worry about not having any experience. I’ll train you myself. You’d mainly be waiting on tables and filling in wherever there’s a gap. It’s easy-peasy and you have breasts, which are a definite advantage when you’re dealing with drunk assholes.”

  “Truth,” Smith says earnestly.

  I bite the inside of my lip and lift my eyes hopefully. “Are you being serious about this?”

  Claudia nods. “If you want, I can introduce you to Tish and Jamie tonight. They’re in charge and have the final say-so, but I’m sure that if I put in a good word, you’d get the job.”

  “I-I don’t really know how to thank you,” I stammer, feeling my head clear a bit. If this works out, that’s one less thing to worry about. “It would be perfect.”

  “What would be perfect?” a new voice rumbles.

  Landon.

  “I’m convincing Julie’s new roommate to take a job with us,” Claudia updates him.

  “Oh?” He steps up to the bar and two stormy dark irises swing in my direction. “Julie’s roommate?”

  This close to him I get the full impact of the mouth and the strong, square jawline. I try not to flinch as my heart explodes irrationally into a series of wild somersaults. “That’s me.”

  That’s me? Very smooth, Gemma.

  “Hi,” he says stiffly.

  I grin like a nut. “Hi?”

  He nods at me but still doesn’t attempt a smile.

  Okay...

  “So—” My voice is light and gauzy. I swallow and squint, unsure what to do with myself.

  Landon frowns at me.

  I frown back.

  His tongue darts out across his bottom lip. “You want to work here?”

  I’m honestly not sure how to answer the question. Even though I desperately need a paycheck, do I really want to work here with Claudia’s brother, whose job duties obviously include glaring intensely at customers?

  “Mm-hmm,” I murmur, shooting for non-committal and fighting the urge to shy away from his glacial expression.

  His eyebrows cave—two bold slashes on his handsome face. I suck in a breath, a giant knot of what-the-fuck tangling in my stomach.

  “Have you worked at a bar before?” he asks, his eyes trained on my face. “Or a restaurant even?”

  “I haven’t,” I say softly—too softly apparently. Landon makes a quick hand motion near his right ear like he can’t hear me. So I clear my throat and raise my voice, daring to meet his aggressive eyes. Man, this guy is intimidating. He should carry a sword, wear fur over his shoulders, and be a cast in an episode of Game of Thrones or something. “No, I haven’t worked at
a restaurant before. My last job was a princess at a theme park so I haven’t waited on tables but I’ve mastered the art of whining and lording over my loyal subjects.”

  I expect a laugh, or at least the crack of something close to a smile.

  Annnnd… nothing.

  Instead, he grunts and turns his head away from me like I’ve just said the least interesting thing he’s ever heard. Or maybe he’s decided that I am completely and utterly useless and not worth his precious time.

  What. The. Hell.

  Bewildered and strangely hurt, I turn to the others for backup, but they’re just looking back and forth between Landon and me.

  “Keep going. This is fascinating,” Claudia murmurs as she takes a sip from her drink and waves us on.

  “I second that,” Julie offers.

  “Nice,” I grumble, dipping my head low over my chest, trying to ignore the heady fluttering low in my belly and the blood I know is still spread over my fair skin like fiery radials of a spider web. I hunch my shoulders forward and stare down at my drink, focusing on the colors—the pink liquid and the green wedge of lime straddling the side of the glass. Taking my time, I position the tiny red straw between my tongue and the roof of my mouth and suck. It’s cool, sweet and so strong that it makes my eyes water and the back of my throat burn.

  Landon continues to watch me. I can feel his powerful gaze boring holes into the side of my face, gliding over my brow and eyes, and tracing the subtle movements of my lips and lower jaw as I work on my drink. For at least a minute, he doesn’t budge. He doesn’t speak. He doesn’t move a damn muscle. With his arms crossed and his head tilted to one side, he just stands there…

  “Looming. You’re looming,” I say, lifting my eyes a fraction.

  His lips twitch and a bemused look passes over his handsome face. He leans in and all that turmoil whirling around inside of me stops at once. Freezes in place. Like we’ve been playing a round of musical chairs and the music was just cut off.

  Landon is close—so close that I can feel his breath moving over my skin. In a voice that just barely rises above the clang of the live music, he asks, “Your name? My sister didn’t say.”

  I swallow hard, fighting down a shiver. My body is tense with nerves I’ve never noticed before and I can’t stop looking at the sooty grey shadows slithering over his lower lip and smooth chin. I imagine what it would feel like to place my fingers there. I picture myself angling forward and running my tongue over the soft curve of his mouth, tasting his warm skin and…

  My breath catches.

  And what?

  Am I seriously this deranged?

  Claudia’s brother has been nothing but rude to me and I’m sitting here thinking what exactly? About kissing him? Trying to seduce him? Licking his face like an attention-starved dog?

  Maybe the Lava Flow is already getting to me. Or maybe that margarita I had earlier was stronger than I originally thought.

  “You okay there?” When I nod, he repeats the question. “Your name?”

  “Oh, um, sorry. I’m Gemma Sayers.”

  “She’s staying with me for a while,” Julie says, finally deciding to help a sister out. She pitches her body into the bar so that she’s slightly in front of me and goes on, “So she’ll be right down the hall from you.”

  “Not that it matters,” I quickly add. I kick Julie’s shin beneath the bar and she grunts. Good, my dearest friend. I hope that leaves a nice little bruise to remind you of your betrayal.

  Landon nods, cups his hand in front of his mouth like he’s committing something to his long-term memory. “I’m Landon.”

  “It’s nice to meet you, Landon,” I say, my voice cracking. I wipe my bangs out of my face and give him a shaky smile that feels all wrong on my face.

  He drops his eyes. His forehead folds and his nostrils flare. “We’ve sort of met already.”

  I rear my head back. Say whuh?

  “Wait a minute.” Claudia lifts a hand to stop us both. “You two have met already?”

  “I—” My stomach goes from rumbling to frothing. “We have?”

  Landon nods in confirmation.

  My eyebrows head north. I shake my head once. What in the world is this guy talking about? Unless we were introduced while I was in a coma, I think I would remember him. It’s not like he blends. Not with that face. Not with that body. Not with those eyes.

  Feeling overwrought, I say, “Are you sure we’ve met? I’m sorry, I’m pulling a blank.”

  He arches away from the bar, putting a few feet between us. The look on his face is funny, almost expectant. “This afternoon?”

  “As in a couple hours ago?” I ask, my confusion only increasing.

  “That’s usually what people mean when they say this afternoon.”

  I stare at him for a long moment.

  “The gas station?” he prods and waits for me to get it.

  “The gas st—”

  Holy hell.

  That mouth.

  That tanned skin.

  Those goddamn eyes.

  The flame of realization starts down at my toes, spreads up both of my legs and keeps going until I can feel the heat of it radiating throughout my entire body.

  Hot Dog Guy.

  Claudia’s brother is Hot Dog Guy.

  “I-I, um…” My brain is clumsy and my throat is closing up on me. I don’t know what to do. “You shaved,” is what I finally manage to say. So stupid.

  He inclines his head in acknowledgement. “I do that sometimes.”

  “And you were wearing a hat before.” I awkwardly mime putting a hat on my head.

  One corner of his mouth trips up and I swear if my hands weren’t spread on the bar top for balance, I would fall off my stool again. That one small movement completely transforms his face. Lights it up like the hot flash of a camera bulb. I stare, dumfounded, at the tiny lines that crease the skin around his mouth and reveal a line of straight, white teeth.

  “I do wear a hat sometimes,” he says, jolting me back to the conversation.

  “What happened at the gas station?” Julie wants to know. Now she’s practically climbing into my lap.

  I ignore her and say to Landon, “You saved me.”

  “I wouldn’t go that far.”

  I’m quiet for a moment before saying, “This is really weird, isn’t it?”

  With a nod, he agrees, “It’s weird.”

  I close my eyes. God, could my life get any more humiliating? “I-I didn’t expect to see you again but, seriously, thank you. I feel like I owe you an explanation.”

  “An explanation for what?” Claudia wants to know. Her head is moving back and forth and she’s doing a lot of blinking.

  Landon’s deep brown eyes stay on me. “You don’t have to explain. It was my pleasure and who knows—” he shrugs like it doesn’t matter “—maybe one day you’ll return the favor.”

  Then he’s gone.

  And I’m left staring at a blank space where he used to be, my heart fizzing.

  It was my pleasure.

  Julie blows out a breath. “Gemma, what in the world?”

  Claudia’s hands are on her hips. “Can you please explain how you know my brother?”

  “And what’s with the gas station?” Smith asks.

  I release a low whimper and cover my face with my hands. How could this be happening? “He bought me gas this afternoon when my credit cards were declined. I didn’t recognize him.”

  “He bought your gas?” Claudia asks, her voice lifting. “Are we still talking about my brother?”

  I let loose another mortified whimper. “Can we just forget all of this happened and go back to the way things were five minutes ago?”

  “Forget it?” Claudia pants. “I’m not going to just forget it. My brother’s not normally so…”

  “Chatty?” Smith offers.

  “Right.”

  “That was chatty?” I ask, dubious.

  They both nod at the same time. “That was chat
ty.”

  With a sniff, I tap the rim of my glass and tell them, “I don’t think that word means what you think it means.”

  “Chattiness is all relative to the person doing the chatting,” says Claudia.

  “They’re not wrong,” Julie concurs. “I’ve lived next to Landon Young since August and I think we’ve only said fifteen words to each other in that whole time. Mostly he just nods his head and grumbles in my direction.”

  “Like I said,” Claudia persists, “that was chatty.”

  I look to where Landon is standing on the other side of the bar, taking a drink order from a guy with a dyed green fauxhawk.

  Smith must see something etched into my expression because he sets down his drink and gasps. “Oh no.”

  “Oh no?” Claudia asks.

  I wait another heartbeat. Take a breath. Redraw the features on my face.

  “Really Gemma?” he asks.

  “What?” I feign innocence.

  Julie rolls her eyes. “You’re not fooling anyone. You have a look.”

  “I don’t have a look,” I say automatically.

  “What’s the look?” Claudia asks, her eyes flicking over my face.

  Julie waits.

  “All right,” I admit, masking the crack in my voice with a well-timed cough. “Maybe I did have a look but it’s not like… that,” I finish, unable to come up with a better word.

  “I think it is like that,” Julie says, grabbing my hand and pulling it into her lap.

  “Are we talking about rebounding again?” Claudia asks.

  “We’re talking about Gemma sizzling,” Julie tells her.

  “Ooh, with my brother?”

  “No,” I say, trying to sound more certain than I feel.

  Smith swoops his finger along the rim of his glass to gather a clump of red-stained sugar crystals. “Fair warning, Landon’s not really the type for whatever it is you were picturing in that head of yours.”

  I swallow back a laugh, simultaneously embarrassed and intrigued. “I wasn’t picturing anything.”

  He pops his finger between his lips to suck off the sugar. “Uh-huh. I have four sisters and Claudia to deal with. I understand the way you women work.”