by Susan Ward
“You should sell that ring,” Jade says when she notices what I’m studying. “It’ll make up for some of the money from your college fund that jerk weaseled out of you. I told you Cole was no good.”
I make a face at her. “Do you almost have my drink order finished? I’ve got to get back on the floor.”
My cell buzzes again, and as I groan Jade laughs. “Seriously, Willow, go out with Dean once and you’ll see what a great guy he is. You’ve gotta admit it’s nice having a guy chase and text you. I bet Cole never did that. I find you the perfect guy. Hot. Into you. Employed”—that she says with a pointed brow lift—“soon to be a college graduate who won’t rip you off, and you turn up your nose at him. You have the worst taste in guys.”
I lift my nose to bug her. “Not true. Cole’s an outlier, not the rule. I’ve had some great boyfriends.”
She puts a beer on my tray. “Name one.”
“Steve Marquez.”
“OK, he was nice, but what’s he doing now with his life? Nothing. Living at home with his mom and doing nothing. Marry a guy like that and that’s the future you’ll have.”
“Do you always have to think of the worst possible outcome over everything I do? I’m not thinking about marrying anyone.”
“Good. But the standard should be always to date guys worth marrying. Keep hooking up with losers you try to save, and they’ll just keep pulling you down until one of them traps you, and then your life is ruined.”
“Just because a guy doesn’t have money, it doesn’t make him a loser. And I’m not like you, Jade. I’d rather be with someone extraordinary instead of someone with an extraordinary bank account and marriage potential.”
That jab rolls off her back. “And Cole’s extraordinary? No, sis, he’s a cliché. Like all the guys we went to high school with. The hot guy, misunderstood, going nowhere leeching off girls that think they can fix him. You need to knock that shit off. It’s sweet you want to help everyone, but guys can’t be fixed. Why not try a guy with something going for him like Dean has?”
Dean again? I should’ve seen that coming. Jade is so crafty. “Why not let me manage my own life?” I counter, grabbing my tray off the bar. “Gee, I’m not even old enough to work in a bar. Can you let me have a few wild and fun years before we concentrate on marrying me off?”
She rolls her eyes at me then turns to the guy barking at her for a refill. I hurry away before she can trap me into another who Willow should date lecture.
As I weave my way through the packed room, I concede that maybe I have had a few not-so-great relationships, but Jade shouldn’t be so critical. As for that part about me trying to fix everyone, it’s completely off base, and there’s nothing wrong with being a nice person more interested in who a guy is than what he has. Money may make the world go around but it doesn’t make the heart beat faster or make you feel loved.
Cole made me feel loved in all the ways a girl wants—until he didn’t—and I highly doubt Gary has ever made Jade feel that way. I’d trade a few moments of wonderful for a lifetime of a fat bank account with a guy who doesn’t get me hot any day of the week.
That’s no diss to my sister. I understand her fixation with marrying well. We didn’t have an easy life raised with little money by only our dad, having to work hard and live above the bar. It’s taken me years to earn enough money to follow Jade to the University of Virginia, so we can room together, and I can save on expenses at least my freshman year before she graduates in the spring.
I should have started two falls ago, but I didn’t get a scholarship the way Jade did. And with Dad’s diabetes flaring up all year, I had to skip community college and work here as many hours as humanly possible to ease the burden on him.
We just have different goals in life. Jade wants to never have to move back to Capitol Hill again, never to scrape for money, and to have the best of everything the world has to offer. I want to be happy, however and with whomever makes me so. I don’t want to ever be as miserable as Mom obviously was before she died, staying with a man she didn’t love because she couldn’t afford to leave him.
Yes, that’s what marrying for money will get Jade. An unhappy life in the end that she can’t afford to leave. Not that she’d agree if I ever said that to her.
To each his own, I guess.
But I don’t want that for me.
A hard body bumps my back, nearly causing me to drop my tray, and hands clutch my hips to keep me steady on my feet as the glasses rattle.
“I’m sorry, love. Didn’t see you running through the room,” says a guy from behind me, and his low, accented voice makes my pulse jump even before I look over my shoulder and run straight into his brilliant blue eyes. My heart stops as I’m faced with a sight that makes me breathless. He smiles. “Are you all right, love?”
All right? I’m standing statue-like, held in his fingers, and my brain is completely blank of everything but him. This guy is every inch hotness on two legs. Tall, toned—no, I’m certain he’s ripped beneath the long leather jacket he wears with jeans and a gray t-shirt—black hair in sexy disarray to set off stunning bright eyes, and gorgeously chiseled features in a tanned face with a thoroughly kissable mouth.
The way he’s looking at me is downright captivating.
“Can I let you go without you falling off your feet?” he says into my silence.
I flush. “Yes, so long as you don’t barrel into me again.”
I cringe over my malfunctioning mouth that gathered that collection of words all on its own. It sounded bitchy, and the last thing any girl would want to be with him is bitchy.
His smile turns into a grin as though he can feel his effect on me. “If you insist. I won’t barrel into you again, love. Though I must admit it was the highlight of my day.”
Love. My insides shimmy. British? Or maybe Canadian. We get a lot of those in Seattle, but never a guy as hot as this.
“I’m letting you go now because you said it was all right to, but I’m standing ready because I’m not sure about this.”
The color on my face turns into a burn as he steps back from me and his hands go to his side. Soft throaty laughter sounds above me, and I straighten up and pull my gaze back to his face.
“Success. You’re standing on your own feet again,” he remarks charmingly.
I lift my chin. “I always do.”
That kissable smirk reappears. “I bet you do.” He points at the vacant table with the reserved sign. “Can we sit here?”
His companions are already removing their jackets and tossing them into the booth. “No, I’m sorry you can’t. This table is reserved for the band.”
He lightly traces my cheek with a thumb, boring into me with those seductive blue eyes. “We’ll be gone before the set break. I promise. Doesn’t look like there’s an open table in here, and I’m famished.”
Famished is said with a little caress at the end, and my knees go weak. “You can sit here until the band breaks, but the kitchen is closed.”
“You can’t send a bloke into the world hungry, love. Someone should be able to rustle up something in the kitchen. I’ll eat anything you bring me.”
I’m nodding when I shouldn’t be, especially in light of the fact I’m pretty sure he was suggesting something other than food with that last comment.
Before I can stop them, the four guys are seated in the booth. “I’ll try to find you something.”
His magnetic grin spreads wide on his lips. “Whatever you’ve got, love, I’m sure I’ll enjoy it.”
“I’ll be back to take your drink orders once I’ve checked what we’ve got in the kitchen.”
I hurry away and can feel his gaze moving with me. No doubt about it, that’s one hot guy. My body’s tingling everywhere he touched and even where he didn’t. It’s been so long since a guy sparked arousal in me—Dean certainly didn’t—and I was starting to worry I’d never get over Cole.
As I serve the round of
drinks on my tray, I glance at Mr. Sexy over my shoulder and catch him watching me. My heart accelerates. Yep, if he asks for my number, I’m giving it to him.
Chapter Four
Eric
MY GAZE MOVES WITH the waitress as she crosses the room. She’s the first thing since I’ve arrived in Seattle that’s not a disappointment.
That girl’s smoking.
It wouldn’t be far off to say she’s the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen. Long legs, killer body, gorgeous face, flirty black hair, and brown eyes so dark and large that the term “bedroom” comes to mind when looking at them.
No ifs, ands, or buts. Before I leave town, I’m fucking her.
Hugh leans forward and snaps his fingers in my face to draw my attention. “What the fuck’s with the British accent? You were born in Santa Barbara, dickwad.”
I drag my eyes away from her and grin. “Didn’t you see her name tag? Willow. I figured a girl with a name like that would get off on a bit of English tongue.”
The guys bust up, but Hugh’s brows lower. “It’s bad enough you look like your dad with that black hair, but no fucking way am I spending eighteen hours in the car with you sounding like Alan.”
“It got us a table and meal, didn’t it?”
“Yeah, but don’t try to get anything else while we’re here,” he warns. “We’ve got no time for this, Eric. We’ve got to get back on the road right after we eat.”
I nod once, pretending that I’m agreeing with Hugh’s timeline of eating then running, and spread my arms wide across the top of the booth as I shift my gaze back to Willow. Just the sight of her has my dick hard.
I watch as she stretches across a table, setting down beers, and her hem hikes up. She’s wearing tight black shorts and a skin-hugging white tee that shows off the curve of her breasts, complete with tall black heels.
No time for this?
Sorry, Hugh, wrong.
This girl’s drop-dead sexy, and before we leave Seattle I’m hooking up with her. Her clothes don’t hide much, but I sure want to know what she looks like without them.
My imagination runs wild with an image of her lying on a bed, staring up at me with those sultry dark orbs. Her skin is creamy white everywhere, no tan lines on her luscious body. Her limbs have just the right combination of muscle and cushion. The bush between her legs is a jet landing strip, and those large tits of hers are firm with deep pink nipples protruding in anticipation of me.
As if she can feel me staring, she does a flirty little glance over her shoulder at me, and my rod goes harder.
No doubt about it, she’s into me. Not that I doubted it for a second. Yes, being in Seattle is soon to have no longer been a wasted day.
Time for a new schedule, no matter what Hugh says.
Drinks, food, then getting laid.
Not my preferred order, but how I think it’s going to go down.
“Eric’s call to check out this bar wasn’t a bad idea, Hugh,” I hear Linc say. “Admit it. That dude at the drums is almost as good as Ethan.”
Hearing my brother’s name, I force myself to semi-listen to the conversation swirling around me, though the majority of my focus is claimed somewhere better. Like how those heels make Willow’s tight ass pop while she walks.
“That dude’s got skills,” Taz says. “I think we should convo with him.”
“He’s pretty fucking good,” Hugh admits reluctantly. “But he’s in a band. What makes you think he’d be interested in auditioning for us?”
“No harm in feeling him out,” Linc says as if thinking through the game plan. “It is why we came in here. To find a drummer. I say you go talk to him at the break, Hugh. Maybe he’s unhappy and looking for a new gig. If he’s interested, I say we fly him down to Pacific Palisades to jam with us and see how we gel.”
“Earth to Eric,” Taz says. “What’s your vote? Do we extend an invitation to their drummer or not?”
Once Willow walks out of view, I adjust in my seat to face the guys directly and say, “Have you fucking lost your mind? I’m not flying some asshole to Pacific Palisades for an extended audition. No one’s talking to him. Almost as good as Ethan doesn’t cut it for us. I won’t settle for a close second.”
“Then what the fuck was all that junk in the car about if you want to find great musicians you go where the Harleys are parked?” Hugh growls, running a hand through his hair in exasperation.
“Just felt like quoting my grandfather. I wanted to stop because I’m hungry.”
“We can go through a drive-thru or something.” He bumps me with his shoulder to move so he can get out of the booth. “Stop messing around, EJ. We’re not staying.”
“We can’t cut out on Willow after ordering,” I remind them, feigning that I’m appalled by his suggestion.
That earns me a wide variety of insulting looks that I deserve for three reasons: first, I know I’m being a prick to them, and second, it’s obvious I want to stick around because of Willow, and third…
Hugh finishes aloud reason number three. “Eric, we didn’t order.”
“We sent the waitress to see if they have anything in the kitchen for us to order,” Taz adds.
“My guess is they don’t,” Linc states. “We’ve been here twenty minutes and we don’t even have drinks.”
I frown. “Then why the fuck didn’t you order any?” I search the bar and find a waitress standing five feet away. I shout, “Hey, can we get some beers here, love?”
A bouncy bleached blonde whirls in my direction and glares.
She’d be hot if she wasn’t visibly hostile.
Man hater, or is it me?
I decide to test; I toss her my best smile.
With a shake of her head to make sure I know flashing my teeth did nothing for her, she goes back to taking the order from the table she’s standing beside.
Not the reaction I hoped for.
“Beer, love, when you have a moment,” I add louder.
Her face snaps up. She slaps shut her ticket book and, with an air of annoyance, saunters toward our booth.
“You guys aren’t in my station,” she announces as her gaze moves around the table before settling on me. “And while we’re at it, let’s see some ID. I’m sure none of you asswipes are over twenty-one.”
The guys grab their wallets and dump their special licenses purchased from our neighborhood forger onto the table. Her frosty gaze settles on me. “What? You weren’t able to scrape together fifty bucks to buy a fake ID?”
I shrug and let her see I’m amused. “I’m not American. I don’t have a driver’s license.”
She rolls her eyes. “Your accent is about as fake as those licenses on the table. Put them away, guys. You’re not drinking here tonight. And if I hear one more shout out of any of you at any server in here, all four of you are out of here. We keep a bat behind the bar and I know how to use it. Are we clear?”
For what it’s worth, this pint-sized creature is a pit bull. The way she stares. The way she stands. The way she speaks. Bat, my ass. Ten bucks says she’s got a bottle of mace in her pocket and isn’t afraid to use it.
Fuck, I like her. I’m fucking sure she’s a good friend of Willow seeing as how they work together here, so staying on her bad side isn’t a brilliant move if I want to get with her friend tonight.
Smothering a grin, I’m about to apologize for having been rude when Linc cuts me off. “Sorry. No disrespect intended. We’ll be leaving now.”
The guys start gathering up their shit. Jesus Christ, since when did they become a bunch of pussies? Things are just starting to get fun here.
I lean in to read her name tag though I don’t need to get close to make it out. “Ivy. What a lovely name. How long have you worked here, love?”
Her head tilts with my question. “Probably not as long as you’ve been an asshole.” Her lips tighten in an upturn that’s a unique blend of fuck you and fake ha ha smile.
/> “Probably not.” I double down with another smirk. “Can you send Willow back to get our order?”
One brow shoots up. “I think I’m going to take this table for her. Do you want four sodas or four coffees? One round, then you get the hell outta here. I don’t know where you guys are from, but you’re in the wrong neighborhood for that attitude of yours.”
That insult was directed at me even if she worded it to include all of us, and if I don’t do damage control quickly with Ivy she’s going to cockblock me right out the front door.
I reach into my jacket pocket, pull out the wad of bills, and drop two Franklins on her tray.
Ivy scowls down at the money as though it offends her. “Four coffees are only going to run you about ten bucks. What’s this for?”
“A hundred for you. Bring a round of dark ale on tap and keep the change. The second hundred”—her eyes flash and I can see she’s thinking badly about me again—“give it to the lead guitarist of that band. Tell him it’s from me to buy some guitar lessons. My mates told me Seattle’s full of great musicians. But I haven’t seen proof of that. Whoever hires the gigs for this bar should be fired. That band is torture to listen to, love.”
Her face reddens as she puffs up her chest. “The drummer is my brother and I book the bands.”
Oh fuck.
“Your brother isn’t half bad,” I amend smoothly. “My brother’s a drummer, too. Send him over. I want to buy him a drink.”
Ivy’s jaw clenches before she marches away. As I turn back toward the table, I find the guys scowling at me. “What?”
“You’re a fucking menace to society tonight,” Hugh hisses.
I brush back my hair. “Just trying to have some fun after that fucking shitty day you made me sit through.”
“Fun, huh?” Hugh shoves my shoulder with his arm, hard. “It’s nearly one a.m. and I’ve got a long drive home. We’re leaving before you get our asses kicked. The waitress that gave you a hard-on hasn’t been back to our table in half an hour. You crashed and burned with her, Eric. We’re out of here.”
