by Susan Ward
“How old are you?”
“Twenty.”
“We’re the same age, love.”
“Yes, but you seem worldlier than me.”
I smirk at the way she says worldly. “Is that good or bad?”
“Don’t know yet.”
“Why did you follow me into the stairwell?”
She gives me a little shove, and I wonder if she’s a virgin. I haven’t had a girl give me a playful shoulder bump since grade school. Then she growls and groans. “I like you. I wanted to talk some more with you before you took off. You’re interesting. There’s no telling how long it will be until I meet a guy who’s interesting again.”
Her rambling directness is refreshing. “Thank you for the compliment. You’re interesting, too.”
“I am not. I’m about the most not-interesting person I know.”
“How do you figure that?”
She shrugs. “I just am. I work in my dad’s bar and I haven’t been anywhere or really done anything. It’s like I haven’t started life yet and you’re full throttle in it.”
“Full throttle. What makes you think that?”
“I don’t know. Lots of things.” She runs her fingers through her hair as she shakes it. “How you walk into a room. Talk to people. Do whatever the fuck you want. You were so amazing on stage with the band and you’d never even played with those guys before. You just walked up there and did it, like the thought you’d fall on your ass never entered your mind. You’re either the most confident or the most I-don’t-give-a-shit person I’ve ever met. I’m not sure which.”
The way she says that makes me laugh. “Probably both.”
Willow does a pert nod in agreement. “Were you born that way or are you rich or something? You’re so, so…” It’s like she’s searching for the right word.
“So what?”
She growls again. “Cocky. I hate that word. I was hoping to think of something better.”
I bust up. “Cocky’s a great word. There isn’t one better. And I think my answer is I’m both. Rich and cocky. Just take a poll of my brother and sisters. I was born an arrogant prick.”
She giggles. “They don’t really tell you that, do they?”
“Every chance they get.”
“How many brothers and sisters do you have?”
“Four. Three sisters. One brother.”
“I only have a sister. Do you like having a big family?”
“Most of the time.”
“Are your parents still married?”
“Yes, they are.”
Her face grows sparkly with surprise. “Wow. I don’t know anyone with parents still married to each other. You’re like an outlier or something.”
“Not really. It’s not as impressive as it sounds. They had all five of us kids together and didn’t get married until my oldest sister was eighteen.”
Her eyes shoot wide. “They had five kids together before they were married?”
“Yep, and that’s not the fun part. Both of them married twice before they married each other.”
“Whoa.” Willow stares at me like it’s the craziest thing she’s ever heard. “I thought I had a screwed-up family. My mom used to walk out on my dad like every six months then move back in until she died. After that my sister and I spent most of our time working in the bar because he didn’t have anyone to watch us. I was worried my background might be too messed up for a guy like you, but yours is way worse.”
The way she exaggerates way worse makes it seem like she was worried she wouldn’t be better than me in some way and needed to be. Almost as if that’s on her requirements’ list for a guy.
“Crap,” I say, shaking my head as though I’m bummed. “I probably shouldn’t have told you that junk about my family. I bet you’re rethinking completely whether you should get to know such a loser. Seeing how my family’s more screwed up than yours.”
“No way. If I crossed off every guy I know with a screwed-up family I wouldn’t have anyone to date.”
After my laughter melts, her face lowers and she stares at her shoes, pensive again.
What is she thinking?
It isn’t often there’s a girl I can’t read, but this one I’m having trouble with. Too many mixed signals. Maybe she wants to fuck me, has decided she shouldn’t, and doesn’t know how to get out of this. Not that this matters to me. It’s only something I’m wondering.
I grab a handful of fries. “Now what?”
“What do you mean now what?”
“Just waiting for your next question, love. The last twenty minutes have felt like a job interview. Am I doing well so far?”
“No,” she says on a choked-back laugh, pushing her face up into mine. She lifts her brows. “What makes you think there are more questions?”
I shrug. “There should be. If I were a girl I’d have tons of them before I made up my mind about hooking up with a bloke.”
She pretends to consider that. “You’re probably right. But what makes you think I’m trying to make up my mind about that? I could have just come out here to bring you your dinner, got trapped talking to you, and am trying to figure out how to get out of here.”
Her gaze lowers from my eyes to my lips. That’s the first dishonest thing she’s said to me, and even lying is cute on her. Even if she’s really bad at it. Her body language blew it for her.
How close she’s holding herself to me and the rush of color on her face—no guy would ever misread that. Not with the way her lids lower and eyes darken as she waits for my answer.
But, fuck, right now she’s the sexiest girl I’ve ever seen.
I set my plate on the floor and turn in her direction. I run the tip of my finger down her bare arm and watch her lips part. “Are you off work?”
“Why?” Her brow creases and her face is a mixture of arousal and unsureness.
“I don’t want to kiss you if you’re still working.”
“Why?”
“Because if I kiss you I’m positive we’re not going to want to stop.”
Her eyes are like saucers. “No?” She wets her lips and smiles.
I lean in and brush the hair from her face. “No.” I ease closer until there’s only air between our lips, and I move my hand so I can trail one finger along her ear.
“Do you want to kiss me?” she asks.
“Do you want me to kiss you?” I know the answer. I just want to hear her say it.
“I’m off work. The bar’s closed,” she tells me earnestly instead, and my cock thickens when that wasn’t the answer either head was expecting.
I wrap my fingers through her hair and cover her mouth with my own. Her lips are soft, and her moan vibrates down my throat. My fingers dig into her hair as I deepen our kiss and every part of her feels as good as I thought she would.
Her thick, silky strands of black hair. The creamy smoothness of her mouth and skin. Those lush breasts pushing into my chest. The taste of her that I’m sure is delicious everywhere.
I lift her off the concrete until she’s straddling me with her legs around my waist, and grind my dick into her. She’s latched onto me with both her arms and legs like she can’t get close enough to me, meeting the thrusts of my tongue and the pulses of my hips.
Five minutes in, I know this isn’t ending with kissing her. A little extra time in Seattle won’t hurt anything. One of my hands scoops her up off my groin while the other goes for my zipper. By how she meets my every move, I’m pretty sure she’s a get right at it rough and dirty kind of girl.
“Hey, asshole,” booms a voice, and Willow pulls back from me with a jerk. “I thought you might want to know your friends left ten minutes ago without you. We’re locking up. You’ve gotta get out of here. Now.”
Oh fuck.
Ivy.
And that other part. What does she mean Hugh and the guys left without me?
Chapter Seven
Willow
“ARE YO
U GOING TO sit on his lap all night or help us clean up?” my bestie barks.
Mortified. There’s no other word for how I’m feeling. I’m pretty sure my face is every shade of red ever invented and probably a few never before seen.
Getting caught this way with a customer is a first. Going fast with a guy is unlike me. I’ve never hauled off and kissed a stranger before, and from how overcome I am I can’t help but wonder how far this would have gone if Ivy hadn’t interrupted.
Eric’s kiss was like drinking a fireball, the hundred-proof kind that sweeps down your body and burns you everywhere. The kind you see in the love scenes of movies that never materialize in real life. I’ve never had a guy kiss me like that or felt such sudden combustion.
A taste of wonderful in my dreary life then ripped away. I wonder if this is what Cinderella felt like when she ran from the ball. Heated up, frustrated, and dropped back to earth with a hard thump.
“I’ll be right there,” I sputter, fighting to calm my breathing. It’s not easy. My heart’s still going a mile a second.
I focus my eyes on Eric’s face as I listen for Ivy to leave. It’s impressive how he looks smooth and calm, like this is no big deal. But I can feel his pulse thudding in time with mine.
The door doesn’t close. Damn. She’s not even leaving me alone with him long enough to apologize and give him my number. That is if he wants it after this. It’s so fucking embarrassing and I don’t doubt Jade sent her in here to ruin it.
“I think you should get up, love,” he whispers so only I can hear. For what it’s worth he’s got an adorable kind of smile in his bright blue eyes, almost like he can’t believe what’s going down. “We’ve got company, and I need to catch up to my mates.”
Oh, I’d forgotten that part.
His friends left.
Without looking in Ivy’s direction, I untangle myself from Eric’s body and plant my hands on his chest to balance myself on my feet.
He rises and cups my chin to brush a thumb along my jaw. “We’ll talk later, Willow.”
Nodding, I stare at my shoes, bracing for what I know comes next. He steps around me and heads for the entrance to the bar. That little moment of magic: gone.
A crackling silence swirls around me. The door hasn’t closed. Ivy’s still there. Great, there’s going to be more awful.
“You should thank me,” she announces, and I’m sure that means we’re alone now.
My stomach twists. “Excuse me if I don’t.”
“Are you going to stand there and pout, or try to go say goodbye to him? With how he ran outta here you don’t have a lot of time. He looked really shook that his friends took off without him.”
My feet refuse to move. I’m not ready for whatever Eric was to be over.
“Have some pride, Willow. And while you’re at it some gratitude, too. I just saved you from a giant mistake. Jesus Christ, only a manwhore tries to hook up in a stairwell with a girl he just met. He was playing you to get fucked, and you were playing right along.”
That comment makes me whirl to glare at her. “It wasn’t like that. You’d have known that if you’d talked to him instead of being judgy from the start like you are with every guy I like.”
Her hazel eyes are streaked with anger. “I’m sure someday you’ll have another chance to find out the hard way all on your own that nothing that starts this way ever ends any way but bad.”
I continue staring back at her and she tilts her head, her silent gesture that she doesn’t want to fight and wants this over.
I should relent. There’s nothing to fight over. Eric’s gone.
As I step toward her, her expression softens as she holds out an arm for me. She pulls me into her as we walk, and I lay my head on her shoulder. “Why do things like this happen to girls like us, Ivy?”
She frowns. “Like what?”
I stare up at her face. “Meet a great guy. Poof, he’s gone.”
“Oh,” she says with a wide circle of the mouth. “And you’ve got that backward. Having some hot guy land in our neighborhood and do it fast and dirty with us in a stairwell before he takes off is exactly what happens to girls from Capitol Hill.”
“Maybe it wouldn’t have ended that way.”
“It would have.”
“You don’t know until it happens.”
“It always ends that way.”
That’s been the case for both her and me—deep down I know that—but I’m not ready to let go of the fantasy: that the amazing guy is the good guy as well.
“I know it’s hard, honey. But we’ve got to be twice as smart as the jerks are if we want to stop being used.”
“He wasn’t a jerk. He was nice.”
“All guys like him are jerks. They take what they want and move on. This time our side won. The only thing he moved on with was one hell of a boner.”
My cheeks color.
“Don’t pretend you didn’t feel that bulge. I couldn’t miss it when he walked past me, not with how tight his jeans are. He won’t forget the girl that got away at Mel’s anytime soon. Believe me, Willow. He’ll always remember you.”
I’m laughing, and I shouldn’t be.
“What the fuck do you mean you don’t have my jacket?” shouts a voice. I look to find Eric standing at the bar, making angry gestures and yelling at Jade. “I left it in the booth. How could you let someone walk off with it?”
Slowly uncrossing her arms, Jade points at the sign above the bar. “Mel’s is not responsible for your property,” she reads. “Don’t leave your belongings unattended or they may leave without you.”
“What the fuck?” he snaps, running his fingers through his hair. “Instead of tearing apart this place trying to find my stuff, are you really reading me a sign?”
“It’s our posted policy.”
“You can’t even see that fucking sign from the booths. What kind of business are you running here?”
Jade shoves her angry face up into his. “The kind that wants to know who’s paying your tab. Your friends forgot that part before leaving. Your bill’s still open and I can’t close out the register until it’s paid for. Fifty-two dollars ninety-five cents on the counter now or I call the cops.”
Eric springs back from the bar. “You’re calling the cops on me? I’m the one who had their jacket stolen. Or maybe you’re the one who took it and this is some kind of scam you people run.”
Gary springs from the stool he’d been sitting on. “Don’t you dare accuse my girlfriend—”
“Or what?” Eric barks, planting his hands on Gary’s chest to shove him out of his face.
Gary swings, and in a blink, the two guys are fighting on the floor. “Grab the bat, Jade,” Ivy screams.
“No,” I call out, running across the room. I try to get between the guys but they’re going at it like junkyard dogs. “Gary, please stop.”
I scramble around my sister’s boyfriend, trying to get between them again. Gary lunges forward, and I’m propelled onto my stomach beside them.
“Knock it off. Now. Or I’ll crack both your skulls.”
My face snaps up as the guys pull apart, breathing heavy and glaring at each other. Ivy’s standing over the three of us, slapping the bat in her palm.
“You don’t have to call anyone, Jade. I’ve got it under control. Hey, Romeo?” When Eric doesn’t look at her, she pokes him in the side with the aluminum. “Sixty bucks on the counter, you get out and don’t ever come back here.”
Chapter Eight
Eric
I SLOUCH BACK AGAINST my barstool, rubbing my aching jaw, as the fiery redhead squares off with me with her eyes. And fuck, she still has the phone in her hand. “How do you propose we solve this?” I ask reasonably, and her reaction is the opposite.
“Sixty bucks on the counter or I call the police.” Her pretty face tightens with resolve—she’s gorgeous and I’d probably want to fuck her if she wasn’t being such a hard-ass. N
o, that’s not true. Willow’s more my type. Her I’d want to fuck no matter what she did.
I sink my fingers into my hair, clutching hard to keep my temper in check. “I’ve already told you. My money was in my jacket. I can’t give you what I don’t have.”
She shrugs. “Then I’m calling the police.”
Jesus Christ, this is idiotic. My night shot to hell over fifty-two bucks. And if she calls—inwardly I shudder—a second after the police find out who I am, my name will light up the newswires and blogs like a Christmas tree. I won’t ever fucking live this down with my family and friends.
Eric Manzone arrested in Seattle for not being able to fork over sixty bucks. The tab’s fifty-two, by the way. I guess the extra eight dollars is my extorted tip for Willow. This entire situation’s fucking ridiculous.
I let my gaze roam the rest of the people staring at me.
Gary the jerkwad looks like he’s itching to pick up our fight where it left off. I don’t fault him. That scam comment was below the belt. I knew it wasn’t true when I said it. My jacket’s no doubt with the guys heading south on the highway to California.
Why the fuck is the pit bull still here? No way Jade needs backup, but there’s Ivy still slapping the Spalding bat in her hand. That girl’s a man hater and has anger issues. I wonder who the guy is that fucked her over and left her raw.
My gaze moves on quickly from her to a better sight.
Willow.
My jaw clenches.
Where the fuck did that dweeb come from with his arm around her, talking fast with his face close to her? I hate that guy touching her the way I want to. Total loser. But even if he weren’t, it doesn’t mean I’d want his hands on her. Seeing him so close to her makes me want to fight again.
My next stop is most likely going to be jail tonight. What does it matter if I beat up the dweeb? It’d be worth it if it got him to back off from Willow. And I’d enjoy giving the dweeb an ass kicking.
Exhaling heavily, I remind myself I’m in enough trouble and do one last assessment of the room. There’s no finding a reasonable solution with Jade’s posse of hotheads. Sinking to their level to go SWAT on the dweeb won’t help get me out of this.
