Bump & Grind (Brewed Moon Book 1)

by J. Margot Critch

  They waited outside the club for Joe, who was nearby, before they headed in. Thankfully it was still early, and the place wasn’t packed, nor was the music overbearingly loud. Peter was still able to hear himself think, along with the chorus of giggles that came from a nearby table. His eyes zeroed in on the source, and the first thing he saw was Erica’s fire-red hair. She was sitting with Azura and Juliana and they were laughing and smiling. It looked like they were certainly having a good night.

  In the smallish lounge area of the restaurant, Peter and the men secured a table, off in a corner, but they were still able to keep an eye on the women, who hadn’t even noticed them walk in. “All right gentlemen,” drawled Mitch, settling in, “get comfy and keep your eyes open. This might be a harmless night out, but they could just as easily be meeting an Irish contact.”

  Peter subtly surveyed the bar’s denizens while the others kept up the charade of a regular group of men out for a casual drink. At least he meant to survey the bar, but his gaze inexorably drifted back to the vivacious redhead. Erica tilted her head and laughed at something Azura was relating to her friends, and a flurry of animated hand gestures sent Erica and Juliana into fresh peals of laughter. Peter caught himself staring as Erica placed a hand on her ample chest and brought her drink to her full lips to calm her laughter. An impulsive thought bubbled to the surface of his mind.

  “I’ve got a new plan,” Peter said, standing.

  “Yeah, and what’s that?” Mitch asked.

  “We’ll invite them over here, talk to them. Get to know them.”

  “What do you mean?” Mitch questioned him. “Hey, hang on a sec,” but Peter was already walking away.

  “Follow my lead. I’ll get drinks.”

  Making sure that Erica would see him, he walked right by her table without as much as a glance in her direction. He sauntered up to the bartender and ordered four beers, and a round of whatever it was that the women were drinking. He looked casually around the bar, doing a lap with his eyes, before training them in her direction. Just as he’d suspected, she was watching him. And he caught her eye briefly before he looked away again.

  Peter’s previous interactions with Erica had been wrought with sexual tension and he knew that he wasn’t alone in feeling it. Peter knew that if he challenged her, she would step up to the plate. He could spend a week watching her from afar, but he was going to learn everything he needed to know from her just by talking to her. He looked back at her table, and saw that she was still watching him. He smiled. She smiled.

  Oh yeah, this is going to be some night.

  Erica had seen Peter walk by her table. But somehow, she’d felt his presence before she’d even noticed him. A small shiver of awareness had crept up her spine the minute he was near. She watched him over Azura’s shoulder as he stood at the bar. He looked around the bar while he waited for the bartender to get to him, and his eyes landed squarely on her. Their eyes locked, and Erica held her breath, unable to look away. She was grateful when the bartender approached him, forcing him to release her from his entrancing eyes.

  The bartender handed him four bottles of beer and he walked them back to the table he shared with his friends. Handsome and strong the lot of them. But it surprised her when he returned to the bar and the bartender handed back three martini glasses, each containing purple haze martinis, the same drink that she, Azura and Juliana were drinking. He picked up the three glasses at once, holding them steady with long, sure fingers and walked toward their table without taking his eyes off her.

  “Good evening ladies. These are for you; my way of saying thanks for the free coffee on my first visit,” he said, placing a drink in front of each of them. “I asked for ‘hot drinks for hot bodies’ but this is the best he could do for me.”

  “Oh, uh,” Erica said, stammering at the implication that he had overheard her conversation that day in the café, “Thank you, Peter.”

  “But if you would like to bring them over the table to my left,” he continued, pointing to where the three other men were sitting and trying to avoid looking into Erica’s blushing face, “We would love for you to join us.”

  Juliana raised her eyebrow. “Yeah thanks, but sorry, slick. This is girls’ night. No boys allowed.”

  “Aww, come on, Jules,” Azura implored as Juliana shot her a look.

  “So Erica, how’s the burn?” Peter, undaunted by Juliana’s attempted dismissal, turned his attention to her.

  Erica held up her hand and waved it in front of her face. “It’s just fine. See?”

  “It looks great,” Peter laughed, and he looked around the table. “Well ladies, I should be getting back to my friends. You all have a great night.” He turned to leave their table, but not before he caught her eye again and spoke in a softer tone. “Take care of that hand, Erica.”

  “Jules, that was so rude,” Azura scolded her, taking a sip from the drink that Peter had brought. “He was nice. And look at his friends.”

  “How can you drink that?” Juliana replied. “How do you know that he didn’t put something in it? You shouldn’t accept drinks from strangers.”

  “Okay Mom,” Azura rolled her eyes. “He was a good-looking guy who came bearing alcohol, not some guy trying to lure us into a van with candy.”

  “Six of one…”

  Erica loved her friends, but she was barely listening to them as they bickered. She hadn’t taken her eyes away from him. He sat with his friends as they drank their beer and spoke quietly. She sipped her drink. Purple haze, a bit too sweet for her tastes, but it was a tradition since they’d turned nineteen – GNOs called for fruity, sugary, girly drinks.

  "Hello, over there...?" Erica heard a giggle from Azura. She had been caught staring and not paying attention to her friends, and she knew it was obvious when Juliana waved a few fingers in front of her face. Apparently they had stopped their bickering. "Where are you, exactly?"

  Erica shook her head, tearing her gaze away from Peter. She looked at the girls, laughing. "Sorry, I just got distracted there for a minute."

  "Yeah, we could tell," Juliana took a sip of her martini. Erica laughed. Juliana must have gotten over her whole stranger-danger spiel. “It’s not like you to zero in on some stranger at a bar.”

  “He’s not a stranger. I know all about him,” Erica insisted. “His name is Peter Swanson. And he really likes the Sumatran dark roast.”

  “Well, it sounds like you could certainly write his biography,” Juliana teased.

  “Wait,” Azura held up a hand, and looked more closely at Peter. “Is that your crushtomer from the café? The one that’s got you all in a tizzy?”

  “It might be.”

  “You’re dating a customer?” Juliana frowned, ever the group mom. “You know nothing good comes from that sort of thing.”

  “I’m not dating anyone.”

  “Why don’t we go over there?” Azura asked. “That way Erica can get her swerve on with Mr. Handsome. And Jules! Look at his friends…”

  “Get my swerve on?”

  “Fine, let’s do it,” Juliana relented.

  “Yeee!” Azura squealed with a giddy smile and she clapped with her fingertips together. “This night just turned out amazing.”

  Erica tried to catch Peter’s gaze, no difficult task, because he’d spent the same amount of time that she’d been looking at him, scoping her out. She smiled at him, pointed at the drink she held in her hand, and then to his table. In response, he smiled, held out his hands and cocked his head to one side in invitation.

  Erica winked and looked at her friends. “Come on, girls,” she said, scooping up her purse and her drink.

  “They’re coming over,” Peter told his teammates, as the women gathered their things.

  “This is a bad idea,” Mitch frowned. “What, they’re just going to give us details about any dealings that they might have with O’Connell and the Irish mob?”

  “I agree, it doesn’t seem likely,” Joe spoke up from behind his bottl
e.

  “But don’t you think we’ll learn a lot more about them by actually talking to them?” Mitch continued. “We’ll get to know them. They’ll come to trust us. Let us get close-”

  “I think we all know what you’re looking to get close to,” Steve muttered with a smirk.

  “Dude, come on, it’s a job,” Peter insisted.

  “A job alright. Hand, blow or otherwise?”

  “They’re coming,” Mitch warned, cutting him off.

  “Too easy,” quipped Steve.

  “Okay, trust me,” Peter whispered, before turning on a smile and standing while Erica, Azura and Juliana joined them at the table. He couldn’t help but be pleased that Erica took the stool closest to where he stood, so that he hovered over her.

  “Thanks for joining us, ladies.”

  “You’re gonna need to cool it with the ladies bit,” Azura warned him with a wink. “I don’t see any ladies around here.”

  “My mistake,” he laughed, and extended his hand. “Peter.” He pointed to the other men. “This is Mitch, Steve and Joe.”

  Introductions were made all around, and Peter settled his gaze on Erica. She looked up and smiled, and lofted her half-full martini glass at him in a silent toast. Her lips were deep red, and pursed, upturned in a smart smirk. She took a sip and a drop of liquid clung to her full lower lip. Peter wanted nothing more than to lean over and lick it clean. He cleared his throat, and willed all of his blood to return to his brain where it belonged.

  Jesus, I’m in trouble.

  Thankfully, her quick, pink tongue darted out and cleared the droplet, but it didn’t help. He was still completely engrossed by her. He picked up his beer bottle and found it empty. “Guess I’ve got to hit the bar,” he announced.

  “I’ll go with you,” she offered before finishing the rest of her drink in an impressive mouthful. “It looks like I’m empty too.”

  Peter shifted to the side to allow Erica to stand and he took in the table. His teammates were quickly becoming friendly with the women. Maybe his plan was working after all. At the very least it might see them relaxing, meeting some gorgeous women, maybe getting laid. He looked at Mitch, who sat rigidly in his seat. No relaxation for that man. He sent Peter a knowing look; a warning to be careful. With a tilt of his head, Peter turned his back on the table and put a hand at the small of Erica’s back, to escort her to the bar.

  His fingers nearly curled over her. She was warm, and the heat sizzled on his fingertips. When the made it to the bar, he reluctantly pulled back. “So what can I get for you?” he asked her. “Another purple thing?”

  She chuckled. “I’ll have a beer. Don’t tell the girls, but I don’t really like the purple things.”

  Peter held up two fingers to the bartender, ordering beers for both of them. “So why do you drink them?”

  “Well, we started girls’ night when we were nineteen, and the only thing we knew how to drink were martinis. We were in university and flat broke, and sure martinis were kind of expensive, but they’re pretty strong. So, that’s what we drank through our formative years of early adulthood. Now we make a date to get together every week and drink martinis, it’s a tradition.”

  “Even though you don’t like them…” he supplied.

  “It’s a girl thing, Peter. Don’t question the GNO protocol.”

  “GNO?”

  “Girls’ Night Out.”

  “Okay,” Peter nodded. He took the beer bottles from the bartender and handed one to Erica. “I think I messed with the protocol by interfering. At least your friend Juliana thinks I did.”

  “Oh, don’t worry about her. We always tease her for being the group mom. But, uh, it looks like she’s getting cozy with your friend Mitch.”

  Peter looked over at the table to see Mitch. He was, indeed, talking to Juliana. Hell, he was even smiling. Of course, he zeroed-in on Juliana, the woman leasing a storefront from Dylan O’Connell. Even at a bar, Mitch was always in work mode. “He’s my brother.”

  “Oh, really?” she asked. She turned back to Peter, leaning in, scrutinizing his features. She turned back to Peter. “Yeah, I can kind of see it.”

  “We should get back to the table,” he suggested.

  “Should we?”

  Peter watched her closely for a moment, and he gestured to two empty stools nearby. They both sat.

  It was surprising how quickly Erica had forgotten about her friends in the presence of a gorgeous man. She felt grateful for the barstool as she sat. Barstools always did fantastic things for her posture. Especially when she straightened her shoulders in a move that she knew thrust her breasts out slightly and showed confidence. Well, it showed the appearance of confidence, which belied the nervous quake in her tummy.

  They drank their beer in silence

  "It’s nice to see you here," he said

  "It’s nice seeing you as well, outside of a coffee shop scenario, that is."

  Erica watched him out of the corner of her eye. He was wearing his typical jeans and a t-shirt under the leather jacket. She was stunned to actually be sitting next to him in a bar when all she’d done in for the past forty-eight hours was sell him coffee and think about him.

  He’d even invaded her dreams. Last night she’d dreamed that Peter had come by the café after she’d closed, and they’d done things that a lady would never discuss. All she knew is that she would never look at the honey drizzler the same anymore. She’d woken up that morning hot and bothered with her bedsheets twisted about her body.

  As she thought about the filthy things they’d done in her subconscious she could feel a blush building and she felt the redness in her chest rise to her cheeks. If he was half the lover in reality that he was in her dream, Peter would certainly leave her more than satisfied.

  “You okay over there?” he asked, interrupting her thoughts, watching her.

  “Yeah, I’m fine. Why?”

  “You look a little flushed over there, and you’re breathing pretty quickly. Not feeling well?”

  Erica managed to get her breathing under control before she looked back at him. “I assure you, I’m fine.”

  “So what are you fellows doing here tonight? You and your big, burly friends, at a nice place like this?”

  “It was just a long day for all of us. This was the closest place for us.”

  “So what about your wife or girlfriend? Is she wondering where you are?”

  “I’m sure if I had a wife or a girlfriend, she would be curious.” He took a sip of beer. “But no, I’m all alone.”

  “All alone? That’s sad. Not even a dog to keep you company?"

  "Not even a gold fish."

  The news of his single status was reassuring. "I'm sorry your day turned out to be a bust."

  She felt his eyes as they looked her over. "It's not all that bad."

  "It's not, is it?” she confirmed, not taking her eyes from his.

  “How about yourself?” he asked. “Anyone at home waiting for you to come home from your GNO all liquored-up on martinis?”

  “Nope. All alone. Well, except for Azura.” She turned her head to see her friend, giggling at something Steve had said to her, putting a hand on his chest. “We live together. But I think she isn’t going to be very worried about me tonight.”

  “Well, lucky me.”

  What are you doing? Peter asked himself as he drank his beer, taking in the woman next to him. Sure, getting close to her was part of his plan. But he just wished he didn't enjoy her company so goddamn much. It turned out that it was just too easy to sit with her, chat, and get to know her. He hadn’t laid any groundwork to find out anything about Dylan O’Connell. She made him forget about the job, the fact-finding mission, the undercover assignment he was on. Most importantly he’d quickly forgotten about a rule that had kept him alive in many situations – if you’re in trouble, bail. Get out, before you get dead was one of the mottos that had saved his life too many times in the past. He had a feeling that it was also advice
that he should follow when it came to Erica Hardin. He already knew that he was in trouble. Worse, she knew it too.

  Forget your plan. Just finish your drink, say 'it's been nice,' and get the hell out of here before you do something stupid, he scolded himself.

  But, alas, he couldn't find the will to leave. She intrigued him. She was stunning, and she certainly didn’t at all look like most of the women he’d been with in the past. She was shorter than the women who normally caught his attention, and curvier, and she possessed a flair for vintage clothing that showed off her attributes. She reminded him more of a modern day pin-up girl than a coffee shop barista, and if he closed his eyes, he could picture her scantily-clad, in a seductive pose, à la Bettie Page or Jayne Mansfield.

  “Oh shit,” she suddenly whispered, smacking the heel of her hand to her forehead.

  “What?” he asked. “What’s wrong?”

  “Oh nothing really, I just realized that I left my good stilettos at the dance studio, and I need them tomorrow night. I’ll just have to head back there tomorrow morning, during my lunch break. It’s not a big deal. Just a minor annoyance.”

  Peter’s mind raced trying to determine what type of dance would require stilettos. It didn’t really matter; any option would surely bring him to his knees. Even though he would be in over his head, he needed to know for sure. “You dance in stilettos for…?”

  “I’m a burlesque dancer,” she told him, matter-of-factly. “I teach a class. That’s where I was before I came here."

  "Burlesque?" Peter asked, almost swallowing his tongue. So she was a little more Dita Von Teese than Bettie Paige? His eyebrows raised, interest piqued. Nothing that he’d found in her file, and nothing but the raw sex appeal that she radiated, had indicated that she danced burlesque.

  With a coy smile, she responded. "Yeah, I teach at the studio down the street. We also perform shows every couple of weeks here in town.”

  He was impressed. He knew that there were burlesque shows. He’d seen the posters. His brain virtually emptied of everything but the imaged he’d conjured of her dancing in lingerie. He choked a little and took a swallow of his beer as a stall tactic, but also in an effort to swallow the lump in his throat. When he was certain he could speak again, he turned back to her. "How long have you been teaching?"