The Bars Between Us

by A. S. Teague

  I finish arguing with myself and push the gearshift to park and slide down in my seat to keep from being seen.

  After Grace left, I’d given it about a minute’s thought before I slipped my feet into some flops and thrown a shirt on, deciding to follow her.

  And now here I sit, parked a few houses down from hers, spying on her like some sort of jealous stalker.

  This is ridiculous.

  I watch as she steps out of her car, slamming the door harder than necessary and stomping toward the porch.

  As she climbs the stairs, an exceptionally well-dressed man stands and meets her at the top step. He’s wearing a suit that even to my untrained eye looks expensive, his hair perfectly styled. His face is bright, his eyes hopeful.

  Dude’s got it bad for Grace.

  My fingers grip the steering wheel, my knuckles turning white as I wait to see what she does next.

  When she reaches the top step, he smiles at her and my lip curls. When he pulls her into his embrace, I actually let out a growl, as if I’m a feral dog and another animal has just taken my bone.

  What the fuck is wrong with me?

  I hadn’t been suspicious when she’d taken the call, mainly because her naked ass was hovering in the air and I couldn’t stop remembering the way it felt in my hands the night before. But when she’d back tracked after I’d offered to go with her, I had begun to wonder if maybe there was more to this guy than she was letting on.

  I continue to watch them, my mind spiraling in different directions. But then she starts waving her arms wildly, her hair flying around her face, and I smile. I can’t hear what they are saying, but I don’t need to. It’s obvious she’s giving him a piece of her mind.

  Riley’s smug smile fades, his face dropping as she continues her tirade, and I almost begin to feel bad for the guy.

  A girl like Grace isn’t one that I would want to give up easily either; I can understand his persistence. Although, I wouldn’t be caught dead looking like a puss the way he is right now, his hand shoved into his suit pockets, his hair falling over one eye, the lost puppy dog face doing nothing to sway her.

  After a few minutes of her berating him, I finally decide that I’ve seen enough. It’s obvious that she’s not hiding anything from me, and that the hopeless love-struck story is true.

  Not that I didn’t believe her.

  I put the gear in drive, slowly rolling toward her house, and just as I get in front of the stoop, roll my window down.

  Grace turns, her mouth dropping open when she turns.

  “Hiya!” I shout, my arm hanging out the window. “Beautiful day for a drive, isn’t it?”

  Her mouth opens and closes like a fish out of water while Riley’s eyes narrow, his cheeks reddening.

  Putting my hand up in a friendly wave, I tell them, “Just headed into work. Grace, you should bring your friend by the bar. First drink’s on the house.” Smacking the outside of the truck once, I drive off, not bothering to even look in the rearview.

  An hour later, the door to the bar flies open and I don’t have to look up to know that the hurricane blowing through is named Grace Monroe.

  Her heels clip across the floor, the sound echoing in the nearly empty bar, and when I do finally glance away from the baseball game that I’ve got playing on the TV behind the bar, she’s standing directly in front of me, her hands on her hips.

  “You followed me?” she practically screeches, catching the attention of the few regulars sitting in the space.

  Slamming her purse on the counter, she resumes her angry stance, and although I can’t see it, I can hear her foot tapping the floor. “Well, are you going to admit it? I mean, you don’t have to admit to anything, seeing as how you made it plainly obvious that you had followed me by rubbing it in Riley’s face!” Her voice continues to rise, and while I can’t be sure, I think I hear dogs howling outside.

  I lift a shoulder, making a show of studying her, and then drop the towel I was holding and lean over the bar.

  My voice low, I ask, “Want a drink?”

  Her eyes narrow, her cheeks pink from anger. “No, I do not want a drink, Bronnson. I want an answer.”

  I push back from the bar and shake my head. “I didn’t follow you. I was out for a drive. Just so happened Bessie was in the mood to explore the Old Village.”

  With an irritated huff, she plops down onto a bar stool and demands, “Why?”

  I shrug. “Best way to get rid of a man? Let another man do it for you.”

  “I told you, Riley’s not a bad guy. I don’t want to get rid of him,” she argues. “And I was doing just fine letting him know that I wasn’t interested in him romantically.”

  I can’t argue that point, because from what I could see she was definitely getting her point across. I shrug once more. “Best way to let a man know you aren’t interested in him? Bring another man home to meet him.”

  She lets out a frustrated cry. “Gah! Stop doing that!”

  I smile, and when her eyes drop to my mouth I know that I’ve won this one.

  I stalk around the end of the bar and make my way over to the stool she’s perched in. Her eyes widen as I approach, and when I pull her body against mine she stiffens, protesting loudly. “Oh, no, sir. Don’t think you’re gonna smile at me, using that charming crooked tooth, and then come wrap your arms around me and all will be forgiven. You don’t get to use those muscles against me today!”

  I chuckle, my chest rumbling as I do exactly what she says I will, and eventually she melts into me.

  The group of old men sitting at the end of the bar stare, their eyes practically bugging out of their heads, and I lift one hand, giving them the finger.

  A few catcalls ensue and I continue to flip them off behind Grace’s back while she struggles to turn.

  With her body pressed against mine, my blood starts to pump to one part of my body, and despite the old guys’ whistles, I’m having a hard time telling my body to behave itself. Placing my lips next to her ear, I run my tongue along the outside and she shivers.

  “Want a tour of the bar? Specifically, my office?” I whisper, my breath tickling her ear.

  She shivers again and tilts her head back, her eyes twinkling. Her lips are twitching as she fights a smile. “No. I’m mad at you, remember?”

  “Then let me apologize to you properly, earn your forgiveness.” With a wink, I pull her to her feet. She doesn’t protest, only turning away from me long enough to grab her purse from the other stool.

  I’d picked up a woman or two while covering the bar, but I’d never taken them back to my office, declaring that a sacred place. Not to mention, most of the time Dani was in there anyway, and I didn’t think she’d appreciate being kicked out of her own space for my pleasure.

  But Dani wasn’t the boss anymore.

  And Grace wasn’t just a random afternoon romp in the sack.

  And that meant that the office was empty right now, my desk just begging for Grace’s ass to sit on it.

  I shout at one of the bartenders to cover me as I drag Grace caveman style through the kitchen, pointing at various pieces of equipment along the way, holding up my end of the “tour” bargain.

  “And this is the boss’s office.” I grin at her wickedly, my hand hovering over the knob. “I heard that he made you mad earlier. I’m certain he’d like the chance to show you just how sorry he is. Shall we?”

  She giggles, her musical laughter causing my cock to swell in my pants. Not wanting to release my hold on her hand, I shift my weight from one foot to the other in the hopes that I can relieve some of the pressure in my jeans.

  One perfectly arched eyebrow shoots up and she smirks. “How exactly is the boss planning to make it up to me? I hope he doesn’t think that an apology will be enough. Words are cheap, you know.”

  Her smirk remains in place as she takes one fingernail and taps it against my chest. Her hand rests over my heart for only a second before sliding down my body and cupping my straining er
ection.

  “Well?” she asks, her hand giving my cock a light squeeze, the sensation causing my balls to tighten.

  I couldn’t swear it, but I would almost bet my life on the fact that this woman wasn’t real. It wasn’t possible that not only was she more beautiful than any other woman I’d known, but that she could be both bold and shy, wild and reserved.

  The woman who was currently cupping my balls, causing my heart to pound with desire, was dressed in a designer suit, her look all business.

  I’d spent the last hour dwelling on the fact that I was nothing like the fancy businessman that had been sitting on her porch when she pulled up. I owned one suit, and that was reserved for funerals and weddings. If I wore anything nicer than jeans and a t-shirt, it still wasn’t as nice as what Riley had been wearing.

  Nearly convincing myself that whatever she and I had going here, it was just an escape for her. A fun side trip that would soon end and she’d run back to her real life, complete with the broad-shoulder, perfectly tailored Riley.

  It didn’t make sense what she was doing with me, the scum of the Earth according to anyone that knew my name. It didn’t matter that I wasn’t what those people thought I was, I’d spent my entire life living up to their expectations of me.

  But in this moment, with Grace’s eyes shimmering with mischief, her body calling to mine, I realize that maybe she’d spent her whole life living up to everyone’s expectations, too. And that maybe we are right for each other. The princess and the pauper style.

  And you know what?

  Even if we aren’t meant for each other, that doesn’t mean that we can’t have a good time while the time lasts. And so far, I’ve been having a very good time with Grace Monroe.

  Hell, even her name screams class.

  With that parting thought, I twist the knob, throwing the office door open, and pull Grace in behind me. Kicking the door shut with my foot, I flip the lock, ready to show her exactly how sorry I am.

  I was in love.

  Logically, I knew that probably wasn’t true. It was probably more of a case of intense lust and infatuation. But, my heart screamed that my brain was wrong. And I’d always been a big believer in following your heart. So, damn if that wasn’t what I was going to do. And right now? My heart was telling me that Bronnson Williams was it.

  A month was long enough to fall in love. It was more than enough according to the novels I read. And maybe I was relying on fiction a little too much, but whatever. The couples I read about fell in love at first sight, within a day, a week. A month in a romance novel was enough time to get married and have ten kids.

  Okay, so maybe that was an exaggeration.

  I didn’t care though, I was happy for the first time in my life. The weight of my past wasn’t nearly as heavy as it had been, the constant sadness didn’t plague my every waking moment. I could fucking breathe deep again, no more of these shallow breaths that never seemed to get enough oxygen to my hurting heart.

  Sitting in the passenger seat of my car, I am relaxed even though I am on the way to see my Nana, an activity that is never pleasant. But, Bronn is with me, his fingers laced through mine, his thumb absentmindedly rubbing back and forth over my hand. So it doesn’t matter what my Nana says to me today, I will be okay, because I know that I am not alone.

  And isn’t that another first?

  For the first time since my dad had died, I don’t feel alone. Even with my friends, with my mother, I had always been lonely. No one else understood me, or even tried to. But Bronn does, his past just as tragic as my own. I am sad for him, but selfishly, glad to finally have someone that understands what it is like to walk around every day with that hollow feeling in your gut.

  With the sun shining and the windows down, the drive to Columbia seems to take no time at all. Before I am ready to let go of his hand, Bronn pulls the car into the driveway of my childhood home.

  Reluctantly, I untangle my fingers from his and unbuckle my seat belt, turning in my seat to face him.

  “Bronn,” I say, clearing my throat. “I know I’ve told you about her, what she’s like now. But I need to warn you.” My voice cracks, forcing me to pause.

  When he reaches for my hand, I grasp his as though it’s a life preserver, using his quiet support to give me the strength I know I’ll need.

  “It will be fine,” he assures, his voice soothing me, even though I know his words don’t speak the truth.

  Fine is not a word that I will ever use to describe these visits, or the woman that is waiting inside for us. But I don’t tell him that, I just nod when he gives my fingers a light squeeze.

  Sucking in a deep breath, I steel myself as we make our way into the house.

  The fireplace in the formal living room has a fire going, even though it’s summer and close to one hundred degrees outside.

  We clear the doors and Bronn lets out a low whistle. “This is where you grew up?” he mutters, his eyes darting around.

  “Yup. Home sweet home,” I lament. It didn’t feel like home and hadn’t in a long time.

  I wave to one of the caretakers and she nods, a frown lining her tired face.

  I squeeze my eyes shut when we reach Nana’s door, then lift my hand and knock. After a moment, her hard voice calls out.

  “You don’t have to knock so damned loud, you know.”

  I plaster on a fake smile, lifting my chin high, and with a shaky hand twist the knob.

  With hesitant steps, I make my way into her room, the familiar surroundings doing nothing to ease the anxiety that causes my heart to slam in my chest.

  The room is bathed in soft light from the fire that roars in the corner fireplace and is uncomfortably warm. Nana lounges in the queen-size poster bed, looking every bit the regal woman she wants everyone to believe she is.

  I take a quick peek at myself, checking to ensure that my clothes are perfectly pressed, my shoes shiny. I can’t see my hair, but I reach up and smooth it down, hoping that I don’t have any fly-aways.

  Despite her failing mind, Nana is still sharp as a tack when it comes to appearances. The last visit I’d had with her, she’d spent a full five minutes berating me for the wrinkles in my skirt. I didn’t want a repeat of that in front of Bronn, so I’d taken extra time getting dressed this morning.

  Bronn quietly closes the door, and Nana’s head snaps up, her eyes looking beyond me. As he comes to stand by my side, her shrewd eyes travel the length of him, and I try not to imagine what her mind is thinking.

  I’d asked him to wear something more than just jeans and a t-shirt, and he’d been sweet enough to indulge my request. But it was obvious that the khaki pants and button-down shirt he had on were not made of fine materials, and there was no way that Nana was going to miss it.

  Sure enough, the moment her gaze reaches his unpolished shoes, she purses her lips together in disgust and focuses her attention on me.

  “Brenda. I thought I told you not to bring that boy to my house again!” she snaps, spit flying from her mouth.

  Bronn eyes me, the obvious question written on his face and I give my head a shake, stepping toward Nana’s bed.

  Gingerly, I perch on the edge. “Nana, it’s Grace. Not Brenda,” I say softly, hoping my soothing tone will bring her back to the present.

  For a split second, Nana’s face softens. Her blue eyes clear, the disapproval vanishing, and she takes my hand in hers.

  Her skin is soft, the routine of rubbing lotion on them three times a day obviously worth it, and I lightly squeeze her fingers. My heart rate slows, the ball of nerves in my stomach easing, and I breathe a sigh of relief.

  When Nana smiles at me tears spring to my eyes and, even though I know she finds tears a sign of weakness, I let them fall. Hopeful that for once, just this one time, we will have a good visit, I whisper, “Nana, I’ve missed you.”

  Just as quickly as her face relaxed, the moment of happiness disappears and Nana snatches her hand from mine, her face twisting into a look that can
only be described as utter disgust.

  “Trash,” she whispers.

  I look toward the wastebasket on the floor and I ask, “You need me to take the trash out?”

  There’s only a few tissues wadded up in the bottom of the can, but Nana always was a stickler for cleanliness. I push to my feet and look to where Bronn stands awkwardly, his hands in his pockets. I lift a shoulder, not quite sure why she’s so worried about the trash when Nana speaks again, causing me to stop in my tracks.

  “You’re trash. Just like your mother.” Her words are laced with venom, and with the precision of a cobra, hit me right where she intended.

  Whirling around to face her, the blood drains from my face as I whisper, “What?”

  Lifting the hand that I had just been holding, she aims one of her arthritic fingers in Bronn’s direction and snarls. “Bringing this riff raff to my house, what the hell is the matter with you?”

  I flinch, her words hitting me harder than if she had actually struck me. I knew that this visit wasn’t going to be pleasant, and maybe deep down I’d known it was going to go exactly like this, but foolishly I’d hoped that maybe Nana would be different today. And for a moment she was, which makes this abrupt change that much harder.

  Looking back at Bronn, his face is pale, the shock of hearing what this stranger thinks without knowing the first thing about him obvious. His eyes meet mine and I press my quivering lips together, apologizing to him with my eyes. He gives a slight nod of his head, and I turn my attention back to the woman in the bed.

  I stare at her in silence for a moment, trying to gather my wits, and more importantly, my courage. Taking a step back, I stand beside Bronn and pull his hand into mine. He gives it a hard squeeze, giving me the encouragement that I need to speak again.

  “Nana, this is Bronnson Williams, my boyfriend,” I tell her, my voice loud and clear. I may be shaking inside, my stomach feeling as though it’s just spent the day on a boat at sea, but I refuse to let that show. Nana raised me to never show weakness, and even though I fail her daily, now is not the time to show her that.

  She sneers, her lip still curled, making her hard face appear even more harsh. “I raised you and your mother better than this. Your mother brought shame to our family, bringing that worthless father of yours home. And worse, running off and letting him get her pregnant.” Her chin quivers in anger, her face turning purple as her voice gets louder with every horrible word she says. “When your mother called me to tell me your daddy was gone, I dropped to my knees and thanked God that she was finally rid of that piece of shit.”