Thirty Nights with a Dirty Boy: Part 1: A Heroes and Heartbreakers Serial

by Shiloh Walker

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  Table of Contents

  About the Author

  Copyright Page

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  To my husband and my kids … I thank God for you. You mean the world to me. Thanks to the SMP and H&H teams and to my agent, Elaine.

  Also … for all those out there who struggle to find their voice. Ella fought for years to find hers. I hope you enjoy her story.

  Chapter 1

  I was sitting at the bar when I first noticed him.

  I had one gloved hand wrapped around the highball glass, the rim of it touching my lips, and right before I would have taken a sip, I saw him.

  He came through one of the doors behind the bar, red light falling to cast him in a hazy glow. The effect was both delicious and devilish, the red painting his pale hair the shade of blood while much of him fell in shadow.

  It was a good thing I hadn’t taken that next sip of Knob Creek because I might have choked on it and that would have been a waste of damn fine bourbon.

  He was, in a word, beautiful.

  His hair was cut almost brutally short, leaving the carved lines of his face unhidden. He was all angles and hollows, with a mouth that was erotically, cruelly beautiful. That one look had me pressing my thighs together, even as a pang of longing went through me.

  The bartender shouted something at him and he jerked his head in response, shooting her a slow smile that practically screamed I want you …

  The bartender, in turn, just rolled her eyes. It was easy for her to deal with this kind of harsh, masculine beauty. She dealt with it daily—I should know: Sasha Delacourte was one of the few close friends I had.

  It was her fault I was here.

  She’d insisted I come celebrate.

  Not that being in the middle of a crowded bar was my idea of celebrating, but I had never really gotten to the point where I could explain the why of all of that to her.

  “Here’s to you, Ella Cruise!” she said gaily, slamming a glass down in front of me and splashing in a healthy pour of bourbon.

  I’d been living in Chicago for almost five years, and before that, it had been Virginia and New York City. I’d never been to Kentucky, but bourbon was my poison.

  I held up the glass I hadn’t quite finished, then shrugged and knocked it back.

  I might have been timid in just about every other aspect of my life, but give me alcohol? I did just fine.

  Accepting the new glass, I lifted it and tipped it in Sasha’s direction.

  “To me,” I said, going along with her. It was nice to have somebody happy for me. Since the death of my guardian three years earlier, no one had really cared about my personal achievements.

  “So … just what happens next?”

  “Next?” I stared at the glass. “Next we get ready to open.”

  She reached out and covered my hands. “You know, you’ve worked for this a long time. You could look happy about it. Be happy. You’re going to help a lot of people.”

  “Yeah.” I nodded. After months of paperwork and years of planning, I’d heard today that we’d received the okay from the IRS and whatever other entities had to give their various bureaucratic blessings: the foundation I wanted to start up in my mentor’s honor would finally be a real thing—not just a dream. We had the property. We had the vision. We had the people. And now we had the A-OK from the US government. It was really going to happen. “I know.”

  And I did. I even managed to smile. It wasn’t a real smile, but it looked it. I’d been faking for a long, long time. “I’m just…” I blew out a breath and said, “I’m just on overload, I think.”

  “Man, I bet.” Somebody called her name and she rolled her eyes. “Gotta move, girl. I’ll be back.”

  As she darted off into the crowd to deal with drink orders, I glanced over at the beautiful work of male perfection helping her handle the bar tonight. I wouldn’t exactly do much celebrating here, but at least I had some new eye candy to think about the next time I lay alone in my bed.

  Which would be tonight. And the night after. And every other night … probably for the rest of my life.

  Glum, dark thoughts, but they were just a fact.

  Somebody bumped into me, and out of habit, I glanced over.

  Right away, I knew it hadn’t been an accident.

  The man was leering in what he probably thought was a sexy sort of way, but it just made my skin crawl. It didn’t help that my skin was already crawling just from looking at him.

  “Hey, sweet thing,” he said, leaning in so I’d hear him over the music.

  I’d rather not have heard him.

  At all.

  I looked away, hoping he’d get the point.

  He didn’t.

  “You here all alone?”

  When I didn’t answer, he eased in closer, clearly feeling free to make his move now. “Shame seeing a woman like you without somebody to keep her company. Why don’t I—”

  “It’s not a shame,” I said, cutting him off.

  He blinked, then a woebegone look drifted across his features. “You got a date, huh?”

  “No. I’m alone because I want to be. So maybe you can leave me to it.”

  Something ugly flashed in his eyes, but he quickly hid it. “Oh, let me change your mind. I’ll buy you another drink. Hey!”

  He shouted out to Sasha. I caught her eye and shook my head.

  She lifted a questioning brow. Need help?

  I gave her another shake of my head. I could handle this. I’d definitely survived worse.

  As he raised his voice and shouted again, I knocked back my bourbon and thunked the glass down with enough force that he heard it. When he looked my way, I gave him the best bitch smile I had in my arsenal. I’d been told it was impressive. “I don’t want you buying me a drink or trying to change my mind. How about you leave me alone now?”

  He shot out a hand as I slid off the stool.

  I went to pull back, but it turned out it wasn’t necessary.

  Another man’s hard arm came between us. “You heard her. Why don’t you sod off?”

  “Hey, brother—”

  I barely heard their words.

  It was him—that guy I’d seen behind the bar. Golden hair that waved just a little, broad shoulders that now filled my vision, and a tattoo I could see climbing up over his neck from under the edge of his shirt. I sucked in a breath as he shifted, coming perilously close to touching me. That intake of breath almost did me in, because my head was now flooded with his scent. It was rich, intoxicating—musky and male, with the faintest hint of a familiar woodsy … Oh, man. Pipe smoke. He smelled like pipe smoke.

  As my brain was processing all of that, he was busy dealing with my unwelcome company.

  “Didn’t ya hear?” he asked, his voice low and the words almost music, thanks to the accent—Scottish. He just might be Sc
ottish, although there was something else in his words, too.

  I thought somebody was trying to torture me.

  “Man, get the fuck out of my fa—”

  There was a blur of movement. My knight moved out from between us and then the other man—broader, heavier—was spinning, and the only thing in his face was the surface of the bar. “I told you to sod off, mate. We don’t put up with the likes of you ’round here.”

  But the man didn’t know when to quit. When he was released, he spun around, fist flying. This time, he ended up on the ground, curled in around himself, retching.

  “You got him, Sean?” Sasha leaned over the bar, studying the defeated man as others drew in closer.

  “He’s not likely to be going anywhere.”

  Sean. The man who was too beautiful to be real had a name. It was Sean.

  I watched, staring at the way his black T-shirt stretched over heavy shoulders as he crouched down next to the man on the floor. “Call one of the boys up front, would ya, Sash?”

  “Already done.”

  He made a grunting noise under his breath and then eased in closer.

  I heard because I strained to , but I doubted anybody else could hear the softly spoken words: “I ever see you in here, mate, I’ll rip your balls off, shove them down your throat. You don’t go putting your hands on women like that in here.”

  Two men in shirts similar to Sean’s appeared out of the crowd. One of them caught sight of the man pushing up onto his hands and knees. The bouncer glared at him. “Didn’t I tell you to stay the fuck out of here?”

  The man on the floor ignored the bouncer, focusing on Sean. “I’ll sue your ass for this.”

  “Really.” An unholy smile lit Sean’s face, and this time his words were too quiet for me to hear, but whatever he said, it made the pathetic mess in front of him pale.

  A moment later, he was being hauled through the crowd and Sean was on his feet, turning to look at me.

  His eyes were blank, empty of the hotly sensual look he’d given Sasha. Not that it was surprising, really. I was used to blank looks from men.

  “Are you all right?”

  The words were clipped, his accent harder now, sharper.

  “I’m fine. I could have handled him, but I’m fine. Thank you.”

  He went to turn away. I don’t know what drove me, but I heard myself asking, “Scotland?”

  He glanced back, dark brows arched over his eyes. In the dim light, I couldn’t see the color clearly, but his irises were pale. Pale and large, set under slashing brows. Combined with that mouth, that face, that body … Really, I didn’t know how that much perfection managed to end up in one body.

  “Excuse me?” he asked.

  “Your accent. You’re from Scotland? Although your accent doesn’t sound entirely right for that.”

  “Scotland, by way of London. I bounced around through both off and on.” He gave me a tight nod. “Enjoy your evening, miss.”

  And then he was gone.

  Blowing out a sigh, I dropped onto my stool and then looked up to find Sasha watching me.

  I tapped the rim of my glass.

  “Make it a double.”

  * * *

  Sasha worked at Tilt Stop, which had a room full of pinball machines in the back and hosted everything from pinball tournaments to wet-T-shirt pinball, though I’d yet to see how that worked. If the back room weren’t always so full, I would have tried my hand at a few of the machines. There was a vintage Addams Family back there that I’d have loved to play.

  But I didn’t like crowds and the game room was never empty.

  Of course, I didn’t like crowds and this was my third trip to Tilt in less than two weeks. I usually wasn’t here that often in a month. And I never came on weekends.

  But here I was, fighting my way to the bar, where the crowd was shoulder to shoulder.

  Sasha did a double take when she saw me and worked her way over in short order. Without asking, she fixed up my regular—Knob Creek, straight up—and then braced her hands on the bar. “Why are you here? You never come on the weekends. You also never come here more than once every few weeks.”

  I shrugged, keeping my expression casual.

  And it was completely ruined when somebody flipped up the bar top and stepped through.

  My heart skipped a beat when I saw him.

  Sean was wearing a skin-tight, sleeveless shirt, and the dense, dark tattoos that wound around his arms drew my eyes. My mouth was watering. He looked even better tonight than he had last week.

  I’d been in here two days ago and he hadn’t been here.

  But now …

  “Oh, honey…”

  I jerked my eyes away and looked at Sasha.

  She was looking at me with serious eyes, and as I met her gaze, she shook her head. “Don’t,” she warned.

  “What?”

  Somebody called out to her and she pushed away from the bar. “Hang around if you can. We have to talk. But don’t…” She blew out a breath. “He’s pretty, but enjoy him from a distance, okay?”

  “I’m not—”

  But she was gone before I could finish.

  Before I could lie.

  Brooding, I lifted my bourbon to my lips and took a healthy swallow.

  I wasn’t really doing anything but enjoying him from a distance. That was all I ever did when it came to men. It got kind of boring, really.

  I managed to snag the seat on the very end when it opened, sliding onto it just before a brunette with the most beautiful skin I’d ever seen could take it. She made a face at me and I smiled, tipped my glass at her.

  She shot me an irritated glare before retreating into the crowd. I couldn’t blame her. The place was packed, and I now had a prime spot.

  Sean was working his way around the bar, filling orders and restocking bottles, helping clean up the dirty dishes, and stopping here and there to talk when his name was called.

  The woman two stools down was one of them.

  He braced his elbows on the bar and leaned in, his smile taking on an intimate slant that made me feel like I’d caught him looking at me while I was undressing—and he wasn’t even looking at me.

  The woman reached out and touched his hand—no. She wasn’t touching his hand. She’d given him something.

  He didn’t even look, just tucked it into his back pocket and leaned over to press his lips to her ear.

  Whatever he’d said left her flushed and I could see, even from here, that her breathing had gone unsteady.

  He went to turn away, and as he did, his gaze drifted down the bar.

  His eyes locked with mine, and my heart slammed up into my throat.

  He quirked a brow and then gave me an oddly formal nod before he turned away.

  “Okay. I’ve got ten minutes. Let’s go outside.”

  I managed to tear my eyes away from the toned, tight muscles of his back and met Sasha’s eyes. “What?”

  “We’re talking,” she said, her tone pointed. “Outside. Now. I won’t get another break for hours and you aren’t likely to hang around that long.”

  I wanted to argue.

  I wanted to stay there and hope for another look at Sean.

  But the determined look in Sasha’s eyes had me slipping off the stool. Hitching my bag over my shoulder, I waited until she came out from behind the bar and then I trailed along, shooting one last look over my shoulder.

  Sean was leaning against the doorjamb, his gaze hooded, eyes on me.

  It affected me far more than I cared for.

  * * *

  “I’m going to offer you some advice,” Sasha said as she brought a lighter to her cigarette. “Forget you saw him. Forget that he’s beautiful. If you’ve finally decided to stop being a nun, then let me help you find a guy … but forget about Sean.”

  “I don’t need you to help me find a guy.” I’d have damn well liked to find a guy, even if it was just for a night. A few nights. I’d have been happy with a few h
ot, rushed minutes up against a wall, but that wasn’t going to happen.

  Sasha threw up a hand. “Fine. Whatever. But I see you looking at him. I’ve seen that look a hundred times—more. Just stop. Don’t waste your time, or your hormones. That boy is a hot and sexy work of art, but he’s not for a girl like you.”

  “A girl like me?” Crossing my arms over my chest, I angled my head. “Please tell me what that means.”

  “Honey…” She sighed and then moved in, hugging me tight. She was gone a moment later, before I could panic. “You and I both know you got hurt behind you. If you ever want to talk, I’ll listen. But that hurt cuts deep. If you are ever ready to get past it, though? You’re the kind of woman who looks for forever. You won’t find it with him.”

  For a moment, just a moment, the ache in me was so big I couldn’t speak. Then, finally, I managed a tight smile. “I’m here for a drink. Okay? You’re always after me to relax so here I am. Relaxing.”

  “Relaxing. Drooling over him. Unable to take your eyes off him.” She lifted a shoulder in a shrug. “If all you’re doing is staring, fine. Just … don’t anything more.”

  “It’s not like he’d ever bother giving me the time of day,” I said, frustrated. “So he’s pretty. Yes, I noticed. What’s the point?”

  Sasha stared at me. Hard. She lifted her cigarette to her lips, inhaled, and then lowered it as she blew smoke through her nose. Finally, she said, “That’s just the thing, Ella. He might not give you the time … but he’d let you pay for it.”

  It took a moment for those words to connect. Then I was sure I’d misunderstood. But Sasha continued to stare at me, her eyes steady and level, and I forced the question out. “What does that mean?”

  “You already know.” She shrugged. She stubbed out her cigarette and shoved off the railing. “Sean Lachlan is a male prostitute. He works here because it lets him make connections—the boss acts like he doesn’t know, but that’s shit. He knows. Sean slips him some money on the side and everybody else just ignores it.” She shrugged again. “Anyway, he’s been here about … hell, six months? Longer? He’s good behind the bar, I know that. Could make decent money that way.” She rolled her eyes. “You should see some of the tips women leave the guy. But, anyway … he seems to like it here. Maybe he likes having something where he’s not required to get naked. But the man has sex for money.”