“Grilled salmon with vegetables and medium-rare filet with smashed potatoes,” I announced as I presented the couple at table 20 with their plates. “Anything else I can get you?”
The woman at the table gave me a polite “no, thank you.” Her blond ponytail was stylish with a little bump in the front I never seemed able to do, and she was wearing a cute blazer over a clingy top, and a gold chain with a heart pendant. Her husband (I assumed) wore khakis and a collared plaid shirt, and there was nothing dangerous or daring in his kind eyes or approachable smile.
“We have a movie to catch,” the husband informed me. “If you want to bring the check now, that’d be good.”
“No problem,” I answered. I let them know to flag me if they needed anything else, then walked away, musing that they could be me and my husband in ten years if I found someone safe to settle down with. This filled me with melancholy, longing, and, at the same time, disdain. It was an odd combination.
In the kitchen, I met Melinda at the touch screen computer. Her face was screwed into a hard scowl and she spat, “Your boyfriend’s at the bar getting hammered.”
My heart skipped one beat. I felt it. There was only one man she could mean, and it took everything I had not to dart for the front of the restaurant and see if Devlin was really here.
“I don’t have a boyfriend.” I pretended nonchalance and studied my order book while I waited for the computer to be free.
Melinda turned toward me, and I looked up to find her eyes blazing. She propped a hand on her hip and glowered down at me from her Amazonian height. “You think you’ll really succeed in tying down a guy like Devlin?” Her voice was low, but I shot a perfunctory look around the kitchen anyway to be sure no one heard. Since it was ten at night, and a slow shift, most of the servers had been cut, so it was relatively quiet in the kitchen. “He may sleep with you, but he won’t stay with you.”
Spoken like someone who had or hadn’t tasted the sour grapes? I didn’t want to know. “I’m not—”
“Everyone knows, Rena.” She said this as if I was foolish and didn’t understand what I was getting into. Which pissed me off. I hated being underestimated. “Everyone sees the way he’s pulling you in,” she continued in an annoying tone. “Using you. Everyone sees it but you.”
Not true. I’d seen his face in the SUV—the reverent way he looked at me despite his cocky smile. Then he kissed me right in front of Melinda. And he was here now. To see me? I hated how eager the question sounded, even in the privacy of my own mind.
“Done?” I gestured to the touch screen.
Angry that I didn’t take the bait and defend myself, Melinda clipped away from me, her blond ponytail swinging.
I forced myself to wait another twenty minutes until I cashed out my table, before I ventured to the bar. I didn’t want to appear overeager. To Melinda or to Devlin. Assuming he was there. I tried to catch a glance at the front corner of the restaurant, but I was on the opposite side of the building. With no real reason to walk over there (other than to see him), I hadn’t yet laid eyes on him. Part of me worried he’d left. Another part of me worried about the part of me worrying.
Melinda’s bitter words of love lost, or maybe love never found, echoed in my head. Much as I wanted to believe they were born of jealousy because I had something she wanted, I couldn’t be sure. The idea of Devlin any closer to her than I’d witnessed in the storeroom made not only my heart ache but my entire chest feel as if it was caving in.
After the couple vacated to catch their late movie, I walked to the bar, spotting Devlin immediately. He was hunched over a barstool, black boots hooked on the lower rung, powerful arms bent, elbows resting on the edge of the wooden bar top. A glass hung loosely from his fingers. Eyes focused across the room, he lifted the amber liquid to his lips and drank while I admired the bob of his throat.
I’d love to cross the room and put a kiss on that throat…
He noticed me and shot me a sideways look, which was sexy as hell alone, but then he faced me full on and I had to grasp the edge of the bar for support. His black hair was stylishly tousled, his dark brows lowered over mesmerizing eyes. When he licked his full lips and glanced at my mouth, I had to bite down on my own lips to keep from rushing into his arms.
“Hey, baby.” His smile was slanted, his words a little fuzzy.
A jolt of awareness shot through every female part of my anatomy. I tried to sound and look casual by raising my eyebrows at his glass.
“Whatcha doing?” I leaned on the bar.
“Drinking.” He scanned me head to toe and I tingled. Swear to God, tingled like he’d touched me.
A few customers sat at the other end of the bar, watching the muted televisions overhead, not us. There wasn’t enough staff bustling around to concern ourselves with prying eyes. Even Matt ignored us, leaning on the bar to watch television and chat with a guy at the opposite end.
Devlin hooked a finger in a belt loop on my pants, then dragged me until I was standing between his parted legs. “Need a ride.”
I wasn’t sure if his lazy, liquor-laced words were an invitation or a statement. He was relaxed instead of intense, and I found relaxed Devlin as irresistible as intense Devlin.
“Maybe…you shouldn’t do this here,” I whispered.
My hand went to his, but he only curled his finger tighter into my belt loop, refusing to turn me loose.
“My place,” he said.
Again, I wasn’t sure what he meant. That Oak & Sage was his place and he could do what he wanted, or if he was inviting me to his place. For that ride—either the literal one I was supposed to give him or the one he was offering to give me.
Wow. I was suddenly overly warm.
I became aware of my tall, blond arch-nemesis stomping by, looking like she’d just made out with a lemon.
“Melinda!” Dev called her over.
“Devlin, no,” I warned as quietly as I could.
He ignored me and tipped his head at her.
She appeared a second later, took in his finger in my pants, and stood next to us, her usual scowl in place.
I stiffened like a cadaver.
“Yes?” She put a hand on her hip.
“Finish Rena’s tables and side duty tonight. She’s busy.”
Melinda’s mouth dropped open, but I spoke first. “No, that’s not…he’s kidding.”
Devlin looked like he might laugh. Melinda looked like she might reach for the bottle at his elbow and brain him with it. I spoke before either of them did either of those things.
“Fifteen minutes,” I told him. He watched my mouth, which was distracting. “My side work is finished and my tables are practically done.” Smiling at Melinda, I said, “Thanks, anyway,” as if she’d offered and her semi-drunken boss hadn’t commanded her.
Once Melinda had gone, he loosened his hold on me and shrugged. “Trying to prove to you that I like you better than her.” He lifted his glass, sipped, then pushed it into my shoulder. “You.”
I liked him, too. Even drunk and babbling.
He polished off the glass, set it on the bar top, and entwined his fingers with mine. He didn’t take his eyes off me when he repeated, in a very low voice, “I like you, Rena.”
I wished I’d had a drink right then because my throat was parched. The intensity of being “liked” by Devlin carried with it a truckload of responsibility.
“Need a ride.” He pulled me closer, his bourbon-laced breath beginning to intoxicate me. “My place.”
He hadn’t asked, but I felt compelled to say yes. How could I say anything but?
—
I drove Dev’s black SUV while he cranked the radio. The lyrics of a Snow Patrol song—one of my favorites—made my arms chill even in the warm car. Probably because the phrase “just say yes” led to thoughts of what was to come.
“Here,” he said over the music, pointing toward a glass-front playhouse in the center of downtown. A block away from here was the least savory part o
f Ridgeway, boasting pawnshops and a bus station, but here, in front of the Schantz Theater and an adjacent parking garage, the sidewalks were lined with potted poinsettias and black-iron streetlamps wrapped with white lights and pine garland.
Idly, I thought about how I’d have to start Christmas shopping soon. And how I hadn’t had a boyfriend during the holidays in ages. Devlin turned the radio down and I reminded myself I didn’t have a boyfriend now, either.
In the parking garage, he instructed me to wind all the way up to the top, where I parked in a numbered space. The wind whipped my hair when I got out, but before I could tame the flyaway strands, he captured my gloved hand in his. Together we strolled to the edge of the building and looked down at the sidewalk several stories below.
A black limo waited on the side of the road, and what looked like a wedding party filed out onto the street. Girls wrapped in coats, their bright red skirts kicking in the air as they squealed with laughter and jumped up and down to keep warm. Men in tuxes huddled on the opposite side as the girls, obviously waiting for the bride and groom to exit.
“I didn’t realize the Schantz had a reception area.” I smiled as a woman in a flowing white gown stepped outside, and muted applause rode the wind to where we stood.
“Meeting rooms,” Dev said simply. I looked up at him. His hair kicked in the wind, and his face was pinched. Thinking of the wedding? Abhorring the idea of a wedding? I had no idea.
“I’m assuming we’re not here to crash the party.” There were thirty-two luxury condominiums attached to the playhouse. When the building was erected a year ago, I looked into renting one just for fun. If the seven-month waiting list hadn’t stopped me from pursuing an abode here, the six-hundred-thousand-dollar price tag would have.
Devlin waggled a half-empty bottle of bourbon he’d carried from the car. “We’ll make our own party.”
He led me to the elevator. The inside was still cold since it was just off a small room attached to the parking garage. I huddled against the back of the lift, my mind filling with fantasies of him pushing me against the frigid walls and ravishing me. But he only leaned in the corner, staring down at the bottle in his hand, a contemplative frown on his face.
I wondered if he’d tell me what he was upset about if I asked. Then I wondered if I had the courage to ask. The elevator dinged and came to a stop, and we stepped out three floors below where we’d parked. He held the doors for me and pointed the neck of the bottle at the apartment across the hall: 103.
Four condos sprawled the width of the floor we were on. Elegant sconces lit patterned goldenrod walls over matching goldenrod carpet. Live potted plants stood in each corner and beneath each window, three total. One window was opposite the elevator, and the others flanked either end of the hall wide and tall, giving ample view of the city lights.
My heart thundered as Devlin unlocked his front door and stepped in ahead of me. I couldn’t believe I was here with him. I’d wondered while driving him here how he lived, what his home looked like. A ritzy condo in the Schantz wasn’t what I expected.
His apartment opened to a huge attached living room and kitchen. Beyond, a door stood open to a bathroom and bedroom. From what I could see of his place, it was immaculate. I didn’t think Devlin was the kind of guy to keep a clean house, but then, what did I know about him really?
“Nice place.” I admired the framed art hanging over his couch. It was a painting of a woman in an elegant red dress riding a bicycle. Devlin owned art. Huh.
“Yeah,” he agreed, taking my coat.
The furniture was leather and the electronics high-end. I couldn’t fathom how much he had to earn a year to live here. “The restaurant business must be really profitable,” I ventured.
“Sonny,” he said.
“Sonny?” I repeated. “This is his place?” I ran my fingers along the back of the couch, eyeing the remote wedged between the sofa cushions. I spotted a pair of shoes kicked off in the corner. Okay, so he wasn’t a neat freak; he just wasn’t a slob.
“He owns it.”
I heard a cabinet door shut and turned my head to find him pouring two drinks. He held up one of the glasses as I walked to the kitchen. I wrinkled my nose and shook my head. “I don’t drink hard liquor. Light beer.”
“Lame.”
I gave him a wan smile.
He dumped the contents of my glass into his and yanked open the fridge. “I don’t have light. Regular?”
“Okay.”
He carried the bottle of bourbon in one hand, my beer bottle and his glass in the other, to the living room. I followed and he handed me my beer and sat. Silently, he downed half the glass of bourbon in one swallow. I took a dainty sip of my beer and perched on the edge of a cushion, suddenly uncomfortable and not understanding why.
Maybe it was because out of all the things he and I had done together, “hanging out” hadn’t really been one of them.
I curled my bottle into my chest. He leaned his elbows on his knees but held his glass close.
“Dev?”
He blinked over at me, not sober, but not completely drunk, either. In that weird buzzed state where he likely felt loose and relaxed. I’d been there a time or thirteen.
“Why am I here?” I asked, because there had to be a reason.
“Because”—he shifted his gaze to his glass—“I don’t want to be alone.”
His honesty floored me. I couldn’t have been more surprised than if he’d taken me downstairs to a party and did the Chicken Dance.
“Do you need someone to talk to?” I asked.
He let out a dry laugh, then took another drink. “No.”
Setting his glass aside, he reached for me. I was still wearing my server attire, the not-sexy ensemble of a pressed white shirt and black pants.
“I don’t need to talk.” His hand on the back of my neck, he pulled my lips to his. I let him, enjoying the warm firmness of his mouth. One bourbon-flavored kiss later, he let me go. “Not fair,” he muttered.
My eyebrows lifted in question. He closed his eyes and dropped his forehead onto mine, his thumb brushing my cheek.
“All I want to do is kiss you.” Abruptly, he pulled away and gestured around the apartment. “Fold you over the kitchen counter. Take you in the shower. Lay you down on that rug.”
My heart raced. I wanted that, too. All of it.
“Sounds…fair to me,” I said, my voice a dry croak. Sounded divine.
I abandoned my beer bottle and started unbuttoning my shirt. He watched, following the movement of my fingers with wavering focus. I revealed a tan cotton bra, and his focus sharpened, his eyes zooming in on my chest. After the last button, I pulled the shirt from my shoulders and he swallowed thickly, eyes still on my bra-covered breasts.
“This making you feel better?” I asked.
He answered by locking his arm around my waist and lowering his lips to my neck. Nipping and licking, he traveled up the side of my throat, then down, leaving my skin damp, goose bumps popping up all over my arms. When he reached my bra, he unhooked it and slipped the straps off my shoulders, wasting no time taking first one breast into his mouth, then the other, sucking my nipples while his fingers went to the button of my pants.
My mind blanked, my body lost in the gauzy haze of lust shrouding me. Shrouding us. He was right there with me, each breath shortening, low moans of pleasure coming from his throat as I stripped him of his sweater and pants. As we kicked off our shoes.
We didn’t make it to the rug. Instead, he kept his mouth on my breasts while he rolled on a condom, then his hands on my hips while he entered me over and over. I slid up the couch with each thrust, crying out when I came and holding him tightly. When he crashed over me, his breaths huffed out in a series of long, low groans.
“That,” he breathed, when we were crammed up by the arm of his slightly sweat-slicked sofa. “That was what I needed.”
Devlin’s arms were around me and my hands were in his hair. His cheek rested against m
y shoulder as he dragged his thumb along the underside of my breast. My skin prickled in the cold air and I shuddered.
He continued plucking at my nipple, and I tugged on his hair, fingers twining in the silky strands. Quiet, he lay there, stroking my flesh while I inhaled and exhaled rapidly, my pulse pounding between my legs again.
“I have a brother.” His voice came out of nowhere, snapping me back to the present with a sudden sting. I’d been so focused on his talented fingers, I didn’t think I’d heard him right.
I stilled his hand and waited. He said nothing.
“And you didn’t before today?” I half joked.
“No.” But his voice held no humor. He sat up, tugging his jeans over his legs as he went. I watched him stand, admired the curve of his butt and the pair of dimples at his lower back. The sounds that followed were the teeth from his zipper, the clearing of his throat, and the splash as he refilled his glass with bourbon. He offered me my beer.
I shook my head.
“Drink, Rena. I’m not drinking alone, and I’m not going to cry on your shoulder.”
Fury danced in his eyes. I was tempted to be petulant but instead took the beer and sipped. Devlin had a brother he hadn’t known he’d had. There were so many questions and possible story lines, my mind whirred.
He kept his eyes on me while he downed an inch of the amber liquor, then muttered, “Fuck it. Let’s tell all our shit.”
I scooted up to rest against the arm of the sofa, tugging a blanket from the back of it and covering my naked body. Devlin sat near my toes.
He pointed at me with his glass. “Worst thing you’ve ever done in your life.”
I felt my eyes go wide.
“What’d you do, Rena?” He smirked. “Steal paper clips from work? Tell a friend you didn’t like her haircut?”
I looked at my hands, then at him. He was being mean, and I was offended, so I challenged him with the cold, hard truth. “Watched my boyfriend die next to me when we were eighteen years old.”
Fighting for Devlin (Lost Boys #1) Page 13
