I set the glass aside and picked up another, keeping my hands busy as he sided up next to me.
“Something’s off with ye. Ever since ye come back from Rum Cay. I can’t put my finger on it, but something tells me it’s a girl. Am I right?” he asked, nudging me out of the way to grab a clean glass.
I scowled at him. “Ye’re daft.”
He moved to pull himself a pint. “Oh, am I?”
“Ye bloody know ye are, mate. Why else would ye keep the pub open all hours of the night, workin’ yourself into the ground?” I asked, trying to spin the conversation ‘round to him.
“Not gonna work, laddie. I know something’s got ye woolgatherin. I’ve known ye too long not to notice. So… who is she?” He brought the glass up and took a long swallow as he leaned against the bar and crossed his legs.
Oh good, he’s settling in for a chat, my sarcastic inner voice piped up.
“Leave off with it, yeah?” I untied the apron from around my waist and tossed it beside the cash register.
“Leave off? Mate, I’ve seen ye at your worst. Hell, I’ve talked ye through it, but never have I seen ye walk around with your damn head in the clouds like ye’ve been. It’s like ye’re here, but not.” Charlie tipped the half-full glass in my direction.
I shouldered past him. “My heads not in the clouds.”
His hand shot out, planting firmly against my chest. “All right. I’ll leave it. For now. But do us both a favor… whatever it is that’s eatin’ ye up, figure it out before it consumes ye.”
I walked away with his last words ringing in my ears.
Figure it out. Yeah, bloody, right.
If I could do that, then I wouldn’t keep having flashbacks of the time I’d spent with Hannah. I wouldn’t be craving the ghost of her touch just to keep her near me.
After the storm broke and the airport opened back up, Hannah caught the first flight home while I stayed behind to wait for Phillip and Maggie. They’d cut their family vacation down to come home and deal with the mess left over from the storm. They’d took it all in stride too.
Even the mattress left in the hallway, because I couldn’t bring myself to move it.
I lost track of the apologies they insisted on making every time I turned around, until, finally, I decided they had everything under control and I needed to get back home.
Little did I know leaving Rum Cay was the equivalent of leaving my heart outside my body.
In a nutshell, I had it bad.
And Hannah? She was gone.
Life sucked.
That was two months ago.
November blew in with blustery winds. Snow and the occasional ice storm ravaged the countryside as they always did in the wintery months. The heavy winds and pelting sleet were the worst because, when I closed my eyes, it transported me back to when I’d held Hannah in my arms. The one time I could say I had my arms wrapped around the possibility of love.
For a brief moment in time, it felt like I’d connected with the other half of my soul.
It wasn’t just the sex. Though, impossible not to think about, it was more. There was a connection between the two of us. An impossible one, but one nonetheless.
And I’d let her go, keeping to the unspoken promise we’d made. To the ‘magic’ I’d created for her, for us, inside the flowery confines of our makeshift tent.
I’d let her go, because it was what she wanted. And it damn near ripped my guts out.
So many times I’d reached for my phone to call Maggie and find out how Hannah was doing. To ask for her number so I could call her and hear her voice again. Every single time I teetered on the edge, I’d sharply pull myself back. If Hannah wanted something more, she would have told me. Knowing she could so easily walk away without a backward glance broke me more than I was willing to admit.
The only thing I could do, and did do, was trudge forward. Head down. Heart armored back into place. As if it never happened. Except that it did, and there wasn’t a thing I could do about it when my memories flooded through me with no chance at locking them back up.
The trigger for it, I’d realized, was the sound of high winds and rain. Inconsiderately enough, all it did in England was rain. And when it wasn’t raining, it was snowing. There wasn’t a damn moment’s worth of peace inside of my head, or out of it, leaving me nowhere to hide from it all. And, the further I sank inside myself, the more prominent the heavy feeling of desolation had become until one day, I snapped.
“I think I need to find a bloody girlfriend, mate,” I said, scaring Charlie so badly, he dropped a full pint on the floor. The glass hit the rubber mat under my feet, splashing the front of me with beer before it bounced into the back wall of the bar with a heavy thud.
“Ye don’t talk for months on end, and when ye do decide to, ye bloody scare the shite out of me? Damn ye, Ed,” Charlie said, hands on his hips as his eyes bored into me.
I merely shrugged.
Charlie’s hands fell from his hips as he shook his head with a laugh. “It’s about time, mate. I’d wondered when ye’d come ‘round.”
“I had a lot to think about.” I tried my best to smile.
“Well, let me give ye more to think about. What are ye looking for? A nice set of tits? Maybe a round fat arse to—”
“Stop.” I waved my hand to cut him off. “I just said I think I need to find one, not that I was ready to paint the town in debauchery.”
“Might do ye some good if ye did.”
Charlie darted out of the way when I popped the bar towel at him.
“I’m doing this on my terms, mate. Don’t get any ideas,” I said, making sure he understood I wasn’t on the prowl for a pair of spread legs. No matter how willing the girl might be.
I hadn’t stooped that low in my misery.
“WHEN I SAID I MIGHT need a girlfriend, I didn’t mean for ye to take it on as your own personal agenda to find every eligible girl in town,” I shouted into Charlie’s ear over the sound of feminine voices that threatened to make my head explode.
Charlie beamed back at me. “What do ye mean? This was a brilliant idea if ever there was one.”
“Might be ace for you, mate. But all of this,” I said, gesturing around us, “does my head in.”
“Which head? Looks like the lassie at the end of the bar would work ye over right and well.” Charlie picked up his hand with a slight wave in her direction.
I should have known better, but, before I could stop myself, my eyes connected with the girl he spoke of. There was no other way to put it.
She eye-fucked me.
Hard.
I jerked my gaze from hers. No way. “She’s all yours, mate. I like my dick right where it is at the moment.”
Charlie busted out laughing as he went about helping me behind the bar. He was in all his glory. Girls. Lots of girls were at the bar for a ladies’ night Charlie put together with the incentive of half-priced drinks and entertainment.
I’d yet to see what entertainment he’d cooked up.
Besides the sultry looks tossed my way and the blatant invitations to have a go in the back room, the night wasn’t a complete wash. I’d made more tips than I had any other night in the pub.
The energy seemed to shift from a fun-loving atmosphere to something heavier. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it, but the closer the clock got to ten, the more the air seemed to shrink around me until it almost became impossible to take a full breath.
It made me edgy.
Ten minutes later, I understood exactly why when the doors to the pub opened and in walked two muscular men shrink-wrapped in outdated tracksuits.
“Who the hell is that?” I asked Charlie over the squeals of what could only be called orgasms in the making.
“That’ll be the strippers, mate!” Charlie shouted over the hormone-drenched drones.
I dragged my hand down my face, hoping he was kidding. “Ye hired male strippers?”
“Yep.” Charlie stuck his chest out with a beamin
g smile. “Figured the odds would be in our favor, being twenty to two, or four if ye count us in.”
“But ye hired strippers?” What the hell was wrong with the man?
“Keep up, will ye? Yes, I hired two male dancers. They prefer to be called that, ye know, and the two of us, mate, will be reaping the rewards in say—” He held his wrist up, looking at his watch. “Thirty minutes from now.”
Charlie slapped me on the back with a laugh, and then left me standing behind the bar, dumbfounded.
“Ye look as shocked about this as I am.” Her voice caught my attention and had me turning in her direction.
“That’s because I am,” I answered with a shake of my head. God save me from my idiot friends and their not-so-brilliant ideas.
The girl was cute. Petite, ye might say. Almost pixyish with her black hair cut at an angle to her chin.
“I might have to strangle my sister for this,” she said. The hint of embarrassment on her cheeks gave her a youthful look as she moved to get away from the mass of women converging on the two men moving closer to the bar.
Surely, they weren’t going to—
One of the two vaulted up onto the shiny surface, pointing in the direction of the back corner. Before I could rescue the stack of napkins between his planted feet, the music belted from the speakers, and his pants came off in one smooth jerk.
I had two choices. Pretend the dental floss in his arse crack wasn’t shaking right above me, or move.
I moved.
So did he.
Down the bar he went. Straight toward the girl who’d spoken to me only a millisecond before. She had no idea. She couldn’t know, because her head was down. But that didn’t stop him from squatting, knees on either side of her head.
I was embarrassed for her.
Especially when he grabbed her hands, hauled her up on the bar, and then proceeded to slide her in front of him and grind himself against her.
Her hands never left her face and, when he realized she wasn’t getting into his dance moves, he left her standing all by herself on the bar in what appeared to be complete humiliation.
A heavy sigh worked all the way from what felt like the bottoms of my feet as I held my hand out to her. She must have seen it from between her fingers, because she took it like a lifeline and jumped down beside me behind the bar.
Her hand trembled in mine as I pulled her toward the back room.
“Ye all right?” I asked, coming to a stop inside the storeroom.
“No, I’m not bloody all right,” she answered, digging into her back pocket and pulling out a crushed pack of cigarettes and a lighter. “Fecking bloody arse skank. She’ll pay for this one.”
I stepped back, giving her some room as she shook out a cigarette and, with fumbling hands, managed to light it after two tries.
I had no idea what to say to the girl. In fact, saying anything at all seemed like a bad idea, considering she looked like a stick of dynamite about to blow.
She practically vibrated in place with anger as she puffed away at her cigarette.
“Would ye like me to take ye home?” I asked, unsure what the right protocol was for an enraged female bent on something close to a complete fucking meltdown.
Her head snapped up as she advanced on me. The hand holding her cigarette jabbing the air as she said, “Oh, I bet ye’d just love that, huh? Take advantage of the situation as it is. Maybe use it for your own purposes?”
“Whoa… hey, I’m just offering ye a ride—”
“On your dick? Not feckin’ likely. Sod off.” She stormed away from me.
“Hold on a minute.” I caught up with her as she beelined for the marked exit door in the back.
“Bloody men. All the same,” she mumbled, spinning around on me. “In case ye haven’t noticed, I’m not interested.”
“Good. Me either,” I all but bellowed back.
She rolled her eyes at me.
“I’m serious. Look, I’m offering to get ye home safely. That’s all. If ye want, I can go back inside and call for a cab.” It was bitterly cold in the alleyway as the wind cut through the buildings and neatly through my shirt.
“Why?” she asked, flicking her cigarette butt to the ground and pulling her arms against her chest, shivering.
“Why? Because, like yourself, I wasn’t expecting that,” I said, jerking my thumb toward the building behind me, “and I’d rather deal with your anger than have to go back in there and be forced to watch.”
Her eyebrow hitched up as she watched me for some sort of sign I was lying. “Fine.”
“Let me get Charlie’s keys. Be right back.”
THE HEAT SEEMED TO TAKE forever to warm up. My passenger as well.
“Do ye always rescue damsels in distress?” Her question pierced the silence.
I blew out a long breath before answering. “No. Truth is, taking ye home gave me a very valid reason to leave.”
“Like ye needed a reason,” she answered, snorting.
“True. However, I do work there. Leaving mid-shift is sort of frowned upon so…” I gave a half shrug, clutching the wheel tighter in my hands. Charlie would be looking for me. He’d be pissed to have to shut the pub down on his own, which served him right for pulling a stunt like that. I’d only said I thought maybe I should find a girlfriend, not that I wanted him to round up a room full of overly excited females and set them loose on me after working them up to a frenzy.
“So, what ye’re saying is ye don’t like willing and available women?” she asked.
“What I’m saying is I don’t like to be made a fool of.”
She huffed. “On that we can agree.”
“Guy’s giving ye a proper feel up so ye know what ye’re working with doesn’t appeal to ye?” I asked, baiting her.
She turned in her seat, facing me. “I don’t need some guy’s thing rubbed up against my ass like I’m gonna bend over and pave the way for him.”
I couldn’t help but laugh. “Pave the way, eh?”
She settled back in her seat, saying, “Ye’d think the way some girls act, they’d have a sign with an arrow that says ‘stick it here’.”
“I suppose that would be helpful to those who don’t know where it goes,” I replied, trying very hard to keep my composure in check.
She snorted a very unladylike response.
“So, tell me, how is it ye managed to end up at the bar knowing about the, er, entertainment?” I asked, slowing for a red light.
“I didn’t. My sister asked me to go out. She said it was ladies’ night. Half-priced drinks.” She smirked. “And, for once, I thought she was finally reaching out to me. Trying to understand me. That she accepted me and was making the best of it.”
“And everything was appealing until…?” I prodded her along, not entirely sure what she was getting at.
“What’s your name?” she asked, throwing off my question.
“Ed. And yours?”
“Violet. And everything was appealing until the strippers showed up,” she rolled on as the light changed from red to green. “Why is it so hard to accept people for who they are?”
I had no answer for that.
“I’ll tell you why. It’s because most people want to fit everyone in a category. If they fall neatly in place, all is well. But, the minute ye’re different… when ye don’t fit into one of their categories… it all goes to pot.” She emphasized her outburst by crossing her arms with a growl.
“So what ye’re saying is ye’re different? I get that.” I nodded along, still completely ignorant as to why she was so angry.
“And my sister thinks with a little work, she can change me.” Her finger poked the air. “Ha, bloody, ha!”
“Right,” I added.
“I knew it! Ye put off a good masculine air, but ye’re like me!” She beamed in my direction.
“Wait, what?”
“It’s okay, Ed. Ye won’t get judgment from me.” Her hands twisted in her lap.
“Judgme
nt?” My foot slipped off the accelerator.
“For being gay. I mean, of all people, ye know how it feels to be different.”
My foot hit the brake hard, sending us to a skidding stop at the side of the road. A bubble of laughter broke free from the shock.
“Violet, I’m not gay.”
“Whatever ye say, Ed,” she answered with a giggle.
“WHAT HAPPENED TO YE LAST night?” Charlie asked as soon as I walked in the back door. “Sneak off with the girl ye helped down from the bar and gave ‘er a proper shag, did ya?”
I made my way to the bar, set to ignore him as best as I could, but Charlie wasn’t one to take to subtle hints and followed me, giving me a play by play of his night.
“Will ye shut your gob, man? I don’t care to hear it,” I interrupted.
Charlie just laughed.
The night passed by in its usual calm manner.
At closing, Charlie helped me wipe down the bar one last time before we turned out the lights.
“Never took ye for a prude, Ed,” he said, tossing the bar towel over his shoulder as he stared me down.
“I’m not a prude. I just don’t find much enjoyment from some bloke’s hairy ass shaking his sausage at me,” I fired back.
He smirked. “And ye think I do?”
I untied my apron from around my waist. “Ye’re the one who set it all up.”
“Yeah, well, I was trying to get your head out your ass. It backfired on me. End of story,” he answered, slapping me on the back.
“Do me a favor… don’t come up with anymore stupid ideas, yeah?” I hit the lights, plunging us into darkness before adding, “Because if ye do, I know how to kill ye off and make it look like an accident.”
Charlie shrugged my threat off. “So, about that girl from last night,” he said hesitantly as we crossed the dark confines of the storage room. “I mean, not that ye have to tell me, but I am curious. After all, ye took off with her in my car.”
I felt a bolt of defensiveness roll through me. “And I brought it back to ye.”
“After ye took off with her. So what happened?” he tried again, pushing the back door open.
Runaway Heart (A Game of Hearts #2) Page 11
