Keeping His Promise: A When It Happens Novella, Book 2

by Rhyannon Byrd

  After a quick round of goodbye hugs, she squatted down and gave some love to Max, Chris’s adorable black Lab who had stolen her heart the first time she’d met him, then headed out. The night was warm and soothing, despite it being autumn, and she pulled in a deep breath of the tropical-scented air as she made her way through the courtyard, determined not to look toward the front windows of the condo where she guessed Sean lived.

  If she caught a glimpse of him walking around in his boxer shorts, there was no telling what she might do, and she didn’t want to put her seriously starved sex-drive to the test. Not when she hadn’t been able to stop thinking about him the entire night.

  Her frown deepened when she saw that he’d re-parked his SUV right next to her car sometime during the evening. Her poor Saturn looked forlorn next to the expensive SUV, and as she unlocked her door and got in, she couldn’t help but wonder what he did for a living.

  With his height and build, I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s a professional athlete, she thought, turning her key in the ignition. But nothing happened. Just dead silence punctuated by her growled curse.

  “Seriously!” she hissed, gently knocking her forehead against the steering wheel. “This can’t be happening. My luck cannot possibly be this shit!”

  Unfortunately, the universe apparently had other ideas.

  When someone suddenly rapped their knuckles against her window, she jumped so high she nearly hit her head on the roof. “Son of a freaking bitch!” Then she scowled when she realized who it was. Rolling down the window, she snapped, “How did you know I was out here?”

  Instead of frowning at her bitchy tone, Sean Cartwright simply lifted one of his dark brows, and kept staring down at her through the open window. “How do you think?”

  Her nostrils flared as she sucked in a sharp breath. “Were you watching through your peephole? Because that’s just creepers!”

  “Jesus, woman, calm down. I wasn’t watching through the peephole.” Shaking his head, he lifted his right hand and showed her his keys. “I just came out to get my phone out of my car.”

  She glared, hoping she’d managed to insult him with her “creepers” comment, since he’d scared the crap out of her. And really hoping he’d just leave so she didn’t have to keep looking at his gorgeous face, or the way his black T-shirt stretched across his broad chest.

  When he just stood there, watching her like she was something worth watching, she knew she had to get out of there. “Will you please just move away from the door so that I can get out?”

  Tiny lines crinkled at the corners of his eyes as he stared down at her, making her think he was probably in his early to mid-thirties, same as Chris. “There’s no need to go and bother your friends.”

  “I’m not a fucking bother,” she gritted out. Though, in all honesty, she knew damn well that she would be interrupting Sophie and Chris’s private celebration, and that sucked.

  Jerking his chin toward the front of her car, he said, “Just pop the hood and let me take a look.”

  She gave him a dubious glare. “You know anything about cars?”

  His masculine snort shouldn’t have sounded so sexy—but damn it, it did. “I have a dick, don’t I?”

  “Do you?” she asked with a feigned load of doubt, lifting her brows. “For all I know, it already shriveled up from disease and fell off.”

  He sighed and shook his head. “Natalie, stop being a bitch and just pop the fucking hood.”

  “Fine,” she muttered, wondering if he’d heard her name from Chris and Sophie. And if so, then what else had he heard them talking about? Face burning with color, she added, “But don’t expect me to kiss your ass because of it, Sean.”

  He said something under his breath that she didn’t quite catch, though that was probably a good thing. It wasn’t like her to be this bitchy, or this phenomenally rude, but there was something about Sean Cartwright that made her feel the need to throw up as many walls as she could.

  Hell, she needed freaking barbwire and a shark-filled moat between the two of them.

  She stayed in the car while he lifted the Saturn’s hood and checked the engine. Less than a minute later, he walked back over to her open window, rubbing his big hands together to get rid of the engine grease.

  “Your battery’s dead,” he told her, while the ocean breeze tousled the dark strands of his hair. “You’re going to need a new one, but I can give you a jumpstart to get it running. Just don’t push your luck and keep driving on it. Get it replaced.”

  Figuring the decent thing to do was get out and try to help, she opened her door, fully aware that she looked like a slob in her Converse, ponytail, SDSU T-shirt that was tight across her chest, and cutoff shorts that did nothing to conceal how big her ass was. And while he was dressed casually in cargo shorts, black T-shirt, and flip-flops, he still looked like he’d just walked off the pages of some rugged magazine spread. Even his damn feet were sexy, both of them long and tanned and perfectly shaped.

  She watched him with a sharp, greedy gaze as he got things together, unable not to watch. He was so gorgeous in that I’m a badass motherfucker alpha male way that was simply impossible to resist. Tall, hard, dark. Even the way his veins stood out on his thick forearms was a turn on.

  And didn’t that mean she was in some serious trouble, when a guy’s forearms started getting her wet?

  It turned out that he was more than competent when it came to getting her battery sorted, and all she had to do was crank the engine when he told her to. With the car rumbling to life, she climbed back out, leaving the open door between them, and offered him a murmured, “So, um, thanks for helping me out.”

  “Anytime,” he replied, the muscles in his arms flexing beneath his tanned skin as he coiled the jumper cables. “And I’m serious about driving straight home. First thing tomorrow morning, get a new battery installed. You don’t want to risk it dying on you again.”

  Rolling her eyes, she said, “I got it, Dad.”

  The corner of his mouth twitched. “I may be a lot of things, but a dad thankfully isn’t one of them.”

  “Yeah, that would really put a damper on your lifestyle, huh?”

  His grin fell, and he gave her another one of those dark, questioning looks, as if he were trying to figure out what the hell her problem was.

  “What?” she asked, when he just kept staring at her.

  “You don’t know a damn thing about my lifestyle.”

  She couldn’t help but smirk as she put a hand on the top of her open door, and met his hard gaze head-on. “Is that right?”

  “Yeah, it is,” he said in a low voice, the jumper cables coiled in one big fist as he lowered his arms to his sides. “But if you’re curious about something, just ask me.”

  “Get real,” she scoffed, feeling the urge to squirm now that he’d put her in the hot seat and called her out.

  “No, I’m serious. Ask me anything.”

  “All right,” she murmured, taking a quick breath. “Who’s the Tuesday?”

  His dark brows lifted with confusion. “The Tuesday?”

  Her own brows lifted at his question. “The gorgeous blonde you have dinner with every Tuesday night. Ring any bells?”

  A few seconds passed, and then he murmured, “Manolo’s,” with a wary nod, obviously placing where he knew her from. “You work the bar in the lounge.”

  “Bingo.” She gave him a sharp smile.

  He ran his free hand through those thick locks of hair, the look in his eyes making her think he was less than thrilled with the revelation as he started putting it all together. Then he said, “I thought you looked familiar. Now I know why. I remember seeing you there last Saturday night, when the place was packed.”

  Natalie snorted. “I’m surprised you noticed me at all. What with the constantly changing scenery you parade through the doors.”

  His eyes widened a fraction, just before his brows drew together in a deep V over the straight, bold line of his nose. “Jesus,�
� he muttered softly.

  Finally, the guy was starting to get a clue! “Anyhow, thanks again for the jumpstart. But let’s just try to stay out of each other’s way from now on, okay?”

  She started to climb back into the car, when his hard voice stopped her. “Have I ever been a dick to you? Didn’t tip enough? Pissed off someone who you’re friends with?”

  “No,” she bit out, shaking her head as she twisted to face him again, one foot already on the floorboard. “None of those things.”

  “Exactly.” A muscle pulsed in the rigid line of his jaw as he stepped closer, right up to the other side of the door. “I’ve never even set eyes on you until last weekend. So what’s with the hostility?”

  Oddly, that was probably true—the part about him not seeing her until last weekend. She wasn’t even sure why, but she’d always been careful to avoid his line of sight when he’d come into Manolo’s with a woman. But she’d slipped up last Saturday. Kari had been having a rough shift, and so she’d helped her with a few tables, since the server had looked on the verge of tears.

  With Kari swamped, Nat had ended up having to take the check to the table right beside the one where Sean was wining-and-dining a sexy brunette, and when she’d glanced their way, he’d been staring right at her. Mind you, she’d been dressed a lot differently then than she was now—in the black blouse, heels, and capri pants that all the female staff wore at the restaurant. And her red hair had been pulled up in a low, artfully messy bun.

  “I guess I just feel sorry for the Tuesday,” she finally forced out. “I mean, she seems like a sweet woman. It doesn’t seem fair that every weekend you bring your other women into the same place you bring the blonde to dinner. Someone needs to talk to the poor girl. She’s too classy for what you have to offer.”

  His incredible blue eyes narrowed, and his voice dropped. “You’re judging me?”

  Refusing to back down, she kept her gaze locked hard on his. “I’m just stating a fact. Guys like you rank lower than pond scum on the decency scale.”

  “And you’re apparently a judgmental little bitch,” he countered. “One who shouldn’t make statements about something you know absolutely nothing about.”

  “Yeah, well, I know what I see. But I guess you can take comfort in the fact that you’re not alone. Most of the Y-chromosomes out there are just like you. Sadly, you’re just another cock floating around in an ocean of dicks.”

  Surprise burned deep in those sea-colored eyes. “Christ. You may be young, but you sure as hell don’t have a problem speaking your mind, do you?”

  With a lift of her chin, she said, “I’m old enough to know I want nothing to do with a guy like you.”

  “That right?” he murmured after a charged moment, the huskier tone of his voice doing something hotly sinister to her insides. Not to mention the way he was staring down at her.

  “Did I stutter?” she snapped, determined to ignore the low, molten burn that was pumping through her veins, making her feel like her skin was suddenly two sizes too small. She was fucking burning for him, the bastard, and she hated that he knew it. That he could no doubt read the lust written all over her face like an embarrassing punchline.

  The corner of his mouth twitched with a grim flash of humor, then flattened into a sexy, determined line as he took a step back. “No, you didn’t stutter. But I’d be willing to bet you’re going to eat those words, Natalie.”

  With her chest tight and her pulse roaring in her ears, she refused to look at him as she quickly slammed the door shut and shoved the car into reverse. But she could still hear those taunting words playing through her head as she backed out of the parking space, slammed the Saturn into gear, and sped away.

  She might be in her car, her damp palms clutching her steering wheel in a white-knuckled grip, but Nat knew damn well that what she was really doing was running. Running as hard and as fast as she could.

  And she didn’t allow herself to look back. Not even once.

  No matter how badly a part of her wanted to.

  Chapter Two

  One long month later…

  No… No way in hell is this happening!

  A sweltering September may have slipped into a stormy October, but Natalie’s luck was still proving to be as craptastic as ever. Her current situation a perfect example.

  She’d been doing her best to avoid the impossibly sexy Sean Cartwright for the past month, and for the most part had been damn successful at it. Not that it’d been easy, with him still coming into the restaurant on the weekends, as well as every Tuesday night with the beautiful blonde.

  Every damn time she set eyes on him, she couldn’t help but remember the god-awful night when her car had broken down. Yeah, he’d been nice and helped her out. Hell, he’d even surprised her by following her home in his badass-looking SUV, and then waiting in the cramped parking lot of her apartment complex, until she’d gotten safely inside her minuscule one bedroom. It’d all been extremely gentlemanly of him, considering how she’d tried to storm away. But she still didn’t trust him.

  Not even a little.

  That’s why she’d turned him down when he’d shown up at Manolo’s that following night and asked her to have dinner with him. She’d been shocked when he’d come into the restaurant, alone for once, and taken a seat in the lounge instead of getting a table. Dressed in jeans and a sexy black dress shirt with the cuffs rolled up on his powerful forearms, he’d just propped his fine ass on a padded leather stool right at the end of the bar where she was serving drinks…and smiled at her.

  Fucking smiled!

  When she’d finally made her way over to him and he’d asked her out for the following Friday night, her mouth had dropped open, heart hammering so hard it’d hurt—and for a few awful seconds, she’d been ridiculously giddy with excitement. But then she’d quickly gotten control of her traitorous hormones and told him no.

  In fact, she’d looked him right in those beautiful, breathtaking blue eyes and told him she already had a date that night. He hadn’t looked happy about that little lie, which had kept a smile on her face the entire time he’d sat there drinking his beer, before slipping out while she was on her break.

  Unfortunately, her glee at refusing him had been short-lived, thanks to Sophie. Natalie had been mortified when that Friday night, as she’d been talking to Sophie on the phone while downing a pint of ice cream, she’d heard Chris and Sean talking in the background. When Chris had asked Sophie if everything was okay, she’d said, “Nat’s just feeling a bit down tonight and needed some chat time with her BFF.”

  Sean had no doubt heard the exchange, which meant he either thought she’d lied about the date or had been stood-up. Either way, it’d made her want to reach through the phone and strangle Sophie’s pretty little neck.

  He’d come into the restaurant again the following night, on his own, and hadn’t said a word to her. But she knew by the smirk he’d shot her way before he’d left that he knew the truth. Knew that she’d been sitting at home on her ever-expanding ass, instead of out painting the town with a boy-toy. It’d been one of the most humiliating moments in her life, and was largely responsible for the embarrassing situation she found herself in now.

  Well, that, and the fact that he’d still been bringing the beautiful blonde in for dinner every Tuesday night.

  She’d let it all mess with her head, screwing with her thoughts, until she just wanted a moment of peace. Something to take her mind off the gorgeous, infuriating Sean Cartwright, even if just for a few hours. So when the guy who sat beside her in her Advanced Econ class asked her out for the umpteenth time yesterday afternoon, she’d told him yes, then made arrangements to have her shift at the restaurant covered.

  Now, here she was, stuck in what had quickly turned out to be the date from hell. From the moment Matt Jones had picked her up from her apartment a half-hour ago, Nat’s instincts had been screaming that he was every bit the immature jerk she’d suspected him of being, in the short time t
hat she’d known him. The kind of guy that made smart girls cringe, and naive ones drool over his golden California good looks.

  She’d counted on the way he constantly talked about himself to keep her distracted that evening, and it had been working a charm, since all she’d been able to think about was how freaking annoying he was. Then he’d gone and slammed into the back of a gorgeous BMW as they were pulling into the parking lot at Manolo’s, because he’d been too busy checking his hair in the rearview mirror. The owner of the car was pissed, and despite Matt’s attempts to charm his way out of any liability, the cops had been called and a report was being filed at that very moment, despite Matt’s whiny protests.

  And yet, as embarrassing as all that was, Natalie figured there were still poor female souls out in the world who had actually suffered worst dates. So, despite the fact that Matt was clearly a moron, what made her own circumstances singularly disastrous was the fact that fucking Sean Cartwright had just pulled into the parking lot in a big ass black truck being driven by a guy who looked like he could be his brother. Both men climbed out of the truck, and while the slightly older looking guy headed straight for the uniformed policewoman talking to Matt, Sean talked to the other cop for a moment, acting like he knew the guy, then headed straight for Nat.

  The storm clouds gathering overhead matched her shitty mood, and she forced out a slow breath as she watched him make his way toward her. She wished she’d gone inside, instead of waiting for Matt in the shadow of a Range Rover parked close to the restaurant. Sean had spotted her too quickly, and now there was nowhere to hide without it looking like she was running from him—and she refused to do it for a second time.

  Though with as good as he looked, the idea of running to preserve her sanity definitely held its appeal.

  She might be a fan of the crisp dress shirts and tailored slacks she’d so often seen him wear into the restaurant, but she thought this look suited him better. He was dressed casually, in a black T-shirt that looked hot-as-sin on his incredible body, a well-worn pair of jeans that hung low on his perfect hips, and rugged black boots. His dark hair was windblown, and there was a sexy scruff on his jaw and chin that made him look even hotter. Seriously, how freaking unfair was that?