Imperfect

by Cherry Shephard

  “Thank you,” Ruth is saying, forcing my eyes back over to her.

  “I’m sorry?” I respond, feeling like a heel for ignoring her.

  “I just wanted to thank you,” Ruth repeats, her small hand resting on my large forearm. “For the way you stood up for me the other night.”

  I smile indulgently at her. “Think nothing of it,” I say, perhaps a little too grandly. I glance at Shannon who’s standing there smirking at me. Does she notice the way Ruth is hanging onto my arm, as though I’m her white knight? Is she jealous? Why do I care? I stand up a little straighter, puffing my chest out.

  “But I feel terrible,” Ruth continues, shaking her head, tears threatening to spill from her large eyes.

  “It’s okay,” I tell her, patting her hand awkwardly as I look desperately at Shannon, who’s still smirking. Help me, I mouth at her.

  “Come on, Ruth,” Shannon interjects, smiling brightly as she links arms with the younger girl. “I have some things in the back for you to do this afternoon.”

  I watch as she leads Ruth away, throwing a wink at me over her shoulder that almost brings me to my knees. I slump into the nearest chair and rest my head in my hands, leaning against the small round table. My head is killing me. I hadn’t been able to sleep after my nightmare last night… a nightmare that comes all too often.

  “Are you okay?” Shannon asks as she re-enters the room. I look up at her wearily, giving her a small smile.

  “I’m fine,” I answer, pushing myself up and tucking the chair back in. I follow her over to the bar and start putting clean glasses away as she watches me.

  “Listen,” she says, shifting uncomfortably. “I’m sorry about last night.”

  I pause, half-bent over the bar, and glance up at her. “It’s okay,” I finally reply, putting the last glass away and straightening up. “I understand.”

  “Did Keets talk to you?” she asks, twisting the hem of her t-shirt worriedly.

  “Don’t worry,” I assure her. “He didn’t tell me anything personal, just that you don’t like nicknames.” I move over to the far wall and pick up the broom.

  “It’s not that I don’t like nicknames,” she says, following me across the room, watching as I manoeuver the broom around the chairs. “I just don’t like being called kitten.”

  “Well, why not?” I ask, not looking at her. “It’s not as though I called you a bitch or anything.”

  “I know,” she says quietly, her voice barely above a whisper. “But it’s what my ex called me.”

  I pause and glance up at Shannon. Her face is pale, her voice trembling. “Ah, hell,” I curse, letting the broom slip from my fingers as I grab her wrist and pull her to me, wrapping my large arms around her awkwardly. What is it about crying women in this town? They seem to converge around me in droves. First Ruth, now Shannon? “What’s going on?” I ask against her hair.

  Shannon sniffs and leans her head back, giving me a tremulous smile. Her tits press against my chest and I feel my cock harden. She must feel it too, her eyes grow large and round as she takes a step back. I already miss her being in my arms. “I’m sorry,” she apologizes, quickly wiping her eyes.

  I have an almost overwhelming urge to hold her again, but she turns away before I can. “Shannon,” I say, causing her to pause and slowly turn back to face me. “I know you don’t know me all that well,” I continue, my voice sounding gruff in my own ears. “But if you ever need to talk, I’m here for you.”

  Shannon stares up at me thoughtfully. “You are, aren’t you?” she muses.

  I don’t get the chance to question her further, as Ruth comes back into the room to open the bar.

  For the rest of the afternoon, Shannon makes herself scarce as Ruth and I serve the few customers who come into the bar. I briefly consider asking Ruth what’s going on with Shannon, but quickly veto that idea. She’s clearly close to Shannon, so I doubt she’d do anything to violate that trust.

  “Hey.” Ruth nudges me with a grin. “You okay?”

  “Hmm?” I ask distractedly, glancing down at her as I dry a glass. “Sorry.” I flash her a quick smile. “I guess my mind’s on other things.”

  “You mean Shannon?” Ruth asks slyly.

  I almost drop the glass in shock. Quickly placing it on the bar, I grab another, refusing to look at her. “What do you mean?” I ask nonchalantly.

  Ruth lets out a light laugh, and I know the jig is up. “I’m young, Stone.” She smiles at me. “But I’m not stupid.”

  I sigh and turn to face her. “I just don’t understand her,” I admit.

  “I don’t think anyone does,” Ruth says.

  “But why won’t she let anyone in? What’d her ex do to her that was so terrible?” I ask. “Did he hit her or something?”

  Ruth visibly flinches and realization dawns on me. “Son of a bitch,” I curse under my breath. My blood boils when I think of anyone laying a hand on Shannon. No wonder she’s so distrusting.

  “Look, Stone, you can’t tell her I told you,” Ruth says, licking her lips nervously.

  I look down at her then glance around the room at the customers who sit at various tables.

  “Stone,” Ruth repeats.

  “I won’t say a word,” I promise. “But you’re going to tell me everything.”

  Friendship be damned.

  I sag against the bar and run a hand through my tangled curls. It’s almost closing time and, as usual, I’m exhausted. Smiling weakly at the last couple as they exit, the sound of laughter draws my attention to the other side of the room.

  I watch as Stone flicks a stray piece of popcorn at Ruth, feeling my gut twist as the young girl brushes her hair away from her face, revealing perfectly straight, white teeth as she laughs. Well, why shouldn’t he like her? She’s gorgeous. I hate being jealous of my friend, but even more than that, I hate the reason behind my jealousy. I have to face the facts: I’m attracted to Stone.

  “Shannon,” he calls out, waving me over.

  I wipe my hands on my jeans and walk over to them, taking a seat at one of the tables.

  “Stone was just telling me about his time in the Army,” Ruth says, gazing up at him adoringly.

  I feel like throwing up. “How nice,” I reply with a weak smile. “It’s getting late, though. Aren’t you tired?”

  “Not at all.” Ruth beams. “We were just talking about driving into town to find a club.”

  I stare at Stone, who raises a questioning eyebrow at me as one side of his lips cock up into a smirk. Jackass. I ignore the quiver of longing that shoots into my center and makes my clit pulse with desire. “Oh,” I say, trying to sound disinterested. “It’s been a while since I was in town; it is an hour’s drive away, after all.”

  “You should come with us,” Stone invites, that smirk blossoming into a grin.

  “No,” I respond, shaking my head. “I have too much work to do. You guys go ahead.” I can’t go back to town. I swore when I left there the first time that I’d never go back. Not after everything that happened . . .

  “Oh, come on, Shan,” Ruth pleads, grabbing my hand across the table. “You never do anything fun.”

  I can’t help but laugh at Ruth’s pretty pout. “Okay, okay,” I say, my eyes crinkling as I smile, even though I feel dead inside. “I’ll catch up with you guys shortly.”

  “Great!” Ruth squeals, jumping up and down as she claps her hands excitedly.

  Stone narrows his eyes at me. “You sure you’re okay?” Shit. Does he notice how pale I am? Maybe I can pretend to be sick and just go home.

  “Yeah.” I nod. “I’ll just close up the bar and get changed. I’ll meet you guys back here in an hour.”

  “Come on,” Ruth says impatiently, tugging on Stone’s arm as she leads him out of the bar.

  “I’ll catch up with you soon,” he promises, watching as Ruth leaves. I keep my eyes trained on him as he walks over to the door and locks it closed behind her before turning back to face me. Why is he still
here? My breath is audible in the quiet room, as are his slow, methodical steps. My pulse races as every click of his boots on the hard wood floor sends a jolt of awareness straight to my center. He stops directly in front of me and I tilt my head up to gaze into his dark eyes that are fixated on my suddenly dry mouth. My tongue darts out to lick my lips and I hear something akin to a groan escape his throat. “What are you doing?” I ask in a strangled whisper. He’s so close I can feel the heat from his skin against my chest.

  “Do you have any idea what you fucking do to me?” he asks in a low voice, his fingertip tracing a slow path down my arm. I shiver involuntarily and I’m unable to tear my gaze away from his.

  “No,” I whisper, the word sticking in my throat as his finger trails lazily to the top of my t-shirt, dipping lightly between my small breasts. Stone grabs my hand and brings it down to the front of his jeans, pressing it against himself. “I’ve been like this since I first walked in and saw your ass sticking up in the air, waiting for me,” he growls. Heat pools between my thighs and my eyes almost roll back in my head as I press my hand firmly against his hard cock. He feels much too large for one hand, and I slowly begin to stroke him through his jeans. Stone lets out a loud groan and throws his head back as I increase the pace. I know anyone could walk past the bar at any time, and that knowledge both excites and terrifies me. My hand slips into the space at the top of his jeans, feeling desperately for the bare skin beneath, but a growl rips from his chest as he forcibly grabs my hand and pulls it away. His other hand fists in my hair and drags my head back as his mouth covers mine. I part my lips in surprise and his tongue darts inside, wrestling with my own. I feel hot . . . so fucking hot. We’re both wearing too many clothes.

  As though reading my mind, Stone’s hands slip beneath my ass and he lifts me effortlessly. I wrap my legs around his waist as he carries me a short distance across the room, his lips never leaving mine until he places my feet back on the ground. He rips his mouth away and I dreamily open my eyes to look at him, quickly burning under his heated gaze.

  “Stone,” I whimper, clutching at his shirt with my small fists.

  “Shannon,” he says hotly. “You’re wearing too many clothes.”

  “I know,” I whisper, my eyes closing as I feel his hands on the front of my jeans. A second later they’re shoved down my hips along with my underwear, and he lifts my feet one by one as I step out of them and kick off my shoes. My shirt and bra goes next, and he groans as he stares at me. “Fuck, you’re so damn beautiful it hurts to look at you,” he growls as his mouth covers one nipple and sucks. Hard. I yelp at the sudden spike of pain, but it’s quickly forgotten as his tongue laves wet circles against my heated flesh. My head tilts back as he gives the other breast the same attention, cupping it in his large hand and lifting it to his lips.

  “Stone,” I murmur, threading my fingers through his dark hair. He releases my nipple with a pop and picks me up, laying me back against the old mechanical bull, my legs splayed wide apart, spreading me open to his gaze. The steel sends a cold shock down my spine and I cry out, arching my back, but he presses a hand against my stomach, forcing me back down.

  “Are you ready?” he asks in a low voice. I lift my head to watch him lower his face between my legs . . .

  Then he stops. He fucking stops.

  Every nerve ending in my body is screaming, and I’m silently begging him to snake his tongue around my clit and suck it. But he fucking stops. He takes a deep, shuddering breath, inhaling my scent before he stands up and gently helps me to my feet. I stand there staring at him, covering my breasts and my pussy with my hands, embarrassed. “Stone?” I squeak, wishing he’d say something. Anything. He lifts his eyes to me, and I can swear that for a brief second I see a flash of regret cross his pinched features. He leans down and scoops my clothes up from the floor, tossing them at me. They fall uselessly to the floor as I continue to cover my nudity, my skin flushed red in humiliation.

  “Get dressed,” he says gruffly, turning his back on me as though he’s disgusted by what he sees. My face flaming, I stare at his back, growing angrier by the second. Who the fuck does he think he is? “Stone,” I snarl. He turns, and I wipe the questioning look off his face with a firm slap. A look I can’t quite describe flashes across his face, then he turns on his heel and stalks over to the front door of the bar. It slams shut behind him and I race over, throwing the lock before sinking down to the ground, resting my back against the door and my head in my hands.

  What the fuck was that? I can’t believe that not only did he have me naked – but I let him. I shiver as I glance down at myself and realize I’m still naked. Crawling across the floor, I drag my jeans and shirt back on as I stand up and try to fix my unruly curls, giving up in about ten seconds and letting them cascade over my shoulders. I slump on the floor and stare blindly around the bar. I’m not sure which is worse: Allowing Stone to get to me, or his ultimate rejection. Humiliation gives way to anger, and I clench my small hands into fists. How fucking dare Stone make me second-guess myself. How dare he make me feel like I’m not good enough. So what if he doesn’t want me, it’s not like I want him. Liar, my mind taunts. You’re such a fucking liar. I groan again as I remember my promise to Ruth about going to the club tonight. I haven’t been back to town since I escaped from Troy a year ago. Am I ready to go back now? Can I face my fears? I briefly consider faking a stomach ache, crawling into bed and hiding. But there’s a slightly perverse side of me that doesn’t want to leave Ruth alone with Stone. I have to go, even if it kills me.

  And it just might.

  The front door opens, and I look up as the woman from last night steps in.

  “I’m sorry,” she says, seeing the empty place. “Are you closed?”

  “No, of course not,” I tell her, quickly getting to my feet and hurrying over to the bar. “What can I get you?”

  “Just a glass of white wine, thank you,” she says, taking a crumpled ten-dollar bill from her purse and putting it on the bar.

  As I pour the wine, I glance over at her as she releases a deep cough that seems to resonate from her chest. Her hands are shaking as she takes a clean tissue from her purse, dabbing at her mouth before quickly scrunching it up and dropping it back in her purse. But not before I see the blood.

  “Grace, isn’t it?” I ask with a smile, placing the glass on the bar and taking the money.

  The woman takes an appreciative sip and nods, closing her eyes as a quick look of pain flashes across her face. I don’t know how, but she looks even older today than she did last night. At least forty. There are dark circles under her eyes like she hasn’t slept, and without the added benefits of makeup, I can see fine lines around her eyes and mouth. I ring the drink up and hand over the change. “Are you all right?” I ask, watching Grace carefully. The woman is much too pale.

  “I’m fine,” Grace says with a weak smile. “I haven’t been feeling too well lately.”

  “Where’s your son?” I ask.

  Grace takes another sip of wine and puts the glass back down on the bar, clasping her trembling fingers together as she speaks. “He’s having a sleepover tonight,” she explains quietly. “I thought it’d be good for him.”

  “Grace,” I say, lightly touching the older woman’s hand. “You’re not well. I’d have to be blind to miss that. Let me take you to the doctor.”

  Tears spring to Grace’s eyes, and she brushes them away impatiently. “I’m fine, I promise,” she says, giving me a tight smile.

  I’m not convinced. Grace is clearly not fine, but it’s not my place to pry. “Okay,” I give in, nodding my head. “But if you change your mind, you tell me, okay?”

  “Thank you, Shannon,” Grace says, patting my hand before draining the rest of her wine and standing on unsteady feet. “Thank you for the wine.”

  “Listen,” I start as the woman turns around.

  Grace pauses and turns back to look at me. “A couple of us are going into town tonight. I know you’r
e not feeling well, but maybe some company would change that. I’m sure Ruth and Stone wouldn’t mind.”

  Grace flinches, but smiles and shakes her head. “Thank you, but no. I think the best thing I can do for now is just go to bed and try to sleep.”

  “If you’re sure,” I say, watching as Grace makes her way to the door and steps outside. I have a nagging feeling in my gut that the woman needs help. My cell phone beeps in the back pocket of my jeans and I pull it out, grinning when I see it’s a text from Keets.

  K: Wot U doin’ 2nite?

  S: Going 2 town with Ruth & Stone

  K: U sure that’s wise?

  S: It’s just a few drinks, don’t B such a worrywart

  K: What bar? I’m coming

  S: Dunno. B @ Saddles 30mins

  K: K. C U then

  I pocket my phone and grab my jacket from behind the bar. After locking the door securely behind me, I slide behind the wheel of my car and drive the short distance to my apartment. As I enter through the front door, I strip off my jacket and flick on the living room light. The apartment isn’t much, just one bedroom above a bakery on the main street. I’ve tried to make it as homey as possible, with white lace curtains and small knick-knacks on the countertops. Walking to my bedroom, I flip on the light and rummage through the dresser at the side of the room. My fingers hover over clean jeans and a plain blue t-shirt, and a grin spreads across my face as a deliciously naughty idea pops into my head. This is the first time I’ve been to a club in a year, and I’m going to look the part.

  At just twenty-nine years old, I’m no stranger to the club scene, but as I towel my curls dry after a quick shower and change into a black leather mini-skirt and shiny gold top that’s completely backless, save for the tiny string that ties it together, I begin to wonder if I can really do it.

  The last time I’d been at a nightclub, Troy had caused such a scene we’d been thrown out. He hated when another man looked at his woman, and he’d never had a problem punching someone he thought looked at them the wrong way.