Losing Chelsea (Saving Bliss #2)

by Rachael Brownell

  “Look, Jay. I know you’re the security expert, but–”

  “Stop!” I yell at Bliss, holding my hand up. Reaching into my pocket, I pull my phone out and shoot a text off to Adam, my current head of security. “What’s the name of this place?”

  “The Pit Stop,” Owen says, wrapping his arm around Bliss. Looking to her, I can see I hurt her feelings.

  “I’m sorry, Bliss. I am. But this is not up for discussion. We stay where we are until I have the information I need. If things are kosher, we can stay. If not, you listen to what I say exactly and we are out of here in thirty seconds. Understood?”

  “Jay–”

  “No, Owen. We do things my way. Understood?” I ask through gritted teeth.

  “Yeah, man. We understand.”

  Bliss looks frightened. I can’t imagine why they thought this would be a good idea. It doesn’t matter. In less than five minutes, I’ll know whether or not we need to leave.

  My phone vibrates against the table just as the waitress approaches. She introduces herself, but I don’t pay her a lick of attention. Owen kicks me under the table but I ignore him. I’m not ordering a drink until I can confirm that we’re staying and they shouldn’t either.

  Reading the information Adam sent me, I breathe a sigh of relief. The place is clean. If we are in danger, it’s not evident from the information he found. No one from Bliss’ past has any ties to the bar.

  “I’ll have a Jack and coke,” I say.

  Even knowing everyone involved in Bliss’ disappearance is either dead or in jail, I don’t trust this place. A distant cousin from another mother could be involved somehow. Someone could still be keeping their eyes open for Bliss, silently seeking revenge.

  It’s been two years, but it could still happen.

  If they own this place, it’s so far under the radar that Adam couldn’t find it.

  “I guess I’ll have one, too,” Owen says after I give him the nod of approval.

  “For you, miss?” a sweet, sultry voice asks, catching my attention.

  Turning my head in the direction of the sound, I find a beautiful brunette standing ready to take our orders, a pen poised on her pad of paper. Her shirt’s too tight. Her shorts are too short. What really catches my attention is the tiny bit of space between the two, showing her tanned skin and the top of a tattoo.

  Wanting to reach out and touch it, I have to stop myself.

  I never reacted this way to a woman before.

  Never felt the need to touch someone as much as I do her right now.

  When she walks away, I watch her every move. Her hips sway just enough I want to wrap my hands around them and lead her around the dance floor.

  “See something you like?” Owen asks after a few minutes.

  There’s a smart-ass comment on the tip of my tongue, but when I turn to say it, I see the look on Owen and Bliss’ faces. They’re smiling at me. Grinning actually, deviously.

  “No. I was just thinking, that’s all,” I say, brushing it off and turning my attention back to them. “So, Adam says that the people who bought this place are legit. He couldn’t find anything on them or any connection to the previous owners. I still don’t want you two hanging out down here. You never know who you might run into.”

  “Are you mad?” Bliss asks.

  “Not anymore. I still don’t understand why you would want to bring me here, and I don’t really care. All I care about is the fact that the new owners are on the up and up.”

  “I sure as hell hope they are,” that sultry voice says as she sets my drink in front of me. “They’re my parents.”

  Slowly turning, we make eye contact and the explanation I was ready to share with her is lost. Damn. Hazel eyes, light around the edges but almost a dark chocolate in the center.

  “Sorry. He didn’t mean anything by it,” Owen chimes in, pulling her attention away from me.

  “Yeah. Sorry,” I mumble, taking a sip of my drink.

  She drops our drinks and leaves without another word. I do the best I can to keep my attention focused on the conversation with Owen and Bliss. Anytime she comes within my peripheral, my eyes begin to track her and my imagination runs wild.

  I shouldn’t be having these kinds of thoughts about someone I don’t know. Sure, she’s attractive, gorgeous even, but my heart isn’t mine to share. It wouldn’t be fair to her to even flirt with her. Giving her the wrong idea, misleading her, it’s not who I am.

  Two drinks and an hour later, Bliss and Owen are ready to get back to their house. I was hoping to stay a little longer, but I follow them out, knowing that it’s for the best.

  “I think I’ll catch a cab back to the hotel,” I say.

  “Are you sure? We can share one if you want.” Bliss sounds concerned. Even after two margaritas, her head is still on straight enough to care about someone else.

  “Yeah. You guys go ahead and take this one. I’ll wait for the next.”

  “All right, man.” Owen pulls me in for a one-armed hug and pats me on the back. “I’ll give you a call in a few days.”

  “Sounds good. I should be home tomorrow afternoon. Let me know if you guys are serious about moving closer. I’ll help in any way I can.”

  Watching the cab pull away, sadness washes over me. It always does when the three of us get together. They don’t do it on purpose, but it feels like their happiness is rubbed in my face. I’m happy for them, for Owen especially, but it still hurts.

  Patting my pocket, I realize I left my phone on the table. I need to get in touch with Adam and let him know my flight arrangements so he can pick me up at the airport.

  Turning to head back inside, I find our waitress leaning against the door, my phone dangling between her fingers. Her shirt’s lifted up another inch or so, revealing more of her tattoo. From here it looks like a rose. A purple rose.

  “Forget something?” she teases.

  “Thanks,” I reply, taking a step toward her. My body begins to hum the closer I get. Just as I’m about to grab my phone, she pulls her hand back.

  “Why is your phone so hard to break into?” she asks, pursing her lips at me to show her frustration.

  “Why were you trying to break into my phone?” I reply, challenging her.

  “I was going to put my number in there in case you wanted to call me sometime.”

  “I don’t even know your name. How would I know I was calling the right person?”

  There are about a dozen numbers in my phone. Her name would have stood out in a heartbeat.

  “You didn’t answer my question. Why is your phone on lockdown?” she asks, leaning against the brick exterior of the building.

  “It’s my job to keep information secure. That starts with my information.”

  Thrusting my phone at me, she grins. “Open it.”

  “No,” I reply without reaching for my phone. If she wants to play this game, we can play. It’s been years since I’ve flirted with anyone, but she makes it feel effortless.

  “Then maybe we should stop wasting time and have a drink right now. I know this great bar,” she says, her voice trailing off.

  Can I do this? Can I have a drink with her? It’s not the smart thing to do, I know, but it feels right. One drink. How much trouble can that get me in?

  6

  My head is pounding. Squeezing my eyes closed to block out the brightness of the room, I reach behind me for an extra pillow to put over my head when my hand brushes across soft skin.

  Thinking back to last night, I try to remember what exactly happened.

  I had drinks with Owen and Bliss.

  The waitress was flirting with me.

  Skylar. Her name was Skylar.

  We had a few drinks together.

  Shit! We closed down the bar.

  I offered to walk her home.

  She didn’t want to go home.

  Did she say she lived with her parents?

  She came back here.

  Oh God! She’s in bed with me
.

  Did we-? I don’t think so. I would remember that.

  I hope I would, at least.

  I was pretty drunk.

  I’m still drunk, I think.

  What time is it?

  My plane leaves at ten thirty.

  Cracking my eyes open, I wait for them to adjust to the light before reaching for my phone. Just as I pick it up, the phone on the bedside table rings, loudly.

  “Hello,” I say, picking it up as quickly as I can to silence the ringing.

  “Mr. Wright. Were you going to need a later checkout this morning?” a female voice asks.

  “I might. What time is it?”

  “It’s noon, sir.”

  Fuck, fuck, fuckity, fuck!

  “Can I extend my stay for one more night?” I ask. If nothing else, I’ll stay inside and recover in the darkness.

  “Absolutely, sir. Is there anything we can do for you this morning?”

  She’s too damn chipper right now.

  “Yeah. Can you send up breakfast? Eggs, bagels, maybe some bacon. I don’t really care what you send.”

  “Consider it done. Enjoy the rest of your stay.”

  Hanging up the phone, I force myself to sit up. The bed shifts and a moan comes from behind me. That’s when I remember there’s a woman in my bed with me.

  Skylar is here.

  “Did you just order me breakfast?” she asks. “I’m starving.”

  What do I say? I ordered breakfast for me, but I don’t want to hurt her feelings. I barely know this chick. Well, at least I think I barely know her. We’re going to have to figure that out once the pounding stops.

  “Yeah. It should be here soon,” I reply, standing and walking into the bathroom without looking over my shoulder at her.

  Is she naked? Maybe I should have looked. That would have been a clear indication of whether or not we had sex. What the fuck am I doing? Why did I bring her here? What the hell was I thinking?

  Well, at least I know the answer to that one. I wasn’t. The handful of Jack and cokes I drank did my thinking for me.

  I hear a knock at the door as soon as I turn the shower off. My head is still foggy, but it’s not pounding anymore. Skylar opens the door a crack and lets me know breakfast is here. Without waiting for a reply, she closes the door.

  When I finally find the courage to leave the safety of the bathroom, I find Skylar sitting cross-legged in the middle of the bed, eating eggs and bacon. She’s wearing the same outfit from last night. Her hair is pulled high on her head in a messy blob.

  “I saved you some. They didn’t send very much,” she says, engrossed in whatever she’s watching on the television.

  “Thanks,” I sit on the edge of the bed and reaching for a bagel and the last piece of bacon. I don’t eat much in the mornings, but I like variety.

  “I had fun last night,” she says between bites, catching me off guard.

  “Yeah,” I agree, not really sure I know what I’m talking about.

  “We should hang out again,” she continues, finally turning in my direction. “What do you think?”

  This sucks. I have no idea if I even had a good time last night, or what type of “good time” we had. I’m going to have to ask her, and she’s either going to be pissed off at me or laugh. I’m hoping for the later of the two.

  “Depends. What exactly happened last night?” I take a bite of bacon and say a silent prayer, hoping things don’t get too awkward.

  “Not much. You don’t drink often, do you?”

  “Not really. My job requires me to keep a clear head at all times,” I say as a way of explaining my low tolerance for alcohol in large quantities.

  “I hope you weren’t working last night.”

  “No. I’m actually just in town visiting friends for the weekend.”

  “The couple you were with last night.” I nod, and she continues. “They seemed nice. A little too in love if you ask me, but nice.”

  A laugh escapes me. She explained Owen and Bliss perfectly, and she knows nothing about them. This girl is awesome. If I lived closer, I could see us being friends. I can only imagine what would happen if the four of us got together. I have a feeling she might tell Owen and Bliss what she thinks of them, and I wouldn’t be able to hold back my laughter.

  “Sorry. I didn’t mean to offend them. Just calling it like I see it.” Turning back to the television as if our conversation is over, Skylar polishes off the rest of her plate and hops off the bed.

  “Mind if I take a shower before I head home?”

  “Go right ahead. I have a few calls to make anyway.”

  Adam isn’t thrilled I missed my flight since he’s already at the airport. What really sucks is I need him to take charge until I get back to town. I’m not used to letting other people run my business, but I don’t exactly have a choice in the matter.

  After he’s calmed down and things are settled, I search for a new flight home. The next flight leaves tonight at ten o’clock but it’s booked solid. The last thing I want to do is fly standby and end up sleeping in the airport when I have a perfectly comfortable hotel room.

  Monday morning it is. Eleven o’clock a.m.

  I should call Owen and let him know I missed my flight.

  Just as the thought crosses my mind, Skylar walks out of the bathroom. Her shirt is sticking to her is all the right places, and her face is flushed. She’s stunning, and all I can think about is how amazing her hair would look fanned out on the pillows with me on top of her.

  “Hey.” The single word all I can muster. This girl has left me breathless.

  No!

  This isn’t how I’m supposed to be responding to her. I shouldn’t be having these kinds of thoughts. I have nothing to offer her. My heart isn’t available.

  “Hey. So when are you heading back home? I thought you said your flight was this morning.”

  “Yeah. I missed it, so I’m leaving tomorrow morning.”

  “What are your plans today, then? I have the day off if you want me to show you the city,” she offers, pulling her hair over her shoulder and using the towel to dry it.

  Yes. That’s exactly what I want. It’s also not what I’m going to allow myself to have.

  “That sounds great, but we need to talk first,” I say, patting a spot next to me on the bed.

  God, even to me it sounds like I’m breaking up with her. We’re not dating. We’re not even friends. Why am I getting so caught up in this? Nothing is happening here.

  Taking a seat next to me, she lies back, giving me a full view of her stomach and tattoo. I still feel the need to trace it with my fingers. I’m itching to reach over her right now and run the tip of my index finger around each petal.

  “You know, you’re kind of acting like a girl. It’s not like we slept together or anything.”

  “Thank God,” I huff out before I can stop myself.

  Pushing me off the bed, I look up from the floor to find Skylar staring down at me. If looks could kill, I would be dead right now.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it that way. I just can’t remember much from last night and I was afraid we both drank too much and made a mistake.” My defense is weak judging by the look on her face. “I’m unavailable, Skylar. I’m sorry. I really didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.”

  “You said you didn’t have a girlfriend.”

  “I don’t.”

  “Then why are you unavailable?”

  “It’s a long story. One I don’t like to tell, so we’ll have to leave it at that.” Pushing myself off the floor, I stand in front of her. Her eyes find mine, and for the first time, I feel compelled to share with her, but I don’t get the chance.

  She stands, pushes past me, and grabs her purse. “Fine. I’m going to leave, then. Nice meeting you, Jay. Thanks for breakfast.”

  Hanging my head in shame, I can’t watch her walk out the door. If there was ever a time to man-up, it would be now. This very moment. But I can’t. I’m still not ready, a
nd I’m not sure if I’ll ever be.

  When I hear the door click closed behind her, I cringe in shame.

  For the first time since losing Chelsea, I felt a connection with another woman. And I just let her walk out the door. I have no idea if I’ll ever see her again or if she’ll even want to see me.

  7

  Pacing the length of my room, I try to decide what it is that I want to do. I could go after her, find her, and try to explain the truth to her. On the other hand, I could do what I do best and forget about her. Move on with my life and let her move on with hers.

  No one gets hurt.

  But is that really the truth?

  If I was certain I didn’t want to know her better, I wouldn’t be wearing a pattern into the carpet below my feet. I wouldn’t be wondering which is the better option. I wouldn’t care whether she was mad at me, or if I hurt her feelings this morning.

  Damn it!

  My focus has been on work since losing Chelsea. My personal life has been nonexistent. I didn’t need one. I didn’t have time for one. Most importantly, I didn’t want to make the time to have one. Doing so would have meant opening myself up to possibilities I let die years ago, the same day my heart died.

  This woman, this girl, she’s gotten under my skin in a matter of hours and is already driving me nuts. It shouldn’t be happening. I shouldn’t care what she thinks of me or if she’s thinking of me at all.

  But I do. That’s the truth.

  I care if she’s upset.

  I care if I hurt her feelings.

  I want to know more about her. I want to spend more time with her. Time I’ll remember the next day.

  Popping open my laptop, I do what I do best. For the next three hours, I learn everything I can about Skylar. Skylar Cook. The daughter of Mike and Sally Cook. Owners of The Pit Stop. She’s easy to find because she doesn’t have much to hide.

  Twenty-three years old.

  Only child.

  Grew up in New York City.

  She graduated college last spring with a degree in elementary education. She hasn’t found a teaching job, yet. Her parents’ bar is her only source of income. She told me she lives with them, and her address confirms it. The bar and the two floors above it are owned by her parents.