by Abby Brooks
Her laugh.
Her sense of humor.
Her body. Hell yes, her body. The one I’m going to ravage tonight when I get to her apartment. I fit her like a glove, stretching that tight little pussy, and I swear she starts to come the very moment I push myself inside her. A guy could get used to that.
And there we go. I’m hard again. I think I’ve been hard since I met her.
Fuck. I’m going to miss her.
I stuff the last of my shirts into my bag and grab a handful of boxer briefs and socks and zip everything up. Maybe I shouldn’t go see her tonight. Maybe I should just go. My stuff is packed, all my material possessions zipped up into a few black bags sitting on some random bed in some random place. What good is it? Drawing out the inevitable? Why spend more time with her if I’m already worrying about missing her and I haven’t even left yet?
Maybe I just rip the bandage off now. Leave before she has time to actually mean something to me. The last thing I need is someone else’s ghost chasing me around the world.
Chapter Thirteen
The Bad Apple is on fire tonight. It’s been on fire for the last several nights, really. Ever since Dominic’s video hit YouTube, people have been flocking here, eager to talk to me. To meet me. To watch my super slick—not really, I’m still very clumsy!—bartending skills. My flair bottles have multiplied, curtesy of Big Jake, my boss. He wants me tossing them around at regular intervals, which was exciting at first, I’m not going to lie, but now? Honestly, it’s just getting hard to find the time to put on a show when so many people are wanting drinks. At this rate, they’re going to have to bring in another bartender on my nights or people are going to start getting irritated by how long they sit with an empty glass.
A light layer of sweat is beading at my forehead and a drop works its way down my back as I rush from one set of customers to the next. Tonight’s crowd is particularly rowdy. Each and every seat at the bar is taken and everyone wants my attention at once. And not just for drinks. Oh no. Apparently, I’m supposed to take bets on bar tricks and kiss random customers at regular intervals, too.
The Fish has been here every night since Dominic shot that video, trying to stretch his fifteen minutes of fame into a lifetime event. Thankfully, he has lost interest in flirting with me and I have had the immense pleasure of watching him get shot down by so many different women I’ve lost track. Tonight, he has a friend with him, a man whose features are all fighting for dominance on his overly square face. None of them are winning that particular battle.
“DoLo!” The Fish shouts my Instagram user name like he has a right to. “This is Jeremy. He has a trick for you.”
“Really?” Him and half the bar. I try to look interested, but I’m so tired of pretending like I’m excited about all this stuff.
“Yeah.” Jeremy leers at me. “Flynn has his camera all ready. There’s no way you’ll guess this one. We’re gonna put it up on YouTube just like that other guy.”
Finally, The Fish has a name. And wouldn’t you know, it’s Flynn.
I can’t stand Jeremy. I don’t know why. He’s said a whole three sentences to me but the guy just makes my skin crawl. When I slide his drink his way, he grabs my hand and my first instinct is to recoil. On any given day, I’m not a big fan of the customers getting handsy, but when Jeremy’s sticky, clammy hand clamps down on my wrist, I yank it away and scowl.
“Hands to yourself, big boy,” I say with a look that is not fun, not flirty, not subtle. All bitch.
Jeremy holds his hands up and sits back. “I get it,” he says and the relief I feel is so massive it has to be written all over my face. Hdoesn’t look like the kind of guy who would get the point on the first go. He leans forward again, his big old lips twisting into a smile that has my skin crawling. “I like a girl who plays hard to get.”
Great. Not only did he not get it, he also thinks I’m flirting. I hurry off to take really good care of the rest of my customers, thankful that we’re this busy. With Jeremy and The Fish sitting right at the bar, it would be hard to keep space between us if The Bad Apple was in the middle of a typical Monday. As it is, they leer at me every time I come back their way to cash someone out.
“DoLo!” Jeremy calls after me just a little too loud. “C’mere.” He gestures with his hand; a movement he probably thinks is sexy but just looks ridiculous on a grown man. “Get the camera ready, Flynn.” Jeremy elbows The Fish who then fumbles with what looks like a brand new piece of equipment.
Well hell. Seems like this is really going to happen. Under normal circumstances, I would be cold and almost rude to these two. Really make sure that they get the picture that I’m not flirting. I’m not interested. And I’m not going to be any fun. But, wouldn’t you know, the rest of the bar has taken notice and people are gathering around. Everyone’s all excited about another video experience going down at The Bad Apple. If I pull out my super bitch now, not only will I alienate this whole crowd, but there will be video evidence that I’m not always a nice person and The Bad Apple might lose its draw.
What to do? What to do?
I watch as Jeremy sets up a trick that I recognize within the first few steps. Anyone who’s spent any time in a bar at all is going to know this one and I’ll look like a fool if I don’t guess it. Which will discredit Dominic’s video. Which may or may not make him mad.
The last thing I want to do is hurt Dominic. He’s made himself a pretty prominent figure in my thoughts—and my dreams! Hot damn the one I had last night was delicious! We’ve spent the last few days together and the more I learn about him, the more I like him. And the more I like him, the more I worry about him leaving.
But none of that is relevant right now because Jeremy has set up the trick and the entire bar is gathered around. I’d like to call the conversation they’re all having at once a ‘gentle murmur’ but this crowd is a little extra toasty for a Monday night. There’s nothing ‘gentle’ or ‘murmury’ about the roar of words and laughter cheering us on. The Fish has his camera up and running, swooping in and out like he thinks he’s the next best Hollywood cameraman and the rest of the patrons are leaning in, trying to get their fifteen minutes of fame on the next Bad Apple video to blow up the internet.
Jeremy stands up. Puts a finger to his mouth. “Shhh.” He’s sloppy drunk, trying to be coy and stumbling as he turns to address the bar. “This one is sure to get her.” He goes on through his intro, referencing Dominic’s video and placing the same stipulations on me losing as he did. If I don’t figure it out, I have to go out with him.
I study the crowd, trying to decide how they’ll react if I shoot this guy down for the entire internet to see. A handful of them are openly laughing at him. The rest? I don’t know. They’re as drunk as he is. I’ve already decided that I’m going to solve his puzzle. That’s a no brainer. I’ve also decided that I’m definitely staying behind the bar. There’s no way I’m getting myself any closer to these guys than I am already.
And just like that, Jeremy has finished his opening spiel and The Fish has the camera pointed at me. Someone in the crowd is shushing the others and an expectant almost-silence falls over the place. From somewhere in the back comes the crack of a cue ball bouncing off billiard balls and the familiar roll and thunk that comes after a good break. Someone calls out in disappointment, surely the guy who didn’t get to break, and I wish I was standing back there with them.
I love the spotlight, but not like this. Not when it’s forced and unwanted. Not when I’m busy worrying about how the whole damn world will take it.
“Look,” Jeremy says, giggling like an idiot. “She’s confused.” He all but points and laughs at me. “It’s okay, sweetheart. I’ll make sure you’ll have a real nice time when we go out.” And then the asshole does the most asshole-y thing he could have possibly done in this situation. He puts his fingers to his mouth in the shape of a V and flicks his tongue between them.
The crowd is equal parts shocked and ecstatic, judging by t
heir raucous reaction. Me? I’m disgusted and irritated and ready for this part of my day to be over. I arch an eyebrow and purse my lips, ever aware of the camera in The Fish’s hand. With very little flare and a cold eye trained on the grinning Jeremy, I solve his puzzle. I shrug and tilt my head to the side, making a very sarcastically apologetic face.
The crowd loses its mind and I can’t help but smile, folding my arms on the bar and leaning forward. I’m relieved. Jeremy made himself enough of an ass that I don’t think anyone would judge me for being a bit of a bitch and The Bad Apple might get to keep on riding its swell of internet fame and I can keep going home with a fat wad of tips in my purse.
Of course, I’m an idiot. What was it Dominic did after I solved his puzzle on camera? Oh, that’s right, he grabbed me and kissed me. I thought I was smart to stay behind the bar, but I forgot the power that is alcohol mixed with stupid mixed with a bruised ego caught on camera.
Jeremy grabs my arms and pulls me forward, leaning in with his sausage lips open and heading right for my mouth. I turn my head and squeeze my eyes shut so he just gets a mouthful of my hair, but that doesn’t deter him. Oh no. He’s got my arms and he’s not letting go, pulling even harder. I plant my feet and try to pull away but damn, he’s strong. My ribs and hipbones dig into the hard wood of the bar. I hear the clink of ice against glass as we bump into his drink and then the twinkling of shattered glass as I struggle and knock it right to the ground.
I shriek just in time for Jeremy to be pulled off me by some good Samaritan in the crowd. Off balance, I stagger back and almost fall right on my ass, but manage to catch myself against the wall of booze behind me. There’s a struggle and a scuffle and the energy of the crowd goes from good-natured fun, to angry mob in a heartbeat.
Jeremy is locked in some kind of strangle hold, struggling, his big eyes even bigger, wide and rolling with adrenaline.
“Settle down, asshole.”
I know that voice. Excitement surges through me at the sound of it. Dominic. Dominic is the guy who saved me from being assaulted.
Jeremy obeys Dominic’s command and stops struggling.
“You in control?” asks Dominic, his voice low and in powerful. The warning rattle of a snake. The growl of a bear. “Because I’m going to let you go now and you’re just going to stay right where you are. Understood?”
Jeremy nods frantically, the whites of his eyes almost glowing in the dim light of the bar. The crowd is silent and The Fish still has the camera trained on his friend. Dominic doesn’t let him go, but turns his attention to me.
“You okay if I release him?” he asks, his voice softening, his eyes seeking out mine.
I nod. “Yeah, I’m good.” My hands are shaking, but my voice isn’t, so at least there’s that.
Dominic steps away from Jeremy. “Apologize.” His voice is all pointed again. Wicked.
Jeremy mumbles an apology and leaves, his pride battered and his friend still recording it all. There’s a rush of energy as attention turns to me. So many people are crowding in towards the bar, asking if I’m okay, retelling the story to their friends who just watched the whole thing, cell phones out and aimed my way. The shelf on the back wall presses into my back and I realize that I’m recoiling, arms wrapped around my chest.
“Give her some space,” orders Dominic. He makes his way behind the bar and wraps me up in his arms. “You okay for real?” he whispers into my hair.
I nod, not quite trusting my voice. I hate to be one of those women who dissolves into nervous tears after something like this, but it looks like that’s exactly what I’m about to do. “I’m sorry,” I say, preemptively apologizing for the scene I might make in a few seconds.
“Don’t you dare apologize.” He drapes his arm around my shoulder and pulls me in close. Leads me to a stool at the end of the bar, far away from any people and pours me a drink.
“You shouldn’t be back there,” I say, voice strong. No quaver.
“Says who?”
“Says Big Jake, the owner.”
Dominic makes a show of looking around. “Not only is Big Jake not here, but he wasn’t around when his most famous bartender of all time got assaulted on the job. I think this Big Jake has a lot more to worry about than me behind the bar, pouring you a shot of vodka.”
He hands me the shot and I throw it back. I prefer mixed drinks, but I’m not feeling picky tonight. The quaking feeling in my hands and stomach goes away and when Dominic pours me another shot, I throw that one back, too. He sits next to me. Holds my hands in his and inspects me for any damage. There’s an angry red mark on my arm that’s sure to bruise. A scrape on my hip. But all in all, I’m okay.
“I should have hit that guy,” says Dominic, his finger running gently across the mark on my arm.
“I wouldn’t have minded. Although I’m glad you didn’t.” I say it because that’s the right thing to say. The decent thing to say. But right and decent aside, there’s a part of me that gets really excited thinking about Dominic punching that jerk.
He asks what happened and I explain.
“I’m so sorry, Dakota.”
“Why? It’s not your fault.”
“Would this have happened if it wasn’t for my video?”
“No, but…”
I trail off when Dominic holds up his hand. “Then it is my fault. Inadvertent though it may be. Besides, even if it wasn’t at all my fault, can’t I be sorry that you’re hurt and scared and some asshole put his hands on you when you didn’t want them there?”
The look in his eyes, the tenderness in his touch, the open honesty in his voice, they all have my head reeling. I put my hand to my heart and open my mouth to tell him just how sweet he is when Big Jake comes lumbering up to us, invading our space.
“What the hell, London?” He crosses his meaty arms over his massive belly and glares. “I don’t pay you to sit on your ass and flirt with my customers.” His eyes land on the shot glass so clearly sitting in front of me. “And I sure as hell don’t pay you to drink on the job.” He takes a step forward, shaking his head.
Dominic stands up. “Do you pay her to get assaulted by one of your customers?”
Big Jake looks confused and shakes his head.
“No? I didn’t think so.” Dominic looks around the bar, spying the manager’s office that Jake holes up in each night. “This place isn’t very big and that office isn’t very far away. Are you telling me that you didn’t hear all the ruckus just a few minutes ago?”
Big Jake set his jaw. “It’s none of your business what I heard or didn’t hear.”
“It might not be mine.” Dominic shrugs. “But it is hers. And I’m sure the police will also consider it their business.”
Big Jake looks at me with rage burning in his eyes. “I’m sure she won’t be going to the cops. She likes her job too much.”
“You’re just as dumb as you are big, aren’t you?” Dominic helps me to stand. “So not only did you allow her to be assaulted in your bar because you liked the idea of the publicity, but now you’re threatening her employment if she goes to the authorities? You just keep on making these great decisions, don’t you?”
The look on Big Jake’s face says that Dominic hit the nail on the head. He knew what was going on out here and let it happen because the cameras were rolling. Asshole.
“Dakota and I are leaving. She might be gone for a while. But if she comes back, she will have a job. Understood?” Dominic levels a finger at Big Jake and I swear if looks could kill, both of them would drop dead.
Big Jake nods and Dominic leads me out of the bar, his hand on my lower back, fingers splayed wide. Strong, firm, and in control.
Chapter Fourteen
We stumble into the parking lot and I’m an absolute mess. My insides are all quivery and I’m fighting back a wave of near insane laughter. “I can’t believe you talked to Big Jake like that,” I say. “After you pulled some guy off me and backed him down with nothing more than your voice.”
“Yeah, but…” I pull him close to me. “I’ve never felt so safe.”
Dominic wraps his arms around me and puts his forehead to mine. “As long as I’m around, no one’s gonna bother you, sweet stuff.”
Yeah. But how long are you going to be around? Of course, I don’t say that out loud. I haven’t brought up the fact that he’s leaving yet so why start now? Knowing isn’t going to change the inevitability of it all. I think I’d rather live blissfully oblivious.
Dominic kisses the very tip of my nose and for whatever reason, that turns me on more than anything that’s ever been done to me in all of my life. I arch my back a little, press my breasts into him. Reach down between us and grab his crotch, smiling when I find that he’s hard.
“Come home with me?” I ask in my best sultry voice. “Kiss me and make it all better?”
Dominic presses his hips forward, the tiniest of thrusts into my hands. “I’ll do more than kiss you.” And then he leans down and whispers the dirtiest of things to me. I flush, heat rushing to both my cheeks and to my panties. “And that’s just to get started, sweet stuff.”
We decide to take my car and leave his rental in the parking lot. I slide into the driver’s seat, and buckle up, pressing my thighs together against the ache between them. Lust is mixing with fear and adrenaline and I don’t think I’ve ever been this wet without someone actually touching me.
“Spread your legs,” says Dominic as I pull out of the lot and onto the road.
I don’t think, I just do what he tells me, my body acting before my brain has a chance to chime in. Dominic slides his hand up my thigh, caressing the skin just below the hem of my skirt. I rock my hips forward and open my knees even further, inviting him to move higher.
