by Olivia Chase
Shaking off my sullen thoughts, I fetch shots and pour beer and fetch and pour and flirt with the ladies to rack up the tips.
I still haven’t found those damn wedding rings. So all of my extra money will go toward paying the vault back. Thankfully it wasn’t a thousand bucks, like I’d feared, but several hundred for the set of two rings is still a lot.
Luckily, Smith and Aubrey didn’t notice the old switcheroo.
“Jax! Jax!” a black-haired woman in a tight shirt shouts at me from the middle of a cluster of women. I think her name is Veronica. She’s not one of my regular hookups, but we did make out in the backseat of my car once. She’s waving dollars in my direction. “Hey, what’s a girl gotta do to get some attention around here?”
Something about her pushiness grates at me. I don’t know why, but rather than finding her forwardness sexy, it’s…too much.
My heart gives an uncomfortable lurch, and I force myself to keep the smile plastered on my face. I’m just in a funk, is all. Since my brother’s wedding, shit’s been off for me. Probably because he’s now in blissful la-la land.
I’m sure my emotions have nothing to do with Brooklyn, whom I haven’t seen or talked to since that night. Brooklyn, with her big green eyes and sexy mouth and tight pussy and breathtaking smile. And the way she’s so proper and yet has that wildness right beneath the surface, begging to be released.
God, she let me finger her at the reception. That has to be one of the hottest fucking moments in my entire life. I get a raging hard-on every time I think about that night. I’ve jacked off God only knows how many times remembering the look on her face as she came all over my fingers.
And then afterward, we just sat in the gazebo and…talked. Not really about anything important, and not for long. But I can’t remember the last time I’ve had a non-sexual encounter with a woman.
On that day, I had more than one encounter with her, including us going to get the rings.
What the fuck. That’s not my usual style at all.
Veronica comes over to me and flops the money on the bar, interrupting my thoughts.
My smile grows dangerously thin. “Do you want something, hon?” I say in what I hope sounds like a patient tone.
She eyes me. “I thought we were gonna go out. You haven’t even called me.”
Ah, so that’s what this is about. Not drinks. She wants to talk. “Been busy. You know how it goes.”
“I heard your brother got married,” she says. Her eyes narrow. “Didn’t think any woman was able to tame the wild Beckett boys.”
“Evidently one could.” A little flare of unease slivers down my spine at the thought of marriage. Being hemmed in with someone, day in and day out. Never knowing if there was someone better out there for you.
Someone who wouldn’t just up and leave your family without a word, the way my mom did when I was only three. That’s fucked up.
No, I’ll never let myself be that vulnerable emotionally with someone.
“So…” Veronica winds a lock of hair around her fingers. “About going out…when are you free? I know you don’t work all the time.”
“Don’t know. We’ll see, I guess.” I take the money and get her regular drink, a rum and Coke.
Truth be told, none of the women I’ve seen around town since the reception have interested me. And more to the point, I want to find Brooklyn and see if she’ll go out with me. See if I can open that wild side up again. Because tasting her mouth was like getting the first hit of heroine. I’ve been craving it ever since.
I finish out my work shift, and when we close the bar down at the end of the night, Aubrey strolls in wearing nursing scrubs. She looks tired, but her eyes still light up when she sees Smith sweeping the floor.
Smith, her husband.
I still can’t wrap my brain around that. Guess Mom’s abandonment didn’t fuck him up like it did me. And Aubrey’s a tough cookie. She had to go through a lot to get to where she is, and it’s impossible not to respect her for that.
I might not like the changes to the bar that she’s implementing with my brother, but it’s hard to not like her personally.
“Hey, good to see you,” I tell her as I inch near to her side.
Aubrey slides a glance at Smith then walks up to me and gives me a big hug. “Hey, you. Thanks again for all your help with the wedding. You made our day special.”
Aubrey and Smith decided to wait for their honeymoon trip until late July, when they’re going to take a weeklong cruise to Cozumel. That way, Asher is home from school and able to help me manage the bar for a week during their absence.
My oldest brother, on vacation—something he never did before Aubrey came around. Surely this ushers in the start of the apocalypse.
I hear Smith’s low growl behind me as I wrap my arms around her playfully. “You’re looking good for an old married woman,” I tease her. “When are you gonna get yourself knocked up with a Beckett boy? We’re depending on you to continue our dynasty.”
She laughs. “You’re an ass, Jax.” With a quick kiss on my cheek, Aubrey steps back, her eyes dancing. “But I love you anyway. Now I’d better go say hi to my husband before he starts a fight with you. He’s the jealous type.”
I hear them sucking face behind me for a long moment and avoid staring in their direction, giving them a bit of privacy as I finish wiping things down around and behind the bar. Their soft words to each other are unintelligible, but I can hear the affection in their voices.
Christ. It’s almost enough to make me put some earplugs in.
Even so, a small part of me wonders what that would feel like. To be so in love with someone that you want to spend your life with that person. The risk is far too great though. And besides, I love my life the way it is.
This bar, my freedom, they mean everything to me. I’m not accountable to anyone else for my actions. I come and go as I please.
“So, Jax,” Aubrey says when she detaches her mouth from Smith. “I saw you dancing with Brooklyn at the reception.” There’s more than a little interest in her voice as she starts flipping chairs on top of the table surfaces to help us out.
My heart gives this funny little skip, hearing her name spoken aloud. It reignites that hunger I’ve been feeling all week. I give Aubrey a carefree grin and say, “She’s a delightful dancer.”
Aubrey rolls her eyes. “Laugh it off, but I saw sparks between you two. I’ve never seen her like that, to be honest.”
“Oh?” I don’t want to give away how much that makes my heart skip again. But knowing she’s possibly feeling whatever the fuck it is I am, it does impact me.
She flips the last chair over. “She’s a very responsible person. Finishing her bachelor’s degree in a few weeks, if you didn’t know. She has big plans for her life and she’s focused on achieving her goals.”
I feel a low burn of anger brewing in my gut. Aubrey couldn’t be clearer if she hit me square in the face. I’m not good enough for her cousin. Like I don’t already know that.
Still, the fact is, she married one of us Beckett boys. And Smith isn’t that different than me. We’re both working the same job. We grew up the same way. Yet she’s insulting me for being who I am.
“Hey.” Aubrey comes up behind me. “You okay?”
I turn and give her a blasé smile, wiping down the glass I was washing. “Just fine, hon. I hear ya loud and clear—stay away from your cousin.”
“No, no, I’m not trying to insult you or anything. I think that came out wrong.” She sighs. “Look, Brooklyn…she’s very innocent and I—”
“Don’t want a bad boy like me to corrupt her,” I finish flatly. I put the glass down and pick up another.
“No, I don’t want her to get hurt.” She sighs. “I walked into this with your brother knowing what I was getting into. But the fact is, in order for he and I to work, we both had to make some changes. Compromise.” Aubrey gives me a small smile of empathy. “You’re not the settling-down kind, the kin
d willing to change for a relationship, and she is. That’s all. Just…if you do see her again, please don’t hurt her, okay? Be upfront with her about everything so she can make an informed decision.” I can see the warmth in her face as she eyes me.
My anger fades. What right do I have to be upset about this, anyway? She’s just telling it like it is. Brooklyn and I have different goals, different aspirations. We’re nothing alike—she’s book smart, and I’m street smart. And yet…I can’t deny that I want to know her better. I want to smell her skin again. Taste her mouth. Taste more than that. Hear that desperate gasp again as she’s about to come. “I get what you’re saying,” I tell Aubrey plainly.
Aubrey digs into her pocket and hands me a piece of paper. “Here’s her number.”
I blink. Okay, after the speech she just laid on me, I wasn’t expecting that. “Did Brooklyn ask you to give this to me?”
“She didn’t have to.” She shoots me a wide grin and puts the paper in my hand. “When I talked to her the other day, she spent the entire conversation not mentioning you at all. It was so obvious she wanted to talk about you but wouldn’t let herself do so. She didn’t want to give anything away, but her face said it all.” She shakes her head and laughs. “I love Brooklyn, I really do, but she’s far too uptight to be only twenty-one. I think you could help her with that a little. Get her to loosen up and have some fun. Life’s about more than just school.”
I cram the paper in my jeans pocket. Try to pretend it isn’t burning a hole through the fabric. I give Aubrey a dashing grin to mask my emotions. “Thanks, hon. Now, you’d better get back over to your husband before he pounds my face in for taking up more of your time.”
Moments later, she and Smith exit the bar through the door leading to their upstairs apartment.
I flick the lights off and lock the door behind me, hopping in my car. Mulling over the things Aubrey said about Brooklyn. She thinks I could actually be good for her—at least, in the short-term.
I’m tempted to send Brooklyn a text right now, but it’s almost three in the morning. No doubt she’s asleep.
Still, it is a Saturday night, and she knows I work bar hours.
This indecision isn’t like me. Hell, I usually never have to chase after a girl. They come to me. They know who I am and they want me as-is. Yeah, Brooklyn might be able to handle my wild side, but in the end, she would want more than that. And I just can’t give her more.
I keep the paper in my pocket and drive to my apartment.
Sunday morning, I head to the gym and do my morning workout. I sweat hard and push myself as much as I can. Tell myself with every rep that I should leave her alone. Tell myself that she’s better off without me. That some other guy can help her loosen up, a guy who wants a more serious relationship. A guy who’s more compatible with her.
A guy who actually deserves her.
I fucking hate that guy, whoever he is.
Because I want to be her first, as selfish as that might be. I want to watch her awaken sexually to her full potential. I’m greedy and foolish and as I hop in the shower at the gym and clean up, I already know I’m going to text her.
Still, I make myself wait until I get back home. I straighten up around my apartment, throwing away the trash that’s built up on the counters, do the dishes, pop in a load of laundry, all that shit I’ve been putting off.
Only then do I grab my phone and put her number in and text her.
Bought any more wedding rings lately, darling?
I make myself put my phone on the coffee table and grab a beer. Crack it open and dig into a slice of cold leftover pepperoni pizza. Turn on the TV to watch the baseball game.
My phone buzzes.
I feel my heart give that funny little tug again it does whenever I think about her. Stay fucking cool, I order myself. Reach over and grab my phone to read the incoming text.
Sadly, this wk I haven’t been around anyone else irresponsible enough to lose something important.
I chuckle. Just as sass-mouthed as I remember. Well, if u want adventure, all u have to do is ask.
My phone buzzes again almost immediately. I’m almost scared to discover what u might lose next.
That makes me laugh out loud. I write, Pants come to mind.
There’s a pause. Then, Sounds like u lost your mind, trying to flirt with me on the day of the Lord. For shame, Jax. Before I can reply, I get another message. I’m guessing someone’s bored?
Someone was thinking about u. As soon as I hit send, I instantly want to take it back. It’s too revealing. Too serious.
There’s a long pause. Maybe she won’t reply. I put my phone back on the coffee table and try to pretend I don’t care. Try to pretend I wasn’t feeling charged up just from this brief text exchange.
But the truth is, she’s fun. I like her wit. I like sparring with her. Seeing what she might say next. Brooklyn isn’t the kind of girl who usually chases me. The kind who doesn’t want interesting conversation, just wants a good time in bed.
Brooklyn challenges me. And I find it refreshing and a little scary, if I’m honest with myself.
She pushes me out of my comfort zone. Doesn’t take my bullshit. Calls me out on it, in fact.
When my phone vibrates, I find my hand jerking toward the device to see if that’s her replying.
I admit, I was surprised to get your text. Didn’t think u would be thinking about me.
I can feel her emotions pouring through the words, her insecurity, and the fact that she met me back with her own vulnerability makes me write back, Like I could forget pressing u against the wall and making u come.
Silence for a moment, then, That was rather memorable. Glad I’m not the only one who’s thought about it.
So she’s been thinking about that night, too. Does she want more? Something tells me to push her a little bit. Meet me, I write. I need to see her. Either to get her off my mind once and for all, or to explore this sexual tension between us.
Is that a good idea? she writes back.
It’s the best idea. Besides, u owe me for rescuing u on the dance floor. I hit send.
LOL. Your ego is amazing—how did I forget about that? I don’t owe u a thing, mister. But u already know that.
I lob back, Then meet me bc u are so attracted to me u can’t resist my charm.
A couple of minutes tick by. Then, she sends, You’re insane. Fine. Coffee.
Monday? I want to see her today, right now, this very second, but I’m not going to fucking give that much of myself away. I can maintain some modicum of pride, at least.
She writes, I’m free until 4. She then tells me the name and address of a coffee place on her campus.
See you at noon. Wear something slutty, I write back with a grin, knowing it’ll just irritate her. I sink into my couch and stare at the TV and tell myself it’s nothing more than a casual date between two people attracted to each other.
Tell myself I’m not looking forward way too much to seeing that smile again in person.
Brooklyn
I stand in front of the narrow full-length mirror hanging on the back of my dorm room door and stare at myself. My white shirt is flowing and thin, with a tank top underneath, and I have on a floral skirt that skates just above my knees. It’s cute. It’s decent. Totally appropriate for a coffee date.
So why do I want to take it off and wear something else?
I’ve already tried on four other outfits and discarded them. Too prudish. Too bland. Too…me. Instead, I snuck and borrowed this skirt from my roommate, Gail—not that she’ll care. She’ll just be happy I’m actually going on a date.
Or whatever the hell this is with Jax.
I glance at my phone. Ten to noon. Screw it. I’m going to wear this, and that’s how it is. It looks fine. It’s just coffee, for God’s sake.
I slip into flats and close my dorm room door behind me, trot down the stairs and head across campus to Bean, the coffee shop on campus. The front door dings open, and t
here’s already a decent crowd in here. I spy a table in the back and run over to drop my backpack on it, then hop in line and grab a coffee.
My hands are trembling a bit as I hand the barista the cash. I feel this strange vibration trembling across my skin.
Anticipation.
Jax is going to be on my campus any minute now.
A sour thought creeps into my mind, and I can’t seem to shake it off. What if he forgets and flakes out, the way he did with the car? When he was having sex with someone else up in his room and forgot all about it. About me.
What the hell am I doing? Is this stupid of me? I can’t help but feel drawn to him. But if he doesn’t show up today, I might die of mortification. And it would be my own fault, because I knew going into this how he is and I let myself fall for it.
Whatever, I tell myself nonchalantly as I grab my coffee and head to my table. I needed a break from studying anyway. If he doesn’t show up, I have the books for my next class in my bag. I can get some good note-taking time in. My entire life doesn’t hinge around the arrogant hotness of—
The door opens, and in walks Jax, wearing jeans that look handmade just for his body, and a navy blue shirt that molds to his chest. My lungs squeeze to the size of grapes. He’s here. God, he’s here, and he’s walking right toward me, and his eyes are so hot and heavy on mine that I can see his desire radiating from him.
That spark is there, the one I thought I’d blown out of proportion over the last week as I kept replaying the reception over and over. The one I thought was just a single incident. But no, the spark is here and it’s vibrant and I want to crawl across the table and jump on him, despite how insane that might be.
Jax slides into the seat across from me and quirks a smile, eyeing my cup for a moment before gliding his attention back to my face in a slow crawl that lingers at my breasts. “You didn’t wait for me.”
“I didn’t think you knew how to tell time,” I say archly, which elicits a laugh. “I might die of thirst.”
He claps a hand over his heart and says in false pain, “Lady, you are too cruel. Cruel, but accurate. Smith would agree with you on that.”
