by Karigan Hale
"Actually, I wanted to offer to stay and help," he said. "What time is the furniture coming?"
"Company said between one and three this afternoon," Brendan said.
"We can call you when it gets here if you want to just hang at Xavier's," Lizzie suggested. Man, she really didn't want him here. Hopefully because she didn't trust herself around him. Perhaps she was afraid she'd be unable to contain her lust and rip his clothes off right there on the bar room floor.
Yeah right. In his dreams. Literally.
He'd been going after the shallow, easy girls so long he'd forgotten how to flirt with someone who was both sober and smart. The more he opened his mouth, the more he pushed her away.
"Fine. On one condition," he said smiling. He hoped the smile looked genuine—which it was—and not smarmy.
"You are not—and I cannot stress this enough—taking my bike," she said before he could even ask.
"Well, I still have the keys, so..." he said holding them up. She tried to snatch them, but he held them higher. She would have to climb his body to get them. Oh god, please let her climb his body.
Instead, she said, "Dammit. Fine. But if there is one scratch—and I mean even the most teensiest, smallest ding—you are dead to me."
He almost said, "You can punish me later," but managed to swallow it before it came out.
Instead, he crossed his heart with his index finger. "Scout's honor. I'll guard her with my life. Let me give you my phone number so you can text or call when the delivery arrives."
"I can have Xavier call you," she said, but he tugged her hand towards him. He took a pen from under the counter where he'd seen them earlier and wrote his number on her palm. A quick glance at Brendan assured him he wasn't paying attention to them, so he drew her hand to his mouth and kissed the tips of her fingers.
"One taste of you wasn't enough, Lizzie. Not for me," he said softly not taking his eyes off of her. Then he stepped back. "I'll look forward to your text."
He threw her motorcycle keys in the air and caught them. "Beautiful day for a ride. Thanks for letting me borrow your bike. See you later, Brendan," he said.
"Like I had a choice," Lizzie said under her breath. Then louder, "Not a scratch, Zee. I mean it!"
He waved her off and left the bar. He hoped riding would still be a good way to clear his mind like it used to be. He really missed it. One of his greatest regrets about moving to Atlanta was selling his own bike. He revved the engine and took off in search of familiar roads and a mind clear of Lizzie.
Lizzie fumed for the rest of the morning. Zander was so cocky. So full of himself. Of all the nerve. Like she'd let him "taste" her again. What a vulgar thing to say. She had standards even if he didn't.
Still, her girl parts naughtily tingled every time she thought of him kissing the tips of her fingers. Like her elbow, she had no idea fingertips could be an erogenous zone. Zander certainly awakened her body to the possibility that—touched in the right way—any part of her could be sexual.
Damn him.
Xavier came out from the back room when he finished uploading the messages to their social media sites. He held his t-shirt away from his body. "I'm going to have to run home really quick," he said. "I spilled soda all over my shirt."
Lizzie laughed. Brendan said, "I hope you didn't get it on the computer."
"Nope. Just on me," he said.
"Do you need a ride?" Lizzie asked.
"No. I brought my truck. I don't trust riding with Zander."
He was half-way to the door when Lizzie remembered she had his shirt and sweatpants in her bag from when she borrowed them on Tuesday.
"Xavier, wait!" she called. He turned around. "I have the clothes I borrowed from you in my bag. You can just wear that if you don't want to go all the way to your apartment."
"Oh, awesome. Thanks," he said.
"They're in my shoulder bag in the back room. You may want to soak your wet shirt in the bathroom, so it doesn't stain, though," she suggested.
"I'll do that," he said and disappeared into the back again. Lizzie and Brendan continued updating their inventory spreadsheet as they unloaded the cases.
A few moments later, Xavier called her, "Lizzie, can you come here, please?"
Lizzie shrugged her shoulders at Brendan's questioning gaze. "Be right back," she said handing Brendan the bottle of wine she held.
Xavier looked up from the paper in his hands as she entered the office. "What's this?" he asked holding it out to her.
She took it and the color drained from her face. The invoice from the alcohol order that morning. "I told you I was going to try to cover as much as I could so the bar didn't suffer."
"How much have you paid for?" he asked.
"Not that much," she lied. He saw right through her.
"Lizzie! Don't you think Brendan's going to notice?" he asked.
"I mean, I hope he doesn't. He'll just think we have really good insurance, right?" she said slipping the invoice back into her bag.
"He's going to notice if you keep it up. Either tell him or stop paying for everything," he suggested.
"I can't tell him, Zay. You don't know what it's like finally having friends who like me for me and not what I can buy them," she said, then immediately regretted it.
"Is that why you think I'm your friend? Because of your money?" he asked.
"Of course not. I didn't mean you," she said quickly. "But, please don't tell Brendan. Please?"
He scrutinized her for a long moment. "Fine," he relented.
She threw her arms around him in a big hug. He hugged her back. "But I'm not going to lie to him, either. So, you're going to have to explain it to him sometime."
"I know. I just need to find the right time. You know how stubborn he is," she said pulling back from their hug.
He held her gaze a beat longer than was comfortable for two friends then leaned in slightly. She immediately stepped back. Was he about to kiss her? No way. Zay was her best friend. She was just hyper-sensitive right now because of the charged tension between the other Drake brother and herself. She deliberately ignored the look on his face that indicated a kiss was exactly what he had in mind.
"What happened with you and Zee in the woods last night?" he asked point blank.
She felt the flush creep up her neck and face. "Nothing really," she said.
Xavier smiled sadly. "You're such a terrible liar, Lizzie. Did he kiss you?" She nodded slightly. He sighed. "You know he's leaving soon, right?"
"I know. Trust me. Nothing is going on with Zander and me. Nothing," she said again as much for her own sake as for Xavier's. "What happened between Nick and Zander after I left?"
"Just words. Nick basically said to stay away from you. I said the same. Zee got his panties in a twist because we don't think he's good enough for you. He got over it after he sobered up, though. Just had a good sulk last night."
"Nick definitely blew it out of proportion. And no worries about anything happening between Zee and me. I'm totally not his type anyway."
Xavier shook his head at her. "Don't sell yourself short, Lizzie. You're really cute."
She pursed her lips at him. "Yeah, cute. Like a puppy or a little sister."
"That's not what I meant," Xavier said.
"You know who else is cute," Lizzie said, hoping to change the subject. "Gabby. I think she likes you. Especially after hearing you sing last night."
Xavier shook his head. "She's a little young for me, don't you think?"
"Not at all! Oh, speaking of singing. You should be the live performer for our Grand Re-Opening tomorrow night!" she squealed and clasped her hands together.
"Oh no. Not you, too," he said holding his hands up. She cocked her head at him. "Brendan already suggested it, as well," he explained.
"Then it's perfect. Tomorrow would be perfect. Plus, Brendan doesn't think it'll be overly busy, so you'd have a lighter crowd to get your feet wet playing in public," she cajoled. When he didn't say anything, sh
e batted her eyelashes and said, "Please. Please. Please. Please. You're so good!"
He laughed. "I'll think about it, okay? No promises."
"I can live with that. Now, come help us unpack," she said. He followed her back out to the main bar room.
"Delivery driver just called. They're about 10 minutes out. I told him to park in the front. Then we won't have to bring all the stuff through the kitchen," Brendan said as they reappeared.
"Perfect," Xavier said. He touched Lizzie's back as she went through the swinging door. Interesting. Xavier's touch didn't elicit even a tiny spark compared to how her body reacted to his brother.
Speaking of which. Should she text Zander to let him know the delivery was coming soon? She said she would, but that didn't mean she had to. They didn't really need his help; the order wasn't that big.
Brendan must have read her expression because he said, "Lizzie, are you going to text Zander like you said you would?"
She scowled. "I guess. I want my bike back anyway," she said pulling out her phone. She typed in his number from the smeared image on her palm.
LIZZIE: Its Lizzie. Delivery arriving in 10 minutes
ZANDER: On my way back now
LIZZIE: You better not be texting while driving my baby
ZANDER: Nope. Filling her up for you
LIZZIE: Thx
Great, now he had her number, too.
Zander pulled up just about the same time as the delivery van. He parked her bike next to her car. Shit, she thought again—she'd been thinking that a lot since Zander came back into her life—how was she going to get both her car and her bike back to her house?
"Elizabeth Vandevere?" the driver called. She'd have to figure out her transportation issue later.
"That's me," she said trotting over to him.
"Sign here, please," he said holding out a clipboard. She signed and then took her copy of the invoice from him. She'd let the bar pick up the tab for the chairs, but she'd bought the new bar stools. She wanted them more anyway, so she felt it was fair.
"Something else you paid for?" Xavier said from behind her.
"Only the stools," she said. "Now, shush. I don't want anyone to hear."
He shook his head at her again as Zander walked over. "Thanks for letting me take your bike. It was just what I needed today," he said handing her the keys. His fingers brushed hers deliberately as he placed them in her hand. Zip. A tingle ran up her arm. She frowned.
"You're welcome. Now I have to figure out a way to get it back to my house," she mentioned as she walked back into the bar to tell the delivery crew where to put things.
"You could just give your bike to me," Zander said. "That would solve the problem."
"Not likely," she said. "It took me a long time to find a bike I liked," she said.
"You could just buy a new one," he suggested. She narrowed her eyes at him as a red flash of anger blurred her vision.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Unfortunately, a crew coming in hauling the stools interrupted her retort. "I'll respond to that later," she scream-whispered to Zander. Then to the crew coming in, "Stools go over by the bar. Chairs can be stacked against that wall."
The next half hour passed quickly with more unloading and unpacking. Each piece of furniture thankfully came already assembled, but they were all wrapped in cellophane or batting to keep them safe during delivery.
"We should have rented a dumpster again," Brendan commented looking at the pile of packing materials and empty liquor cases against the front wall.
"Oh, let's call College Hunks Hauling Junk or whatever that company is called," Lizzie said. "I wouldn't mind watching them clear the space."
"Hey," Zander said. "You've got three hunks right here who can haul junk for your viewing pleasure."
Lizzie scoffed. "Great. Brendan's off the market; Zay is my best friend; and you..." she trailed off trying to think of how to describe Zander.
"Yes? What about me?" he asked playfully.
"You just get on my last nerve," she said. Xavier laughed. Zander feigned offense.
"We can just put it in the back of my truck. I'll drop it by the dumpster around back on my way out," Xavier offered.
The boys started taking the trash out while Lizzie placed the new bar stools along the counter. She loved the way they added a little class. And they had backs and footrests—two things she felt were necessary for customer comfort. The backs and seats were slightly padded with a deep red washable fabric that accented the dark wood of the bar counter perfectly. She and Brendan had argued about green or red—Brendan wanting green because of the nods to Ireland and his heritage; Lizzie holding out for red because of its classic and timeless appeal. Eventually Lizzie had won out. Or really she'd worn Brendan down. Either way, she was happy she got her choice. They were perfect.
Once the space was clear of debris and swept to Lizzie's satisfaction, she turned her focus back to how she was going to get both vehicles from the bar to her house.
She could call Nick to meet her at her house, drop the bike off, and have him drive her back here for her car. Of course, that plan depended on him actually answering his phone. He'd slept in on a Friday, which meant he would be scrambling at the office to make up for lost time. She sent him a text just in case.
If that didn't work out, maybe Xavier would be willing to follow her all the way to her house? She could ride her bike, Zander could drive her car, and Xavier could follow to take Zander home after. Of course, that plan meant inconveniencing two other people. And spending more time with Zander.
As if she conjured him just from her thoughts, his voice sounded in her ear, "The offer of taking the bike off your hands still stands," he said.
"I already told you no way," she said not turning around. "And stop talking about my money in front of everyone."
"Why do you care so much?" he asked.
"I'd like to have people like me for me, not what I can do for them. It's nobody's business but my own."
"All I'm saying is if I had your money, I'd definitely spend more of it. I'd travel and indulge a little. I mean, why settle for one bike when you could have two?" he said.
She did turn to look at him then. "Why are you so obsessed with money?"
"When you don't have it most of your life, you think about it a lot. People with lots of money wouldn't understand," he explained. "I have to work for every single penny."
"You think I don't work hard for my money?" she asked feeling the anger bubble up.
"I think you don't have to. I get you want to stay busy and have this little hobby here at the bar, but—"
She cut him off, "Little hobby? Little hobby! How dare you? I've been trying my whole life to erase the rich girl stigma. The money I use is my money. Money I've earned myself through my career. And through smart investments I've made on my own."
"Whoa, Lizzie, that's not—" he started, but she cut him off again.
"So how dare you come back here after however many years away and assume you know anything about me or my life," she said poking him in the chest with her finger.
"I wasn't trying to—"
"Wait a minute," she said, clarity finally dawning on her. "That's why you're all buddy-buddy with me, isn't it?"
"What?" he asked warily.
"How much do you want?" she asked.
"What are you talking about?" At least he had the good sense to look perplexed.
"How much money do you want? That's what all this flirting and kissing and innuendo is about, right? Money? Clearly, I'm not one of your high-maintenance, small-brained, big-breasted, bar room bitches, so money is the only thing that makes sense. So, let's just skip the games and cut to the inevitable conclusion. How much did you think you could get out of me?" she asked arms crossed over her chest.
He just blinked at her for a moment. "You think I'm after your money," he said. "Seriously? Like some sort of gold digger?"
She nodded. Anger flared in his eyes where there should have been
shame at being found out. It caused her incensed resolve to waiver just a bit. But, dammit, she was right about this. There was no other logical reason.
He stepped closer to her. His chest rose and fell almost as fast and hard as her own. His fists were clenched by his side as he leaned in towards her. His anger and frustration were as palpable as the magnetism always pulling them together.
"You don't know me, either," he seethed through clenched teeth. "Maybe you never did. I'm more than just my reputation. So, you can get off your high horse and stop making assumptions about me, too."
She lifted her chin in defiance and opened her mouth to speak. He stopped her words dead in her throat when he grabbed her arm and pulled her against him. "I don't want your money, Lizzie," he said inches from her face. "I want you."
And he kissed her. She was so startled, she kissed him back. Her mouth instantly reacted to his. Her body betrayed her resolve by pressing against him. Just as she angled her head to deepen the kiss, he pushed her away.
"I think you don't know what you want, Lizzie. One minute you hate me, the next your tongue is down my throat. You better figure it out soon because I'm sick of playing games, too," he said and walked away leaving her standing there stunned.
Zander stormed away from Lizzie and back into the bar. He was pissed off and turned on and didn't know how to fix either one at the moment. Riding a motorcycle would have helped in the past. But since asking Lizzie for a favor right now ranked up there with getting his nuts waxed, riding was out of the question. As was his other usual outlet—sex. The only person he wanted to have sex with was the confounding blonde from his past. And they were both too angry to even think about it.
"There you are," Xavier said when he spotted Zander coming through the door. "I was just about to come find you to—" he saw his brother's furrowed brow and blazing eyes. "Whoa. What happened?"
"Nothing. I'm going to walk back to your place," he grumbled. "I'll see you there."
"Wait," Xavier said. "Where's Lizzie?"
"How the hell should I know?" Zander snapped. Then took a deep breath. "Sorry. I need to walk off some of this energy."
