Chapter Four
Sydney
Frankie’s mouth dropped. “So, he’s offering you your own studio and room? But it’s going to be at his house?”
I ran my blush brush against my cheek and nodded. I’d done the best I could to distract myself from Cash’s offer. It had been one hell of a week. His eyes and mouth were all I could think about. The tempting tickle in my stomach at the thought of sleeping near him. The stern and demanding demeanor that I was sure would break me down in the bedroom. But then there was the elephant in the room. Why did I need to live in his home? “His guest house, yeah.”
“Isn’t that weird? I mean, why would you need to live there to paint murals?”
That was the question of the day. The question of the year. “Turns out he wants me to paint a mural in his house too. And we’ll be traveling on the weekends, around my other job to paint their new store in Dallas.”
Frankie dropped the contract on my makeup mirror. “Are you going to do it?”
I had no idea. The entire week I’d racked my brain on why he’d want me of all people to paint for him. Sure, I was a decent artist, but definitely not the best money could buy. And from what I could tell, he had money.
Giving her a long sideways glance, I zipped my makeup bag and stood up. “I don’t know, but I do know that we’re going to go have some fun tonight.”
Frankie groaned.
“You’ve been in a grouchy mood today,” I said.
A frown tugged at her mouth.
I sighed. “It’s Jeremy, isn’t it?”
She shrugged and twirled a piece of her hair. “He didn’t want me to come out tonight. He said he was over this scene.”
“Forget him. He just doesn’t want you to go out without him.”
She nodded, her eyes lowering to the ring on her left hand. “Anyway,” Frankie said, offering me her hand. “Let’s go. I’m ready to shed away this wedding planner headache I’ve had all week.”
I roll my eyes as I grab my wallet. “Whatever, I’m the one that’s been dealing with the wedding planner. He’s a pain in the butt too. He’s mean.”
Frankie giggled and looped her arm through my own. “No more wedding talk. Let’s go let our hair down.”
Frozen Paradise was considered the only hip-hop club in Savannah. They had the best music, the best drinks and knew how to have a good time. The bouncer saw us coming a mile away.
Being friends with a huge African-American guy in Savannah made the rumor mill churn. But that was last year’s news. I guess everyone got over it. It didn’t make for a good Friday night dinner, though. “Hey Georgie,” I said, giving him a finger wave.
His smile grew, and he unlatched the rope. “Nice front page picture this week, Sydney. I’m a little hurt that it wasn’t at my club, though.”
“It wouldn’t be fair for us to come here every time, G. It’s called being diverse.”
He leaned down and kissed my cheek. “Whatever, Princess. I get off at one. Save me a dance, and I’ll call it even.”
I winked, and drug Frankie into the smoke-filled room. Hip-hop music thumped through the speakers; the bass shook the shot glasses on the table. “You want to grab our table while I get us some drinks?”
Frankie gave me a thumbs up before pushing her way toward our favorite corner booth. The club was packed. I hadn’t expected anything less on a Friday night. My cell phone buzzed in the pocket of my skin tight jeans. I knew who it was without looking. Mother. I had skipped out on dinner, and I was sure my parents were livid. If the front page picture this week didn’t push them over the edge, which I was sure it had, missing Friday night dinner only worsened their mood.
Which I never understood since we hardly got along when I was there anyway.
Stop, no thinking about them or Cash. Zilch. Nada.
I tried to drain my brain as I hopped onto the closest bar stool. Melinda, the usual bartender, caught my eye from several seats down. “The usual,” she mouthed.
I gave her a quick nod and held up two. A Missy Elliott song blasted over the speakers and the crowd cheered. I grinned over my shoulder, and my body urged me to let loose. As soon as there was some alcohol in my system, I planned to do just that.
Someone cleared their throat behind me, and I turned. A guy around my age stood there; a soft smile spread wide across his strong jaw. His dark eyes were big and examined my face. Leaning forward, he raked his hand through his dark head of hair and smiled. “Sydney?”
And he recognized me. Never a good thing. The things people heard about me in Savannah weren’t flattering. “Yes.”
His grin widened as he took the bar stool closet to me. “I’m Dillon Sharpe. It’s nice to meet you.”
I took his hand and noticed it was as soft as mine. Not a really manly attribute but he was cute. Melinda slid me the drinks. “Here ya go, hon, on the house.”
“Thanks, Melinda. How’s Howie doing?”
Her smile widened. Her two-year-old had to be the cutest baby on the planet. “Still spoiled and sassy as hell. You know he gets it honest.”
I giggled and took a daiquiri in each hand. “It’s nice to meet you too.”
He gestured toward the drinks. “I’m assuming since those are girlie drinks that you aren’t here with a guy?”
“Clever man,” I said as I took a sip. “I’m here with my friend Frankie. She’s waiting for me.”
He dropped his gaze to my cleavage, and jolts of adrenaline swarmed me. Part of me begged for me to be rational. He’d probably looked downs tons of girl’s cleavages. But the look of pure desire on his face made me—feel. “Is your friend single? I have a friend with—,” someone bumped into him, spilling an entire beer down the front of his shirt—“shit!” he screamed, jumping to his feet.
I glanced up at the man staring down at us, and my heart thudded. I instantly noticed the resemblance. It wasn’t Cash but his eyes, they were identical. “I’m so sorry, man. It looks like I’ve ruined your shirt. You should probably get that cleaned up.”
He tossed Pale Eyes a dirty look and stalked off toward the bathroom. I watched him walk away, and when I glanced up at him, he was grinning ear to ear. “Do I know you from somewhere?” I asked.
He stroked his chin, letting out a long whistle. His demeanor was more laid back than Cash’s. “Don’t think so, sweetheart. But a word to the wise, don’t go home with that douchebag.”
I lifted a brow, but he left before I could say anything. Who did he think he was? Telling me what to do. I huffed and trudged toward our table.
“Goodness, what took you so long?” Frankie asked, grabbing at her drink.
I slid into the booth beside her, crossing my legs, and looking around the room for him. I pulled out my phone and Googled The Jenkins Brother’s. Bingo. Ash Jenkins.
“Hello!”
I held the phone out to her.
She lifted a dark brow. “Cash and his brother. God, his brother is freaking sexy too. We should make a note to thank their parents.”
I giggled and took a sip of my drink. “I just ran into him. He spilled his drink on a guy that was hittin’ on me at the bar. He said I shouldn’t go home with him.”
Frankie looked around the room and gasped. “Oh goodness. He’s starin’ over here. By the pool table.”
I stole a glance, and there he was, staring at our table. I turned my back and looked wide-eyed at Frankie. “It’s kind of weird, right?”
She nodded. “Yeah, majorly weird. At least he’s a cute guy.”
I sucked on my straw. The alcohol had already started numbing my legs when Dillon approached our table. His yellow stained shirt had been ditched for a plain white T-shirt. “I see you changed your shirt.”
Dillon nodded. “Yeah, sorry about that. We got interrupted. You want to dance?”
I looked at Frankie for confirmation, and she nodded. “Go ahead. I’m going to finish my drink and join you later.”
Dillon smiled over at me, and I took his waiting hand. We joined the people on the dance floor, packed like sardines. When he turned his eyes smiled.
He was cute. In a ritzy, southern-royalty-boy kind of way. I wouldn’t have pegged him to be at Frozen Paradise, but I guess looks can be deceiving.
He twirled me in an old-fashion way and pulled me to his body. All the worries of my parents, my future and Cash drifted from my mind. I lifted my hands in the air, letting him guide me to the heavy beat of the music.
Dillon’s hands encircled my waist, pressing me against him. I ignored the way his mouth skimmed my neck and up to my ear. I just wanted to dance.
I searched for Frankie, and my eyes fell on Ash at the bar. His eyes were glued to us, and suddenly I felt exposed. Why was he staring at me like that? Had Cash told him about the offer? Sure he had, they were business partners. Maybe he was mad at me for not getting back to them sooner?
“You okay?” Dillon shouted over the music.
I turned back and nodded at him. “Yeah, I am. It’s just really hot in here.”
He gave me a crooked smile. “I know what you mean. You wanna get out of here later?”
Did I? I liked his smile and the way he smelled. He was an okay dancer and seemed nice enough. I really liked the way he stared at me when I talked and the way he listened. Instead of answering, I leaned against him as the music changed, my eyes searching the bar for Ash Jenkins.
But he was gone.
My stomach made a somersault. Where had he gone?