“I CAN’T BELIEVE I let you talk me into this,” I hiss as Delaney leads me down the sidewalk towards Crave.
“You put up little to no fight, my friend. Stop acting like you’re shocked you’re here.”
“You said you wanted to go out. That it would be one of the last times we got to hang out for a while.”
“And, here we are. Mission Hang Out is commencing.” She tugs open the door before I can say no. “After you.”
Sounds of the bar spill onto the sidewalk, as does the multi-colored glow of beer advertisements and signage. The air smells of salt and I’m turning on my heel when I hear a familiar voice inside calling my name.
“It’s the blond,” she whispers. “What’s his name?”
“Sienna! Get in here,” Peck lures me in from somewhere in the depths of the building.
With a deep breath and an eye roll, my nerves on high alert knowing that if Peck is here, there’s a decent chance Walker is too, I step inside.
It’s brighter than I imagine and not as busy as I would’ve thought. Delaney stands beside me as we get acclimated to the venue.
“Hey,” a bartender says. He has short, dark hair and wide, broad shoulders. A goatee dusts his chin, and with the five o’clock stubble spattering his face, he’s right up Delaney’s alley. “I’m Machlan. You must be Sienna.”
“This really is a small town,” I sigh.
“It is, but that one,” he says, nodding towards Peck, “is my cousin. Being that you are working with my brother, you can bet I’ve heard about you a time or two . . . dozen.” His lips part into a smile as his gaze settles on Delaney. “I haven’t heard about you yet, love. Wanna fill me in?”
“I’d love to.” She bats her lashes, taking a seat at the end of the bar. I nudge her in the back, in shock she’s leaving me alone, when she waves me off. “Go on. Go have fun.”
“I hate you,” I whisper. She fails to respond, too enchanted with Machlan’s smirk.
Peck, a beer in one hand, sidles up to me. “What brings you by tonight?”
“Her.” I nudge Delaney again. “I didn’t imagine I’d see you here.”
“No, right? So totally crazy and random. Why would we be here, the place we met you?”
I force a swallow past the lump in my throat. “You say ‘we’ . . .”
“Walker’s sitting back there by the pool table. Wanna come say hi?”
“No.”
Laughing, he motions for me to follow with his head. “Let’s go.”
“But Peck,” I whine.
“What else you gonna do, Slugger? And let’s be honest, you came here to see him.” He stops. “Unless you came to see me?”
“Peck . . .”
“That’s what I thought,” he sighs. “It’s never for me. Come on.”
Against my better judgement, but totally in line with my libido, I follow Peck through the small groupings of people. As we near the end of the bar and the billiards area comes into view, I see Walker. And he sees me.
There’s no indication of whether this makes him happy or pissy and all I can do is try not to let the spiraling anxiety swirling in my belly take over.
“Look what I found,” Peck tells him. “Just standing up there by the bar, waiting on Tommy to find her.”
“Who’s Tommy?” I ask as a flash of something fierce flickers through Walker’s features.
“You just get here?” Walker asks, ignoring my question.
“Yeah. Peck thought I should say hi, and in case you saw me, I didn’t want to be rude.”
He roughs a hand down his face. When he puts it back on his lap, rocking his chair on the back two legs, he averts his gaze to his cousin. “Get her a drink, will ya?”
“It’s fine,” I say. “I’ll go up there and get one in a minute.”
“What’ll it be, lady?” Peck grins.
“Um, an amaretto sour?”
“Typical chick drink. Be right back.”
Peck dashes away. A couple plays pool on one side and another half-dances, half-copulates on the other beneath the dick-shaped duck lights, but we’re alone otherwise. Tucking a strand of hair out of my face, I wait until I can’t take the awkwardness anymore.
“I’ll go get the drink. It was nice to see you,” I say.
“Wanna sit?” he gruffs out.
“What? No, I’m fine.”
“Sit down,” he sighs, sitting on all four legs again. “I won’t bite.”
“I’m not totally convinced of that,” I mutter.
He leans forward, gripping a bottle in front of him with both hands. “If I did,” he whispers, “you’d like it.”
His tone dances across my skin, the words pooling in between my thighs. It takes every bit of self-control I can muster to remain unaffected—at least on the surface.
Walker’s attention rests with me, every blink, twitch, and gasp duly noted. The power, although never completely mine, is slipping away quickly and I have to get some of it back.
Sitting across from him, I let him wonder what my response will be before I finally give it to him. “If I didn’t,” I say, “that would be embarrassing for you, wouldn’t it?”
A slow smile plays on his lips before he lifts the bottle and drains whatever is left in it. It sets with a thud. “What brought you to Linton, anyway?”
“Tonight or in general?”
He shrugs.
“My friend wanted to come in tonight, so that’s why we’re here. She’s also why I’m in Linton at all, really. What about you?”
“Born and raised here.”
“I was born and raised in Georgia,” I tell him. “Went to school in Los Angeles. Ended up here for the time being.”
“How the hell did you go from LA to Linton?” He leans forward, his brows pulled together.
“Delaney had a business idea and I thought, ‘Why not?’” I say, lifting my shoulders and dropping them back down.
“What is it you do?”
“Design things. Clothes, merchandise, marketing material—whatever someone needs, really.”
He looks beyond me with a slight shake of his head. “Can you design Peck a brain?”
“Why?”
I turn around in just enough time to witness Peck bent on one knee in front of a brunette, a beer extended in the same way a person would a ring. “Who’s that he’s . . . proposing to?” I giggle.
“A girl who doesn’t deserve him.”
Lifting a brow, I can’t help but smile. He flinches.
“I didn’t mean it like that,” he insists. “Peck is just way too good for Molly and he doesn’t even realize it.”
“I take it we aren’t big Molly fans?”
“She’d fuck a dog with two dicks, if you catch my drift.”
Not sure whether to laugh or vomit at that imagery, I just squeeze my eyes shut. “That is so disgusting.”
“Then you catch my drift.”
The rhythm between us slides into motion, calming my nerves and settling me down. His body relaxes too as we watch each other across the empty field of bottles on the table.
“Did you drink all of these?” I ask, motioning towards the maybe ten bottles lined up.
“Nope. I think I’ve had two.”
“I can’t drink beer. I don’t drink a lot at all, actually.”
A touch of surprise floats across his features as that sinks in. “Not even wine? Don’t all women drink wine?”
“Not me. I don’t care for the taste of it, to be honest. And I really hate the feeling of not being clear-headed. If I drink, I’m home with my friends or sister or something.” Biting my lip, considering how that makes me sound, I make a face. “Guess I’m not much fun, huh?”
He leans forward again, his cologne drifting my way. A shiver trickles down my spine as I sit under his heavy, wonderful gaze. “I think fun can be described a lot of ways. Alcohol usually takes a lot of that out of the equation.”
“What about you?” I ask, needing the focus off me for a moment.
“What about me?”
“Are you fun?”
He does this half-snort, half-chuckle thing that only increases my curiosity.
“What’s that about?” I poke, picking up one of the bottles and sloshing the mouthful or two left around.
“Why are you so full of questions?”
Placing the bottle in the middle of the table, I contemplate my choices. Sit here and let him navigate the conversation or walk away for a bit and let him come to me.
Decision made, I stand. “No more questions. See ya later.”
I flash a smile at his slightly puzzled reaction and walk away before I change my mind.
There are a few more people now than before, and by the time I reach the bar, I can’t spot either Delaney or Peck. Machlan is still behind the bar, wiping up a spilled drink.
“Hey,” I say, taking a seat on an empty stool. “Did Peck order me a drink?”
“Nope. What do you want?”
“Something colorful, light on alcohol, but fun?”
“Fun is my specialty,” he winks, heading off towards the blender.
His back flexes and pulls as he works the bar, grabbing bottles and scooping ice. He reminds me of Walker in a lot of ways, but lacks that mystery that drives me insane.
“Why do you do this to yourself?” I mutter, turning in my seat only to bump into someone beside me.
Blond hair, emerald eyes, and teeth so perfectly straight they have to have been designed by a dentist smile back at me. “Well, hello,” he drawls. “Haven’t seen you before.”
“Not from here,” I confirm, swinging back around in my seat.
This man is off-the-presses hot, and if I were a gambling girl, I’d say he’s modeled before. The way he moves his long, lean body is something that’s taught, not something you’re born with.
“Can I buy you a drink?” he asks.
“She ordered one.” Machlan sets a glass in front of me with more force than necessary. “What can I get you, Tommy?”
The man I now know as Tommy looks at me as he answers Machlan. “I think I’m good right now.”
“Make sure you’re still good the next time I check on ya,” Machlan says, a warning written in every syllable. “Feel me?”
I slide away from the two of them, some unspoken pissing match firing between them. Machlan’s hand hits the bar, making Tommy flinch.
“I, um, I think I need to find my friend,” I say, climbing off the stool.
“What’s she look like?”
“It’s fine,” I say, unable to shake the feeling from moments ago. “I’ll find her.”
“I just walked through. Maybe I know.”
His hand touches the small of my back as he follows me towards the area I last saw Peck. It’s too heavy for someone who just met me, too intimate for anyone who wasn’t invited.
“Really. I’m okay. I’ll find her,” I reiterate, increasing my speed in hopes he’ll drop his hand.
As I feel the coolness return to my back, my sight is drawn to the billiards area. Walker is standing, his arms over his chest, a look of death aimed at Tommy.
“Where are you, Delaney?” I mumble, sorting through the crowd. With each step I take, I feel Tommy take the same one, his voice behind me, but I can’t hear what he’s saying over the music.
I don’t find Delaney, but do spy the red sign for the restroom. Tommy’s hand again on my back, I spin around. “Gotta use the little girls’ room. Thanks for your help.”
Before he can say anything, I’m off through the doorway.
“WHY DO YOU LOOK like you’re two seconds from committing murder?” Peck’s question rings out from beside me.
“I’d say two seconds is a stretch. Probably more like six.”
My sight pinned on Tommy Jones, I follow that asshole through the crowd. He stops at various women, kissing their cheeks, grabbing a handful of ass, depending on what he can get away with.
“Where’s Sienna?” Peck asks.
“Bathroom.”
“She hasn’t met Tommy, has she?”
“Yup.”
“Oh, shit.”
I wonder, vaguely, how long you can have your blood pressure as high as mine without your heart exploding. From the moment he touched her—no, from the moment he sat down beside her—my veins have pulsed with a tempo that can’t be healthy.
I hate that motherfucker more than anyone on Earth. He’s a worthless, pussified cocksucker who tried once, only once, to pull his shit on my sister. He got some free dental work out of that encounter.
Sienna comes out of the restroom, her eyes darting around Crave. She’s tucking her hands into her pockets, not harboring that swagger of confidence that usually rolls off her. That alone pisses me off because I know it’s Tommy who took it. But when I see him head her way, my body vibrates in anticipation.
“Patience,” Peck warns. “You can’t just go over there balls to the wall.”
“I know.” And I fucking hate it.
Someone like her shouldn’t be in the same room with the rest of us. She’s a good chameleon, blending in with whatever environment she’s in, but I can tell she’s just that—a faker. She doesn’t hang out in shithole towns with shitty bars. You can see the little nuances if you watch for them, like the way she looks at what everyone’s drinking before she orders or how she’d have no idea what a place like this would even serve. It’s adorable, really, highly entertaining. And it leaves her vulnerable.
“I don’t think she likes him,” Peck notes as Tommy tries to step in front of her.
“Me either.”
She moves backwards, laughing, but the way her hands clench at her sides isn’t how she usually looks when she’s giggling. She’s not lifting her chin or cocking her head a touch to the left.
Tommy reaches for her arm, grabbing her just behind her elbow.
It’s one motion, one jerk of her arm away. It’s one moment of lip reading as she forms the word “Ouch,” that has me storming towards them.
I can barely see straight and it has nothing to do with the two beers I drank. My body shakes so fucking bad, ready to break this asshole’s face for a second time. By the time I get to them, they see me coming.
Sienna sags against the wall, Tommy taking a giant step away from her.
“You okay?” I ask her before I even get there.
“Yes,” she sighs, looking at me with wide eyes.
“You,” I say, turning towards Tommy, “are not okay.”
“I had no idea she was with you—”
My fist slams into his mouth before he can even get his excuse out of his trap. The explosion is a perfect cross, shoving all the way through until my arm is extended with his face at the end.
Sienna gasps, her hand flying to her mouth, but wisely stays to the side next to Peck.
Tommy is crouched on the floor, one hand tapping at his mouth. He swipes a trail of blood down the side as Machlan shoves through the crowd and takes in the scene.
My muscles flex, ready to lunge forward and hit him again. Machlan positions himself so I’d have to go through him to do it.
“What the hell did you do now?” Machlan looks down at Tommy with no pity.
“Your brother fucking hit me! Did someone call the police?”
No one says a word, the song on the radio overhead wrapping up the only sound. Tommy looks around, getting to his feet. As he realizes everyone is watching, you can see the anger and humiliation building.
“You’re going down for this one,” Tommy snarls. “I’m calling the police.”
“You do that.” Sienna steps to my side, her head held high. “Call them. I’d love to talk to the Sheriff about how you grabbed my arm.”
“You little bitch—”
He doesn’t get that one out either before I rock him back with a left hook. His body weight twisting him around with the force of the punch, he lands again on his feet like a fucking cat.
“Tommy,” Machlan booms, “I’m going to suggest you get the hell out of here while you can walk. Because if you open your mouth again, it’ll be the last time for a while.”
“Fuck you and this hillbilly town.” Tommy spits a mouthful of blood on the floor. “Fuck all of you.”
The crowd parts as he storms through it, the front door smashing so hard it sounds like the glass breaks. It’s the trigger that gets everyone talking again. Before I know it, it’s just me, Sienna, and Machlan.
As the adrenaline settles, the blood shining in the light, I realize what I’ve done.
“Fuck,” I growl, so many things floating through my head that I can’t make sense of any of them. The only thing that clears them for a brief moment is Sienna touching my hand.
“This is swollen,” she says softly, holding my hand in both of hers. “Can we get him some ice, Machlan?”
“I’m fine,” I grumble.
“You aren’t fine.” She lifts my hand to inspect it, her eyes full of concern. Watching her trying to get a plan together to fix me makes me forget about all the pain.
“I gotta get this mess cleaned up,” Machlan breathes. “You okay, Sienna?”
“Yeah. He just grabbed me. I think he pinched a pressure point or something.”
“Let me know if you need anything,” Machlan says before disappearing to the store room.
She’s right in front of me, her soft skin against mine. Kindness and worry about me, even though she was the one hurt, is all I see on her face.
Taking my hand away, even though my head screams inside not to, I lift her arm carefully. Her skin is smooth, a creamy white, and I’m relieved there are no bruises.
“I’m fine, Walker. Really.”
“It doesn’t hurt anywhere? You sure?” I run a hand down her arm, feeling for any lumps, watching for her to cringe. She doesn’t.
“I’m sure.”
Nodding, not trusting what will come out of my mouth, I place her arm back to her side.
“Thank you for doing that,” she gulps. “I don’t really know what to say. Just . . . thank you.”
“Yeah. No problem,” I say, exhaling roughly as the pain throbs up my wrist.
“I’m worried about you,” Sienna says, reaching for my hand again.
Letting myself give in for a split second, I touch the side of her face. She leans into it, her eyes filled with something I can’t put my finger on. Before I can do anything else, I flip her a nod and a tight smile and leave out the back door.