CHAPTER FOUR
I traced the complicated pattern of the grain on the bar top in front of me, steadfastly refusing to think about the girl I had found stubbornly clinging to life on my property. The girl I’d just left outside. By herself. In the dark.
With two meager quarters.
I grunted, scratching at my scruff in irritation. She’s not your responsibility, I reminded myself. You’re perfectly justified wiping your hands of her.
So why couldn’t I stop myself from sneaking glances out the window, making sure she hadn’t wandered from where I had left her?
The last I’d checked, she had finally put the phone receiver to her ear, which meant she was calling someone.
I should have felt sweet relief at the realization.
Instead, all I had was a belly full of what felt like lead. Disappointment.
It was a foreign feeling.
Forcibly shaking it off, I flagged down the bartender.
Gemma had attempted to greet me when I’d first walked into The Tavern, but she’d quickly sensed my foul mood and left me alone. It was one of the things I most appreciated about the rambunctious thirty-something: both she and her husband, Liam, who owned the bar, knew when to leave well enough alone.
“What’s up, sweetie?” she asked, wandering over from where she had been drying a glass mug with a dish rag.
I scowled at the moniker – even if she called everyone some variation of it: sweetie, sweetheart, honey, baby, angel.
It was a slow day – only a handful of regulars were slumped around the bar. I don't know what I had expected, considering it was a Sunday – a Sunday after a holiday weekend, no less.
The loud crackling of the firework displays still had me on edge from the fourth.
“How many times have I told you not to call me that?” I asked gruffly.
“I imagine about as many times as I’ve called you it, darling.”
“Gemma,” I snapped more harshly than I meant to.
Her eyebrows shot up to nearly her hairline. “Lighten up, hon,” she admonished before leaning forward, resting her weight on her elbows. “So, what can I get you, Derek?”
I knew I must have been acting like a jackass if she actually called me by my given name, but I couldn’t bring myself to care. “I’ll take a beer,” I said. “A tall one, whatever you have on tap,” I specified. “Start a tab.”
Her eyebrows rose impossibly further at that particular order, and I wasn’t surprised. Although I frequented the bar habitually, it wasn’t often I indulged.
Gemma didn’t question me, though, which, again, was what I appreciated about her. She tucked a bit of blue hair behind her ear. (That’s what else I liked about her – she did whatever the hell she wanted, including dye her hair a different color of the fucking rainbow every other week, and she didn’t give a shit what anyone else thought about it.) “Will do,” she said. “Want anything to eat with that?”
My stomach clenched at the question, and I realized I hadn’t had anything since lunch that afternoon. “I’ll take a cheeseburger with the works.”
She nodded, scribbling down the order on a tiny notepad that she dug out of the pocket of her apron. I was glad Gemma was preoccupied and didn’t see the way I stiffened after giving my order, abruptly realizing that she – the girl – hadn’t had anything to eat either. In fact, for all I knew, it could have been days since she’d last had a full belly.
Guilt assaulted me.
“Make that two cheeseburgers. Throw some fries in with them, too.”
The words had rolled off my tongue before I could stop them, my mouth working faster than my brain for the first time I could remember.
What the hell had the she-devil done to me?
Thankfully, Gemma didn’t seem to have noticed the grimace my face twisted into after ordering the second burger. “Sure thing,” she said before turning around to get my drink. A half-minute later, she placed a mug in front of me. It was filled to the brim with amber liquid, the top inch frothy – just how I liked it. “Those burgers will be a bit,” she warned. “I’ve got to yell at Liam to start up the grill.”
“That’s fine.”
I took a swig of my beer as she disappeared into the kitchen. With no one to distract me, my eyes were inevitably drawn to the window again. The girl was still standing where I’d left her, looking ridiculously endearing in my clothes as she waited for whomever she had called to come get her.
Unjustified relief (that she was still there) and abso-fucking-lutely ridiculous, anger-laced jealousy (that she soon wouldn’t be) warred.
“Derek!”
I was pulled out of my own head by the high-pitched voice of Blair Douglass. She – and her tits – were suddenly in my face. The damn things were nearly spilling out of her top as she all but shoved them at me.
Blair had been hired as a waitress by Gemma and Liam a few years back. She was an awful server, and I got a kick out of the wrathful glares and sarcastic comments Gemma shot her way whenever they worked together and Blair dropped a half-dozen shot glasses or “forgot” to serve a customer – almost always an attractive female.
Gemma had confided in me that she would have fired her ages ago if her husband hadn’t insisted on keeping her on. I didn’t blame Liam. Despite Blair’s shortcomings as a waitress, her shameless flirting and signature low-cut tops kept The Tavern’s largest customer base – single men – coming back for more.
Speaking of shameless flirting…
Blair ran her fingers down my bicep, curling her arm around the inside of my elbow and clinging to me. “I feel like it’s been forever since I last saw you,” she whined.
It’d been a little more than a week.
“How come you didn’t come in this weekend?”
Oh, I don't know, maybe because it was the damn fourth of July and the place had undoubtedly been swarming with college kids back home for the holiday weekend, overconfident frat boys high on life and who knew what else, and teenage girls donning small replicas of the American flag as tube tops?
“No reason,” I muttered into my beer before taking another swig.
Blair frowned, tucking a piece of her long blonde hair behind an ear before peering up at me with brown eyes. Whoever said that brown eyes were all the same was full of shit. (I couldn't help but find Blair’s exceedingly dull compared to hers.)
“So you weren’t avoiding me?” she pressed.
Insecurity leaked into her voice, and a bit of guilt niggled the back of my mind.
Blair was one of those girls who had peaked in high school – who’d assumed her good looks entitled her to a free ride the rest of her existence. She’d found out the hard way that that wasn’t how life worked when she’d flunked out of college.
Regardless, she was harmless enough, and I’d taken her up on her propositions for commitment-free sex more than a handful of times over the past few years when I just couldn’t stand the loneliness anymore.
She was always clingy afterwards, even if we both understood well enough what our arrangement entailed: fucking. That was it; nothing more and nothing less than an excuse for me to sink into a warm body for the night.
I offered her a smirk. “Of course not.”
Blair beamed. “Good, because I was thinking…” she said, sugary sweet voice trailing off as she ran her free hand over my knee and up my jean-clad thigh, “it’s pretty dead in here. Maybe I can talk Gemma into letting me off early.” She leaned forward, her breasts pressing against my arm as she whispered in my ear, “Though, I wouldn’t mind going home and serving you in private, if you know what I mean.”
You’d have to be braindead not to know exactly what she was implying, yet my dick didn’t so much as twitch at her provocative words.
I knew the reason for its lack of interest, too, which only made the irritation burn more brightly in my chest.
I jerked my arm out of Blair’s grasp, ignoring the way her brow creased in confusion at my sudden change of mood. “Not tonight.”
Instead of backing off, however, Blair just straightened, her lips pursing determinedly. “You, sure, Der? After all,” she licked her lips, “I’d love to remind you just how talented this mouth is.”
I grimaced – both at the nickname and tacky come-on.
“Want to get me a Coke, Blair?”
Thankfully, I was saved from having to reject her a second time by Ash Abernathy strolling into the bar. Ash was a dickhead who thought that wearing a police uniform qualified him to dispense his special brand of “wisdom” onto everyone in sight.
At least the bastard had good timing. I turned my back on Blair, going back to nursing my drink.
“Anyone know the girl outside?” Ash asked loudly to the room at large as he sat on a stool at the bar. “Said her name was Wisp or something.”
I stiffened in my seat, nearly choking on my beer. I forced myself to swallow. “Wisp?” I repeated disbelievingly, voice hoarse.
Ash eyed me suspiciously – the dislike I had for him was mutual. “Yeah,” he confirmed reluctantly. “She seemed like she was in some sort of trouble, but she wouldn’t tell me what was bothering her. Poor girl was nearly in tears.”
Goddamn it.
I dragged a hand roughly over my face. When I looked up, Gemma, who’d reappeared from the kitchen, was dropping off two cheeseburgers in front of me. They were in separate baskets, both of which were nearly overflowing with steak-cut fries.
I tore my eyes away from the food to peer out the window.
She was gone.
It was like worry fucking personified reached into my chest, grabbed at my heart, and squeezed.
“Eat up, sweetie. They’re fresh.”
My eyes flickered back over to Gemma. “Never mind about the tab; I’ll take these to go.”
Gemma frowned at me, clearly perturbed by my behavior. She didn’t question the order, though, and just shrugged. “Whatever you want, babe.”
As she emptied the baskets of food into a pair of Styrofoam containers, I stood and ripped a handful of twenties from my wallet, throwing the bills down onto the bar top.
“Here you go.” Gemma handed me the containers.
“Thanks,” I said, the Styrofoam warm against my fingers as I took the proffered food.
“Thank you,” she insisted as she scooped the money up from the counter.
I turned, intent on leaving The Tavern and finding Wisp – or whatever her name was – before she could wander too far. I refused to entertain the possibility that she’d left with someone.
Before I could walk more than two steps towards the door, however, Blair returned from where she’d been fetching Abernathy a drink and latched onto my arm. “Where are you going?”
“None of your business,” I answered briskly, in a hurry and not in the mood for her bullshit.
“But, Der!” she protested, digging her talons into my bicep.
“Get off,” I demanded, ignoring the hurt shining in her eyes and shaking her loose. “I already said not tonight. And for fuck’s sake, don’t call me that.”
It was easy to remain guilt-free for snapping at her when that “hurt” in her eyes turned to anger. “Fine,” she spat, “but I’ll remember this the next time you come in here begging for it.”
I snorted, unimpressed. After all, we both knew who it was that did the begging.
“Whatever,” I mumbled, ignoring the fuming blonde as I finished walking towards the door. Twisting the knob, I jerked the thing open.
A quick glance around the parking lot confirmed what I already knew: the girl was gone. Still, she couldn’t have gotten far if she was on foot. I climbed into my truck, and after jamming the key into the ignition, I was peeling out of the parking lot. As I approached the highway, I was faced with a choice: right or left?
Some deeply buried instinct demanded I go right, and I obeyed.
I only had to travel a quarter mile down the road, driving excruciatingly slow as I looked for her, when I spotted movement in the ditch. Relief washed over me as I recognized the girl – Wisp, apparently. Right.
I slowed my truck so that its speed matched hers and rolled down the passenger-side window.
She watched me warily from the grassy ditch, not slowing her pace.
“Get in!” I shouted loudly enough to be heard over the engine.
That made her stop, but the suspicious gleam didn’t leave her eyes as she stared at me through the open window. There was a good ten feet between her and my truck, but she still attempted to spy inside it, almost like she was expecting someone else to be in it with me. When it became apparent I was alone, she allowed her gaze to drop down to the ground in front of her. She crossed her arms over her chest – an instinctually defensive gesture. “Why should I?” she demanded.
I raised my eyebrows in disbelief, astonished that the otherwise soft-spoken girl would choose now to get testy with me. “Because you don’t have anywhere else to go… do you?” I shot back harshly, allowing the incredulity I felt to enter my voice.
She didn’t like that much. Even in the dark, I could see the red crawling up her neck, a pretty flush covering her cheeks. She turned on her heel, restarting her trek through the ditch.
I clenched my teeth, impatience buzzing under my skin. But buried beneath that was a deeper feeling, a need, even, to protect the girl. I eased off the truck’s brakes, trailing her. “Get in,” I tried again, “please.”
The word served its intended purpose, and the girl’s stride faltered. She paused, eyeing me again before sighing, apparently realizing I wasn’t going to leave her alone until she complied. “Fine,” she agreed in a clipped voice.
I put my truck into park as she approached. When she reached the truck, she wrapped her fingers around the metal handle of the passenger-side door, and using all her might, managed to yank it open. As she hauled herself up into the vehicle and slid into the worn seat, I struggled against the instinct to help her, the way she’d nearly fallen the last time she’d tried to get in my truck replaying in the back of my mind. It took all my will power to keep my hands to myself, fingers tightly gripping the steering wheel.
“So… what is it you want?” she asked once she had shut the door, briefly meeting my gaze before her eyes darted back down to her lap. She was playing with the frayed sleeve of my shirt, rubbing the threadbare fabric between her thumb and forefinger. “You’ve already made it pretty clear that you don’t want anything to do with me,” she added quietly.
I chose not to acknowledge that comment. Instead, I got straight to the point. “You told Ash Abernathy that your name is Wisp.” I winced internally when the words came out sounding more like an accusation than a question, but I didn't know how to fix it. “Why?”
She bit down on her bottom lip in what I was quickly realizing was a nervous habit, but she didn’t look up from her lap. “I don't know… I guess because it’s what you call me.”
My brow creased, and I could feel a disbelieving frown tugging at my mouth. “I called you that twice,” I pointed out incredulously. “Once in my living room and once in my truck.”
She huffed like she was annoyed – or maybe flustered – but she still wouldn’t look at me. “Well, what else was I supposed to tell him when he asked?”
“I don't know,” I shot back, sarcasm leaking into my voice as my frustration at her inability to give me a straight answer grew. “Maybe your real name.”
She finally pulled her gaze from her lap and brought her right shoulder up to her cheek in what would have been a ridiculously cute gesture if I wasn’t so irritated. “I would have if I knew it,” she admitted in a soft, hesitant voice.
I frowned, confusion joining the incredulity. “What’s that supposed to mean?” I demanded.
Her doe eyes remained glued to mine. “It means I don't know my real name,” she replied quietly, a hint of fear in her voice, though her gaze didn’t waver. “I… I don't know who I am.”