Tara

I was fine all day. I painted my nails. I sang classic rock. I made brownies. Well, it was a box mix, but it had chocolate chips in the batter, which made me feel fancy. And I cooked myself a pretty excellent burger if I did say so myself.

Then the sun dropped and it all went to hell.

I paced my apartment, debating on what to do. I could clean. I could take another shower. I could watch a movie, or put on some porn and rub one out. Nothing sounded appealing, because… I didn’t want to be alone. That realization hit me so hard, I halted my pacing and had to brace a hand on my wall so my knees didn’t buckle.

I’d spent so much time alone since I left home in Jersey that I had thought I was okay with it. It should have told me something that I still didn’t refer to this place as home after being here for a year. After one night sleeping beside another human breathing, moving, living, I was losing my shit.

I didn’t really have any friends other than Greg, and I figured he’d stay in tonight to get over his hangover. Getting close to someone with all my baggage seemed like a bad idea. I never intended to be here long. Once my brother returned—he had to—then I’d leave with him. I came to this town thinking I’d only be here a couple of weeks, but it stretched to a couple of months, then more, until I was here a goddamn year and no sign of Bryan.

Fuck it. Maybe this was what I’d be then. I’d be the girl on weekends who got attention at Bailey’s. Who gave a fuck? Everyone in this town had a shitty reputation. I’d fit right in. Actually, I’d be just like so many women who came to Bailey’s every night.

Someone like Lance…well I figured he’d lay low now. He got what he wanted, so he could stay holed up in his warehouse making furniture and inhaling sawdust. I’d find me another guy who liked to lick pussy.

I chose another skirt—one that was way too short so I barely wore it anymore. It flared with movement, so I flashed a bit of cheek without really trying. On top, I wore a tight T-shirt, then did my hair and slathered on some eyeliner. There, done. The thought of spending another night here all alone filled me with dread. So I wouldn’t.

I grabbed my purse, stepped into my boots, and I was out the door by ten—about the time Bailey’s would be getting crowded.

I owned a car but rarely used it. I could walk to Bailey’s, my job, and the grocery store. Everything else I ordered online. My car was my getaway, my backup plan.

The air was muggy, and no matter how much I inhaled, I couldn’t quite fill my lungs. But my adrenaline was high. This was what I needed—to be around people, to get some drinks in my blood. Even from a distance, I could tell Bailey’s was already hopping. Headlights burned bright in the parking lot, and the front door banged open and shut as people came and went.

Lance’s rejection that morning stung, but when I looked back, that had all been inevitable. All the warnings signs were there that Lance would turn cold. I might have shitty taste in men, but I knew it going in, at least.

I marched inside of Bailey’s and found an empty stool at the end of the bar. I ordered two lagers at once, preferring not to wait for a second when I planned to chug my first.

The cool liquid slipped down my throat, washing away my fears, inhibitions, and loneliness. Here, with alcohol in my veins and a bar full of men up to no good, I had company.

As I took my time sipping my second beer, I glanced around the bar, tapping my foot anxiously. I wasn’t sure if I wanted to see those dark eyes or not. But there was no brooding man in a ball cap by the pool tables, or at the bar, or anywhere in here.

So he wasn’t here. And maybe I was a little disappointed in that, but also relieved too. This morning had been awkward, but there was no mess. He’d made sure of that.

A couple of guys strolled by and offered to buy me a beer. Several were too old, one was too young, and another had mean eyes that gave me the heebie jeebies.

See, now I remembered why I’d only gotten laid a few times since I’d moved to this town—this was what was on the menu. I was being too picky. I needed to quit waiting for a market price surf and turf special and just go with the regular reliable spaghetti.

Finally, the stool next to me emptied—previously occupied by a woman who’d spent the entire time necking with her man—and a guy settled in. He wore boots and a leather jacket. He was okay looking—his nose was a little crooked, and his eyes were too close together. But I liked the look of his shoulders beneath his jacket, and he had nice lips. Not as nice as Lance’s but… oh hell, shut up, Tara. “‘Nother one?” He gestured to my beer.

Spaghetti is perfectly acceptable. Take the damn beer. “Sure.”

He nodded, and his lips kicked up into a decent smile. See, I could work with that. His eyes slid down my body as the bartender place the beer in front of me. “What’s your name?”

“Tara.”

“I’m Jimmy.”

Ughhhh see, I had a thing against men with names that ended in y. Bobby, Timmy, Billy. Those were the names of little boys who went down into the sewers with killer clowns. Not men I wanted to get naked with. There I went being picky again. “Hi Jimmy.”

He grinned for real this time, and it lightened up his face. Made his nose look a little straighter. We talked for a while. I wasn’t sure about what—by then I was on my third beer and wasn’t used to drinking that much. We talked about the weather, I guessed. The town. The shitty intersection at the end of the main road where drivers always wrecked. Mundane shit. I missed Lance’s directness. With him, I hadn’t had to make an hour’s worth of small talk to get laid.

Jimmy stretched and then dropped his arm around my shoulders—a move straight out of Grease that I thought was only reserved for high school kids in the fifties. His large hand curled around my shoulder and I had to admit, he smelled good. His jacket gaped open and his looked pretty stacked underneath his thin T-shirt.

I wouldn’t be alone. Even now I was still stuck in my own head. Maybe if we got alone, his hands could make me forget, get me lost in something other than my mind.

He leaned toward me then, and as he drew close, I got a glimpse of his glassy eyes and flushed face. Oh shit, he was buzzed too. His other hand landed on my thigh, and slid up my skirt. “Gotta be honest, babe. Saw you walk in and bided my time before heading over here. That skirt is something else.”

His hand was calloused, and the roughness scratched my skin. “Glad you made the move.”

“Yeah?” He had a boyish grin. He ran his nose up my neck. “Prettiest girl in here.”

“Well now you’re just lying.” I was a little breathless as I tried to focus on what he was doing. My body seemed not to know what to do—did I like his touch or was I repulsed? The jury was out. Fuck, Tara, get it together. “Hey, let me go to the bathroom really quick, then maybe we’ll…”

“Yeah,” Jimmy said, and his teeth nipped my earlobe. “Then we’ll get out of here.”

I extricated myself from his clutches and slipped down the hallway to the bathroom. I didn’t actually have to go to the bathroom, but I wanted an excuse to think straight. I washed my hands and dabbed at my sweaty neck with a paper towel. I took some time to stare into the mirror wondering what in the fuck I was doing. I could go home. I should probably go home. Bryan would kill me if he knew I was leaving fucking Bailey’s with strange men. That made pain slice through me, hot and sharp. Bryan isn’t here.

But Jimmy seemed harmless. Lance had been… well I wasn’t sure right now if he was so harmless, not if I was apparently this fucked up from a one-night stand.

I threw the paper towel in the trash and opened the bathroom door. But I didn’t get to take one step toward Jimmy because a large, man-sized barrier blocked my way.

“We need to talk.”

I squinted up at the deep voice, which my body remembered…oh yes it remembered. Where Jimmy hadn’t really gotten any reaction from me, four words from Lance had my knees shaking. His features were backlit from the bar, and I could barely make out his face as I squinted up at him. “Oh really?”

“Yes.” He didn’t make a move to grab me. He didn’t yank on my arm, and make me go with him. He just stood there, staring at me, his eyes so dark that I shivered.

“Fine, but I have a nice gentleman waiting on me, so—”

Lance growled—an actual rumble in his chest—and stalked off away from the bar. He slammed open the back door that led to the side alley and held it open, waiting for me.

I followed with a curse, because I wasn’t sure why. He threw the door shut behind me, and finally, in the alley streetlight, I got a look at his face. Oh man. He was mad, body tight and eyes flashing, emotions bleeding from his pores.

I gaped at him. “What’s your problem?”

“This isn’t safe what you’re doing in there with that fucking dickwad.”

Had he been spying on me? “Uh, you sure as hell weren’t concerned with my safety when I was walking home with you on a Friday night. Now all of a sudden you want to teach me about stranger danger?”

“I knew you were safe with me,” he said through clenched teeth.

“Well I didn’t know that. And that guy probably thinks I’m safe with him.” I pointed at him. “You made it perfectly clear how this was going to be in the morning, so I don’t know why you’re acting like some white knight now. Leave me alone, Lance.”

I turned around and placed my hand on the door of the bar, but I didn’t get a chance to turn the knob. His hand slapped against the metal with a loud crack and his body coated my back like a blanket.

My skin heated instantly, my nerve endings remembering the way it felt when he touched me. Fuck, even his smell was bringing up memories—of his hands and words.

“Tara,” he said on a whisper in my ear, and I shuddered at my name falling from his lips. I closed my eyes and clenched my thighs, already turned on by that one simple word from this man.

I braced my hands on the door and pushed back slightly, unable to help myself. My ass fit nicely against the ridge in his pants. “What do you want?”

His other hand grasped my thigh and tugged me back against him tighter. I gasped at the feel of him, hardness encased in denim. “You want to feel good? Was that why you were going to go somewhere with him?”

I swallowed. “Maybe.”

He grunted, a deep rumble in his chest, and his hand slid up to cup me over my underwear. His fingers pressed against the cotton. “You think he could make you feel half as good as I make you feel?”

That finger was moving, pushing the fabric against my wet flesh. I knew he felt how damp I was, because he dipped his head and ran his lips up the side of my neck. “Answer me, Tara.”

Lie. Just lie to him.

“No.” My voice was a truthful whimper.

He smiled against my neck. I could feel the curve of his lips just as he pushed my underwear down my thighs. His fingers were back, thumb rubbing my clit as he parted my heated flesh and slipped a finger inside. We both moaned at the same time, and I pressed my forehead against the cool metal door. I didn’t even bother to hold back and ground against him. We were in a goddamn alley and I was letting this man break me apart. Because I knew how good it felt to not have to hold it all together for once.

“You want it here?” he asked. I didn’t miss the slight tremble in his voice. He was as affected as I was.

I didn’t bother to ask what it was. “I don’t want another pity fuck if that’s what you’re offering.”

His fingers stilled, but he didn’t pull away. “That’s not what that was.”

“You sure?”

His chin dropped to my shoulder, and his fingers twitched. I bit back a moan. “That’s not what this is either.”

“Then what is this?”

“I came here for you.”

See, there it was. Direct. Blunt. “How’d you know I was going to be here?”

“I didn’t. I hoped.”

“So this is—”

“This is me wanting inside you again.” A finger slipped into me and I sucked in a breath. “And this is you pressing that ass against me. You might not be saying the words yet, but your body is. So, do you wanna go back in there and take your chances with that jerk off? Or do you want me to fuck you up against this door until you scream?”

There was no choice in my mind, nothing to decide on. Not with the way Lance was growling in my ear, his finger nudging my g-spot, and that dick I knew all too well pressing into me through his jeans.

“You. Here. Yes,” I said. “Please.”

He exhaled roughly. His other hand left the door, and the sound of his belt rattled, then the wrapper of a condom. I heard it all like I was in a tunnel, only focused on what he was doing to my body.

He bent me over a bit more to get the angle right. I was on a step higher than him, which lined us up just right. The blunt head of his dick was there, pushing inside. I cried out and his hand clapped over my mouth. He slipped a finger between my lips and I bit down on it. He hissed in my ear, but I didn’t let up, not as he pulled back his hips and rammed into me. After that, he fucked me hard, relentlessly, pushing me into the door until I was forced up onto my tiptoes. His other hand gripped me between my legs, his thumb working my clit while his other fingers spread around his dick where he speared me.

This was what I wanted—my mind emptied, everything faded because all I felt was how fucking good we were joined together, and all I heard was the sound of us.

He didn’t speak and the only sounds were my soft cries and his panted grunts. My fingers curled against the door and I bit down harder on his finger as the orgasm roared up my spine.

I came and came, pulsing on the end of his dick until I was a wrung out rag, a body he continued to pound until he too came with a soft moan against my neck.

He only moved to draw his fingers from my mouth. God, I needed a drink, something stuff. He splayed his fingers across my neck, and then I felt his lips at the corner of my mouth, another soft kiss, before he slipped from my body and stepped back.

My underwear was pulled up my legs, and my skirt was moved back over my ass. I heard Lance pull up his pants and buckle his belt. My face was on fire. I wasn’t embarrassed by what we did, but I was a little shocked that we’d both given in that fucking easy. Was it going to be like that whenever I saw him?

I turned around and leaned back on the door, catching my breath while he stood a couple of feet away, hands braced on his hips. He didn’t have that shuttered look this time, that anger that had driven me away before. But he wasn’t giving me anything either, his expression carefully impassive. “Lemme walk you home.”

I was pretty sure he was trying to ask nicely, softly, but his gritty voice instead made it sound like a demand.

I raised my eyebrows. “Why?”

“Because I want to make sure you get home okay.”

“I don’t need a daddy.”

“Trust me, baby. I don’t want to be your daddy.”

I eyed him. “Then what’s the deal with this act?”

“Not an act. I want to see you get home safe. I made you come so hard you nearly bit my finger off. You can’t do me a solid and let me walk you home?”

I glared at him. He was smirking a bit, an expression I hadn’t realized he could make. “Maybe I want to go back in there. Say hi to Jimmy.”

His expression darkened and he opened his mouth, but I cut him off with a wave of my hand. “I’m kidding, calm down.” I walked past him in the direction of my apartment and he fell in step with me. “But don’t act all, ‘we fuck, my woman.’”

Now he just looked irritated. “I’m not saying that, but tell me if you actually wanted to fuck that guy.”

“You want my honest answer?”

“Yup, because I know what it’s going to be.”

This guy was infuriating. “No, I didn’t.”

He didn’t say anything, but looked rather smug.

We walked for a minute in silence, and then he made a turn toward Reston apartments…before I did. I stopped, and after taking a couple of steps, he stopped too, shooting a questioning look over his shoulder.

“Where are we walking?”

He blinked at me. “I told you I’d walk you home.”

“And where do I live?”

He opened his mouth, then snapped it shut. A second of panic flashed across his face before he shut it down. But he didn’t speak.

I narrowed my eyes at him and asked again, “Where do I live?”

He cleared his threat and then sighed. “You live at Reston Apartments.”

I crossed my arms over my chest, and I didn’t miss how his gaze dipped to my tits. “And how do you know this?”

He leaned his head back and made a frustrated noise. “When you left this morning, I followed you. I realized that’s creepy as fuck, but I was worried about you getting home safe. If you want me to leave you alone now, I will.”

I wasn’t sure what to think of that. “You followed me home?”

“I did.”

Lance was secretive, and I was under no illusions he was a great guy, but he’d done nothing to make me question my safety around him. This was probably stupid, but I couldn’t bring myself to tell him to go away. “I’m just letting you know I carry pepper spray, and I know some decent self-defense moves.”

He smiled a little. “That’s good.”

I nodded. “Okay, then let’s keep going.”

He looked relieved—I noticed it, and that made my stomach flutter.

“So, are you just a protective kinda guy? A cop in a former life?”

He snorted. “The first one. Definitely not the second one.”

“Protective?”

He was glancing down every alley we passed. “Yeah. Gets me in trouble sometimes.” He turned his head to look at me. “You gonna get me in trouble, Tara?”

I hoped I left those days behind me. “I don’t think so.”

He just hummed under his breath.

“I’m pretty boring. I work at Dibiasi Construction, go to Bailey’s on the weekend, and eat a lot of brownies.”

“Brownies, huh?”

“No matter what they say, I will always eat raw brownie batter. YOLO.”

He laughed, a deep guttural sound that took me off guard. It sounded like water rushing through pipes that hadn’t been turned on in a year. “I can imagine you at a kitchen counter licking a spoon.”

“Accurate description of my life.”

We reached my apartments, and he continued up to the second floor without my prompting. “I guess you know my apartment number too?” I asked.

“Yup.”

We stopped at my door, but he stood off to the side, hands in his pockets. He had no intention of coming in—his body posture radiated goodbye. “Look,” he said. “This town… I want to make sure you’re safe. I promise to look out for you, all right? That’s it.”

It’d been so long since anyone had looked out for me. “I don’t think I need it really, but I’m happy to hear it. This town…makes you feel lonely sometimes.”

He looked out over the balcony at the glittering lights. “Yeah. It does.”

“Well—”

He kissed me. Cut me off mid-sentence, grabbed my chin, and kissed me. And boy was this a fucking kiss. His tongue, his lips, his teeth, everything worked in perfect harmony to turn me inside out in a matter of seconds. My back bowed under his onslaught and I gripped his shoulders, clinging to him to stay upright. I wanted to drag him into my apartment and lick brownie batter off his perfect lips.

But as soon as it started, it was over. Lance pulled back, lips wet and a little swollen. He wiped them with the back of his hand and stared at me with dilated pupils. “You know where to find me. See you around, Tara.”

Then he was striding away from me, his long legs taking him down the stairs and across the street. I watched him go, and touched my lips, wondering what the hell that was.

When I unlocked my door and went inside, it was with a smile on my face. I ate two more brownies, humming happily. For once in… I didn’t know how long… I didn’t mourn another day where my brother didn’t return. I looked forward to the next one here. I’d been a long time since I had something for me. My whole life had been shaped by others. I grew up in a trailer park in Jersey, which was really so cliché I could barely stand it. My dad had left shortly after I was born, so I didn’t even remember him. Bryan did, and I knew because whenever our dad was mentioned, his face would get tight, and his jaw would clench, and he’d go silent. Bryan rarely went silent; he had a smart remark for everything—except our dad.

Our mom had a revolving door of men in the trailer. Some were okay and some scared the shit out of me. Bryan, at two years older, was big for his age, not bulky but tall, and he was fearless. Fearless in a way that made me run into his bed in the middle of the night when a man’s loud voice frightened me. Fearless in a way that he faced off with some of those men when he was barely sixteen, skinny as a rail holding a baseball bat. Then he’d filled out, grew into the man he was now, and then he became the person to fear. Never to me though, he still treated me like gold, but to most of New Jersey, Bryan was a feared criminal.

I hated what he did, I hated that he started selling drugs before he even graduated high school. I’d begged him to stop, but he said it was the only way to get us out of our shit life. I didn’t understand. I would have lived in a trailer forever as long as I was safe. And I knew Bryan would keep me safe. At least, I had always thought so. Until he left. He left me, and didn’t take me with him, telling me it was for my own safety but I was so damn tired of that excuse for the decisions he made, for the decisions he never consulted me about.

I puttered around my kitchen, cleaning up the brownie mess I made. My apartment wasn’t much to look at—the carpet was torn and stained, the walls were in desperate need of painting, and the bathroom ceiling had some pretty suspect water stains, but it was mine. All mine. I paid for it myself with a job I worked all on my own. I’d found a bed frame and dresser at a local thrift store, and picked up my couch and TV stand at an estate sale. None of it was new, but it was new to me. After a lifetime of not really having much of my own, I was proud of this little one-bedroom apartment. One day I hoped to settle into a house, somewhere permanent, and find my own personal decorating style. For now, my apartment looked like a bachelor pad. Or bachelorette pad.

I finished with the dishes and was just about to get ready for bed when my phone rang. I froze, because it was late and so it couldn’t be work related. I hadn’t given Lance my number. So…

I waited until it went to voicemail. When my phone began ringing again, dread slithered down my spine. I was on my third phone number, because every time, my ex managed to somehow find my number and call. Reb wanted me back and always begged me to come home. He thought we could be what we used to be. But we never would.

With a growl, I snatched up my phone, not recognizing the number. “What?”

“Babe.” Sure enough, it was Reb.

“Why are you calling?”

“You need to come home.”

“You’ve been saying that—”

“Castor’s looking for you.”

I froze, the dread intensifying, liquifying my bones until I slid against the wall until my ass hit the floor. “I’m sorry?”

“Got word Castor’s looking for you.”

That wasn’t supposed to happen. “But Bryan said—”

“Bryan isn’t around.” He snarled the words, and every one was a punch to my gut. Reb and Bryan were best friends, and after Bryan had to leave, Reb took over his weakened territory.

Without Bryan, I felt like I was swinging in the breeze. Reb and I had been over, our relationship had been like a firework and had ended as nothing but vapor. Reb knew it, and he’d tried to convince me to stay, but I’d needed to leave. Castor was another crime lord—I couldn’t believe those words were even a part of my life—just like Bryan had been. They’d had a dispute. Something big, and Castor had agreed to keep Bryan alive if he left town. Bryan had told me part of that deal was that I’d be left alone, that Castor would never come after me for retribution. Had he gone back on his word?

“I know he’s not, but this was the deal. I was supposed to be safe.”

“I told Bryan Castor wasn’t known for keeping his word.”

I felt the panic crawling up my throat, but I’d break apart later. “Well thanks for the warning. I’ll get some extra locks.”

“For fuck’s sake, Tara.”

“Why would I come back? Why would I travel closer to Castor?”

“Because I can protect you,” he pleaded.

I closed my eyes, imagining his blond hair, blue eyes. I’d loved being on his arm, but looking back, it was a bit of hero worship on my part. Reb “Ghost” Rebert. My brother’s second-in-command. But we weren’t right together, he was more interested in what I could do for him and how I made him look—fucking Bryan Drayer’s sister.

“I’m not interested, Reb,” I said.

“Don’t hang—”

I hung up.

He called again. And again. And again. I turned off my phone. And then I forgot about Reb and his phone call and fell asleep thinking about Lance and his kiss and his promise.