Chapter Three
Lark Has a Visitor
With a smile on my face, I take out a shot glass and grab a bottle. The place is packed to the rafters, even though the sun hasn’t gone down yet. It’s filled with barely legal kids home from college for summer break wanting to drink their fill. I’m happy the money is rolling in, but I’m ready for a damn break.
There’s a late yoga class tonight, and I plan on being there when the class lets out. I’m hoping the hot little piece will be there. After she left, I asked around and found out her name is Paisley. She works at some office in town. Most importantly, she’s unattached and has been for a long damn time, so she’s fair game.
Pouring a shot of Sky Vodka, I grab a lime slice and walk to the bar, still wearing my smile. After setting it down in front of the sissy ass boy in dreads, I walk to the other end of the bar and grab a few empties.
“I wish these kids would get the hell out of here so shit will quiet down,” one of my regulars mumbles, reading my mind.
“Uh huh, me too,” I grunt with a decisive nod of my head. “Want another round?”
He nods his head before drinking the dregs and handing the empty glass to me. I walk to the sink, toss it in, and grab another. By the time I’m done filling it, Ripley is at my side.
He grabs an empty glass, filling it up with Sam Adams. “Man, you got it bad. Don’t think I’ve ever seen you like this before.”
I quickly jerk my eyes to him, nearly spilling the drink that’s in my hand. “What the fuck are you talking about now?”
“That smile, brother,” he states, a grin on his face. “It lets me know you are still thinking of that dark-haired beauty from the gym.”
“Whatever,” I grumble, not agreeing but not denying his words either.
Leaving him behind, I deliver the beer and scan the bar. My eyes land on a woman at the end of the bar with no drink in her hand. I head that way, picking up more empty glasses and setting them in the sink. By the time I reach her, she is looking up at me with a smirk on her face. Motherfucker. It's Crystal. My stomach plummets as memories of our night together hit my mind. I should be apologizing to my dick for even getting it near her.
“What can I get ya?” I ask, forcing my face into a placid expression.
For some reason, I don’t want her to know I even recognize her. It may make me a dick, but I don't want her to realize she has left an impression on me. Like her name, she needs to know she is completely forgettable.
“A Diet Coke, extra ice,” she answers, an angry flush covering her face. “With a lemon wedge.”
I cock my brow at her before turning around and walking to the back of the bar. I pull out the can of Diet Coke and grab a glass, taking my time to get all the extra shit she ordered. By the time I get back to her, she is fuming.
As soon as I set down her drink, she starts in. “It would also be nice if the father of my child acknowledges that he at least knows me when I walk into his bar.”
“It would be nice if you had any real idea who the father of your child even is.” My body grows taut as I lean against the bar top and whisper, “It’s gonna be hard for you to convince me that baby is mine when I know for a fact that you fucked my friend only a week before you fucked me.”
Her anger turns to shock for the briefest moment, letting me know she didn’t think I knew about her and Trip. Considering she has been in here more times than I can count, I also know about quite a few other men she has gone home with, too.
“You weren’t such a smartass when you had me bent over that booth in the back of the bar,” she says with a catty smile. “In fact, you were as sweet as honey.”
Taking in a deep breath, I try to keep myself calm. “That was a mistake, one that I wish I could take back.”
“It’s a mistake that you will spend the next eighteen years paying for,” she states, her smile growing impossibly larger.
In that moment, everything becomes clear. I know, fucking know, this is nothing more than a game to her. She wants to play with me and see how damn angry she can make me before I’ll lose my shit. Well, it’s a game she isn’t going to win.
“I’ve seen you going home with more men than I can count. You even went home with some guy between being with Trip and me,” I say, relaying the information with a glare firmly in place. “There is no damn way you have any idea who your baby’s daddy is, but I know it’s not me. My shit was wrapped up tight, no chance that any of my little swimmers got out.”
Fury fills her eyes again before she leans forward, coming nose to nose with me. “You aren’t stupid enough to think condoms always work. You could be the father. You won’t know for sure until it's born.”
“It,” I mumble, taking a step back. “What kind of mother are you gonna be when you call your own baby an it?”
Before she can respond, Trip steps to my right, crossing his arms over his chest and spreading his feet. “We got a problem?”
She looks at him, pure loathe filling her eyes. She may be angry with me, but she is fucking furious with my brother. In fact, I would guess the only emotion she feels for him is hate. Then again, I’ve always heard hate and love run hand and hand.
“What’s going on here?” Ripley asks, working his way between Trip and me.
I quietly remind him of who this woman is as Trip and Crystal start to verbally spar with each other. Ripley looks between the two of them and back at me, cocking a brow in question. He sees it, too. There is something deeper going on between the two of them; something neither of us understands.
“Last time I tried to talk to you, you told me we didn’t have anything to talk about,” she states, glaring at Trip.
He leans forward, placing his forearms on the bar top. “I’m thinking we may have a lot to talk about now, considering you may be carrying my baby.”
After we left the gym this morning, Trip and I talked about Crystal and the baby. He finally admitted that he was pretty damn sure he didn’t wear a condom. He reminded me again that he was too drunk to remember much of anything. Still, he did know his condoms were still in his wallet the next morning.
Her face goes ghostly white before she starts shaking her head. “No way. God couldn’t be that damn cruel.”
I watch as Trip’s hands tighten into fists then lay my hand on his shoulder, giving it a tight squeeze. With just a minute in her presence, he is already walking on edge. No damn way am I going to let him step over it.
“God may not be cruel to you,” he growls out, grinding his teeth together. “But, he sure in the hell likes to fuck with me.”
Her mouth twists into a snarl, taking away every bit of beauty the good Lord gave her. “There’s no way your drunk ass is my baby’s father.”
Trip, unlike Ripley or me, likes to drink. He likes it so damn much that he spends nearly every night drowning in a bottle. It's a problem Ripley and I didn't know about until we opened the bar. It didn’t take long for it to come to light.
We tried talking to him, tried to get him to push back from the bottle a bit. It didn’t work. If anything, it just made it worse. Realizing we could talk ‘til we were blue in the face, we’ve put some rules in place. No drinking on duty and no free alcohol. He follows the rules, but he still drinks every damn night. He’s a grown man, so there’s not much else we can do.
She opens her mouth to say something, but Ripley stops her by grabbing the glass off the bar. “I think it’s time for you to head out.”
She looks at him, shooting him a glare, then looks back at me. “I need money. I have to have an ultrasound next week, and the co-pay is two hundred dollars.”
For a second, I’m too dumbfounded to reply. Instead, I just stand there looking at her in shock. Why? I have no idea. I knew she wanted something as soon as I saw her. I just didn’t expect her to be asking for money so fucking soon.
“You don’t need to ask him. I’ll give you the money,” Trip says, but I cut him off with a shake of my head.
Pulling out my wallet, I pull out two hundred-dollar bills and hand them to her. “That’s the last you’re getting from me. Next time, go to one of the other baby daddies you have hanging from your string.”
The money isn’t the issue. My dad and mom taught me the value of hard work. Their lessons helped me rise in the Army faster than most. Unlike many of my fellow soldiers, I didn't spend my money on liquor and women. Most of my pay went into savings before finally being invested in some lucrative stock. By the time I got out of the Army, I had enough money to pay my part on the bar and buy a house. I also have a nice cushion drawing interest at the bank. Still, Crystal isn’t getting her hands on any of it.
When the baby comes, if it is mine, I will make sure he or she is taken care of. I will do anything I have to do to make sure my child has everything he or she needs and a lot of what they want. Still, this bitch isn’t getting shit from me.
She smiles, a bitchy grin that causes my balls to shrivel up. “I’ll be getting a lot more than this from you once the baby is born.”
With that, she stands up and walks away. She puts a little extra swing in her hips as she walks past a table full of drunk frat boys, turning back to shoot me another smile. My eyes stay trained on her until she hits the door. Once she does, I turn to look at Trip, deciding he is a good target for my frustration.
“If that kid is yours, you are gonna have to straighten your ass up and take care of it,” I order, telling him something he already knows.
“You think I don’t fucking know that?” He scowls at me, taking a step in my direction. “Do you really think I wouldn’t take care of my own kid?”
I’m tempted to knock the fuck out of him and tell him he’s a fucking drunk loser that couldn’t even remember to wear a condom, so how the hell is he going to take care of a child. I don’t because that isn’t my place. He’s not the one I’m mad at anyway. Hell no. I’m pissed at myself, pissed that I ever got near that bitch. I shouldn’t be taking my frustration out on my brother, even if he doesn’t share my blood.
“This shit is fucked up enough without the two of you going at each other,” Ripley says, placing a hand on my shoulder.
Realizing he’s right, I walk away from the bar. None of this should’ve been discussed here anyway, not with all the customers around. As I look around, it doesn’t appear that anyone noticed. I ignore the customers motioning for me to bring them drinks and head toward the office. I need to get away and have a few minutes to myself to think about this shit.
Just before walking into the hallway, I look over my shoulder to where my brothers are still standing near the bar. “Cover me. I’ll be back in ten.”
I walk straight to the office, shutting the door behind me, and hit the lock. I don’t want any company. I head straight to the desk and plop down in the chair. Leaning my head back and closing my eyes, I try to figure out how my life turned into such a fucking mess.
With all things considered, I don't think the kid is mine. I hope like hell it isn’t, at least. Still, there is the possibility. Nothing, not even a fucking condom, is fool-proof. Having a child is a chance I take every time I stick my dick into someone.
My mind whirls with thoughts of how to handle this, whether the baby is mine or not. Either way, I am in this shit and will not be getting out for a while. I sit up and let out a frustrated breath, knowing there is nothing I can do now. Pushing the chair back, my eyes land on the yoga schedule sitting on the top of the desk, and I decide a little diversion is just what I need.