LAUREN
It took me a good week to decide I couldn’t keep wallowing in self-pity. That I needed someplace regular to be, like a job or some other activity to get me out of the house on a regular basis. I’d gone down to the beach several times, lying to myself at first that I hadn’t been trying to catch another glimpse of Will or his girlfriend. But when I’d come home disappointed I realized I was wrong. That was exactly why I’d gone, and it had to end. I didn’t want to add stalking to the list of things I wasn’t proud of.
I still couldn’t swim, even though Zane had tried his best to convince me he could teach me if I’d just give him a chance. He was fine and all. Decent enough company while Emerson spent more and more time with Lucas, but mostly, I wanted to be left alone.
Except that was a lie too.
The truth was, being alone only made things worse. The more time I spent by myself, the more resentful I became. Resentful that I’d let Will get in my head . . . and nearly into my pants. That he’d made me feel things I’d never felt before.
I needed to get out.
When I pulled into the parking lot, I wondered if this was the right call. It was one thing to imagine being the kind of do-gooder who made the world a better place, it was another to actually go through with it. Maybe I wasn’t cut out for a job like this, even if it was only a volunteer gig.
But the alternative was going back to my couch to stew over Will, and that held about as much appeal as one of the shark attacks my mother had warned me about.
If I’d been expecting someplace fancy, like Will’s pool club, I was sorely mistaken. It could have been worse, I supposed. There were no chain link fences or metal detectors, which I took as a good sign, but it was definitely more industrial than I’d pictured. A warehouse surrounded by a field of blacktop and more warehouses.
The sign said West Beach Rec Center, and several teens were loitering on the steps and in the parking lot outside.
Inside, the place was less warehouse-y and more gymnasium-ish. There were kids of all ages playing video games and table tennis, kids watching television, talking and laughing, and traffic-jamming as they moved from one activity to another.
Utter chaos.
“Can I help you?” a rumpled-looking man asked as he came out from behind a reception desk cluttered with stacks of loose papers and binders that were overflowing with more papers, envelopes, clipboards, and folders.
The man attempted to straighten himself, tucking in the front of his short-sleeved shirt with one hand while he smoothed his comb-over with the other. He had what I assumed was a coffee stain on his tie.
“I’m Lauren Taylor. I called earlier about the volunteer position.”
His eyes narrowed, making it seem like he was having a hard time placing me, and I wondered how many people were actually clamoring to fill their volunteer positions. But then he pasted on an over-bright smile. “Oh yeah, the IT girl. Norman Wall.” He held out his hand and I shook it. His grip was warm and doughy. “But you can call me Norm. I believe we spoke on the phone.”
“Well, not IT, exactly,” I explained again, because we’d already had this exact conversation. “But I do know my way around a computer. You said you wanted someone who could teach the kids online basics?”
He led me through a doorway, into a small classroom that had several long tables lined up in it. On each table there were computers that looked like they’d been teleported from the ’80s. The clunky screens were dull gray, their plastic hulls yellowed with age. Not exactly state of the art.
“Tell me a little about your computer background,” Norm said, pulling out a chair, and I got the distinct impression he took his job here very seriously.
The machines around me hummed loudly, and I wondered how many of them were on their last legs. “Let’s see,” I started. “I was a business major at ASU, where I took several business and technology courses.” I left out the part where the bulk of my IT experience had been gained off-campus, operating my striptease webcam. Personally, I thought Norm might appreciate that little tidbit, but I doubted that info would be a big hit with the rec center’s board of directors.
I wondered if they’d want more from me—experience teaching or working with kids—but before I could think of anything else to pad my imaginary résumé, Norm was bobbing his head enthusiastically. “Sounds great. Come with me.” He led the way to the reception desk that looked like it had been struck by a Category Five hurricane as he began digging through a stack of paperwork. “I think you’ll fit in great here.” And that was that. He slid the forms toward me. “There’s just the matter of a background check, standard stuff for all our volunteers, but we’d like you to start right away.”
“I’m taking you out to celebrate!” Emerson gushed, squeezing me in one of her ginormous bear hugs. She didn’t scream in my ear, so at least I still had my hearing.
“Geez, Em, it’s not a real job or anything. It’s a volunteer gig at a youth center, for Christ’s sake.”
“Baby steps,” she explained, like I was on my way to something bigger and better, rather than hauling my sorry butt out of the house a couple of times a week. “And I don’t care if you’re ‘tired,’ I’m taking you out, so hurry up and change.”
When I realized she wasn’t going to budge, I laid out my terms. “Okay, fine, but not to The Dunes. Anywhere but there.”
She shrugged and clapped simultaneously, reminding me of the cheerleader I’d long suspected she’d been in high school, something she’d denied vehemently whenever I broached the subject. “I knew you’d say that. Lucas and Zane picked some honky-tonk dive bar where we can get shitty drunk and you don’t have to worry about running into you-know-who.” She lifted her eyebrows, making me wonder just how much she really did know.
I thought I’d been doing a pretty good job hiding my feelings, covering up everything that had happened (or almost happened) between Will and me. To be honest, I figured she’d been too preoccupied to notice. She’d been so wrapped up in Lucas I was pretty sure our little beachside bungalow could’ve caught fire and Emerson would’ve complained that the AC was on the fritz.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I tried to bluff.
But Em was having none of that. “Mm-hmm. I thought you were into some swim guy, but I saw the way that bartender guy cut in with you and Zane that night you were dancing at The Dunes. And the way you got all twitchy after you saw him at the beach the other day. And how neither of you can take your eyes off each other when you’re together. Something’s up with you two.”
Clearly I underestimated Emerson’s powers of observation. “Doesn’t matter,” I told her. “I don’t plan to see him again. Like ever.”
“’Course it matters. People don’t act like that unless they’re hot for each other. Trust me, I’ve been hot for a few guys in my day.”
Had I really been that transparent?
“No, seriously. It doesn’t matter,” I insisted, brushing past her to go to my room so I could change. Suddenly, getting shitfaced was the best idea I’d ever heard. “He has a girlfriend.” I slammed my door, not wanting to hear Em’s response to that bombshell, or get her advice on it. I just wanted to forget all about Will.
Half an hour later I was ready, and in a way better frame of mind. This time I was wearing one of my own dresses, a boho-inspired sundress made of gauzy fabric that showed just the right amount of skin, which tonight was plenty. I slipped on a pair of short boots, which were the exact opposite of something I’d have worn to The Dunes, and somehow seemed like just the thing to wear to a honky-tonk. Zane and Lucas were already waiting for us, and from the appreciative look on Zane’s face, I knew I’d picked right.
Emerson gave me the once-over. “For someone who says she doesn’t like guys gawking, your dress doesn’t leave much to the imagination.” From anyone else, that might’ve been considered a dig, but from Em, it was a full-blown compliment.
“Thanks. You look pretty smokin’, yourself.” I grinned, wondering how Zane had even noticed me while she was in the room. Emerson had the kind of long legs I coveted, and she showed them off every chance she got, like now, in her daringly short denim skirt. The cowboy boots, a throwback to her Dallas roots, were the perfect touch.
“I know,” she said, her platinum blonde curls fell in perfect, cascading waves and she tossed them over one shoulder.
“Sexy as hell, baby,” Lucas agreed, throwing a possessive arm around Emerson’s waist and planting his lips on the side of her neck.
“All right, you two. Lauren and I don’t want to watch this crap all night. Let’s blow,” Zane protested, reaching for the door.
Lucas didn’t release Emerson, just started hauling her toward the door while he continued to maul her neck and her ear. “Hear that, babe? Zane wants to blow. We might need to find a whole different kinda bar to take him to. Whaddaya think?” Em giggled in the circle of Lucas’s arm, and I couldn’t help the smile that found my lips.
Zane shoved Lucas as they stumbled past him through the doorway, and I realized this was exactly what I needed.
They continued making digs at each other all the way to the bar, which was exactly the kind of place Emerson had described—a hole-in-the-wall cowboy joint, a lot like most of the hole-in-the-wall cowboy joints back in Arizona. There was a jukebox against one wall, and someone had put some sappy song by Carrie Underwood on repeat for the first fifteen minutes we were there. By the time we were having our second round, “Save a Horse (Ride a Cowboy)” by Big & Rich had started, and Emerson was dragging me out to the dance floor so we could show these “city boys” the way things were done.
Except, Zane wasn’t a city boy. I already knew he was Iowa born and raised. When his boots hit the floorboards, he kept up with Emerson better than I did. Before I realized what was happening, he and Emerson were spinning circles around me. Lucas didn’t bother trying to keep up with either of them, and after a few minutes, I stopped trying too.
I met Lucas at our table and he handed me another beer. “She’s something else, isn’t she?” He couldn’t take his eyes off her.
I smiled, because I knew what he meant. Em was a whirlwind, and not just on the dance floor. She’d been my best friend from the first day we’d met almost four years ago, when both of us had been out-of-state transplants at ASU. She had been as wild and outgoing as I’d been introspective and cautious, but she’d never tried to make me more like her, and I wouldn’t change a single hair on her head either.
She was the only person who knew almost all my secrets.
Everything except what had happened the night Jefferson Brandt showed up at my door.
“Damn right she is,” I said, turning to face him and chugging the beer in my hand. When I’d downed it, I slammed it on the table. “And if you fuck her over, I swear on a stack of Bibles, I’ll hunt you down and cut your balls off.”
Lucas’s mouth dropped open in a stunned expression. Then his lips stretched into a wide grin as he reached out and hauled me against him. It was the strangest hug I’d ever gotten.
“You’re as good a friend as she says you are,” he said against the top of my head. He let me go then, and went back to watching Em. “I won’t hurt her. Promise.”
Satisfied that he meant what he said, I went to the bar just as another song started. This wasn’t like The Dunes, where it was hard to get service . . . or get noticed. The bartender spotted me right away, and eyed me in a way that made it clear there wouldn’t be any delays in my orders tonight.
“Red Bull and vodka,” I said, and while I was waiting for my drink, I nodded at him. “I like your piercings.” I pointed at the studs that were spaced evenly below his bottom lip.
His tongue moved to toy with one of the metal studs as he grinned at me, a look verging on a leer. I took my drink and hoped he didn’t think I’d been flirting.
Zane and Emerson were back, and Zane slipped his hand around mine. “You girls play pool?”
I gave Em a quick look. “I don’t know . . . ,” I hedged.
But she was all over it. “Yes! Boys against girls!”
“That hardly seems fair. Maybe we should make things more even,” Zane said with a squeeze to my hand.
“No, thanks. Lo’s on my team,” Em declared, already heading toward the one available table and scouring the racks for “the cutest stick” she could find.
I shrugged at Zane, as if the decision were out of my hands and started racking the balls. I let Zane pick out my pool cue as a consolation for not being my partner. When he saw me fumbling over the order of the balls, he used the opportunity to lean over my shoulder to rearrange them while he explained the alternating solids-and-stripes pattern. I pretended I was engrossed in his description, but all I could think about was how close he was.
Normally this was the point I would tell a guy this wasn’t going anywhere, remind him we were friends, so I didn’t give him the wrong idea.
Instead, I said nothing.
Maybe Zane wouldn’t be the worst person to lose my virginity to. We were friends. Maybe that was good enough.
Emerson and I agreed to let Lucas break, and when he sank a ball on that first shot, he called dibs on stripes for the boys’ team, leaving solids for the girls. When it was my turn, I struggled to line up the blemished white ball with the shiny red one, and missed by a mile when I tried to send it across the table into the right corner pocket.
Emerson played about as badly as I did until the guys had only two striped balls to our complete set of solids still remaining on the pool table. That was when Zane ordered yet another round of drinks and Emerson gave me the signal. Apparently, we were done messing around.
“Here,” Zane offered, coming up behind me as I reached for my cue again, this time chalking it until the blue powder covered both the tip and my fingers. “Let me show you.”
I blew the residue away in a cloud of cobalt dust. “That’s okay.” I offered him a sly grin. “I got this.” I rounded the table and used my cue to point at the yellow ball. “Side pocket.”
Zane eyed me doubtfully when I called my shot, and he recognized my mistake. Their orange striped ball was in the path of our yellow one.
“Lauren . . .” It was obvious from the way he said my name he was patronizing me, but that’s exactly the reaction I’d wanted. I liked that he questioned me. I liked that I was about to blow his mind.
Ignoring his half-assed attempt to warn me, I bent forward at the waist, keeping my legs straight as I concentrated on my shot. I used my hand to brace the tip of the cue as I elevated my back elbow so my aim would come down hard on the cue ball—because, yeah, Zane, I knew that “the white ball” had a name.
I held my breath and tucked my chin as I struck down on the cue ball. Just as I’d hoped, my aim was spot-on, and when the ball jumped, it cleared the boys’ striped ball and landed with a solid thunk against our yellow one.
Our ball shot straight toward the side of the table and dropped like a rock into the pocket I’d called. I couldn’t have contained my smile if I’d tried.
I went to work on the next ball, a far easier shot, and I sank it with barely a second glance. The next two went in just as fluidly, and by my fifth shot, I ventured a quick look up at Zane and Lucas.
Both were watching me, mouths hanging open. Emerson looked like she might explode from trying to hold back her enthusiasm.
When I missed my next shot, I whirled around and feigned innocence with a pert little shrug. “Beginner’s luck, I guess.”
“Bullshit,” Lucas announced, dragging out the “bull” to let us know what he really thought. “We just got hustled, Z.” He snatched his cue and lined up his next shot, only to choke, missing by a mile.
Emerson strutted up to the table next, and flashed him a mocking look over her shoulder. “Aw, that’s a shame. I guess I’ll just have to wrap things up here.” That was Em’s strong suit—clean up—which is exactly what she did.
She cleared the table of our solids and the eight-ball, and when she spun back around and leaned against the rail, she sighed. “Wanna play again, boys? Maybe make it interesting this time?”
I glanced at Zane. Emerson and I had pulled this stunt hundreds of times—deceived guys who thought they were unbeatable, especially by a couple of girls. It was fun to see them underestimate us, make derisive comments even, only to have us wipe the floor with them. Even better if we could earn a few bucks in the process.
Zane lifted his hands in defeat. “I know when I’m in over my head.”
“I’ll play.”
I whipped around, stunned to hear the voice of the last person I expected to see tonight.
Will looked every bit as comfortable here, in this shit-kicking cowboy bar, as he had behind the counter of The Dunes, or carrying a surfboard on the beach. He was dressed casually in blue jeans and a black T-shirt that accentuated the muscles of his chest and exposed the cut of his biceps. After what Zane had told me about Will’s background, about the surfing career he’d given up for Tess, it made sense he was in the shape he was. And even though he was no longer competing, I knew he still surfed.
My pulse quickened as his eyes fell on me. He dropped a hundred-dollar bill onto the green felt and Emerson snatched it up. “You’re on.” She didn’t bother to ask whether I was still interested in playing. Or even whether I was still staying or not.
I scanned the bar, hating how badly I wanted to know if she was here too—Tess. “What about a partner?” I asked, feeling the words stick in my throat.
Will watched me like he didn’t have a care in the world. He shrugged. “Don’t have one.”
Something in my chest loosened, and I had to remind myself that just because she wasn’t here that didn’t mean she didn’t exist.
Zane scooted closer, making a point of the fact that he was the one handing me my beer. He stopped short of peeing on me, but I got the impression this was his way of marking his territory. “You sure you wanna do this?” he asked, even though I hadn’t agreed to anything. I took the beer, downing a long drink and telling myself it was normal to be nervous with that much money on the line. Except what did I care? I had a duffle full of cash that said his hundred bucks made no difference.
It was Will who made me nervous . . . or mad . . . or whatever the hell I was feeling right now.
“No,” I muttered under my breath, taking yet another swallow. “But it won’t last long,” I assured him. And then I grinned, because that much was true at least. This game would be over in no time.
“I’ll play with him,” Lucas volunteered, and Emerson glared at her latest boy toy.
“Traitor,” she accused.
Lucas wiggled his eyebrows. “Don’t be mad, babe. You saw me play. Trust me, I’m doin’ you a favor—playing for the enemy.”
Casting an appreciative smile his way, she cocked her head. “You say the sweetest things.”
As much as I wanted to ask Zane to take me home, I just as badly wanted to show Will up. To wipe that smug look off his face once and for all.
“Fine. I’ll play,” I said, glaring at Will. “It’s your money.”
“Not for long,” Emerson threw in, and I could practically hear her spending it already.
Zane started to help me rack the balls, but I gave him a look to let him know I didn’t need his help this time; I understood the pattern just fine. Since we’d won the last game, Em and I let the guys decide who would break. Lucas decided to go first again, and like last time, he sank one ball on the first shot.
Zane stayed glued to my hip, carrying my beer wherever I went. I couldn’t decide if he was trying to keep Will away with his presence or trying to charm me with his attentiveness, Unfortunately, he was failing on both accounts, managing only to come across as clingy.
Will didn’t seem to mind Zane’s nearness. In fact, if I didn’t know better, I’d swear it only made him work harder to annoy me, or Zane . . . or both of us.
Being stuck in such confined quarters with Will, while having Zane buzzing around me like a bothersome gnat, was irritating. I downed the last of my beer. “I’m getting another,” I announced, and when Zane started to follow, I held up a hand. “I got this.”
By the look on his face, you’d have thought I just kicked a baby, but I was past caring. My mood had soured, and having Zane underfoot when I went to the bar would only have made it worse.
I needed a breather.