“ARE YOU HIGH?” CORDELL ASKS once his last client is out the door. I’m drinking a beer on the couch in the drawing room, waiting to close up shop.
“High on life.” I don’t know what he’s referring to, but I’d bet my left nut it has something to do with Lo.
“You don’t hire chicks. Especially ones that look like her.” He points a finger toward the front desk, where Lo worked all day.
It’s not a secret that she’s fucking gorgeous, but the irrational part of me wants to throttle Cord for even noticing. I don’t know why or how she pulls this reaction from me, but I need to get this shit in check, so I don’t respond. He’ll drop it if I pretend not to care.
“Especially one that you’re into.”
It’s an accusation—one that I can’t ignore. It’s not that it’s against my rules to hire women. I just haven’t in a long time—for two reasons. It’s not anything against them. On the contrary. Men are territorial sons of bitches for one, and when more than one is interested in a colleague, shit gets ugly fast. I’ve seen it happen firsthand. The second reason is that there is a shortage of female artists in the area. All the good ones work in the bigger cities.
“Who said I’m into her?” I keep my tone bored, unaffected.
“Uh, anyone with eyes? You didn’t take yours off her the entire time she was here. I’m surprised your client didn’t end up with her fucking portrait on his back.”
“Is there a point to this little chat?” Patience is not something I have a lot of as it is, so it’s pretty much nonexistent right now.
“Just making sure you know what you’re doing, man.”
“I’m not doing anything. We needed help, so I hired help. Isn’t that what you’ve been bitching at me to do for the last six months?”
“Whatever you say. By the way, this came for you earlier. I had to sign for it.” He tosses an envelope onto the cushion next to me.
“Thanks.”
I tear open the envelope, wondering what’s so important that it required a signature. In the upper left corner, it lists a name and address of a business that I don’t recognize.
To Whom It May Concern:
I am writing this letter to declare my interest in buying your property in River’s Edge, California. I’ve attached my business plan along with an offer. I’m willing to work with your attorney or handle this personally, whichever you’re more comfortable with. Please contact me with any questions you may have.
I crumple the papers up and toss them into the trash can next to my desk without even looking at his offer. It’s not the first time someone has tried to buy Bad Intentions. We’re in a prime location, right smack in the middle of what I like to refer to as the tourist trap of River’s Edge. It’s the first thing everyone sees coming into town, right next to the bars and casinos. Too bad I have exactly zero interest in selling. This place means more to me than anything or anyone ever has. You can’t put a price tag on that.
“What was that about?”
“Someone wants to buy the shop.”
Cordell snorts out a laugh, knowing I’d sooner chop off my own dick than sell. “I’m going to clean up my station, then grab a beer with Cam. You in?”
“Nah, I’m good.” I stand, making my way to my desk to bury myself in a sketch, mostly so I don’t have to see the disappointed look I know will be on his face. Cam’s usually too busy to go out between his snowboarding career and his new role as a family man, so I should stop being an asshole and just go, but I’m not in the mood.
“All right, then. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Alec isn’t too far behind Cord, and soon I have the shop to myself. I’m almost back to the drawing room when I hear it. A muffled ringtone coming from the front of the shop.
Someone must’ve forgotten their phone.
The ringing stops, only to start right back up again. I figure whoever is calling is looking for their phone, so reluctantly I make my way back up front, following the sound. I find it in one of the drawers of the front desk, so it must be Logan’s.
“Hello?”
“Who the fuck is this?” It’s a man’s voice. A very angry man’s voice. Does she have a boyfriend? Seems like that should’ve come up…ideally, before we hooked up.
“Who’s this?” I throw the question back at him.
“Where’s Logan?”
“Busy.” Some instinct tells me not to tell this guy a damn thing. He’s quiet for a minute before responding.
“Be sure to let her know she’s only making things worse by avoiding me.”
He hangs up, and I’m left wondering who this douche is to Logan. She doesn’t seem like the type of person to put up with any shit, so what the fuck is he doing in her life?
“Rise and shine, princess.”
I hear her voice, and at first, I think it’s a dream. But the kink I feel in my neck tells me I passed out on the couch in the drawing room. Again. Without locking up, apparently. I lift my head off the arm of the couch and rub the back of my neck before peeling my eyes open. I squint up at Logan, who is standing in front of me, amused expression plastered to her pretty face.
“What time is it?” I ask, stretching my neck from side to side. Tattooing people today is going to fucking suck after sleeping in that position all night. I’ve been known to crash here occasionally, especially since Adrian seems to have taken up permanent residence in my house, but I usually have enough sense to fall asleep in a slightly more comfortable position.
“I don’t know. I think I left my phone here last night, but I’m guessing it’s right after ten.”
I stand, moving past her to my desk, grabbing her phone. “You did.”
She looks nervous, worrying that plump bottom lip between her teeth. She snatches the phone out of my hand and stuffs it into her back pocket.
“What?” she asks defensively when she realizes I’m staring.
“You got a call.”
Blush crawls up her neck, and her nostrils flare. “You answered my phone?” Her voice is incredulous.
“Calm down, Sally. I didn’t know whose phone it was, and it wouldn’t shut up. Thought maybe someone was looking for it.”
She rolls her eyes at me. “Stop calling me that. Who called?” she asks, scrolling through her phone.
“He didn’t say, but he wasn’t happy that I answered.”
“Goddammit.”
“Who was it?” Her reaction tells me I’m right to be wary of this guy. Not that it’s my business, but somehow, it feels like it is.
“No one.”
“So, you always have random guys calling you, threatening you, at all hours of the night?
“Drop it,” she says, her voice firm. “You’re opening soon. Show me what to do.”
Her attempt at diverting the conversation is pitiful, but I let it go. For now. We set the shop up together, and I’m impressed when Logan takes it upon herself to look at the schedule, taking note of who has clients first, and sets up our stations accordingly. With two people opening, it goes by a lot quicker, so I find myself with a few minutes to spare.
I’m hunched over the front desk, making a quick revision to a sketch for a client that’s set to arrive in an hour or so. My neck is killing me still and I stretch it side to side, rolling my shoulders. I lean back over my sketch, and then I feel two soft hands on my shoulders. I freeze, not expecting the touch. I’ve never been a particularly affectionate person. I chalk it up to being starved of it growing up. Hugging, touching, hand-holding, snuggling…it’s all foreign to me, and I go out of my way to avoid unnecessary physical contact.
Logan either doesn’t notice my discomfort or doesn’t care, because she keeps kneading, and eventually, I relax into her touch. She presses her thumbs together, sliding upward toward the base of my skull. I groan at the feeling, my dick pressing against the fabric of my jeans. I drop my head down, letting Logan continue her magic on me. She moves back down to my shoulders, and I feel the tension slowly seeping out of me at her touch.
“Feel better?” she asks. She shifts closer, and I feel her tits on my back as her hair falls forward, brushing the side of my face. She smells like cherry Chapstick and vanilla.
“So fucking good,” I mumble. Before I can think better of it, my hand reaches behind me, gripping the back of her thigh. She goes still, her hands pausing on my shoulders, and I let my hand fall. It wasn’t even a conscious decision to touch her, but now I’ve made it weird.
The door chimes, and we both snap into motion, putting some distance between us. Adrian walks in, looking between us with raised brows, but says nothing about our not-so-subtle behavior.
“New employee?” he asks.
“What, stalking me at home wasn’t enough, you had to do it here, too?”
“I got bored. You didn’t come home last night.”
“Maybe I didn’t come home because I needed some fucking space.”
Logan laughs, bringing both of our attention to her.
“What’s so funny?”
“Nothing. You two just sound like an old married couple.”
“He’s not my type,” Adrian says, completely unfazed by her comment. “You, on the other hand…”
“No harassing the employees,” I cut in.
“Right. I’ll leave that to the boss,” Adrian says with a smirk. Logan doesn’t seem to be offended by his insinuation. “I just came by to let you know I’m going back to Cactus Heights tonight. Don’t look so sad,” he says at my relieved expression. “I’ll be back soon.”
“Can’t wait,” I say in a flat voice, unenthused. “Get a hotel next time.”
“Why, you don’t want to cuddle again?” he asks, his face turning down into a fake pout. “I bet your girl will keep this Arizona boy warm at night.”
“Only if you put out.” Logan grins, playing along, ignoring the fact that he referred to her as my girl.
Adrian’s eyes widen, and then he throws his head back and howls with laughter. Loudly. “Oh, shit,” he says between laughter. “I think I just found my soulmate.”
“Don’t encourage him.”
Once Adrian leaves, we’re alone again, but the moment is gone. Cordell and Matty show up shortly after, and soon the shop is busy as fuck. I hear Logan’s phone ring a couple of times, only to see her reject the call both times with a distressed expression on her face. I assume she silences her phone, because I don’t hear it ring again. I tell myself to mind my own business. She’s not my girl—not my responsibility. This girl is obviously complicated. The last thing I need is to involve myself in someone else’s mess. Dealing with my own shit is a full-time job.
I spend the whole morning on mindless tattoos—butterflies, hearts, matching BFF tattoos, and bullshit like that. One guy came in and got his daughter’s name. I don’t have anything against those kinds of tattoos, but they don’t exactly get my creative juices flowing. My neck is still fucked, made worse by hunching over clients all day, so it’s probably a good thing that I don’t have anything too detailed on the schedule. Logan does her job well, making sure everyone is taken care of and everything stays clean. I try to ignore the way her ass looks in her tight jeans and the way everyone’s eyes seem to follow her every move.
Around lunchtime, Sutton walks through the door toting a plastic bag of something that smells amazing.
“Hungry?” she asks Logan, holding up the bag.
“Starved.”
“I’m stealing the new girl back,” Sutton informs me. Logan looks over at me in question.
“Take your break.”
“Does anyone need anything?” Everyone declines, and then they head toward the back.
“Maybe you do know what you’re doing,” Cord says, twisting back and forth on his stool. “I like having her around.”
“Told you.”
“Doesn’t mean you don’t want her, though.”
Yeah, yeah. It also doesn’t mean I’m going to act on it.
“Find something to do.”
The rest of the day is more of the same. The evening gets even busier, and by the time I have a chance to come up for air, Lo’s already gone home for the day. After lunch, she mentioned that she had to work a full day next door tomorrow, so she won’t be coming in. I tell myself the disappointment that I feel has everything to do with the fact that she’s a big help around here, and nothing to do with how I like seeing her here, in my shop, my space, hanging around my friends. Because that would be bad.
Three days passed without seeing Lo, unless you count seeing her go in and out of Blackbear. The third day was Monday, the only day we’re closed, so I didn’t see her yesterday, either. The guys at the shop have been pouting about her not being here, and I’m not convinced that it’s only because she makes things easier. Lo has an addictive personality. With her big smile and sarcastic sense of humor, everyone gravitates toward her.
I’ve been distracted and moodier than usual. This time of year always gets to me, but this thing with Lo is fucking with my head. I vacillate between fantasizing about fucking her on every surface of my shop and worrying about her. Then, I get pissed at myself for worrying, and in turn, pissed at her for making me worry. Like I said, it’s fucking me up.
I was up all night sketching, trying to relax enough to fall asleep to no avail. Eventually, I said fuck it and decided to come in early, once again. I managed to catch a glimpse of Lo this morning as she arrived for her shift next door. Her hair was up high in that messy ponytail, and she was sporting those tight, black leggings that I love so much, a thin flannel over her work shirt, and a pair of tennis shoes. Doesn’t this chick own a jacket? It’s like forty degrees, and only getting colder.
By the time her shift is over next door, it’s almost four o’clock. She must’ve ditched her work shirt, because now her flannel is buttoned up, showing off milky-white tits. Matty gets to her first, greeting her with a bear hug, lifting her off her feet. She squeals and smacks his shoulders to set her down.
“Miss me?” she teases.
“No one makes coffee like you do.”
“You guys have a Keurig.”
“Still. It tastes different when you bring it to me.”
Jesus Christ. I can’t contain my eye roll at his obvious flirting. Lo shakes her head at his antics before making her way over to my station. The girl in my chair is getting a script tattoo under her breasts, and I swear I see Lo’s eyes flash with…something. She schools her expression before I can decipher it.
“Hey.” She smiles, her eyes everywhere except my client, whose tits are completely out with nothing but tape in the shape of Xs over her nipples. “Need anything?”
You. Naked in the drawing room. On my desk.
“I’m good. I’m almost done here.”
Lo nods. “What about you? Water?” she reluctantly asks the girl under my needle. I forget what she said her name was. Ashley? Allison? She’s a cute girl, but she doesn’t shut up.
“I’ll take a shot.” She laughs, looking uncomfortable. Lo gives her a smile that to some might look polite, but I see the annoyance lurking behind it. I chuckle, turning my attention back to the tattoo. My client rambles on, and I nod and mhm at all the appropriate times, not really hearing anything she’s saying.
As my client is leaving, the door opens, and I look up to see Lo’s little brother. He pops the tail of his skateboard up with his foot and tucks it under his arm as he breaks his neck to check out the girl’s ass as she walks out.
“Hang on,” Lo says, holding a finger up, then runs toward back of the shop.
“Hey, man,” I greet him. He looks at me with his eyebrows pulled together in confusion before placing me.
“Oh shit, you look different without all the…” He trails off, gesturing to his face. Right. It was Halloween when we met.
When Lo comes back, she’s dangling a set of keys in her hand. “Did you go to detention?” she asks, snatching the keys out of his reach when he goes for them.
“Yes,” he says with an eye roll. He reaches for the keys once more, only for her to pull back again.
“Pick me up at eleven. You go buy your equipment, then go straight home until I call.”
“This is stupid. I should’ve just taken the suspension. Do you even know how much this shit costs?”
Lo looks at me from the corner of her eye, and I busy myself with disassembling and sanitizing my machine, pretending not to eavesdrop.
“It’s fine,” she says, her voice barely loud enough to make out over the music coming from the speakers. “This is a good opportunity. Just get your mouth guard, shoes, and singlet now. We’ll worry about the fees and all the other shit later.” She reaches into her bra and pulls out a wad of cash before tucking it into his palm. “Here’s some extra from my shift today.”
Her brother shakes his head, his hand still outstretched as if he doesn’t want to take the money, but Lo lifts an eyebrow, and reluctantly he shoves it down into his jeans pocket. I’ve been in foster care and too many foster families to count, and I’ve never once seen a brother and sister this dynamic. Lo mothers him, which isn’t unheard of for the oldest sibling, but he seems to listen to her as if she’s in charge. There’s a closeness between them that sends a little jolt of jealousy through me. Not jealous of him—I’m not that crazy—but jealous of their relationship. Asher is my brother, but he’s not my blood, and he has his own life now.
There was a time when I thought I might have that with one of my foster families, but of course, I managed to fuck that up like everything else. And no one in this town has looked at me the same since. River’s Edge is split into three types of people for me: the people who blame me for what happened, the people who don’t, and the people who don’t know anything about it. For the record, I fall into the first group.
“Straight home,” she reiterates. He nods, and this time she gives him the keys when he reaches for them. He pulls her in for a hug, her head not even coming up to his chin. He leaves, and Lo heads toward my station to wipe down my chair.
“I can do it,” I tell her. “My client canceled, remember?” She’s the one who informed me of the cancellation.
“It’s okay. I got it.”
“You good?” I can’t help myself. I have to ask. She pauses mid-bend as she reaches for the wadded-up paper towels full of ink and the rinse cup, her big hazel eyes locking onto mine. I can see a hint of her black bra peeking from underneath her shirt from this angle, and memories of her perfect fucking tits as she arches into my touch pop into my mind, unbidden.
“Yeah,” she says, her voice too chipper for me to believe her. I can’t figure it out, but she seems off.
“Have you eaten? I think I’m going to order from next door.” I’m starving, and after overhearing Lo’s conversation with her brother, I wonder if money’s so much a problem that she’s not eating enough. She’s petite, her waist tiny, but that ass tells me she’s getting enough to eat.
“I didn’t get a chance to eat earlier,” she admits. “Blackbear got busy.”
“What do you want?”
“I’m not picky.” She shrugs.
“I’ll take a burger!” Matty shouts from his station on the other side of the room.
“And some wings,” Cordell chimes in.
“Anything else?” I say sarcastically, earning another smile from Lo. This time it’s genuine.
Jake drops off the food thirty minutes later, and I motion for Lo to follow me.
“What if someone comes in?” she asks, hooking a thumb toward the door.
“They’ll get it,” I assure her. I lead her to the bigger waiting area. It’s completely empty of clients. I walk over to the table and drop the food down, motioning for her to take a seat on the bench seat. I grab two beers and a water bottle. Gotta have options. When I turn back for the table, Lo is sitting there, chin propped on her fist, full lips in a pout, staring at the table.
Don’t ask her if she’s okay. Don’t ask her if she’s okay.
“You okay?” Smooth. She doesn’t answer, or even seem to hear me. “Lo.” Still nothing. “Logan,” I say, louder this time, and her head snaps up. “What’s wrong? And don’t say ‘nothing’, because I can tell something is bothering you. Unless you suddenly fell in love with pizza and that’s a wistful look on your face and not a troubled one.”
She gives a sad smile and shakes her head. “Sorry. I’m just thinking.”
“About…?” I hedge. “Is that guy still bothering you?”
“No, I mean, yes, he’s still calling, but it’s not about him.” I knew he was, whoever he is, but her confirmation has my hands tightening into fists. I don’t have a good feeling about that guy. “I’ve just got a lot on my plate. I’m worried about Jess, worried about him finishing school, worried that I’m fucking this whole thing up, worried about where we’re going to live—”
“No luck on that?” I interrupt. This sad, maybe slightly vulnerable side of her is a stark contrast to the bold, confident one that I’m used to seeing.
“I’ve looked online, but there’s nothing to rent. I found one place, but I haven’t heard back.”
She’s right. In order to find a place to rent in this town, you pretty much have to know someone. Rentals are few and far between, and they go fast.
“Can I ask you a question?” I hate when people ask if they can ask a question, but this one has the potential to piss her off, so I tread carefully. She nods in acquiesce. “Where is your mom?” These aren’t things a twenty-one-year-old girl should be worrying about. I get that Henry hasn’t been in their lives, but that doesn’t explain who’s been taking care of them all these years.
“At this very moment? Jail. Drugs,” she tacks on as she reaches into the bag, pulling out a fry. No sadness or shame in this statement. Just cold facts.
“Fuck.”
“It’s better this way,” she says, lifting one shoulder in a shrug. “She was more of a pain in my ass when she wasn’t locked up.”
“Where’s Henry going?” I grab a burger out of one of the bags and hand it to her.
“I assume he’ll just stay in the room at the auto shop. The plan was always to get our own place anyway. It just happened a little sooner than we expected.”
“Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help,” I say before clearing my throat awkwardly. I don’t know how to do this shit. I don’t know how to be a friend. When I took Asher in, it was easy because neither of us was big on talking. He needed a job and a place to sleep, and I gave it to him. He also doesn’t get my dick hard, so there’s that. With Lo, I have this innate need to make sure she’s okay, and I don’t know what the fuck to do with that.
“We’ll figure it out. We always do. You’ve helped enough. You know, with the job and all.”
After that, there are no words. We dig in, eating in silence. Lo moans when she takes a bite, and the sound goes straight to my cock. Her phone buzzes on the table in between us, and my guard goes up instantly, but I relax when I realize she’s talking to her brother.
“Of course, it did,” she says, giving a humorless laugh, dragging a hand through her messy brown hair. I can’t hear what he’s saying, but it’s clearly not good news. “Okay. No, don’t worry about me. Did you manage to get what you needed?” A pause. “Good. Okay. I’ll see you tonight.”
“What was that about?”
“The Toyota died. Henry’s picking Jesse up and seeing what’s wrong. Take me home?” she asks, batting those pretty doe eyes, sticking her bottom lip out in an exaggerated pout.
Like I’d say no to her.
“Yeah, if you don’t mind waiting around until I close.”
“Nope. I’ve got nothing else to do anyway.”
Once we’re finished with our food, we get back to work. Lo calls the next day’s clients to confirm their appointments while I set up for my next session. Tuesdays are generally slow, so Cordell and Matty end up taking off around ten, leaving Lo and me alone. She sways her hips, singing along to “Wrong Way” by Sublime as she cleans the windows, and I excuse myself to the drawing room before I do something stupid. Like bend her over the front desk.
I’ve never been drawn to someone like this. Maybe it’s because I’m denying myself the chance to fuck her that I want her so bad. Maybe we just need to give in, just once, to get it out of our system. Because I know she feels it, too. I see it in the way she looks at me, the way she presses her thighs together when we stand a little too close, the way she licks her lips. I’m hyperaware of her presence, and the only thing worse than not seeing her for three days is having her here to torture me. Either way, I can’t escape her.
I hear a quiet knock on the door before Lo peeks her head through. “I think I’ve officially run out of things to do.”
I slide my phone out of my hoodie pocket and check the time. Eleven eleven p.m. “You can turn off the sign and flip the lock.” Since we don’t have any clients and it’s too late to take a walk-in, there’s no point. If it was the weekend, that would be a different story. Lo bites her lip and nods, like a locked door somehow makes us more alone than we are now.
When she comes back, she sits on the couch on the other side of the room, tucking her hands under her thighs.
“Once I finish this sketch, we can go.”
“Can I see?” she asks.
I hesitate. I don’t like showing people my work, especially before it’s done. Even when it’s for clients, I still have a hard time handing it over. I always want to make one last change. The problem is, I could work on it for one thousand days straight, and still find something I want to tweak every single time.
“Come on,” she drawls. “I can’t even draw a respectable stick figure. I won’t judge.”
“Sure,” I relent. She saunters toward me, her too-long flannel sleeves falling to her fingertips, her ponytail crooked and disheveled in a way that somehow still looks hot. She bends over to get a closer look, taking it in. I think her expression is one of awe, but I can’t be sure.
“It’s gorgeous,” she breathes.
“Sure the fuck is,” I say, but I’m not talking about the drawing. She looks at it, but I’m looking at her. Her berry-colored lips and soft skin so pale that I can see faint traces of the blue veins that run beneath it.
“What is it?” she asks, tracing the elephant head with a crown of jewels and its trunk that’s wrapped around a trinket with her chipped-black fingernail.
“Ganesh. The god of good fortune. One of my regulars wants it on her thigh as a symbol of good luck.”
“Maybe I should get one, too,” she jokes. “I could use some luck.”
“Only if I’m the one to put it on you,” I say. She looks at me to gauge whether I’m joking. I’m not. If anyone gets to put ink on that untouched skin, it’s me. The air between us is charged with tension, and when she sucks her bottom lip into her mouth, I press my thumb against her chin until she releases it. Her pulse flutters in her neck, her chest heaving.
Fuck it.
I grip her jaw, and her eyes flutter shut right before I pull her toward me. I lick at her lips, and she instantly parts them for me. My tongue slips inside, sliding against hers. I stand, keeping my mouth fused to hers, and deepen the kiss. The hand around her jaw slides into her hair at the nape of her neck while my other hand snakes around her waist.
I lift her, her legs automatically wrapping around my waist, and she moans when she feels my hardness through my jeans at her center. I prowl over to the wall and roughly pin her to it as our frenzied hands fight to remove the layers of clothing between us, finally giving in to temptation. Lo rips my hoodie off, taking my shirt with it. I shove my hands underneath her flannel, desperate to feel her skin, as she fumbles with the buttons. Flattening my palms, I move them up her stomach and her ribs, pushing her shirt up as I go.
“We’re not supposed to be doing this,” she breathes, tossing her shirt to the floor.
“Definitely shouldn’t be doing this,” I agree, pulling down the soft, thin, black fabric of her bra to expose her nipples, pebbled and pink. I brush my thumbs over the peaks, and she arches into my touch, only her shoulders touching the wall now.
“We should stop.”
My hands pause their exploring, and I lean back to meet her eyes, waiting for her cue. Lo pulls me back in, her hands in my hair, tugging at the short strands, and sucks my bottom lip between her teeth. I groan, gripping her ass, and swing her around. I lay her on the couch, working my thigh in between her legs.
Lo rubs herself against me and reaches for the button of my jeans. I half-consciously register her phone buzzing somewhere in the distance, but we ignore it. The buzzing never stops, causing Lo to mutter a curse beneath her breath. “It could be Jess.”
I peel myself away from her body, running a hand through my hair. Fuck. Lo sits up, pulling the straps of her bra back over her shoulders before running over to the spot on the supply shelf that she’s claimed as her own personal storage space. When she looks at the screen of her phone, she bristles, and I tense up, knowing exactly why. Lo turns her phone off completely, schooling her expression before walking back over to me.
She pushes on my shoulders and straddles my lap, but I stay still, my arms at my sides, hands resting on the leather cushion. Lo grinds on my lap and leans in to kiss my neck. My dick and my conscience are at odds, one wanting answers, the other wanting action. When her teeth sink into where my neck meets my shoulder, my conscience loses the battle and my hands fly to her ass, squeezing and guiding her movements. My hips shift, seeking the warmth between her legs. Lo slides off my lap, sitting in between my legs. She moves down my body, her delicate hands dragging down my chest and her lips follow. Her teeth tug on the small horseshoe-shaped piercing through my nipple as she goes for the button of my jeans once again. Lo gets my pants halfway around my ass before I muster up all my self-control to stop her, my hands covering hers.
“Stop.”
Wide eyes fly up to mine, hurt, and maybe a little offended. I groan, because the last thing I want to do is stop where this is going, and putting that look on her face is a close second.
“Who keeps calling you?” I ask point-blank. Her lips turn down, and a crease forms between her eyebrows.
“No one.” She’s on the defense again. Her default setting, I’m realizing.
“Don’t bullshit me, Lo.”
“It’s none of your business,” she says, wrestling her hands from my grip. She stands and picks up her discarded flannel. I know she’s going to bolt, so I stand between her and the door, blocking.
“The fact that you just tried to put your mouth on my dick says otherwise.” Okay. Not the best delivery, but the point stands.
“Fuck you,” she spits, trying to move around me.
“Lo. Stop.” I hold her shoulders, trying to get her to meet my eyes. “I’m just…fuck, I’m concerned for you, okay?”
“I can take care of myself,” she insists, her voice still full of steel.
“I see that. I know that,” I agree. “But it doesn’t mean no one else can give a shit.”
Her shoulders sag, and I see some of the fight leave her. I can’t fault her for being closed off. I’m the fucking king of closed off—to everyone besides her, it seems. I’m a hypocrite. It’s like the blind leading the blind, but I’m trying here. Lo sits on the couch, pulling her unbuttoned flannel to cover her chest.
“It’s complicated.”
I wait for her to continue. She rolls her eyes and exhales harshly when she realizes I’m not going to let it go.
“Eric’s someone I used to…date.” She says the word date like it tastes sour in her mouth as she picks at her black nail polish. “He was my boss. It wasn’t healthy. He was manipulative and cruel…and most of all, a liar. Everyone thought he was this stand-up guy. He had me fooled for a long time, too…” She trails off. “I didn’t like who I was with him, so I left. He thought I’d come back. I didn’t. He’s not taking it well. The end.”
My gut tells me she’s oversimplifying things—that there’s more to this story. “When he calls you, what does he say?”
“He mostly just asks me to come back. But the less interested I seem, the pushier he gets.”
“Has he ever hurt you?” I ask with more bite than intended.
“Not physically. I’m not afraid of him,” she says, avoiding a straight answer, and I narrow my eyes. “I just want him to leave me alone.” She inhales deeply. “I just want to move on, but I can’t if he keeps calling me, reminding me of my mistakes.”
I get that more than most people. So many times, I’ve thought about picking up and leaving and starting over somewhere new where no one knows the gritty details of my past, but something has kept me rooted in River’s Edge. It wasn’t until I opened my shop—that I had something to stick around for, though I could relocate if I really wanted to.
“Why not just change your number?”
“I have. This number is brand-new. I don’t know how he got it. He’s very…resourceful.”
“Do you want me to talk to him?”
“God, no,” she says, horrified. “That would only make it worse. Trust me.”
We’re both quiet, neither of us knowing how to proceed. This girl. She’s beautiful and feral and confusing and messy. And that’s exactly why I need to stay away. Neither one of us has room for any more complications in our lives.
I swipe my shirt and hoodie off the floor, balling them up in my hands. “Let’s get you home.”
“Let’s get you home,” Dare says, his voice flat. I knew he’d think differently of me once I told him about Eric—and he doesn’t even know the whole story. Imagine what he’d think if he knew that Eric was also married. Is married.
I nod, tucking my hair behind my ears as I avert my eyes to hide the hurt. The shame. I’ve done a lot of fucked-up things in my life—hazard of growing up the way I did, I guess. I was taught to lie, cheat, and steal, to survive by any means necessary. But out of everything, Eric is the thing I’m most ashamed of. It’s not even the fact that he was married, though that doesn’t paint me in the best light. It’s the fact that I allowed myself to be one of those stupid fucking girls who falls for everything, as long as it comes from a pretty face.
Eric was larger than life. Successful, smart, charming, gorgeous, and completely intimidating…and he wanted me. A ghetto girl from Oakland. I was used to guys like him wanting my body for the night, but Eric…he wanted me. Forever. He preyed on my weaknesses. Preyed on the fact that I was poor and that I wanted to make a better life for Jess. Preyed on the fact that I was hungry for a better fucking life. Preyed on my love for his son, Cayden. He wanted me completely dependent on him.
His wife, Olivia, was too busy snorting pills and drinking vodka for me to ever question his lies. But I started to see Eric for who he was, and suddenly, Olivia’s behavior started to make sense to me. If I had stayed, that could’ve been my future.
The more Eric tried to control me, the more I pulled away. The money wasn’t worth it. None of it was. I stayed longer than I should have because I had this stupid notion that I was one of the only ones in Cayden’s life who even kind of had their shit together, but who was I kidding? I was the worst possible role model. In the end, I left a town that never loved me and a man who wanted to own me.
The keys on Dare’s belt loop jingle, pulling me from my thoughts. He’s sliding his T-shirt down over his head, and I can’t help but notice the way his tattooed muscles flex with the movement. The same ones I had my hands on two minutes ago, until he rejected me.
“Ready?” he asks, tossing his hoodie onto the back of his chair.
Wordlessly, I stand, following him out. When he stops to lock up, I don’t wait for him, heading straight for his truck instead. I hear the truck doors unlock as I approach. I lift one foot onto the bar and reach for the handle to hoist myself inside. I watch Dare as he moves toward me, head down, hands stuffed in his jeans pockets, but when he gets into the driver’s seat, I look anywhere but at him.
I hear the truck start, and he hesitates for a minute. I can feel him looking at me, but I don’t meet his eyes. He denied me when I was on my knees for him. My ego took a blow, and I need a minute to recover from the embarrassment of the situation.
Dare huffs out a breath and starts to drive once he realizes I’m not going to budge. My knee bounces restlessly as I stare out the window. This part of town is decked out for Christmas already, all the buildings and trees glowing with lights. It’s such a difference from the city. It’s like something out of a storybook. I focus on a huge tree with color-changing lights, when I feel Dare’s hand on my knee, stopping my movements. He gives a squeeze, and this time I do meet his eyes. Their blue so bright, even under the night sky. Holding my gaze, his thumb moves back and forth, soothing. I swallow hard, resisting the urge to clamp my thighs shut. He trains his attention back on the road, but his hand stays on my leg. His fingers ghost the inside of my thigh, putting the slightest amount of pressure as he slides them up and down the thin fabric of my leggings. My breath comes out in short pants, and I feel myself clench when he gets closer to where I want him. He teases, getting close to the apex of my thighs, only to glide back down.
“Lo,” he says, his voice thick and gravelly.
“Yeah?” I ask, trying to sound normal, as if I’m not all hot and bothered from his touch alone.
“Where does Henry live?”
I do my best to give him directions while he continues his ministrations, but when he grazes my pussy, I freeze. I can’t form words. What are words? I don’t know anything other than I don’t want him to stop this time. I give up trying to act like I’m not affected, my head thrown back against the headrest, gripping the door handle for dear life.
At first, his touch is feather light, but as my breathing grows harsher and my leggings grow damper, he increases pressure until he’s rubbing firm circles against my clit. “Oh God,” I breathe, unable to keep quiet any longer. I feel my nipples harden against my bralette. Every part of me is hypersensitive, ready to combust.
My eyes are screwed shut, but I sense him slowing down and pulling off to the side of the road, never faltering in his assault between my thighs. Once we’re stopped, his hand is gone for half a second before he shifts and replaces it with his left hand.
“You’re so fucking wet I can feel it on my fingers,” he rasps, like he’s somehow as affected as I am. When I open my eyes, Dare’s closer than I expected, one arm propped on the center console as he stares at the hand moving between my legs. The sight of him watching what he’s doing to me turns me on even more, and a sound somewhere between a whine and a whimper slips free.
I pull his face to mine and lick the seam of his lips. This kiss is all tongues and teeth, rough and clumsy and desperate. I suck his bottom lip into my mouth, and he groans when I tug on it with my teeth. His lips trail down to the corner of my mouth, then my jaw. Dare dips his hand under the waistband of my leggings as he sucks on my earlobe. His warm fingers slip through my lips, and my back bows off the seat. Oh, holy shit, why does this feel so good?
“God, I wish this was wrapped around my cock right now,” Dare says, pushing a finger inside me. The heel of his hand presses against my clit, and I gasp as he adds a second finger, tangling a fist in his T-shirt. “Are you going to come on my hand?”
I nod repeatedly, unable to find words.
“Come for me.”
I’m holding my breath, waiting for my orgasm to wash over me when his teeth dig into my neck, biting hard before sucking away the sting. That’s all it takes for me to contract around his fingers, over and over. It’s never-ending, completely uncontrollable. Dare continues to lick and nip at my neck, shoulder, and jaw as I come down, still pulsing and completely boneless.
“Holy shit,” I breathe when I can finally form words. Slowly, Dare pulls his fingers from me, then rubs me over my leggings—I assume to clean them off—but my hips shift forward, seeking more friction.
“You’re fucking killing me, Lo.”
I lazily turn my head to look at him when I realize we’re parked on Henry’s street. It takes a minute for my brain to catch up to the fact that I never ended up telling him where he lived.
“How did you know where to go?” I ask, my voice hoarse.
“Your employee file,” he says, without an ounce of shame. I want to ask him why he didn’t just say that in the first place, but I decide I don’t care enough to press.
Dare cuts the engine and hops out before coming over to open my door. I right my damp pants and tighten my ponytail that has become a tangled mess. Dare helps me down, and when my feet hit the pavement, my still-weak knees almost buckle, but I recover before he notices.
It’s so quiet and dark here. The complete opposite of where I’m from. This place doesn’t even have streetlights. The upside is you can actually see the stars out here. The downside is I can’t sleep with all this…silence. Ironic, right?
We walk toward the dark-brown battered cabin with the rotted, wooden steps. Henry’s truck isn’t out front, so he must be staying in the room above his shop. I open the front door as quietly as I can. Jess is sprawled out on the couch, dead to the world. I expect Dare to follow, hoping to finish what we started, but he hesitates in the doorway.
“Coming?” I ask, leaning against the doorframe, my double meaning clear. Dare runs a hand over his mouth, indecision warring on his face.
“Fuck it.” He moves past me, and I close the door behind him.
I put a finger to my lips and whisper, “Shh,” before taking his hand and wordlessly leading him to my temporary room. I should probably be embarrassed by my setup. Most girls would. But I’ve never cared much about material things.
I expect Dare to cringe or at the very least look uncomfortable when he sees where I’m staying, but when I flip on the lamp, he doesn’t even bat an eye. Eric wouldn’t have even made it this far. He would’ve taken one look at Henry’s house and turned up his nose, insisting we get a hotel room.
But I don’t want to think about Eric. I want more of the feeling Dare gave me in his truck, and earlier at Bad Intentions. When he’s making me feel good, I’m not thinking about Eric or Jess’ school, my mom…none of it.
Going for bold, I peel down my leggings, kicking them off along with my shoes. My shirt is next, as I push the buttons through each slit. Dare watches me intently. I lift the bralette over my head, feeling my nipples harden in the cold air. Dare’s nostrils flare, and he prowls toward me, curving a hand around my waist.
His thumb comes up to trace the sore spot on my neck as his fingers curl behind my head, his eyes lighting up in a way that tells me he likes that he put his stamp on me. And I like that he likes it.
“What are you doing, Lo?” Dare asks. “I thought this couldn’t happen again, but here you are, naked, fucking taunting me. And here I am, about to break your little rule again.”
“I don’t know,” I admit. “I just know that I want you to touch me.”
“I have a theory,” Dare says, rubbing a thumb over my bottom lip.
“What’s that?” I ask, pushing on his chest, making him walk backwards. Once he gets to my bed, I press down on his shoulders until he’s sitting, then straddle his lap.
“I think I just need to get you out of my system.” His voice is ragged as his eyes move all over my body and his hands come to rest on my waist.
“You think so?” I ask, tugging the bottom of his shirt up, exposing the colorfully inked skin underneath. He lifts his arms, letting me pull it off him.
“Mhm.” His warm hands smooth up my ribs to the sides of my breasts. “The only way to get rid of this itch…” He trails off, rolling my nipples between his fingers, “is to scratch it.”
“Makes sense,” I breathe, rocking against the hardness I feel under his jeans. “So, what you’re saying is—”
“We fuck. Just this once. Then we go back to being…friends.”
“Just friends.”
“Just friends,” he agrees, fumbling with the button of his jeans.
There are no more words. Dare shoves his jeans down just low enough to free his cock. I feel the hard, silky head poised at my entrance, and Dare doesn’t waste any time thrusting his hips upward, filling me in one swift move. We both groan at the sensation. I’m so incredibly full, and it takes me a minute to adjust to the feeling. Slowly, I start to move my hips. Dare leans back, letting me ride him, his pants still around his thighs. I brace my hands against his chest, increasing speed as he watches me move over him.
Dare sits up and finally touches me. He pulls me flush against him before bringing one arm to band around my waist. The other one comes up to grip the base of my ponytail. He jerks my head back, and the sting of pain only makes it more intense, and I move faster, needing more. I’m so wet I can hear it each time I slide back down his length. This. This is what I needed.
Dare flips me over, throwing me to the dingy mattress, not severing our connection. I drag my feet down his ass and thighs, pushing his jeans off. He kicks off his heavy boots and the jeans follow, then he’s punching his hips into mine, fucking me with the same urgency I’m feeling inside.
His head dips down, and he pulls a nipple into his mouth, nibbling and sucking.
“Harder,” I beg, and he listens, biting hard, causing me to clench around him. He almost growls, pumping faster as he moves to give the other side the same attention.
“I’m going to come if you keep doing that,” he warns, but I can’t help it. What he made me feel in his truck doesn’t even come close to this.
“I don’t care. I need it.”
Dare sits back on his heels, lifting my hips until I’m flush against him, my back still on the bed. He controls my movements effortlessly, sliding me up and down his cock as if I’m nothing more than a rag doll. Sweat drips down the side of his face, his bottom lip trapped between his teeth.
He leans over me once again, licking up my sternum before clamping down on my nipple, harder than before, and the sensation is more than I can handle. My back bows off the mattress, and Dare’s hands slide underneath me to cradle me as I come apart, my body shuddering and jerking before going limp in his arms.
“Fuck.” Dare tightens his grip and fucks my boneless body until he tenses up and spills inside me. He loosens his grip and melts into me, his weight crushing me in the best way, as we catch our breath. His damp face rests on my chest, his cock still inside my body. Minutes pass before either one of us speaks.
“Am I out of your system now?” I ask. Dare huffs out a laugh.
“I’m not even out of your body.” He pulls away, and I feel a gush of wetness that reminds me that he came inside me. Dare must notice it, too, because he’s staring right between my legs, his expression intense.
“I’m on the pill,” I say defensively, even though he has no right to be upset with me. He was the one who made the final move.
Dare groans, one hand on his length as he guides it back to me, spreading our cum around before slipping back inside me.
“That means I can do this?” he asks, and my eyes roll back.
“God, yes.”
Dare makes me come twice more in as many positions before he gets off again. We’re both spent and panting by the end of it, and he excuses himself to the bathroom. I mumble some half-intelligible directions on where the bathroom is—not that it would be hard to find, being one out of the three rooms in the place. When he comes back, he looks unsure, probably for the first time since I’ve known him.
“I, uh…” he says before clearing his throat, scratching at the back of his neck in an uncomfortable gesture. “I should go.”
“Oh.” I don’t know what I expected. It’s not like I expected him to sleep over, but I didn’t think he’d run out the door before my cum-stained sheets dry. I don’t know why I thought this would be different than any other one-night stand, but I can’t help feeling rejected by him, for the second time tonight.
“I mean…unless you don’t want me to?”
This is the part I hate. Is he saying that because he doesn’t want to go, or because he thinks I want him to stay and he’s just trying to be nice? People spend so much time guessing what others are thinking instead of just fucking asking. Myself included.
“This was a mistake.” He looks conflicted, his blue eyes swimming with regret. He opens his mouth, then closes it, like he wants to say something but thinks better of it.
“Okay,” I say, because what else do you say to that? So much for having to guess how he feels.
“Lo!” Jesse’s voice breaks through my consciousness, and I stretch my arms above my head tiredly. Soreness between my thighs reminds me of last night’s activities.
I usually don’t sleep so soundly—another direct effect of growing up in a shitty neighborhood with a shitty mom. I never knew when some drunk asshole friend of hers was going to barge in, thinking it was the bathroom. Even worse was when they knew damn well it wasn’t the bathroom and wanted company. Of course, we worried about break-ins, too, but I was more afraid of the people we knew than of strangers. Strangers hadn’t ever let me down the way Crystal and the people she ran around with did.
Jess throws my door open, looking half-asleep himself. He’s wearing a baggy light gray sweatshirt that looks like it hasn’t been washed in a hot minute, the hood pulled over his shaggy, still-wet hair. A black duffle bag is thrown over his shoulder.
“Can I take the car today?”
“I’ll take you,” I say, yawning as I pull the blankets higher. “Just give me a second to get dressed.”
“You have to work today. I have to start that wrestling shit after school.”
“Can’t your coach take you?” It’s not like they aren’t going to the same place.
“Yeah, let me just ask my teacher for a ride. That won’t be weird at all. Come on, Lo. You’re the one who got me into this shit.”
“Excuse me?” My eyebrows must hit my hairline. “Correction: I got you out of this shit,” I say, using air quotes. “You got yourself into trouble.”
“Whatever. Can I have the car or not?”
“Fine,” I say, running a hand through my messy hair. There’s still a hair tie in there somewhere, but I know when I look in the mirror, it’s going to look like an actual bird’s nest. “I’ll find a ride into work. You still have the keys,” I remind him. I never got them back after Henry fixed it last night.
“Thanks. I’m going to have sweaty balls in my face and then have to follow it up with cleaning the whole damn place, so I’ll be home late.”
“Living the dream, man.”
“I hate you,” Jess says, but his lips are quirked up in a grin.
When Jess leaves, I grab my phone to text Sutton and see that I have two voicemails from a private number. I delete them without listening. Eric’s determination shouldn’t surprise me. It’s not about me. I could be anyone. To him, it’s about winning and having the upper hand. Eric probably feels pretty rejected, and there is nothing more dangerous than a man with a bruised ego.
I tap out a text to Sutton, asking if she’ll take me to work before her shift. We both go in at noon, but thanks to the new girl, whom I have yet to meet, I’m only working five hours. I’m scheduled to work a shift at Bad Intentions right after. Where I’ll see Dare.
I didn’t see last night coming. The last thing I wanted was to get myself in another situation like with Eric, but when Dare touched me…he consumed me and excited me and calmed me all at the same time. Dare isn’t looking for anything in return. He doesn’t want a relationship, and he swore anything that happened between us wouldn’t affect my job…what could possibly go wrong? Him regretting it. That’s what.
Sutton texts back, letting me know she’ll pick me up in a couple of hours, so I throw a load of laundry into the washer and take a shower. I take as long as I can, giving extra attention to my makeup, even blow-drying and flat ironing my hair to pass the time, but I still have over an hour to spare. I decide to clean the house, but even that doesn’t take long. I’m literally twiddling my thumbs, looking around the small cabin for something to keep me occupied. What do people who have free time do? Watch TV? Twenty minutes before Sutton is supposed to show, Henry arrives, surprising me.
“Hey, kid,” he says, sporting black Dickies coveralls and a backwards Raiders hat. He makes his way to the sink before dumping the contents of his thermos inside.
“Lunch break?” I ask.
“Yep. Just thought I’d swing by to get a couple boxes from the garage. I’m slowly moving my shit over to the shop.”
I nod, having figured that’s where he’d be staying. “Need me to do anything?”
“Nah. I’m pretty much packed besides the living room and kitchen, and I can’t fit all this shit anyway. If you and Jess want those couches for your place, have at it.”
“Thanks,” I say, leaving out the fact that we haven’t had any luck finding a place yet.
We’re silent for a beat, neither one of us knowing what to say. We’ve seen each other in passing and we had dinner the other night, but for the most part, we’re still strangers.
“Have you, uh, heard from your mother?” he asks, leaning his grease-stained hands against the counter behind him.
“She wrote to Jess. I guess she’s been calling him.” She hasn’t tried to call me once. My guess is she’s trying to pit Jesse against me. It’s what she does when someone’s on her shit list.
“She knows you’re here?” he asks, letting out a low whistle. “Guess it’s a good thing we’ll be out of here soon then.”
“Don’t worry. Even if she gets off easy, she doesn’t like to leave the block, let alone the city.”
“If it’s in the name of spite, she might.”
“Valid point.” Sometimes, I forget that he probably knows our mother better than we do. My phone buzzes on the counter and lights up with a text from Sutton, letting me know she’s out front.
“Hey, Henry?” I ask, stuffing my phone into my back pocket. “I took a job at Dare’s shop. I don’t know if Jess mentioned it.”
“He didn’t. Dare’s a good kid.”
“He’s really helping me out. Anyway, I just thought maybe since I’m not around in the evenings, you could, I don’t know. Be more…present?”
Henry swallows uncomfortably, running a hand over his short, wiry beard. “I wasn’t sure what I should be doing,” he admits. “I wasn’t there for you kids. Hell, Jesse barely remembers me. I’ve been making myself scarce because I’m just really not sure what to do here.”
“He just wants to know you, Henry. He’ll never admit it, though.” I clap him on the shoulder before turning to leave. “Take the kid out for a burger or something. I gotta go. My ride’s here.”
“I’ll see what I can do.” His arms fold across his chest, and I can tell that I’ve planted the seed, at the very least. I’m not expecting Henry to suddenly be father of the year, but I do want Jess to have some sort of relationship with him.
I sling my bag across my shoulder and jog across the fake wood flooring toward the front door. Sutton’s black SUV waits in the driveway, and I hop in. She reaches over the middle console to hug me.
“Thanks for picking me up. Jess needs the car,” I explain.
“It’s all good. I’ve been dying to get you alone anyway.” She wiggles her brows, turning down the radio.
“Not this again.” I roll my eyes, throwing my head against the headrest dramatically as she pulls out of the driveway and heads toward Blackbear.
“Come on, Lo. Admit that there’s something going on between you two.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I lie. I’ve never really had a girl friend. I’ve never gushed about boys or sex or vented about my problems, for that matter. It’s just not something that comes naturally to me. Sutton seems to know everyone, and I haven’t heard anyone say one bad thing about her. Even more telling is the fact that she doesn’t seem to tolerate bad-mouthing others. Of course, she gossips, like anyone else. But she’s also the first one to play devil’s advocate or come to someone’s defense. Case in point—when Jake had something to say about Dare, she shut that shit down.
“Anyone with eyes can tell.” Her head rests against the back of the seat, and she swivels to face me. “I’ve known Dare for a couple years, and I’ve never been able to pull more than two words out of him. I was actually sort of scared of him. I mean, turned on, but scared nonetheless.”
“Really?” I know he’s not the most social person on the planet, but that sounds a little extreme.
“Oh, he’s a broody motherfucker. It takes a long time for him to warm up to people. But it’s like you just…skipped that stage.”
“Hmm.” I don’t know what to make of that. He’s a little rough around the edges, but nothing like what she’s describing. “Do you know what happened? Why Jake seems to think he’s dangerous?”
“That’s his business to tell you. Especially since I’ve only ever heard rumors. This fucking town is full of ’em,” she mutters bitterly. “I truly believe he is good. Briar wouldn’t love him if he wasn’t. I’d warn you if I thought otherwise.”
“It doesn’t matter anyway.” I shrug. He made that clear last night, face full of regret.
“Keep telling yourself that.” Sutton laughs, shaking her head. “Speaking of bosses…”
She spends the drive filling me in about work. Apparently, the new girl isn’t new. She’s the co-owner’s niece, and rumor has it, she and Jake spent all summer hooking up when she worked there. Things went south and now, for some reason, she’s back. That would explain his saltiness about her being there. Gone is the laid-back, flirty manager who made us pancakes, and in his place is Grumpy Jake.
When we get to Blackbear, I fight the urge to catch a glimpse of Dare in the window, going straight to the back to stash my stuff instead. We’re in the middle of the lunch rush, so we don’t waste any time. I grab my apron and almost collide with Jake when I turn to leave. He’s wearing a white polo with the Blackbear logo, and his usually floppy hair is pushed off his forehead, styled to perfection.
“Hey.” I give him a bright smile, and he distractedly mutters a greeting before moving past me. Okay, then.
“Told you he’s different.” She shrugs, tying her apron around her waist as she passes me. “You think he’s okay?”
“He’ll get over it. My bet is that she’ll be gone in a month. She’s not the best server. Hey, you want to get a drink after work tomorrow?”
“Sure. Jess has wrestling shit almost every day now, so that works.” I’m not exactly feeling social. I’d rather wallow in Dare’s rejection and lick my wounds in peace for a day or two. But I’ve always believed in faking it until you make it.
“Perfect.”
The afternoon goes by quickly, and soon my shift is almost over. I’m finishing up with one of my last tables—a family of four on vacation from Sweden—when the door swings open. I look up, mid-smile, only to see him. The grin melts off my face and shock has me frozen to this spot.
Tall and tanned with a perpetual five o’clock shadow. Sharp suit, sharp jaw, and an even sharper tongue. Eric. What the hell is he doing here? He spots me, flashing one of his signature smirks my way before taking a seat in the corner booth.
“Enjoy the rest of your vacation,” I say quickly before hightailing it to Jake’s office. He’s at his desk, eyes focused on the laptop in front of him.
“My shift is almost over. Mind if I leave early?” I try to keep my voice even, though my stomach feels anything but. Jake throws me a disbelieving look.
“First, you’re mad about not getting enough hours, and now you’re trying to cut out,” he checks the time on his phone, “forty-five minutes early?” His tone is biting, and if I wasn’t in such a hurry to get out of here, I might take it personally. I’m under no illusion that Eric won’t follow me when I leave. In fact, I want him to follow me. I want him as far away from my friends, my coworkers, my life that I’ve made for myself here.
“Please, Jake. I’ll explain later. I just really need to leave.”
His expression changes as he detects the desperation in my voice, and he stands quickly, coming to my side.
“Are you okay?” He peeks over my shoulder, looking for clues to my sudden shift in demeanor.
“My ex is here.” I wave an unconcerned hand, trying to downplay the situation. “I just really don’t want to see him.” I don’t tell him that Eric lives four hours away and has probably done some serious stalking to find my whereabouts.
“Grab your stuff. I’ll walk you out.”
“Jake, it’s fine, really. I don’t want to bring my drama here.”
“Get your stuff, Lo,” he insists.
Knowing he’s not going to let it go, I do as he says. I wouldn’t put it past Eric to come looking for me. Jake puts a hand on the small of my back, ushering me through the restaurant and I walk faster, away from his touch, not wanting to provoke Eric. We’re halfway across the floor when Eric rises, along with the dread brewing inside me, and smooths his suit with the palm of his hand.
“Lo.” Eric smiles, coming to grab my elbow in a show of ownership. He flicks his eyes at Jake but doesn’t acknowledge him otherwise.
“What are you doing?” I ask through my teeth, not wanting to make a scene.
“Follow me and we’ll talk.” His eyes narrow in warning, and I nod my agreement if only to get him outside before I chew his ass out.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?” I say to Jake, doing my best to reassure him with my eyes.
“You sure?” Jake’s eyes bore into mine.
“Positive.” I see Sutton looking at us, a mixture of suspicion and concern written all over her face. I smile at her and mouth call me later.
“Let’s go,” Eric says, losing patience. I lead him outside, intent on steering him away from the building, but he jerks my arm, stopping me.
“What the hell are you doing?” I try to tug my arm out of his grasp, but he tightens it painfully. “Ow, Eric. You’re fucking hurting me.”
“Still got that mouth, I see,” he says disapprovingly.
“Let. Me. Go.”
“Why won’t you take my calls, baby?” His voice is that menacingly sweet one. The one that barely conceals his rage lurking beneath his calm façade.
“I left, Eric. It’s over. What don’t you get?”
“It’s not fucking over,” he grits out, yanking me closer. I shove him, but he never loses his grip.
“You’re acting insane!”
Jake pushes the door open, arms folded across his chest. “Is there a problem here?” Sutton is right on his heels, phone in hand as if she’s ready to call the police.
God, this is humiliating.
“Why don’t you go back to flipping burgers?” Eric spits, condescension coating every word.
Before he can respond, the door to Bad Intentions flies open, and Dare strolls toward us. His fists are clenched, but otherwise, he looks completely calm. Eric doesn’t even see it coming when Dare cocks his fist back and smashes it into the side of Eric’s jaw.
Cordell, Matty, and Alec walk out of Bad Intentions half a second later, ready to jump in at any moment.
Eric falls to the ground, cupping his jaw before spitting out a mouthful of blood. I gasp, covering my mouth. Matty tucks me into his side, moving me out of the way. Eric laughs, getting onto his feet, but Dare charges him again. He bunches his suit between his fists and throws him against the brick wall. I cringe when Eric’s head hits the wall.
“Stop calling her. Stop texting her. Do not fucking touch her. Don’t even look at her, or we’re gonna have problems. You feel me?”
Eric blinks in surprise. “Are you fucking this guy?” he asks sardonically, pointing a finger at Dare. “I thought you were with that tool.” He flicks his chin toward Jake. “But clearly, this one knows my business. Or perhaps you’re fucking both? I wouldn’t put it past you.” He shoves Dare away, but Dare head-butts him, effectively knocking that cocky grin off his face.
Eric swipes a hand underneath his bloody nose, and when he looks like he might fight back, Jake steps forward, along with Matty, Cordell, and Alec—their message clear. Despite the fuckupness of it all, something inside me warms at the fact that these boys who barely know me at all have my back. This is what family feels like, I think.
“Go home, Eric.” I shake my head. “This has gone far enough.” Eric’s a betting man, and he knows his odds aren’t favorable.
“How do you think Cayden is going to feel when he finds out?”
Dare looks at me over his shoulder, questions in his arctic eyes.
“This is on you, Eric. Don’t put this shit on me, and don’t you dare bring Cayden into it,” I say, jabbing a finger in his direction. I don’t wait for a response. Ignoring everyone’s curious stares, I grab my bag off the ground and dart inside Bad Intentions, all but running to the waiting room in the back.
I drop my bag onto the pool table and pace the floor. How did this escalate so quickly? Why did he have to come here? A minute passes before I hear the door open, hitting the wall. My head snaps up to see Dare prowling toward me, the guys right behind him.
“Let’s go.”
“Go?” I ask, confused.
“Come on.” Dare holds out his hand, his eyes angry and pleading at once. I place my hand in his, and he pulls me toward the drawing room. Cord asks if we’re okay, but Dare ignores them, slamming the door behind him before flicking the lock.
“Am I fired?” I don’t think he’d fire me for a hookup gone wrong, but for bringing drama to the workplace might be a solid reason.
“What was that?” he asks, ignoring me, pointing to the closed door. “What the fuck was that?”
“Why are you so mad? I didn’t ask for you to jump in!” His anger seems directed at me, and it throws me off.
“So, was I supposed to stand by and watch while he hurt you?”
“I don’t need to be saved, Dare. I had it handled!”
“Yeah.” Dare gives a humorless laugh. “Sure looked that way.”
“Why are you so upset?” His reaction makes no sense to me. I’m humiliated enough, having had almost every person I know here witness my dirty laundry, and his screaming only makes me feel worse. My eyes sting with embarrassment and frustration and I will myself to get it together.
“That’s the guy who’s been calling you. The ex.” He doesn’t ask. It’s a statement.
“Yes,” I say through clenched teeth.
“What else aren’t you telling me, Lo? What did you leave out? Because something isn’t adding up here.”
I shake my head, turning for the door, but Dare’s palm slaps against it.
“Who’s Cayden?”
I whip around, unable to believe the nerve of him. “And how exactly is any of this your business?”
“Cut the shit and just fill me in.” His voice rises with each word. He’s clearly frustrated.
“What do you want me to say, Dare?” I screech back, throwing my arms in the air. “That I fucked the father of the child I nannied? That I’m a whore? That I was too fucking stupid to see how I was being lied to and manipulated the entire time I worked for him?” The tears fall freely now, and I do nothing to stop them. I hate crying in front of people. Dare stands there, jaw clenched and speechless, as I walk over and collapse onto the couch, dropping my head into my hands.
Dare sits next to me, putting a palm on my back, but I flinch away from his touch. I don’t want his pity.
“Don’t.”
Dare pulls his palm back and I keep my head down, trying to get my emotions under control. A minute passes before I feel him stand, then he’s walking out of the room. I flinch when the door slams behind him before bouncing off the hinges.
I smooth my hair behind my ears, then wipe my face with the palms of my hands as I walk toward the door to shut it gently. I give myself five minutes. Five minutes to calm down. Five minutes to get the fuck over it. Five minutes to put on a happy face and go out there like nothing happened. Just five minutes. It’s all I need.