“Not yours, I hope.” There’s a hint of a smile on his lips and he arches an eyebrow as he awaits my answer.
I laugh. “No, never mine. I’m still too wild to get married. I like to have too much fun.” I give him a teasing smile.
“Is that so?” he asks, slowly leaning in to test the waters. I know what he wants and the alcohol in my system makes me lean forward, capturing his lips with my own. His lips are soft and teasing. They move slowly at first, but then pick up speed and intensity. They part and his tongue makes its way into my mouth. He tastes of beer and spiced rum, not to mention his scratchy stubble feels good against my soft skin.
His hands are big and strong, but also soft, telling me that he probably has some kind of corporate job. We’re both in the same boat tonight—just looking to blow off some steam and maybe get laid. But who am I to judge? I want him just as much as he seems to want me. His hands travel my body, squeezing my hips, rubbing up and down my back, and back down again to grasp my hips. His lips fall from mine, kissing across my jaw to my neck. I want nothing more than to go back to his place and fall into his bed, where he can show me how good he is with the rest of his body, but I’m here for Cora, I remind myself.
“Let’s get another shot,” I tell him, pulling back but keeping his hand in mine while I drag him over to the bar.
He stands at my side. “Are you sure you can’t sneak away from them for the night?”
I smile. “I probably could, but I won’t. Tonight isn’t about me,” I say, but I’m not sure if I’m telling him or reminding myself. I seem to be doing a lot of that tonight.
“And I can’t talk you into changing your mind?”
I shake my head. “Not tonight,” I say around a teasing smile.
He pulls his wallet out of his back pocket and hands over a card. “Well, call me when you do.”
I look at the card and see his cell number and name, Foster Wilder of Wilder Industries. Since we’ve been dancing, I don’t have my purse with me, so I slide the card down into my bra for safekeeping. “I’ll call you sometime,” I promise.
“I hope so,” he says, leaning in toward me. He smells delicious—like deep oak, a hint of sunshine, and a summer breeze. He smells clean and fresh, but also thick and woodsy at the same time. It’s the perfect combination to have my mind spinning.
“So, tell me about yourself, Foster,” I say, sliding my money over for a drink.
He smiles and it makes my breath catch in my throat. “Well, after college I went to work at the family business. Since then, I’ve been climbing my way up the ladder. I’ll hopefully earn those CEO letters behind my name someday.”
“How old are you?” I’m handed my drink and I stir it before taking a sip.
“Thirty-two,” he answers. “How old are you?”
“Twenty-four, but I don’t have some fancy corporate job. I work as the PR director at a local no-kill shelter.”
He nods and the corners of his mouth turn up into a smile. “So you like animals?”
“I love animals. What’s not to love? I handle the shelter’s advertising and plan all the adoption events we hold. I also foster dogs.”
His eyebrows go up like he’s impressed. “How charitable of you. What do you like to do when you’re not working?”
I shrug. “I’m a free spirit. I like to do anything as long as it’s fun. I’m a play-it-by-ear kind of person. I never make plans. I always just . . . do whatever I want.”
He smiles. “Seems like we have a lot in common.” He leans forward and I feel the air between us growing thick. Slowly, we both lean in and I can’t wait to feel his lips against mine again.
“Harley! Get your butt over here!” one of the girls yells, and it steals my attention. I look over my shoulder at them and see they’re laughing, talking, dancing, and having fun. I turn my attention back to Foster. “I guess I should be getting back, but I have your number.”
“You better use it too,” he says around a flirty smile.
“I will,” I promise, a shy smile of my own breaking through as I turn and walk away from him. I take my place back with the girls and they’re all giddy after watching me with Foster. I dodge the million questions they throw at me as I look over my shoulder and throw him one last glance.
I don’t know what happened, but once I pulled myself away from Foster, the drinks seemed to hit harder. I’m barely able to stay on my feet as we all dance. I open my eyes and look around, wondering how exactly I ended up on top of a table without realizing it.
“Ma’am, you have to get down. Come on,” the security guard says, reaching up for me.
“What? Go away,” I start, but his hand catches my wrist and pulls me downward. I fall and he catches me in his arms as the table I was standing on topples and falls to its side, clanging loudly off the floor.
“That’s it. You’ve had enough. Time to go,” he says, setting me on my feet and pulling me toward the doors.
“Wait. What?” I ask, looking around for someone to help, but he’s pulling me out too quickly. My vision is so blurred that I can’t make out any of my friends. The next thing I know, we’re outside in the cool air. I breathe it in deeply as I turn to face him.
“You need a cab or something?”
I frown. “No, I can get my own cab,” I insist. “Why am I being thrown out? My friends are still in there looking for me.”
He crosses his arms over his big chest and shakes his head. “You know you’re not allowed to dance on the tables. This is a bar, not a strip club.”
I gasp. “Screw you, guy!” I poke him in the chest with my index finger as I try to step around him, but he matches me step for step. “I’m just going to go inside the moment you stop watching,” I say, balling my hands into fists at my sides.
He rolls his eyes. “Yeah, like this is my first encounter with a drunk girl. I’m going to be standing right inside that door. Try coming in again and I’ll call the police. We have them on speed dial here. Don’t try me. Just go home and sleep it off.” Without another word, he spins around and walks back into the bar.
I take a deep breath and try to cool myself down. What a bunch of shit. I wasn’t doing anything wrong. So what if I danced on a table? It’s not like I killed someone. It’s not like anyone was hurt.
With a surge of bravery and righteous indignation, I head back into the bar. I walk right through the doors, but within several steps, someone catches me around the waist and drags me back out.
“I told you,” he says in my ear, “but you didn’t even wait a whole minute!” He has a hint of amusement in his voice, but I don’t find this funny.
“Let me go!” I order. “Get your hands off me.” I fight against his hold.
Finally he sets me back down on the sidewalk outside the bar. I spin around to face him. “What’s your problem? It’s not like you’re king of the bar. I wasn’t hurting anyone.”
“That’s not the point. Our insurance doesn’t cover drunk girls dancing on tables. If you fell off, broke your neck, and tried to sue, you’d shut us down.”
I nearly snort. “Oh, I wouldn’t fall, but if I did, I wouldn’t sue. It was my dumb decision to dance on the table.”
“Exactly. Dumb decision. Now go home and sleep it off.”
“You sleep it off,” I argue.
“Is there a problem here?” a man says, and I turn to look at him. It’s a police officer.
“No, there’s no problem. Is there?” I look at the security guard.
“Actually, I’ve had to remove this woman from the bar twice now.”
“Ma’am,” the police officer says, “I suggest you take the kind hint this man is giving you and take yourself home before I have to arrest you.”
My eyes grow wide. “Arrest me for what?” I ask, shocked.
“Disorderly conduct,” he answers.
The security guard goes back inside, leaving me alone with the officer. “Look, my friends are still in there. One of them has just gotten engaged an
d we’re supposed to be celebrating. Can I please just go back in? I promise I’ll behave.” I offer up a smile and bat my lashes a little.
“I’m sorry, ma’am, but I can’t allow that.”
“Not even if I show you my—?” My hands are already clutching the bottom of my top, lifting it upward.
“That’s it,” he says, cutting me off. His hands catch my wrists and he somehow manages to spin me around so they’re behind my back. The next thing I know, I’m in a pair of handcuffs and being shoved into the back of a police car.
Fuck. I really did it this time.
Two
Foster
“Who was that girl you were talking to?” my best friend, Matt, asks as we make our way out of the bar.
I shrug. “Just some chick I met. Her name is Harley. Hot as hell,” I add on as I climb into the passenger seat of his car.
He laughs and shakes his head.
“What? We don’t all have a Poppy,” I point out.
He puts the key in the ignition. “I didn’t say a word, but aren’t you supposed to be dating that Bianca girl?”
I wave him off. Bianca is a girl I grew up with who has always seemed to be meant for me. Our families expect it. We’ve been groomed for this. But I’m just not ready to settle down. Maybe one of these days I’ll be the man she deserves, but that day isn’t today. Right now, my biggest concern in life is having fun—not getting married and having kids with the woman who’s been chosen for me.
“Nothing’s been written in stone yet,” I point out.
He laughs. “So what you’re really saying is that you’re rebelling against your family’s plans and doing whatever the hell you want? When did you start following in my footsteps?” he jokes.
I hold up my middle finger. “I’m not rebelling against anything. Bianca’s a great person. She’s beautiful, classy . . . a very lovely girl. And one of these days, we’ll probably get married and have kids and all that shit. But right now, I’m just not ready for that, and I intend on having the time of my life until I am. Harley was just going to help me out in that department. And hopefully she still does. I gave her my card.”
He laughs and shakes his head again. “You’re never going to grow up, you know?”
“Hopefully,” I reply quietly.
I pull my phone out of my pocket and see I have a missed text from my father.
Dad: I hope you’ve asked Bianca to the charity dinner this weekend.
I roll my eyes and reply.
Foster: Actually, I don’t know if I can make it this weekend.
I put the phone away, not in any hurry to read his reply.
I know my father is just trying to do right by me. He wants to see me settle down and marry a beautiful woman who will love and respect me rather than using me for my social status or money. He wants grandkids and a responsible son who’s capable of taking over the family business.
So even though I know all of that, why am I fighting against it so hard? I’m in my thirties. I know it’s time for me to settle down and get serious, but that’s just not appealing to me at all. I don’t see his way as the only way. All I see is a window, and I’m getting pushed out of it. If I have to hear about how my mother and father were married straight out of high school one more time, I might flip out. They don’t get that times are different. They think it’s still completely acceptable to arrange a marriage, and even though they’re not trying to force me to marry Bianca, I know that’s what’s expected of me.
“Here you are, man,” Matt says as he comes to a stop on the side of the road in front of my building.
“Thanks. I’ll catch ya later,” I say, reaching for the door handle and climbing out. The moment my foot is on the sidewalk, the cool breeze blows and I breathe it in deeply as a way to clear my head of all these heavy thoughts. I say good night to the doorman as I make my way inside and up to my penthouse apartment. Once there, I drop my keys and wallet on the table by the door and pull off my jacket as I make my way deeper into the room. I toss my jacket over the back of the couch then have a seat. Bending over, I remove my shoes and prop my feet up on the table. I grab the remote and turn on the TV, flipping to SportsCenter.
See, this is the kind of thing I like. I like coming home to an empty apartment. It’s always quiet and everything is exactly where I left it. If I were married with kids, I’d be coming home to noise and my shit all over the place, plus the TV would probably be playing some cartoon show. Instead, I get up and grab a beer, enjoying the silence of nothing but the TV.
I watch an old rerun of a football game and drink my beer. There’s a crystal bowl of mixed nuts in the center of the table—compliments of my mother—and I set it on my lap to snack on as I watch. The game is halfway over when my phone rings. I pull it from my pocket but don’t recognize the number. With a shrug, I answer it anyway.
“Hello?”
“Hi, uh, Foster?”
I frown. “Yes, who is this?”
“This is Harley. We met at the bar?” she reminds me with her shaky voice.
“Oh, hey. What’s up? Did your party end early?” I smile, thinking of the possibilities.
“It did for me. I’m in jail. Is there any way you could come bail me out? I’m really sorry to ask this of you. It’s just that I had your number on me and I don’t remember anyone else’s number.”
I laugh. “Why were you arrested?”
She takes a deep breath. “It’s a long story. I promise to tell you if you come get me. I can give you the money right back. It’s not a problem.”
“I’ll be right there,” I say, hanging up and laughing to myself. I knew the moment I saw her that she was going to be a fun ride.
I quickly pull my shoes back on then grab my wallet and keys. I lock up behind me and head down to the parking garage. I hit the button and my Ferrari unlocks. I climb behind the wheel. Thirty minutes later, I’m pulling up to the police station. When I walk inside, I notice the lobby is quiet, empty, and too cold to be comfortable. The officer behind the glass looks up from his paperwork.
“Can I help you?”
I nod and close the distance to the window. “Yes, I’m here to bail out Harley.”
“Harley?” He waits for a last name, which I don’t have.
“Oh, um, I don’t know. I just met her. I think she was just brought in from Stella’s Bar. She’s hot, with dark hair.”
He rolls his eyes and shakes his head slightly but starts tapping on the computer. “Harley Stein?”
“Uh, yeah, I guess so.”
“That’ll be $150.”
I pull out my wallet and hand over my card.
He takes it, swipes it, then hands it back with a receipt. “Have a seat and we’ll bring her out soon.”
He stands and walks away from the desk. I turn and find an empty chair in the freezing, too-bright lobby. The floor is white linoleum and the walls are white-painted cinder blocks. The florescent lights on the ceiling flicker, casting a harsh light that almost hurts my eyes. The wooden chair is hard and cold from being in this room. Everything about this place screams you never want to be here! Fortunately for me, I don’t have to wait long, because she’s practically being pushed out the door.
She sees me and her anger falls away. “Oh, thank God. Thank you for coming for me.”
I laugh and hold out my arm, gesturing for her to walk ahead of me.
Once we’re in the dark parking lot, I lead her over to my car.
“This is yours?”
“Yep.” I know owning a Ferrari GTC4 Lusso Grand Tourer is fucking impractical, but it’s one of the perks of being rich. I unlock it and open her door for her.
She slides in and I close it, heading around to get behind the wheel. “So what happened after I left?” I ask with a smirk, unable to hold back my excitement and curiosity.
“Well, I had more to drink . . . a lot more. Then we all started dancing. I don’t even remember climbing up on the table, but . . .”
“Whoa,
you were dancing on the table?”
She nods, looking annoyed with herself. “That’s what got me thrown out. So then I was standing on the street, arguing with the bouncer. I didn’t have my jacket or purse or even my house keys. I needed to go back in to get my stuff, plus I wanted to tell my friends so they wouldn’t worry. But he wouldn’t let me in. So I snuck in and was caught immediately. He took me back outside and a cop was there. He asked what the problem was and I may have . . . well, I tried to show him my boobs in exchange for letting me go.”
I burst out laughing. “You tried to bribe a cop by showing him your boobs?”
She nods. “Yep.” Her lips make a popping sound with the P. “Not my proudest moment, I’ll admit.”
I laugh. “Well, it makes for a good story.”
She rolls her eyes. “I bet my parents won’t think so,” she laughs out.
“Where am I taking you?”
“Oh, I don’t have my purse. My keys are in my purse.” A sudden panic sets in.
“Well, do you have a doorman or someone who can let you in?”
She shakes her head and her dark hair falls in her eyes. “I live on my own . . . in a house.”
I’m about to tell her she can crash at my place, but she cuts me off.
“You can just take me to my friend Cora’s apartment. Hopefully she grabbed my purse from the bar.”
“Okay, sure,” I agree and listen as she tells me the address.
It doesn’t take us long to make the drive, and I park in front of the building. She offers me a smile and thanks me before climbing out. But I’m not leaving yet.
I watch as she walks up to the building and presses a button. The longer she stands there, the more impatient she looks. Finally, she stomps her foot and comes walking back. “She’s not answering,” she mumbles, looking up at the dark building. “I don’t know where else to go.”
“That’s all right. You can stay at my place and I’ll bring you back over in the morning.” I hit the blinker and merge into traffic.
“I’m so sorry. Right about now, I bet you’re wishing you never met me, huh?”
My Accidental Forever (Love You Forever Book 5) Page 2