A Moment of Madness (Boston Alibi)

by Brooklyn Skye

  Take his place… “That means you have something?”

  “You can start tomorrow. Be here at five.” He scowled. “A minute late, and my offer will be rescinded.” A gust of breath rushed out from her lungs the moment he released her and stomped away.

  It may not be what she’d wanted—a job instead of ownership of the bar, but a foot in the door was all she needed.

  …

  The door slammed behind Ryan, and Trevor’s head popped up from behind a stack of boxes. Stuffy supply-room air clogged his lungs. Or maybe that was the way he’d just been talked into offering Marty’s estranged daughter a job in his bar.

  The same girl he’d stripped naked last night.

  What. The. Fucking. Hell.

  “What was that all about, boss?”

  Ryan fought the urge to kick the boxes in front of him. Fuck no would he dare explain this to Trevor and come off sounding like a goddamn Jerry Springer guest. “You think you can work the floor tomorrow night?” he asked, grabbing a case of Buds.

  Trevor stilled, a frown pulling at the edges of his mouth. “You find someone else to bartend?”

  “No,” he said. Keeping a casual tone to his voice was like trying to tame a wild bull into submission. “But I just hired a new busser, and I’ll need to train her. No reason we both need to be serving.” He also didn’t want Trevor taking it easy on Sailor—Jennifer—whatever her name was.

  Chapter Four

  Truth #23: Damn the dangers of lust.

  “Is it possible to have a two-day hangover?” Marissa rubbed her temples, her face souring with the movement as they walked down the hallway to Sailor’s apartment.

  Sailor chuckled, discreetly checking her watch. Less than an hour now until she had to walk through the Alibi’s doors. She’d be lying to herself if she said she wasn’t nervous. Or scared. Or worried that Ryan would catch on to what she was doing. Which was…well, she still hadn’t figured that out. Be nice to him, try to get on his good side, make him see that she wasn’t the horrible person he obviously thought she was based on— Yeah, that part wasn’t clear, either.

  The pounding of her heart echoed in her chest, mocking her with something that sounded like good luck, good luck, good luck. Stupid heart, because this had nothing to do with luck.

  She glanced at her cousin, whose fingers were now crawling like a spider across her forehead. “You did practically drink a whole bottle of rum. It might take more than two days to get out of your system.” She slipped the key into her front door, and just as the deadbolt clicked, a loud crash sounded from inside her apartment.

  “That sounded like glass,” Marissa said, her eyes only widening slightly.

  “Drexel,” Sailor shouted and swung open the door. “Jesus, what could he have gotten into now?” The two rushed in shoulder to shoulder, Sailor’s mind running wild as to what her puppy could’ve knocked over. The TV? Maybe the vase she’d placed near the window when she’d moved her father’s picture? Dead center in the living room, they both skidded to a stop as a large navel orange rolled across the floor. It slowed by Sailor’s foot, and she clamped her shoe over it, shouting at the same time, “You broke my fruit bowl?”

  “Umm…” Marissa bumped her elbow, drawing Sailor’s attention past the sea of shattered glass and hodgepodge of bananas, apples, and oranges covering the kitchen floor. Atop the kitchen counter, her crazy puppy stood, his head cocked to the side, tail wagging, and his mouth fixed around a—

  “Mouse?” Sailor jerked her head around to her cousin. “How the heck did a mouse get in here?”

  Marissa stifled a laugh from behind her hand. “I think the bigger question is how your ten-pound puppy managed to get all the way up on that counter and knock your gigantic bowl off.”

  “Gigantic and expensive. Oh my gosh, I think the mouse just twitched.” The tiny gray rodent’s legs jerked again, this time a screech yelping out of it, too.

  Drexel growled around the animal and wagged his tail harder, an aren’t-you-proud-of-me look shining in his eyes.

  Sailor shook her head. “I am so not proud of you, Drex. Good dogs don’t eat mice.”

  “This is grosser than when he drank the overflowing toilet’s water,” Marissa said, still giggling. She nudged Sailor’s shoulder toward the kitchen. “But you know what’ll be worse? If he lets go and that mouse escapes. Into. Your. Apartment.”

  Sailor shivered at the thought of a squeaky mouse hiding out under her bed or in her closet, and then pointed at her puppy. “Drex, baby, I need you to stay.” She eased closer. “Staaaay.”

  The dog lifted a front leg, held it up for a split second, then stepped forward. The mouse squirmed.

  “No!” the two of them shouted.

  “I swear, Drex, if you let that mouse go in here…” Sailor crept forward, arms outstretched, meanwhile scanning the countertops for something to trap the mouse in. No bowls. No pans. Even the coffee pot had been put away. Curse the nervous energy I had this morning. A messy kitchen would’ve been so much more useful right about now.

  The dog watched her. One step. Two. Then he lowered his head, and before Sailor could lunge for him, he opened his jaw, and the mouse scurried across the counter.

  Sailor screamed.

  Marissa screamed.

  Drexel barked and wagged his tail.

  In a blink, the mouse was gone, disappeared to God knew where. Glass crunched beneath Sailor’s shoes as she moved for the dog. “Did you see where it went?” she asked Marissa, who was now standing on a chair, hands up in a surrender pose.

  “No, but you can bet I’m not going to be hanging out here until you catch it.” The ghostly pale tone of her face clashed with the redness of her hair.

  The clock on the microwave caught Sailor’s attention. 4:25. Only five minutes until she had to leave to ensure she wasn’t a minute late to the bar.

  “Look at all this glass, Riss. I can’t leave Drex here while I’m gone.” Sailor made it to the counter and tucked her little man under her arms, turning her face away from his kisses. “Gross, Drex.” She looked at Marissa. “And if I leave him here with that mouse loose, who knows what kind of mess I’ll come home to?”

  By the look on her cousin’s face, she knew exactly where Sailor was going with this. “No way can I take on another dog. I already have two at my house, and they’re crazy. With our luck, your little Drex would come home with worse habits than he has now.”

  Sailor shoved Drex at Marissa. “I need to change.” She hurried into her room and switched out her jeans for some black pants, her flowery blouse for a black tank top. That was what people who worked in a bar wore, right? Quickly, she layered on a bit more mascara, blotted on her favorite lipstick, then shoved her small leather-bound journal into her bag already thinking about her next entry—life could throw her a mouse, a mischievous puppy, and a stomach full of nerves, but she wouldn’t let any of that get in the way of trying to make all of this right. Every lie she’d ever told, every person she’d ever hurt…all of this was for them. Marissa had been the first to forgive her, and she was forever grateful to her cousin for that, but there was still so much damage to make up for.

  “You just going to lock Drex in your room?” Marissa asked from the kitchen. Sailor giggled to herself. Who knew her cousin was so afraid of mice. Sailor would have to get a rubber one for the next time Marissa decided to get wasted.

  “Can’t. Aside from the whole relieving himself on my carpet, he’d probably scratch up the door trying to get out, which I can’t afford to repair when my lease is up.” She grabbed a light sweater and Drex’s leash from the top of the dresser. “I’m just going to have to take him. Hopefully, my new boss won’t mind.”

  Marissa pushed her hair out of her face with her arm as Drex wagged his tail with Sailor’s return to the kitchen. “Let me get this straight,” she said. “You go into the Alibi pretending to want a job from the man who stole it out from under you. He actually gives it to you for God knows what reason, but then
you bring a dog on your first day?” She nuzzled her face into Drex’s fur. “Little Drexie’s cute, but no business owner is going to stand for that.”

  Sailor shrugged and took her dog from Marissa, then clipped on his leash. “I don’t know what choice I have. You said yourself the kennels in town are horrible and off-limits, and yours is full.” She lowered Drex to the floor and patted his head. “Besides, what kind of person could turn down this adorable, fluffy face?” She stood and started for the door, swallowing against the lump of words stuck in the base of her throat. Had Marissa noticed that catch in her voice, too?

  Sailor’s plan to take back what belonged to her had completely gotten away from her, and not because Ryan hadn’t handed over ownership. Deep down, she’d known no business owner would do that so easily.

  If he were here today, he would want nothing to do with you. Ryan’s words screeched through her brain like the sound of a wailing cat. Ryan had known her father—known him, and not just on a friendly level. They’d been close enough to share the one thing her father loved most.

  It was more than jealousy that filled her soul at that thought. More than a burning-hot possessiveness. This feeling inside her was lust on a whole different level. Lust for what belonged to her. Lust for understanding the depth of hate her father had had for her.

  So on the surface—and even to Marissa—it may look like Sailor merely wanted a job in hopes of befriending Ryan. But Sailor’s agenda dug its fingernails into her skin and clawed all the way down to her stomach, twisting and knotting it into a painful mess.

  Damn redemption.

  …

  Red, since when had the bar counter become the color of blood?

  Ryan blinked, the wash of color dissipating from the center of his vision along with the sweltering fire in his chest. This had to be the stupidest thing he’d ever done—offering a job to Marty’s daughter. Letting her in at all.

  What would Marty think of that? Of Ryan?

  God, surely he was going to hell for this.

  The door chimed, and a small fuzzy dog entered, followed by a slender frame encased entirely in black. Ryan’s cock jumped to attention—damn the way her body had felt beneath him, surrounding him…all over him.

  He leaned into the bar, using the pressure to erase the memory, and pointed to what was at Sailor’s feet. “What the fuck is that?”

  Sailor squinted at her feet and then back up. “This is Drexel. My dog.” A tight laugh tittered out of her. “I mean, obviously he’s my dog.”

  “Why the hell is he here? In my bar? When you’re supposed to be working?”

  “Yeah, about that. I had a slight problem at home with a mouse and my favorite fruit bowl and Drex. Glass was everywhere, and my cousin’s kennel is full, so I had to bring him.”

  “That makes absolutely no sense.”

  “I know.” She stopped inside the door, lifting a forced-looking smile. “It’s kind of a long story.”

  The dog sprinted forward and choked when the leash lost slack. Then he spun with a growl and chomped down on the leash, swinging his head back and forth.

  Ryan stared blankly. “What do you plan on doing with him?”

  “Well, he’s really good, so—”

  Ryan lifted a brow. Hadn’t she said her dog was bad the other night?

  “Okay, so maybe really good is pushing it.” She tugged the leash and whispered to the dog, “Drex, you’re not really helping your case here.” Glancing back to Ryan, she inhaled a breath and blew it out. “But he’s just a puppy, and he doesn’t mean any harm. I’ll keep him tied up behind the bar, and I promise I won’t let him get in the way of business. You won’t even know he’s here.” Just as her last word reached his ears, the dog lifted his leg and a stream of yellow shot out to the base of a table.

  Sailor shrieked. Ryan shook his head. What the hell had he gotten himself into?

  A sliver of milky skin stared at him. It was less than an inch, and several feet away from him, but holy hell, he was going to be in trouble if he couldn’t tamp down the urge to run his finger across her back and dip it into the waistline of her black jeans.

  Sailor stood, and with the hand not holding the yellow-soaked paper towel, tugged down the hem of her shirt, covering the slip of skin. Ryan let out a breath.

  “I’m so sorry,” she said, lines stretching across her forehead. “We were in a hurry, so I didn’t walk him before we left my apartment, and he’d been cooped up for a few hours before that—”

  “Just tell me it won’t happen again.”

  “It won’t.” She rocked back on her heels, not meeting his eyes. “I promise.”

  He chuckled to himself as he reached under the counter for a clean apron. “That wasn’t very convincing.” He could see now how Marty had seen right through her pleas for money, her promises that she’d changed and was turning her life around. She lied, but she didn’t lie well, and Ryan would be damned if he let her screw him over like she had Marty.

  He handed her the apron.

  “Well,” she said, draping the neck loop over her head. “I’m not exactly 100 percent sure Drex won’t relieve himself in here again. And he does poo when he’s nervous.” She straightened the material—black against the black of her shirt and pants. “I mean, we’re probably good for a few hours, but I’ll need to walk him.”

  Her round tits pushed against the apron as she tugged the tie straps tighter behind her. Not exactly employer etiquette to stare, but looking away wasn’t exactly easy, either. In his mind, he could see them just as he had two nights ago, bared and perked up from his touch. “Your break is at eight,” he forced out, clearing his throat. “Thirty minutes, which should be plenty of time to do whatever you need to get him not to piss in here again.”

  The dog let out a growl and then ran in a circle around her, wrapping the leash in a spiral down her legs. It tangled with the tie straps, and when the dog went for a second lap around her, the movement pinned her arms to her back.

  “Drexel!” She squirmed, shrugging to counter the tightness. “You tied me up. Baby, look at me. I need you to go left. Go left and unwrap me.” The dog continued, and Sailor’s eyes widened. “No, left. Left, Drex.” She wriggled. The dog barked. And Ryan laughed.

  While standing watching this dog tie up Sailor was amusing as hell, Ryan still needed to train her before customers arrived. He hooked his finger into the dog’s collar and held as he nudged Sailor’s hip to spin in the opposite direction of the binding. “And you said he was good?”

  Once Sailor was free, she handed Ryan the leash, tied her apron, and then tucked the dog under her arm. “Maybe I should’ve said he was harmless. Is there a room in back we can keep him for a little while?”

  Ryan gave Sailor the tour—restrooms, storeroom, and back office, where they left the dog—then she followed him back to the bar, where he explained how she would be cleaning the dirty glasses for the night.

  “Wash, rinse, dry. Seems easy enough,” Sailor said with a brittle smile. Watery and weak—the type of smile someone gave when something was on their mind.

  Ryan stepped in front of her, caging her body between his and the counter behind her. Heat from her skin feathered his arms, his hands, all those areas not covered with fabric. He swallowed and pushed the images of her naked body from his mind.

  “We both know you aren’t here because you want to remember your father or whatever bullshit excuse you gave me.” Her lips parted, as if she couldn’t believe he’d just said that to her. Leaning in, he braced himself just inches from her face. He was only going to say this once, and he’d make damn sure she understood. “If redemption is what you’re after, so be it, but it will not involve this business, nor will it involve me. This job is temporary, and only because I’m in need of the help.”

  Air whispered around them, a strand of hair flaring next to her cheek as she exhaled. “I’m not here for redemption. Just forgiveness.”

  Ryan shook his head. “He can’t forgive you if
he’s gone.”

  Slanting her head to the side, she blinked. “No,” she said. “But you can.”

  Maybe all the drugs she’d done had messed with her mind, because that made zero sense. There wasn’t any way she could know how she’d royally screwed him—ruined his dreams of ever becoming anything more than a bar owner. He eased back, cool air replacing the warmth of her body heat. Regardless…

  “That would require me to care about you, which I don’t.” At the same time he speared her with hardened eyes, a few customers trickled in. He spun and took a stance at the center of the bar, not allowing himself to take in her reaction. Like he’d said, he didn’t care.

  Five people came in that hour, then a group of college kids the following hour. By seven thirty, every stool along the bar was occupied. Not the turnout he’d been hoping for, but it was still early.

  In the tight space behind the bar, Sailor squeezed by him, her shoulder bumping into Ryan’s chest as she retrieved an abandoned beer glass. He bit against a groan. It’d been a while since he’d worked behind the bar with someone else, but last he remembered, there was enough space that she shouldn’t need to be this close to him. Still, his insides twisted in on themselves with the brush of her soft skin. Why did she have to be so goddamn good-looking?

  So fixed in his mind like gum stuck to a shoe?

  And so not the woman he wanted to be attracted to.

  “If I didn’t know any better,” Sailor said, gesturing to the empty tables around the room then dunking the glass into the wash basin, “I’d think it was a midweek afternoon. Is it always this slow in here?”

  The feeling like his nerve endings had split in half zapped across his chest. He glanced sideways, pinning her with a stare and remembering the very reason her good looks and his fixation on them needed to take a backseat. “My bar’s take-in is none of your business.” Truth was, he knew if he didn’t start increasing gains, the bar wouldn’t stay afloat much longer.