by Calinda B
Zoé returned and stood rigidly at the table. “What do you want?”
“Hold up a sec.” Billy gestured to someone across the room. “We have another joining us.”
A short, lithe blonde woman staggered unevenly across the floor.
She’s hammered. Jace smirked.
When she reached the low-backed booth, her eyes widened at Jace. “Well, hello. You didn’t say he’d be this handsome.” She slid in next to Jace, uninvited. “I’m Simone.”
“Meet your new girlfriend,” Billy said. “We met her in the back.”
“When you finally both emerged from the ladies’ room,” the woman said in a sultry voice, “looking very pleased with yourselves.” She dabbed at her glossy pink lips with one manicured-nail. She turned her gaze toward Jace. “Just like we will soon.” Her sour, boozy breath reached his nose, making him recoil.
Zoé’s face assumed the countenance of a soldier. “Your order?”
“Another beer for me, a dirty martini for my girlfriend, another rum and Coke for my buddy…” Billy’s irises were huge, black orbs, obscuring the blue. He sniffed and wiped his hand under his nose.
“I’m good,” Jace said, holding his palm over his full glass.
“Another rum and Coke for my boy,” Billy said, frowning, “And Simone?”
“I’ll have what he’s having,” she said, scooting closer to Jace.
He tried to push away, but bumped against the wall. Simone placed her hand on his thigh and began stroking. His body responded as her unwelcome, sharp fingernails dug into his jeans. Shit. He plucked her hand from his leg and placed it in her lap. She wriggled her skirt up, grabbed his hand, and placed it in the hot crevice between her legs.
His cock continued to harden and beg like a whimpering dog, diverting his attention from Zoé. Fuck. He yanked his hand free and placed both palms on the table.
“I don’t want another drink, Billy.” He looked up to say something to Zoé but she’d already disappeared. He turned his gaze back to Billy. “How do you know Zoé?”
“I don’t know that I actually know her. She seems familiar. Probably on the back burner.”
“One of your back-burner babes?” Jace said, his jaw tightening.
“Probably. I don’t know.”
“I’m not going to be a back-burner babe, am I?” Jasmine asked hotly. “This is the real deal, right?”
Billy ignored her, flipping his highlighted hair away from his icy blue eyes. “Maybe we bought parts from her for the yacht at work.”
“Ooh, you boys own a yacht?” Simone cooed. She placed her hand on Jace’s thigh again, her fingers dancing along his erection.
His breathing quickened. So tempting. He glanced across the bar toward Zoé, removed Simone’s hand, and put it in her lap once more. She smelled of too much perfume, a touch of weed, and not enough reality.
“I don’t,” he said. “Billy does. I work on them when not on assignment.”
“I do, too,” Billy said. “I work on yachts.”
“Whatever.” Jace wiped his hand over his face. “You sound like a fucking two-year-old, dipshit. You don’t have to work. I do.”
Billy scowled and turned his head. “Where’s that damn waitress with our drinks?”
“What kind of assignment?” Simone asked.
“Photography. I’m a nature photographer. Nat Geo and some of the others give me a call time to time.”
“Seriously?” Simone’s tone changed like she’d just scored some bank, big time.
“After we leave,” Billy said, moving the conversation along, “I suggest we head for my pop’s place. He’s got a high-rise apartment overlooking the water. It’s stocked for playtime, guaranteed.”
“You and your fucking father,” Jace said, shaking his head. “You’re a couple of man-whores.”
“You should talk,” Billy said.
“Sounds divine,” Simone slurred.
“I don’t think so,” Jace said. “I have responsibilities.”
He blinked, trying to remember what they were. A beautiful face floated through his fuzzed-out brain. Right. He sighed.
“Come on, let go a little,” Simone said. “You look like you could use some fun. I know I could.”
“Yeah, come on, Jacie-poo,” cooed Jasmine.
Jace stared at her, his forehead creased. Jacie-poo?
For the next several minutes, Jace sat awkwardly at the table, searching for Zoé.
She stood at someone’s table, across the room.
Come on, baby, eyes over here. Billy, Simone, and Jasmine were talking but he wasn’t clocking it at all. Look at me. She glanced his way and his cock twitched as he made his intention clear with his gaze. And the launch sequence is initiated, he thought smugly. Locked and loaded.
Several minutes later, Zoé stalked over with their drinks.
“Here you go, Mr. O’Reilly.” She slid his beer in front of him. “Sir,” she said curtly, setting down Jace’s rum and Coke with a thwack, and shoved it in his direction.
He caught it before it collided with the salt shaker, wishing he would have taken her up on the cab offer — if she got in it with him. It had been so long, all he’d need was a few blocks worth of cab time.
“Ladies,” she said, following suit with their drinks.
Jace tried to make eye contact with her without success. Shit. His lower mind was about to have a tantrum.
She whirled and stomped away.
Billy’s eyes smoldered, predatory, locked on Zoé. The bastard ran his tongue between his lips, as he gazed at her.
“You can be such a douche-bag,” Jace said.
Billy laughed.
“Let’s drink these and get out of here,” Billy said.
“I said, no thanks,” Jace repeated.
“Come on,” Simone insisted.
His phone vibrated in his pocket. He fished it free and looked at the screen, his eyes widening. A giant sigh left his lungs. “And here’s my answer — again.”
He held it up for all to see. The word Emergency glared from the device. He turned it back toward him, reading the next message. She’s hysterical. I’m dying. Help! “Fuck,” he muttered. “It’s the goddamned babysitter.”
He shoved it back in his shirt before guiding Simone out of the booth so he could escape. He flipped a few bills on the table, scanning the bar for Zoé, hoping to at least apologize for his dipshit friend. Not able to find her, he raced toward the exit to get to his bike — a Deus Grievous Angel motorcycle with a little customization of his own, his pride and $24k joy, bought after a particularly lucrative photography assignment.
He bolted from the bar.
“Hope everything’s okay,” Jasmine called, lifting her hand to wave goodbye.
“I’ll take a rain check, lover,” Simone yelled from the doorway of Chica Ríos as he strapped on his helmet. “I’d love to go riding with you sometime!”
“Not gonna happen,” he muttered and sprinted across the street in the misty, chilly air to his ride.
He lifted his head to catch Zoé staring at him through the front window, wiping down a table. She’s another matter altogether. She’s the kind of gal I’d love to take for a good, long ride. His brain whirled with schemes, wondering how he could bed her, hoping he could keep her separate from his life.
No woman in her right mind would touch him if she knew how cursed he was. Ever since he left trouble behind, it followed him, chasing him like a junkie, desperate for her next fix. He wondered how he’d ever be free of it. Maybe, like the antelope he shot as a teen, someone would have mercy on him and put him down, for good.
Chapter 2
Zoé
Zoé hustled to the Chica Rios bar, drink order in hand, considering all the ways she might be considered a good catch. When nothing came to mind, she reminded herself she’d sworn off relationships after her fling with Billy O’Reilly and the losers who preceded him. Like Jack.
Is it too much to ask to find a guy to love me and
not just get in my pants?
She took a lingering glance at the booth in the front of the restaurant, eying the occupants—one, in particular. Jace Savage. He’d probably be a good fuck. But I need love, not sex. She reined in her attention forcing herself to wipe down her tray. Then, her gaze skipped back to Jace’s table like her eyes were iron and he was a magnet. Good, solid, caring, sweaty, mind-blowing — wait a minute, am I thinking about love or lust? She shook her head. Not going there. Not since Jack crushed me and Billy broke my heart. Must focus on my education. She bit her lip, her attention skidding back to Jace’s table. Oh, no, he’s looking at me.
“Zoé? Can you take this drink order to table two?” Her manager broke her reverie.
Zoé looked up, surprised. “What? Oh, sure, Sharon, table two.”
“Yeah, we’ve been slammed tonight. Pre-season football game at the stadium. All these kids, barely drinking age,” Sharon said, grimacing. “And they never leave a tip.” She brushed her hair out of her eyes, started to zip away, then paused. “You all right? Things okay with your dad?”
“Yeah, I suppose. He’s a tough guy so he’ll heal. It kind of made for a long day for me, though.” Her attention wandered to Jace’s table. She let her gaze trace his muscles, while her imagination veered toward a bedroom and one whole night to forget she ever had anything to do with Billy O’Reilly. She refocused on Sharon.
“What happened? I only heard a mention on the radio in the break room.” Again, Sharon pushed her hair from her face with her forearm.
“All I know is he was guiding a group of teens down the Skykomish this morning. They found a capsized raft. He rescued some swimmers or something. You know what a yahoo my dad can be.”
“Your dad’s a hero, then.”
“That’s my dad,” Zoé said, her tone bland. “Always the hero.” My brother was just like him. We’d show up somewhere, together, and he’d be the center of attention, while I faded into the background.
Sharon looked nervously around the room. “We’ve got to get these orders out. Finish the story later, will you, love?”
“Sure thing.” Zoé hefted the tray into the air and hustled through the crowd. She didn’t have much to add. Her dad had been his usual closed-mouth self on what happened, what he felt about the event, anything…. It often took a sledgehammer to get him to deal with anything emotional. Men.
She avoided the table Jace sat at but her eyes kept being drawn in his direction. Like now. Shit. He’s looking at me. Look away! If he’s a friend of Billy’s, he’s no doubt trouble.
She lifted her eyes in his direction again. Wham! His gaze slammed into her with such force she nearly tripped. The guy must be horny. Nope. You’re not going to get with me.
Such a shame. He seemed different than the quiet, introspective types she usually dated. Guys who seemed nice at first but ended up being boring or just plain weird eventually. Like Brian. Brian and I had polite sex. ‘Was that okay with you?’ ‘Yes, Brian, you were wonderful!’ She rolled her eyes, remembering. Or, sweaty, pimply Kevin. She shuddered at the memory, ashamed at the thought of being with such a smelly, oily faced guy.
After that, it was Jack. He was handsome and popular. She thought she loved Jack. She thought Jack loved her. Meanwhile, he was proposing to Suzette behind my back.
And then, lost in a downward spiral of self-loathing, she’d gone for Billy “Asshole” O’Reilly. Her stomach clenched. What a jackass. He’d been a smooth talker. Talked himself right into my bedroom. I thought we might’ve had something, too. Now he can’t remember my name? She reached behind her and absently-mindedly touched the back of her head. Billy left his marks, that’s for sure.
No, if “wild and uncontrollable” Jace Savage was with him, she would stay the hell away. It probably wouldn’t go anywhere, anyway, even if he did want to go out with me. Like that would happen. Besides, he’s with Blondie and her fake tits.
She took two more orders from table’s six and eight, and sped back to the bartender.
Her work buddy Devon mixed a steady stream of drinks behind the bar, chatting with customers, keeping it light, friendly, yet orderly.
“Hey, Zo,” he said, leaning across the counter to take the order from the tray. “Busy tonight, huh?”
“I’ll say. Bad night to pull in late.” She leaned across the bar, rubbing her temples, finally feeling the fatigue of the day. Getting a call that her dad was in the emergency room and having to drop everything to pick him up was stressful. Seeing Billy only added to the stress.
“Your dad okay?”
“He’ll live.”
“Why’d you have to pick him up? Doesn’t he have a girlfriend?”
Zoé scowled. “It’s what I do. I’m the responsible one. He expects me to be there so I am.”
He picked up her order. “Let me get your drinks started.” He nodded toward Billy. “Aren’t you dating that guy?”
“Dated. Past tense.” She rubbed her arms, remembering what he’d done to her.
“Oh. Things didn’t work out the way you wanted?” He retrieved a bottle of top shelf rum, dispensed Coke over the ice in the two glasses, and poured in a measure of the alcohol. As he filled the cocktail shaker with the ingredients for the dirty martini, he said, “You’re a catch, Zo. He’s no doubt the loser.”
She glanced at Jace who now seemed to have laser beams for eyes, trained in her direction. She smiled ever so slightly and turned away. “Thanks, Devon. And yes, to the loser part. Would you believe he didn’t even remember my name?”
“Ouch.” Devon made a gesture like plunging a knife into his heart. “Total dickhead. Want me to spike his drink?”
“What you got?” Zoé smiled. “Anything lethal?” She laughed. “Actually, I’ll take a pass. Don’t need a prison record. Have to finish school first.”
“How’s that going?”
“Pretty good. It’s exciting. I have one semester to finish, then I’ll be certified. More like certifiable. School, work, more school, more work —it’s been rough. I have no life.”
Not since Billy and I…
“Landscaping, right?”
“Holistic Landscape Design—permaculture. I’d love to work in Costa Rica. They’re quite forward thinking when it comes to biodiversity.”
“Oh, that’s cool,” Devon said.
“Hey! Can I get a beer?” a customer called.
“One sec,” he said, holding up his finger.
Sharon bustled up to the bar, slid her order to Devon, and said, “Chop, chop, Zoé. No time for chit chat.”
“Got it, boss.” She lifted the tray of drinks and stiffly walked over to Jace’s table. He’s staring at me. Staring at me! When she reached Jace’s table, she practically threw the drinks at them. Then, like a spaced-out zombie, she called Jace “sir.” Sir! Can you believe that? What a dummy! She beat a fast exit from their table, bee-lining it for the women’s room. There, she pulled a couple paper towels from the dispenser and swiped her eyes, totally overwhelmed by the day. It had been a rough one. She worried about her dad. Plus, seeing Billy had reminded her of all the heartache she’d experienced. She tossed the paper towels into the trash, noticing the used condom lying on top.
“Ew. Probably Billy’s,” she muttered.
He’d seduced her in a women’s room once, too. Shit-bag asshole. Good luck to the next girl.
She made herself look presentable, and then exited the bathroom. She intended to make a better impression on Jace. When she arrived at this table, he wasn’t there. Where’d he go? Probably to screw Blondie, she thought sourly. She scanned the room, finding the blonde bimbo hanging out the front door.
Zoé grabbed a damp cleaning cloth off the back bar, heading to bus tables. She spied a helmeted guy out the window, getting on his motorcycle across the street. Is it Jace? Her heart pumped a little faster as whoever it was turned to look at her. She’d probably never see him again. She didn’t know whether she should be feeling “good riddance” or “another miss
ed opportunity.”
“I’d think twice before you pitch your panties for him, Zelda.”
She jerked from her thoughts. “What?”
Billy O’Reilly stood next to her, his horrid aftershave assaulting her nostrils. It had taken weeks to get the stench of him out of her clothes.
“Him. He’s someone to watch out for.”
“Who says I want to pitch my panties for anyone? I have an education to pursue. And, the name’s Zoé, not Zelda, asshole.”
“Whatever. I’m warning you, that’s all.”
“If it comes from your lips, save it. You’re hardly a reliable witness.”
Billy laughed and sauntered toward the men’s room.
Her eyes narrowed as she watched his retreating back. What did I see in that guy?
He glanced at her as his hand reached for the men’s room door. Smiling, he tilted his head toward the door, as if in invitation.
Flashing him the finger, she glared at his smirking face.
He laughed, shrugged, and disappeared into the loo.
What did he mean? Still…she turned to face the window.
Jace pulled out into the street on his motorcycle.
Where will I find someone to love me back and be with me through thick and thin? It’s sure not going to be Jace Savage. That boy is sex on wheels.
Chapter 3
Jace
Toddler screams assaulted Jace’s ears as he propped his bike in the garage of his house. He let himself in through the garage door, setting his black and red helmet inside the doorframe. He dropped his leather gloves in the cushioned polystyrene liner, and hung his leather jacket on a wooden hook to the right. He quickly untied his motorcycle boots, kicking them off, and padded with sock-clad feet into the kitchen to the tune of a squalling child.
“Come here, baby girl,” he said to the pint-sized screamer.
“I’ve tried everything to get her to stop crying, Jace,” his teenage neighbor Lila said. She held tight to Marni’s writhing, squirming body, bouncing her on her slim hip. A cloth diaper rested on her shoulder, covered with remnants of food.