Walking back into my bedroom, I pick up my Miss Me jeans with the glittery studs on the back pockets and slip them on. I’m wearing my favorite black, lacy, push-up bra, and I need to pick a top which will show off my assets. My wardrobe consists of black, black, and more black. I find the perfect top—it’s a crop top that crosses over with long sleeves and a cut-out up high which shows off a bit of cleavage. It screams sexy, and when I look at myself in the mirror, it’s kind of trashy, but it’s my style. I prefer the term country chic, but it’s yet to catch on.
The only thing left to do is find a nice pair of shoes. My eyes go to the spiky gold-heeled black boots with the gold rose on the side. They are way too tall for me, and my feet already hurt, but they’ll look killer with this outfit. I’ve also never worn them before. I paid way too much for them and have been waiting for a special occasion to wear them. The Roadhouse isn’t a special occasion kind of place, but Eric is.
There I go again. I will not get involved with this man. I will be nice to him, I will buy him dinner, and I will say goodnight at the end of the evening, leaving him alone.
I smile at myself in the mirror, grab a little black bag, and head for the door.
When I enter The Roadhouse, the band is in full swing, and the place is packed. I make my way to the bar and order two beers, one for me and one for Eric if I can find him. The skin on the back of my neck rises, and I turn around to see Gil Weston leering at me.
Ugh! We went on three dates before I realized what a douche canoe he is. See, bad taste in men.
“Hello, Cherie… you’re looking mighty fine this evening.” It’s barely seven, and he’s already had too much to drink. His eyes travel over my body and stop at my boobs where the ass licks his lips.
“Hello, Gil,” I reply with as much disinterest as I can muster.
“Here, let me get that for you,” he says as he shoves a twenty at the bartender and brushes my chest along the way.
“No. I’m meeting someone. It wouldn’t be right,” I explain as I fish a note out of my ridiculously small handbag and hand it over.
“What? You’re here with someone else?” asks Gil, a little too loudly, and people are beginning to stare.
I give him a tight smile and am about to respond when I feel an arm go around my waist. I look up, and it’s Eric, giving Gil a death stare. “Hey, honey, you’re running late. Did you already pay for these?”
I nod, mesmerized by his green eyes, and a tight-fitting black shirt that has enough buttons undone so you can get a glimpse of his chest.
He grabs the beers with his other hand, moving Gil out of the way and guides me to a booth in the back. “Who was that?” he growls as he sits beside me.
“That was three dates I’ll never have back. That was a huge mistake. He still believes I like him. That was Gil West.”
Laughter rumbles up and out of his chest, and I find myself staring at it. I like the way he laughs. It’s full-bodied and sexy as hell.
“I was supposed to pay for the beer.”
“What?”
“You said you’d pay for pizza and I’d buy the beer. It looks like the tables have turned, which is good as I’ve read their menu. I want a steak. You can have a pizza if you want or anything else that pleases you. My treat.”
“No, that wasn’t the deal. I’m supposed to buy you dinner, not the other way around.”
“Honey, you were never going to buy me dinner, and I’m a little pissed you bought the beers. A gentleman doesn’t let his woman pay for anything.”
Oh, dear Lord, I like the way he sounds. But I am not going home with him.
I am not going home with him, I mentally chant a few more times in my head.
“Well, I’m not your woman, and this is a business transaction. I’m simply thanking you for looking after Granddaddy’s farm and car.”
Eric drapes an arm behind me on the booth, twists in his seat to look at me, and says, “Maybe I can think of other ways for you to thank me.”
I swear to God my thighs light up, heat pools between my legs, and my mouth falls open.
I am not going home with him.
I am not going home with him.
I am not going home with him.
I keep repeating this on a loop in my brain, trying to get my mouth to work.
Eric chuckles and leans in. I look down at his mouth, wanting him to kiss me so badly. His lips are so close to mine, I can feel his hot breath on me. I’m about to close the gap when he says, “So, Cherie, do you still want…” he licks his lips, “… pizza?” He raises an eyebrow.
Fucker! He’s toying with me. Fuck, fuck, fuckity fuck! He can obviously see I like him.
“No, I want the ribs, a side of mash potatoes, and dessert.”
Eric throws his head back and laughs. “I like a woman who knows what she wants. You sure a little thing like you can eat all that?”
“Well, big guy, if I can’t, I’m sure you can finish it off,” I say with irritation.
“Oh, honey, you have no idea,” he says seductively.
Bristling with frustration and a little embarrassed, I lean into him and say, “Oh, honey, it’s you that has no idea.”
For a moment, he holds his breath, his hand grabs the back of my neck, and I’m sure he’s about to kiss me when the waitress slaps the table. “What’ll it be?” she asks without looking at us.
I turn my head and say, “Whole rack of ribs and mashed potatoes.”
Eric growls and looks up at her. “Your timing is impeccable. The largest steak you’ve got, medium rare, a side of fries, and that’s it for now.”
“Okay, I’m on it.” She smiles at us and walks quickly away.
I’m facing the empty booth opposite me as Eric’s fingers stroke my neck. My whole body is concentrating on the sensation and what he’s doing to me.
“Cherie, look at me.”
“I would if you’d sit opposite me. Don’t you think it’d make conversation a bit easier?”
“If I sit opposite you, I can’t touch you. Don’t you want me to touch you?” Eric whispers sexily.
His other hand has moved to my knee, and I think I’m either about to explode or moan like a lovesick teenager.
“No. Actually, I don’t,” I say tersely.
His reaction is swift—he stands and sits opposite me. I’m overwhelmed with the feeling of loss from his touch.
“Okay, is this better? Sorry, I thought you liked it. It won’t happen again,” he says with a smirk like he knows what he’s doing to me.
I smile at him. “Much better. Now, tell me about your job? Do you like it?”
I am so not listening to anything he’s saying. What is wrong with me? I like him, big deal. It’s not like we are going to get married and live happily ever after. Why shouldn’t I have some fun? It’s been nearly a year since John, and apart from my horrible dates with Gil, I’ve not even been in the company of a man. Gil and I didn’t let get past first base. It turns out he’s a nasty drunk, and I don’t need that.
“Cherie? Cherie? Hello, is anyone home?” asks Eric staring at me.
“Sorry. It’s been a big week. You’ve been nothing but kind to my grandfather and me. My feet are killing me, and I’m wearing these ridiculous shoes. You ever have a week where everything goes wrong?” My brain didn’t filter one thing that came out of my mouth.
For a moment, he looks at me astonished and then laughs. I smile at him.
“Take off your boots,” he orders.
“What?” I ask, confused.
“No one can see, take them off. If you want to dance later, we can put them back on, but for now, take them off.”
“No, it’s okay.”
He runs a hand over his face. “Cherie, either you take off your boots, or I’ll crawl under the table and do it for you.”
Stricken with fear, I reach down and unzip my boots, pulling my sore feet free.
“Now, give me one of your feet.”
“I will not,” I hiss
at him.
“You will do it now, or I’ll cause a scene,” he replies cockily.
Reluctantly, I raise my foot. He grabs it and rests it between his legs, then he begins to massage it.
Oh. My. God.
Heaven!
The closest I’ve come to a man massaging my feet is my foot massager my granddaddy got me for Christmas last year. I swear I’ve nearly worn it out, but this, this is so much better.
“This feels wonderful,” I purr.
Eric chuckles. “Why did you wear those high heels? Don’t get me wrong, honey, they are hot as hell. But if you’ve got sore feet, why wear them?”
“They’re new. I’ve been waiting for a special occasion, and well, I figured The Roadhouse was as special as it was going to get,” I reply honestly.
A look crosses his face. “So, this is a special occasion?”
“For a small-town girl with no prospects who works as a waitress, yes.”
“Honey, I don’t want you to wear those shoes again. Not until I take you somewhere worthy of them. I don’t care what you have on your feet so long as you’re comfortable, do you get me?”
It sounds like a command or order, but it doesn’t feel that way. It feels like he wants to take care of me, but men don’t do that to me. Men use me and move on. I nod my head as I mentally chant my mantra over and over again.
“I can see you don’t get me, but you will. Where do you work?” he asks as he continues to work on my foot.
“The diner at the end of Main Street opposite the post office. Larry’s Place.”
“I’ve never been in there, but I think it’s time I started ordering my lunch from there.” He smiles and continues, “What days do you work?”
“I work Friday to Tuesday and get Wednesday and Thursday off.”
“So, tomorrow’s a day off?”
“Yeah, thank the Lord.”
“You know my boss owes me a day. I could take you out for lunch, and you could show me the sights of Breckenridge.” He grins at me while he’s massaging my foot, and he’s buying me dinner. Everything inside me screams, yes. He has the most amazing green eyes, and when he smiles, his whole face lights up. My head, on its own accord, nods in agreement, and his smile gets bigger.
“Good. So, tell me, where’s good for lunch?”
I’m completely relaxed. He’s managed to make me feel comfortable like I’ve known him forever.
“Would you mind if we went to Frisco? I don’t need my boss getting upset if I frequent another restaurant. It’s a small town, you know?”
“Give me your other foot.” I immediately swap feet, and he starts working on it. “I get it, my boss, Theo, can be a dick.”
I smile at him, and he grins back. “Have you explored the caves up near the ridge on the other side of town?”
“To be honest, Cherie, I’ve lived here for three years and haven’t done a lot of exploring. I added a shed for my bike, I do some hiking around my home, and I work. That’s about it.” His face looks thoughtful as he mulls over what he’s said to me. “I haven’t been living, I’ve been existing. Maybe, I’ve punished myself for long enough.”
“What does that mean?” I ask.
Eric shakes his head, grins, and says, “Nothing. Ignore me. I’m thinking about the past and not the future. Time to stop doing it. Would you like to go on my bike tomorrow?”
“Nice evasion there, Eric. You know part of getting to know someone is sharing. For instance, I don’t like living in this town, too many bad memories.”
“What kind of bad memories?” Eric asks.
“See what I did there? I shared something, and you want to know more, but no, I’m not going to elaborate until you do,” I say smugly at him.
Laughter rumbles up out of his chest, and he nods at me. “Touché!”
The waitress returns and places our orders down in front of us. “Can I get you anything else?”
“Yeah, do you want another beer?” Eric asks me.
“Sounds good.”
“Could we please get two Shiner Bocks?”
“On it,” replies the waitress as she hurries off.
“Shiner Bock?” I ask.
“Sorry, didn’t like the crap you got. Shiner Bock tastes better, trust me.”
Self-confidence oozes out of him. Of course, I like Shiner Bock, but when you make next to nothing and are relying on tips to get you through the day, the cheaper beer will always do.
“I like Shiner Bock just fine.”
“Another thing we have in common.” He releases my foot, and I place it on the floor. “Going to wash my hands. Be back in a minute.”
I smile at him and watch as he walks through the crowd. Most of them instinctively get out of his way. He’s a big guy, and more than one female is looking at him longingly. I pick up my knife and cut my ribs into sections when Gil drops down beside me.
“Damn, girl. You gonna eat all that by yourself? You sure you don’t need Gil to help you out?” Gil throws an arm over my shoulders and smiles at me leeringly.
“Gil, I’m on a date with my man. You should leave.”
“Aww, don’t be like that, Cherie. You know you like me,” says Gil as his other hand moves to my knee.
I freeze, pin him with a look, and say, “Get your goddamn hands off me and leave me the hell alone.”
Gil’s face turns hard, he squeezes my knee and leans in. “You’re a fucking waitress, and you’ve always thought you were too good for me. Well, I’ve got news for you, honey, you’re not. You’re trash. Just like the rest of your fam—”
Suddenly, Gil isn’t next to me anymore. I look up, and Eric has him by the collar of his shirt and is frog-marching him through the bar and toward the front of the building. I stand and follow them out, without my shoes. Eric throws him to the ground, and Gil gets up, anger reverberating off him in waves.
“Stay down or walk away, those are your options,” says Eric with a steel edge to his voice.
“Fuck you!”
“Buddy, you’re drunk, and I’m not. It’s simple physics. You come at me, you’re going to get hurt, and trust me when I tell you, I’ll fucking hurt you, and I’ll enjoy it.”
Gil looks up at me and smirks then looks back at Eric. “You know she’s not worth it? She’s the town bike. You know, everyone has had a ride.” Gil spreads his arms wide, smiling at the gathering crowd.
All eyes come to me, and I am mortified. I can feel the color drain from my face.
Eric smiles and shakes his head. “Ahh, now I get it. She’s the town bike, and everyone has had a ride… except you? That would mean the lady has taste. Which also means she’s probably not the town bike, and even if she were, she probably still wouldn’t fuck you.”
Gil growls and charges Eric, who moves out of the way and kicks Gil in the ass as he goes past, sending him sprawling into the dirt. Gil stands, brushes himself off, and glares at Eric. “She’s not fucking worth it!” Gil says, spraying spittle from his lips.
“Clearly, she is, or you wouldn’t be making such a fuss,” replies Eric.
Gil takes a step toward him, and Eric closes the gap with his fist aimed at Gil’s jaw. He goes down and is out cold. A few of the locals clap and slowly disperse back into the bar, leaving me standing there, with no shoes, wanting the earth to open up and swallow me.
Eric looks up at me, but I can’t read his face. I don’t know what to say. I’m no virgin, but I’m not the town bike either. I can’t get my voice to work, my mind is racing, and there’s one clear thought traveling through it, I need to leave.
“Cherie, let’s—”
“I want to go home. Would you mind going back in there to get my shoes and bag?” The words spill out of my mouth in a hurried succession.
“Cherie, we—”
“Really, I want to leave,” I reply before he can say anything more.
Eric nods, goes back inside, and I walk on tiptoes over the stony ground toward my car, trying my best not to step on anything.
It must be fifteen minutes before he re-emerges. I’m sitting on the hood of my car waiting impatiently. He walks out and has two brown paper bags, my shoes, and my handbag in his hands. I wave at him to gain his attention, and he makes his way to me across the parking lot.
When he reaches me, he drops to his knees, dusts off my feet, and places my shoes on them. I’m at a lost for words. He’s defended my honor, and now he’s like Prince-fucking-Charming putting the shoes on Cinderella, but this is no fairy tale—this is my shitty life.
Eric stands, dragging his hands up my legs as he positions himself between them. Heat pools in my core, and I gaze into his eyes.
He leans in, his mouth a hair’s breadth away from mine and whispers, “I got our food to go. Do you want to come back to my place to eat it or at yours?”
I lean back. He grins at me, and right there, I know I’m in trouble. I know if I go home with him or he with me, I’ll be having sex with him. This one is too good to be true, and I’ve had enough of knights in shining armor that start to rust as soon as life gets tough.
I take a deep breath, letting it out slowly. “I think I’ve had enough for one night. Raincheck?”
He stumbles back, looking surprised. “Ahh, okay. You know he’s a dick? I make my own judgments on people. I don’t listen to guys who can’t take no for an answer.”
I hop down off the hood, bend over, and pick up my bag next to one of the brown paper bags. “I know he’s a dick. It’s been a shitty day, and he’s capped it off. I’m afraid I won’t be very good company.” I’m avoiding his eyes and searching through my tiny bag for my car keys.
“Cherie,” says Eric. I find my keys and turn to open my car door. “Cherie,” repeats Eric in a stronger tone. I look up at him. “Don’t let this be how our night ends. Let me follow you home, we’ll eat, talk, and I’ll go home. No strings, no assumptions, just two people getting to know each other.”
I quirk an eyebrow at him, and again, my head nods. He smiles, it’s infectious, and I smile back.
Spark (MacKenny Brothers Series Book 1) Page 4