by Nola Marie
“I’m not saying you can’t,” he says as he pulls in front of the tattoo shop. “I’m just saying that Zane is – well he’s Zane. I don’t think you’ve ever come across anyone like him.”
“I grew up in New York. I think I can handle one little southern boy,” I snap.
“Alright, alright," he surrenders but I'm pretty sure he doesn't mean it. "Point made. I’ll text him your number.”
We walk into the shop, and my now foul mood must be apparent because Dane quirks a brow at me. I wave him off, so he turns to Maddox. “What’s got her so pissy?”
“I might have insinuated she was too delicate to handle a guy,” he shrugs with a laugh. A fucking laugh.
“What guy?” my brother growls like the caveman he is.
I narrow my eyes at him wishing him a long, slow, agonizing death. Then my phone rings. My heart begins to race, and my hands gets sweaty as I stare at the number I know must belong to Zane Valen.
“That guy,” Maddox laughs again at my reaction.
I stick my tongue out at him then answer the phone. “I’ll be in town for another couple of days. Have dinner with me.”
I blow out a breath at his request. Except it’s not really a request. Not a demand either, per se. I didn’t even say hello yet.
I hear Dane grumbling with Maddox about handing out my number to a guy. My brother would prefer if I never went near a guy. He may have only found me three years ago, but he acts like we’ve been together for years. Especially when it comes to guys. I think he’s trying to make up for lost time and he forgets that I’m twenty-two years old.
But I collect myself. Remember who I am. I kick ass and take names. Sometimes literally. I’m no shrinking violet and I’m not about to act like it now. Even if Zane Valen is asking me out. “I don’t know you,” I tell him.
“That’s the point of dinner. To get to know me. Besides, if you really want to be friends with my sister, then you get me.”
“That’s not what I hear,” I reply remembering what Maddox told me about Zane and Jax not liking the fact that Zoey spent time with him when she was in New York.
“It’s one dinner. Any place you choose,” he argues. “I promise I won’t bite unless you ask me to.”
My heart rachets up another notch at the remark laced with all sorts of innuendo. “Shouldn’t you be staying under the radar right now?”
“Let me worry about that,” he tells me.
“Alright. One dinner. I only have tomorrow night free though,” I relent. Although I really had no intention of refusing. I just didn’t want to make it too easy for him.
Dane glares at me while Maddox laughs.
“Send me your address,” Zane tells me. But that’s where I draw the line. I don’t want any guy I go out with for the first time knowing where I live. Even if that guy is Zane Valen. “No. We’ll meet there. I’ll text you the address.”
“Seven o’clock, darlin’. Don’t be late because I’m pretty sure I can find you,” he taunts in a thick southern drawl that makes me shiver.
When I end the call, Dane is as red I was. “Why are you going out with someone you just met?” he growls.
I laugh at his ridiculousness. “That’s how dating usually works, Dane.”
“You are not dating this tool.”
“How do you know if he’s a tool. You’ve never met him.”
“He plays ball for a living. Of course, he’s a fucking tool.” He looks to Maddox for backup.
Maddox runs a hand through his hair to the back of his neck where he lingers. He looks at Dane apologetically. “Sorry, man. Valen and I might not have always been on the best terms, but I’m not calling him a tool. He's a good guy. A little bit of an ego, but nothing you wouldn’t have in his place. He’s just really good at what he does.”
“I don’t want my little sister going out with some douche that can’t protect her,” Dane argues. “Doesn’t matter how big he is if he can’t protect her.”
“I can protect myself, asshole,” I growl.
“Zane can take care of himself,” Maddox assures. “He’s not just a pretty face. He’s a pretty face that will fuck your world, and please don’t get on his bad side. Or Jax. You don’t get it, man. They’re tied to some pretty – well, let’s just say you shouldn’t fuck with either of them if you like your teeth.”
“Great. So, he’s some dangerous, hot head,” Dane yells.
I throw my hands in the air in exasperation. “Which do you want? Because it sounds like it doesn’t matter.”
I don’t give him a chance to answer before I storm out of the shop in a huff.
“There is no way Dane will let you out of the house wearing that,” I tell my little sister with a hand covering my mouth to keep from laughing. She looks amazing but I know Dane will lose his shit if he sees her in the leather microskirt and sequined cowl neck tank.
“That’s why I’m going to stay with you,” she tells me, her wide brown eyes the exact color of mine shining.
“Oh no. Not happening. I am not getting him mad at me. Then we will both be dead.”
My little sister is asking for both of our demises. I fight with Dane enough over what I wear. He’s always got a scowl if I show up wearing anything other than oversized sweats. I definitely keep guys away from him. From Pete too. Dane was practically shooting lightning bolts from his eyes when he found out about me and Ryder. He chased Ryder for three blocks with a baseball bat.
Fortunately for the band, he didn’t find out until after it was already done.
“I can’t believe you’re going out with Zane Valen,” Cara squeals giddily.
“Do you even know who he is?” I laugh because I can’t picture her knowing what a football is much less watching it.
“I know he’s hot as hell. I’ve seen his picture a million times on magazines and commercials. And that other guy he’s always with. Oh my god I’d love to be the filling in that man sandwich.”
“Uh. First off, ew. Second, the other guy is very much in love with his girlfriend.”
“Didn’t know he had one. Last I read, some girl just up and left him after years together. That girl must be out of her mind.”
My spine straightens at the remarks. I’m suddenly very personally involved in the way the tabloids and media can twist things they know nothing about. “That’s not what happened, Cara. You shouldn’t believe everything you hear or see. Trust me. She didn’t just leave him like the media says. And they are very much in love.”
She looks at me through the mirror she’s standing in front of. Her blond brows shoot upward with curiosity. “Didn’t know you knew them so well.”
I toss one of her pink pillows at her. “I don’t know them well. Just enough to know the truth.”
I look around her room. The cream walls decorated with pictures of her and her friends. Her shelves lined with trophies from cheerleading. God knows Dane has probably spent a small fortune trying to make sure she is happy.
He can afford it. When his grandfather died, he left Dane a nice chunk of change that helped him get his tattoo shop going and helped him get custody of Cara.
“What are you going to wear to this date?” she asks with a bounce in her step.
“I don’t know, but if you don’t get out of that getup before Dane comes home you won’t have to worry about what you’re going to wear because you won’t be going anywhere.”
She rolls her brown eyes with a huff as she moves into her closet for more clothes. “I hate that he still treats me like a kid.”
“That’s because to him you are a kid. He isn’t much better with me, and he didn’t even meet me until I was your age.”
“At least you didn’t have to live with him,” she grumbles.
Again, I find myself feeling the need to correct her attitude. I know she’s just a teenager and a bit temperamental, but it’s not right. “Dane didn’t have to take you in, you know. He has sacrificed a lot to get you out of foster care. Do you know how much of a t
urn off it is to most girls to find out a guy is raising his teenage sister? Or how many times he’s had to cancel dates to make sure you could do what you wanted?”
She walks out of her closet wearing sweats. Dane would approve. She throws herself on the bed next to me with a huff. “Why do you always take his side?”
“Why are you acting like such a spoiled, entitled brat lately?” I counter her snarky attitude.
“I just want to be treated like an adult,” she whines.
Which I point out that adults try not to do. “You’ll get treated like an adult when you act like one, but Dane will always see you as his baby sister. And he’s not trying to be an asshole. He’s just trying to look out for us.”
“Did Pete give you a hard time about what you wore when you were my age?” she asks curiously as she props up on an elbow.
“God, did he. He hated the clothes I wore to the gym. It wasn’t any different than the other girls, but the other girls weren’t his daughter.”
Pete had me in the gym teaching me to fight since I was fourteen. I started out in sweatpants and t-shirts. As I got better, I learned I could move better with tighter fabric. When it was exceptionally hot, I would wear bike shorts and sports bras.
As I got older, guys started to notice me more. That’s when Pete started on me about what I wore, but his argument was moot. He knew exactly why I wore what I did.
“Speaking of the gym,” I turn to her, “I thought you wanted me to teach you.”
“When am I ever going to have time again?” she asks exasperated. “I don’t think I will be breathing again until summer unless I choose to take summer classes too. But back to what I was asking Ms. Avoid. What are you wearing tomorrow for your date?”
I give her a smile. I said I didn't know, but that wasn't true. Not even a little. I went shopping for the perfect outfit. I pull up the bag from my shopping trip this afternoon. I retrieve the high waisted polka dot skirt that will reach just at my knees and a red sweetheart neckline halter top that has a bit of black lace peeking at the top.
“Oh my god, it’s hot,” she gushes. “How do you get away with such an eclectic fashion sense? I never know from one day to the next what you’re going to look like.”
“Because I don’t have a sense of fashion. I wear what I like and what looks good on me.”
“Go on. Try it on. I have to see,” she tells me as she shoves me off the bed into the bathroom.
I change into the outfit quickly. I’m just as pleased as I was when I first tried it on. The skirt makes my waist look tiny and shows off my ass. The halter top makes me look like I have more boobs than I actually do. My full sleeve tattoos are on full display. The only thing I’m missing are the black stockings and shoes I plan to put with it.
I walk out of the bathroom like I’m strutting on the catwalk. “Well,” I say making a full turn, “what do you think?”
“Holy shit you look amazing,” she gushes about the time Dane walks into the room.
His eyes rake me up and down getting tighter as he does. “What the fuck is that getup?” he growls loudly.
“They’re called clothes,” I tell him sarcastically. He runs a hand over his blond mohawk. “You are not wearing that in public, are you?”
“Why wouldn’t I?” I narrow my eyes at him letting him know that if he’s looking for a fight, I’m ready for one.
“Because,” is all he can come up with as he storms out the room.
I follow him wanting to get this over with. “Because why?” I yell.
“Wow, Tori, you look hot as fuck,” Ryder says when I walk into the room.
“Because of that right there,” Dane yells.
“Are you serious right now Dane? You don’t want me to wear this because I’m hot. Newsflash brother, I am hot. I always have been. It’s not something I can hide, and I don’t want to hide it.”
“God, you two are going to give me a heart attack,” he grumbles as he rakes his hand through his mohawk again. He’s actually looking for the rest of his hair. He lost a bet with Maddox and Ryder and the result was the mohawk.
I turn out of the room to change back. Then leave his apartment in a huff. Before I make it to the corner, he’s calling out to me. “I’m not fighting with you, Dane. I have been dressing myself for a long time. Don’t need big brother trying to help me.”
“I’m sorry,” he says looking at the ground. “I’m just afraid you’re going to attract some douche and get hurt.”
“I’m not that kind of girl, Dane. You know that. Let me handle my heart. You handle yours.”
He pulls me into a hug and after a couple of hesitant seconds, I relent and hug him back. “Thanks for caring though.”
“I’ve always cared, Tori. Even before we found each other. I’ve always cared.”
Zane
I am perfectly well aware that this is probably the most inappropriate time to take a girl out. I’m not at work because the coach gave Jax and I time off to take care of Zoey. In fact, there is a game tonight in Wisconsin. It won’t look good if I get photographed out with a girl in New York. Zoey will probably be a little upset with me. Jax has already called me an asshole.
Fortunately for me, and unfortunately for everyone else, I really don’t give a shit. That girl is hot as fuck. I have gone to that bar the last two nights just to catch a glimpse of her. I won’t say I’ve never chased a girl like this before. I see what I want, and I go after it. But I have honestly never seen a girl that looks like her before. And the few minutes she was in Zoey’s room yesterday, I know she is someone I want to know better.
The girl barely knows Zoey, but she wanted to check on her in the hospital. That means more than she’ll ever know. Zoey and Jax are the two most important people in my life. If you go out of your way to make sure they’re okay, then you make the best kind of impression on me.
Maddox has told me a little about her too. She works as a tattoo artist in her brother’s shop. That’s hot too even if I think tattoos are for masochists which I most definitely am not.
I Googled the address she sent me. Then called and made a reservation for a private table with a special request to allow us in through a private entrance and exit. I may not give a shit what anyone likes, but that doesn’t mean I’m stupid.
I walk through the spacious hotel suite to Jax’s room to borrow his jacket since I forgot to pack one. He has barely left the hospital and has been living in his hoodie since we got here. He won’t miss it tonight. I check myself in the mirror. I look properly put together in jeans, a team t-shirt which may or may not be smart to wear in New York, my boots, and the jacket. I run my fingers through my hair once more then head out the door.
I arrive at the restaurant ten minutes early. At ten minutes after seven, I see Tori climbing out of her car. It takes every fucking ounce of self-control I have to keep my jaw off the ground. If the first night I saw her she was bohemian chic, then tonight she is pinup sexy. And that fucking ponytail pulled tight to the top of her head hangs to her waist looking like the perfect thing to wrap my fist around while I fuck her.
I give her a big smile as we meet at the door. “Darlin’ you are about the sexiest thing I have ever seen.”
“How many times have you used that line before?” she asks with a chuckle.
I laugh myself because I’ve used it plenty, and I always mean it. But damn this girl. “Probably more times than allowed, but it usually works.” I give her my most mischievous grin. “Is it working now?”
She brings her plump bottom lip that she has painted red between her teeth. It’s so fucking sexy. I don’t know how this girl hasn’t become some kind of model or movie star or something. “TBD,” she answers.
“Well, I guess I’ll have to step up my game,” I tell her.
The hostess leads us through the private entrance of the modern design dining area. The place is packed, but, other than a few curious glances, we remain ignored mostly. It works out better than I hoped.
We are seated in a private dining room. The long oval table is surrounded by ten rust-colored chairs in the same modern theme as the rest of the place. We are handed menus and asked for our wine choice. I let her order what she wants because I don’t drink wine. “Jack single barrel please,” I say.
“I can’t drink an entire bottle of wine alone,” Tori tells me with a smirk.
“I bet that’s not true,” I smirk. “You strike me as the type of girl that can hold her liquor.”
“Know many girls like that do ya?”
I laugh with a shake of my head. “No, actually I only know one. My sister. She used to match Jax and I shot for shot.”
I feel a twinge of sadness and guilt. My sister now gets to go through several weeks of therapy and drug rehab. I have a feeling she won’t be sharing a drink with me again. I guess the change of my mood is pretty apparent because Tori reaches across the table for my hand.
“You and Zoey are close?”
“And Jax,” I nod. “The last year has been fucking hell.”
“Tell me about it. About her.”
And I do. I tell about the time that Zoey punched me in the face for scaring her with a mask at Halloween. I remember the time the three of us snuck out to watch a meteor shower in the back yard after my parents went to bed.
I ask her about herself. I know she has a brother. Maddox told me that’s the drummer she was hanging onto the other night.
“I never knew my dad at all. My mom was a drug addict. She dumped me when I was seven and I haven’t heard a word since, so I spent my entire life in foster care.”
“Shit,” I say dragging my hand over my mouth. “That’s rough.”
She waves me off. “It’s okay actually. When I was thirteen, I ran away from my foster parents. I spent a few weeks on the streets until one day I ran into Pete. He brought me home with him. He knew a few people and became my foster dad, but he’s more than that. Pete is my dad.”
“He just took you in. Wow, he must be some kind of saint.”
She laughs with a nod. “Yeah, I think that sometimes myself.”
She tells me how she met Dane by total accident. How he’d been looking for her for years, and how he found their younger sister and got custody of her.