by Baylin Crow
SCAR
By Baylin Crow
SCAR by Baylin Crow
Copyright 2016 Baylin Crow
This is a work of fiction. All characters and events portrayed in this work are either fictitious or are used fictitiously. Any similarity is purely coincidental.
All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced in any written, electronic, recording or photocopying without written permission from the publisher or author. The exception would be in the case of brief quotations embodied in the critical articles or reviews and pages where permission is specifically granted by the publisher or author.
Any images shown on covers are for illustration purposes only. The characters and events depicted in this story are not reflective of any models shown
Edited by Sydney Morgan
Cover design by Baylin Crow
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Fourteen
Epilogue
Author’s Note
To My Readers
Connect With Me!
One
Beard
“Did you just moan?” I asked Andi who didn’t appear to be embarrassed in the least.
“Mmmhmm,” she answered, and I could swear I saw her drool a little. Not that I blamed her. The doors had swung open, and about twenty of the local college soccer team’s players had just come in. I knew who they were because they came in at least once a week on game days.
I shook my head at her but didn’t bother with a reply.
The Kings must have won today based on the obvious winning high they seemed to be on, and the gigantic gloating smiles most of them were wearing. I didn’t keep my eyes on them long and got back to work, letting Matt and Vanessa, who were working the floor, take care of them.
“That’s a rowdy bunch.” Jack, one of the regulars, was saying, gaining my attention from his seat at the bar.
“That they are,” I agreed.
I was a firm believer that bartenders were actually underpaid therapists so I wasn’t surprised when he continued talking.
“Moved here when my wife got pregnant with Thomas, our oldest boy. That was almost fifty years ago. Did you know that?”
“I did not,” I replied to just another one of his random thoughts he shared with me. Seeing as how Jack was pushing seventy, I didn’t think his oldest son could be considered a boy, but I didn’t tell him that. I knew his wife passed away a few years ago and now I saw Jack almost on a nightly basis. He spoke of her often and had said that even though he was still heartbroken, he was just lucky to have had that kind of love and had been grateful for every minute they had together. His hair had turned gray with age, and he walked with a slight limp from bad joints, but his most distinguishing feature were the laugh lines that had formed around his mouth that spoke of a happy life. Maybe someday I’d have someone I couldn’t shut up about. With my situation, that wasn’t likely.
“You don’t talk much, you know that?” I looked up to see he was teasing because he knew that I didn’t.
“So, I’ve been told,” I said dryly as I took his empty bottle, chunked it in the trash and handed him a new one. He chuckled behind me as I moved further down the bar to another person flagging me down.
“Incoming,” Andi warned, and I tensed even though I had expected it.
“Hello, Beard.” The familiar voice rolled over my skin like the smoothest fucking silk, and I had to suppress a shudder. Masking the effect he had on me, I rolled my eyes when I looked up at him briefly. He knew my name but insisted on calling me Beard, because well, I had a beard. A long one that I wore several inches past my chin. He had given me his name when he introduced himself last year, but I played his game by refusing to use it.
“What’s it going to be, Soccer?” I barely looked at him but noted the soft blue shirt he was wearing, and though I could only see him from the waist up, I knew he was probably wearing some kind of athletic pants.
Soccer was a problem for me. Had been from the moment he stepped in the bar all smiles, and then he flashed that dimple, and it had been like a sucker punch to the gut. The team had started showing up last year after games, and it had become a regular thing. Soccer had introduced himself the very first night. I had been polite and engaged in a short conversation. After that night, though, I tried to avoid him altogether because I didn’t like the feelings that came up when he was around, but he seemed to be trying to do the opposite, and now it felt like I couldn’t backpedal fast enough to escape him. I always sent him to Andi, but he always came to me first anyway. It’s like he could see right through me and only wanted to torment me.
“Someone’s in a mood. It’s my birthday, so you have to be nice to me.” I saw the grin from my peripheral but refused to return it.
“Not in a mood. Just busy. You want something just let Andi know, ok? And happy birthday.” I walked away grateful when a girl in a tiny black dress, I wasn’t sure how she managed to get on, not to mention how she stayed warm in the middle of November, was flagging me down. I glanced back up at him and noted he was frowning at Andi who was busy shooting me a knowing look.
I made the cranberry vodka the scantily clad blonde had asked for and once Soccer had walked away made my way back to Andi who was now busy filling glasses for the few players on the team who were actually twenty one which now apparently included Soccer.
“You just going to watch or are you planning on helping?”she asked. I helped her finish, sending it back to their tables with Matt. Vanessa was busy bringing their food out when loud laughter caught my attention, and I looked over at the table Soccer sat at. He looked annoyed, but his friends all seemed to be enjoying themselves. Their laughter rose above the rest of the noise and eventually his shoulders began to shake as he joined in. Soccer was always smiling and having a good time. Honestly, it made me jealous sometimes. I realized whatever was going on had to do with him and I had a sudden urge to go over there and shut them up even though he didn’t seem to mind it.
“You know,” Andi started, laying a hand on my arm, and also making me realize I was still looking in his direction. “I’ve never seen him come in or leave here with a girl.” She tapped her chin with her manicured nails. “All the other guys, yes. Soccer, no.”
“Since when do you call him Soccer?” I bit out.
“Sorry,” she giggled. “I didn’t realize you were the only one allowed to call him that.”
I only managed to grunt in return which only earned me a growing smile. Not being able to resist the draw, I looked one more time and froze when my gaze collided with his. His attention shifted to my side, more like glaring, and I realized it was directed at Andi who still had her hand on my arm. I gently shook it off but didn’t want to see his reaction, so I looked away. After serving a few more drinks, she was on me again. Sometimes she really got on my nerves, and I wondered if I should fire her for being nosey.
“You hear what I said before that?” I had and chose to ignore it. She had on more than one occasion tried to get me to admit that I was into men, Soccer, in particular. She could try all she wanted because she wasn’t getting anything out of me. There wasn’t a point.
“I don’t really see what that matters. If you’re interested, maybe you should talk to him.” Or not, I immediately thought. “Though I’d rather you didn’t run any customers off,” I added, trying for playful but most likely failed. Joking around wasn’t something I was good at, she had been more than helpful at pointing out before.
“Smooth,” she teased, earning another dirty
look aimed at her.
I spent the rest of the night sneaking covert looks at the man in question and could tell that he was getting more than tipsy, which wasn’t something I had ever seen him do, but it was his birthday, and I guess that was sort of a rite of passage when you were old enough to buy alcohol legally. Most of his team had headed out at ten when the kitchen closed, and we turned into a bar-only establishment.
This was the first time he had been able to stay late. He had been obviously running his hands through his hair. His sandy blonde locks were kept short on the sides and longer on top that usually resembled sexy bed hair, but now it was more disheveled than usual.
“Last call!” Andi shouted over the noise. I glanced at the clock not realizing how fast the night had flown by. Only fifteen minutes until closing time. As a few other customers asked for a last beer or shot, my traitorous eyes tracked Soccer heading towards the bathroom, stumbling a little as he went and I realized he was drunker than I had originally thought. Once he was out of sight, his friends, who had all been watching, all stood quickly and headed for the door. One by one, they all turned to look at me, some with looks of surprise at being busted and some laughing. Immediately suspicious, I wondered what they were up to.
There were only a few people left when the minutes ticked down. Soccer made his appearance from the hall, glassy eyes looking toward the table his friends had vacated.
“I think they went outside!” Andi yelled, catching his attention. He nodded and gave us a sloppy wave, and a big, stupid grin aimed my way and then went after them.
“That man is sexy, drunk and all. You sure you don’t want him? Cause if you don’t…” She laughed in delight when I clapped my hand over her mouth.
“Don’t,” I warned.
“You’re awfully hot yourself when you go all alpha possessive.” She lowered her head and looked up at me through her eyelashes batting them.
“Not going to work on me, doll.”
“Oh, I know. Even though you don’t want me to know. If you wanted to hide it better, you should probably not eye-fuck him every time he comes in.”
“I don’t eye-fuck him.” She was seriously never going to let this go. It was the same every night that he was here.
Chasing off some of the customers who insisted on staying until the last minute was sometimes a chore, but I got it done and went to lock the door. There sitting on the curb, with no jacket, was Soccer’s slumped form. I growled at the sight of him after scanning the empty parking lot.
I opened the door and went to him, tapping his shoulder. He wasn’t passed out like I had thought. His phone was out, and the screen was lit up as his eyes squinted in concentration.
“What are you doing out here?” The question came out a little gruffer than I meant it to and he startled.
“I got set up,” he pouted as he turned big, brown eyes up at me framed in long, thick lashes. “On my birthday.”
“What do you mean you got set up?” I tensed.
He shrugged. “My friends are assholes.” Well, we definitely agreed on that. He tried to stand and swayed on his feet. If I had seen how much he was drinking, I’d have cut him off a long time ago.
“Did you get ahold of anyone to come get you?” He started laughing which confused the hell out of me.
“How are you finding this whole situation funny?” I practically growled.
He leaned in close, close enough that I could smell the clean soap he used. I tried to step away, but he tripped and landed solidly against my chest. Before I could effectively remove him, he leaned up and whispered in my ear. “They had a stupid plan.” His breath tickled my ear and sent shivers across my skin. I had no idea what he was talking about, but all I could think about right then was the feeling of him pressed against me. Drunk or not, my body reacted to his closeness. I pushed him backward a little, just enough to separate us so he wouldn’t feel it. I’d never live that down.
When he fell back into me, I tried to straighten him back up but his legs went out, and I quickly caught him around the waist. His soft snores filled the quiet space, and I closed my eyes trying to figure out how exactly my night had led to this moment.
“That is possibly the funniest thing I have ever seen.” Andi was standing at the door, arms crossed and looking at us on the verge of losing it.
“What the hell am I supposed to do with him?” I asked through gritted teeth.
“Oh, I bet you can think of a few things,” she tossed back.
“Can you please save it for later?” I didn’t need her teasing right now. If she could somehow fix this mess, she could run her mouth all she wanted later. The wind was already turning colder with the season and had even more of a bite at this time of night, and I didn’t like the fact that he was only in a short-sleeved t-shirt.
“Oh, alright. Can’t you take him home or something?”
I gave her an incredulous stare. “How the hell would I know where he lives?”
She tilted her head as if in thought. “Right.” She nodded. “Well, I guess he’ll just have to stay with you tonight.” I wanted to wipe that little mischievous smile right off her face. This was bad. Really bad.
“What? No!” I cursed when Soccer mumbled in his sleep, words I couldn’t make out.
“You have a better idea?” She asked raising a perfectly shaped brow.
Anything would be a better idea, I thought.
“I’m going to see if I can text one of his friends.”
I pulled his phone out, and the screen lit up with a lock screen. Sighing in defeat, I let my head drop back, eyes to the night sky.
“Problem?”
“Lock screen,” I said, waving the useless gadget showing her the screen.
“Yup, that’s a problem. I guess you have a guest for the night.” I expected a snarky look, but she just waved me off.
Glancing back down at his fucking gorgeous face relaxed in sleep, I couldn’t help the soft smile that tugged in an unfamiliar way. I couldn’t recall the last time I had truly smiled. Suddenly I remembered I wasn’t alone and looked up to see Andi sporting the same soft smile. Scowling at her, I lifted Soccer, one arm under his legs and the other behind his back. “Send the other two home and lock up for me?”
“You got it, boss.” She saluted me.
When my grandfather had bought this place, it was only large enough for the bar area. With my grandmother in mind, he had expanded the building to include a small dining area that she had wanted. There had already been a small apartment built in above the bar with outside access. Even though it had all the necessities, he had never rented it out. It was only used for storage then, but when I inherited the bar eighteen months ago, I had decided to move in, thinking it was the logical choice because it was so close to work. I had cleared everything out and put in a few pieces of furniture. It wasn’t much, but it was home.
I walked slowly up the stairs trying not to jostle him too much. Unlocking the door and opening it was pretty difficult considering my keys were in my pocket, and I had to set down his legs to dig them out. Once I had him inside, I looked around trying to decide where I should put him. My brain was screaming to just put him on the couch. That was the best idea. Instead, I found myself carrying him down the hall into my own room.
Laying down his slack body, I pulled off his shoes but left everything else on. I pulled the blanket I kept at the end of the bed over him and watched as he rolled to his side and snuggled down into the pillow. Fucking hell, I had to get out of there. Easing the drawer to my dresser open, I grabbed a change of clothes and slid it back as quietly as I could. Back in the hall, I closed the door softly and made my own bed on the couch. While not the most comfortable of places to sleep, it wouldn’t have mattered to Soccer, being as drunk as he was, so why was he in my room and I ended up on the couch? I refused to think about it too long, or I would drive myself insane.
Tossing and turning for over an hour, I finally gave up. Sleep wasn’t going to come easy when all I
could think about was Soccer in my bed. I couldn’t get his clean scent or the feeling of his body when he had been pressed against me out of my head no matter how hard I tried to shove it aside.
I clicked on the TV and watched until my eyelids finally grew heavy and I was able to find sleep.
Two
Soccer
It felt like I had been hit over the head with a bowling ball. I tried to pry open my eyes, but even the small amount of light peeking around the side of the curtains was blinding. Groaning with one hand pressed against my temple, I pulled the blanket over my head to block it out. The bed was softer than my own, the blanket definitely more cozy, and those had definitely not been my curtains. When I thought back to last night, trying to figure out exactly where I had landed, I remembered talking to Beard outside of the bar and then being pushed against his body. It was probably more like falling on him. I tried to recall what exactly I had said to him but the details were fuzzy, and I didn’t remember anything else after that. So either I was at his house, or he had driven me somewhere. It was a good thing I didn’t embarrass easily, or I’d probably never leave this room.
The smell of coffee pulled me from beneath the blankets. Sitting up gingerly, I pressed my thumbs against my temples to lessen the pounding. Smelling bacon being fried would normally have me rushing the kitchen, but this morning it made me feel a little queasy. I wasn’t used to being drunk and based on how I was feeling at this moment, I wouldn’t be doing it again anytime soon.
Mostly taken up by a king sized bed covered in a navy comforter and the cream colored throw blanket I had been tucked under, the room was pretty small. The only other piece of furniture was a tall chest of drawers. There were two doors one was closed, and I assumed it was a closet. The opposite door was open, and I hoped it was a bathroom. Thankfully it was because I didn’t want to make an appearance before accessing the damage. Other than a shower curtain and a few necessities, the room was also pretty bare.
Grimacing at my reflection in the mirror, I did my best do clean up. After finding some toothpaste in a drawer, I used my finger to freshen my breath and splashed some water on my face. I was still wearing the same clothes I had gone out in last night and after a quick whiff test and calling it good enough, I felt halfway put together.