by Mia Storm
“Then I’ll be walking you home again tonight. I don’t want you out there alone in the dark.”
The line goes dead and I realize she hung up on me. Dark rage climbs out of the deepest pit of my soul, where I keep it caged, and I fling my door open. But I’m not even out of the car before better judgment wrestles with the rage and wins, sending it back into the pit. Breaking her door down is not going to accomplish anything but demonstrating exactly why I’m wrong for her—why I’m wrong for anyone. Until I can keep my demons in check, I won’t subject anyone I care about to them.
And I care about Lilah.
I don’t know why or how it happened, but she means something to me. I take a deep breath and yank my door closed, then start the car.
When I walk into Sam Hill, Destiny’s still on shift, but Carol’s already clocked in. I watch from the door as Destiny passes the bar heading into the kitchen. She slips behind the counter and clicks open the register.
I move along the wall to get a better look just as she pockets what looks like two twenties from the register. Her gaze flits guiltily around the bar as she slides the drawer closed…and connects squarely with mine.
I raise a brow at her and her eyes widen, realizing she’s been caught.
Which explains why Ma’s been riding my ass for my drawer coming up short most nights.
I shove my hands in my pockets and move toward her. “Money tight?”
She cringes and pulls the cash from her pocket. “We’re short on rent.”
“We?”
She nods. “Me and my sister just moved here and we haven’t quite gotten our feet under us yet.”
She tries to hand the money to me, but instead of taking it, I pull a pair of twenties from my wallet, replacing the ones she took. She just looks at me, trying to sort out what’s happening.
“You need cash,” I tell her, lifting the beer mug next to the register, “pull it from my tip jar.”
She starts shaking her head, but I stop her by shoving a ten from the jar into her hand.
“This will keep Ma off my back. And anyway, since your sister’s started playing here, my weekend tips are double, so really I owe you.”
She looks at the cash, and I see the struggle in her eyes. Finally she pockets it. “Thanks. This will really help.”
“Those cookies where really good, by the way. Were they from scratch?”
She nods and I sort of wish I didn’t say anything when hope sparks in her eyes. “Glad you liked them.”
But I brought it up for selfish reasons. “You should think about seeing if Molly needs some help over at Ambling Rose.”
“The bakery?”
I nod. “She probably has more hours and the pay would be hella better than Ma pays her waitresses.”
She tugs at the end of her ponytail and I’m all proud of myself for pulling that off with so much tact, until she says, “Ambling Rose is only open until four. Maybe when Carol goes on leave and I’m on nights here, I could do that in the mornings.”
“Sounds like a plan,” I say. It was an asshole move anyway. “I’ll put in a word for you next time I’m there.”
I’m a dick. It’s the least I owe her.
She gives me a sparkling smile. “Thanks for the suggestion.” She leans across the bar. “And whoever the lucky girl you’re into is, I wish you the best of luck with that.”
I nod, hoping she remembers she said that when she finds out it’s her twin sister. “Thanks.”
The two hours between when Destiny leaves and when Lilah shows feel endless, and I keep rolling how to approach this over in my mind. I am going to tell Lilah I’m into her tonight. I’m just not sure exactly how far I should take it. My stiff cock every time I think of her is all the indication I need of where I want to take it, but my better judgment tells me bedding her right off the bat is likely not the best strategy.
Because in my mind, this isn’t a one-time thing. For the first time I can remember, I’m thinking beyond the first fuck.
But when she finally comes in and I see her crossing the bar toward me, I’m not sure I’m going to be able to keep my libido in check for another night. Because the fantasy of throwing her onto the bar right this second and sinking my cock into her consumes my every thought.
I slide a tip jar across the bar as she sets her guitar on her regular stool and unpacks it.
“I don’t need a bodyguard,” she says without looking at me.
“Good, because I don’t know any.”
Her eyes lift to mine, cold as a steel blade. “I can take care of myself. I’ve been doing it for years.”
I nod. “I’m sure you can. That’s not the point.”
“Then what is the point?” she snarls.
I lean across the bar. “The point is, I want to walk you home.”
She throws her hands up, exasperated. “I told you, I don’t need you to!”
I lower my voice and let every ounce of desire I feel for her flow through my next words. “But the question is, do you want me to?”
I know she gets my message when her eyes flare and her face flushes. My eyes skim down her tight shirt and, as if on demand, her nipples harden for me. Her mouth opens to answer, but closes again as she climbs onto the stool. She pulls her guitar into her lap and starts playing.
A small group seats themselves at the booth nearest the door and Carol brings their drink orders to the bar. I’m mixing when Lilah’s voice filters into my head, a song I’ve heard before but can’t place. But the lyrics grab my attention and when I glance up at her, her eyes are burning through me.
It’s a song about wanting something you can’t have. When she hits her stride in the chorus—a verse about how fighting base instinct is futile—I feel my groin tighten in anticipation. If I’m reading this right, she’s answering my question. And it’s exactly the answer I was hoping for. She’s feeling it too.
I mix her rum and Coke and slide it across to her. When she finishes her first song, she downs most of it before launching into the second.
Carol comes for her tray. “She’s in rare form tonight,” she says with a tip of her head at Lilah.
“Meaning?”
She turns her back to Lilah and mutters, “Meaning you two should just jump each other in Vicky’s office and get it over with.”
I scratch my head. “That obvious?”
A devious smile kicks up one corner of her mouth. “I could be blind and still see it.”
In between orders, I try to stay busy with cleaning and inventory so I don’t burn a hole through Lilah’s skin before she even finishes the first set. I keep her glass full of Coke, but otherwise leave her be.
When Marcus, my ex-roommate, shuffles through the door with his girlfriend, I breathe a sigh of relief for the distraction. They arrange themselves around the table nearest the door and just as I round the end of the bar the door opens and his sister Blaire and her husband come through.
I knuckle bump Marcus. “Thought I was rid of you.”
He shoots me a grin. “Caiden defended his dissertation today up at the Sierra State. I used the excuse to tag along for a Sam Hill burger.”
I look at Blaire’s husband as he settles into his seat. “How’d it go?”
He leans back, loops his arm around Blaire’s shoulders. “They didn’t ream me right on the spot, so that’s something. I’ve got some clean up but nothing major.”
“I don’t really get all that academic shit,” I say, lifting my hand for a knuckle bump, “but congrats, I guess.”
He bumps me. “Thanks.”
I turn my attention to Marcus’s girlfriend, Addie. She worked here for a week a few months back, but I knew her before that because she had to retrieve her drunk dad off my barstool more than once. “How’s Bruce?”
I’m glad when a small smile quirks her mouth. She wouldn’t have smiled at that question even a few months ago. “Good. He’s got a job and he’s dating my aunt.”
I feel my eyes widen. “Becky?�
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Her smile grows into a grin. “That’s the one.”
“Wow, that’s…great…?” My eyes tighten in a question. “Right?”
She nods. “I think so.”
I take their drink order and head back to the bar just as Lilah finishes her set and lays her guitar aside.
“How long have you been playing?” I ask, as I pour Marcus a Bud.
“Since I was five.” She runs a finger lovingly along the neck of the guitar. “This was my grandma’s. She taught me to play and gave it to me when she got sick.”
“Sick?” I ask, working on the rest of Marcus’s order.
She nods. “Cancer. She died five years ago.”
It makes me think of Grandpa and my 1970 Ford Torino—my most cherished possession. It’s the only thing other than my family I truly care about, and that’s because it’s basically a member of my family too. That’s how Lilah treats her guitar.
I get the tray for Marcus’s table ready. When Carol comes by I give it to her and turn to Lilah. “Your grandmother would be happy you’ve taken good care of it.”
She barks out a sardonic laugh. “The only reason it’s not a pile of ashes right now is because I abused it.”
I look a question at her.
She takes a deep breath and holds it before blowing it out. “My parents were tweakers. They blew up our house in San Francisco cooking meth. It burned to the ground along with the neighbors’ houses on either side. We lost everything—” She lifts her guitar. “—but this. The day before the fire, I was trying to write something that wasn’t coming out. I yanked on a string and it broke. A friend of mine was restringing it when our house burnt.”
“You write your own music?”
She nods. “Don’t play it much, though. It’s not what people want to hear, so doesn’t work out great for tips.”
“Play me one of yours.”
She gives me a sultry half smile. “I’m on break.”
God, that smile, that voice. She’s all sex. To take my mind off how much I want to fuck her, I turn the subject back to something less sensual. “Everyone got out of the house before it burned?”
She nods. “I guess the cops had been watching our house for a while. They hauled my parents off to jail as soon as they arrived.”
I feel my eyes widen. “How old were you?”
“Fourteen,” she says, then looks at me like she’s expecting a reaction.
“That must have been rough.”
Her gaze sharpens to a point as she scowls at me. “Like I said, I’ve been taking care of myself for years.”
I suppose that explains some of the strength I sense in her. When she came back into the bar last night because of Poser, she wasn’t particularly frightened. She just figured she’s wait the asshole out, like it was a matter of better safe than sorry. She’s sharp and smart with an edge of toughness about her that makes her fucking irresistible.
When I realize how hard I’m getting, I ask, “Are your parents still in jail?”
It’s a little scary that talking about her parents blowing up the family home and going to prison barely helps to curb my raging boner.
She nods, her expression stone cold. “Three more years.”
“Sorry.”
Her laugh is bitter. “Why? I’m not. They got what they deserved.”
There’s obviously no love lost between she and her parents. I’m not gonna lie and say I’m not curious, but I want her to want to tell me. When she’s ready.
“Were you close with your grandmother?” I ask instead, with a nod toward her guitar.
Her face softens and right there I have my answer. “When Destiny and I were little, Grandma would come pick us up in the city when school got out and we’d spend the summers at her place. It was on the ocean near Mendocino and there were these amazing tide pools we’d hike down the cliff to. My best friend Lo came with us most summers because she doesn’t have any family. I wanted Grandma to come live with us when she got too sick to stay at home. I wanted to take care of her.” Her face hardens and becomes sad. “But my mom said she was too much to handle and they put her in a nursing home.”
“That’s when she taught you to play?” I ask, hoping to lighten the suddenly dark mood hanging over her. “When you were at her house for the summer?”
“Me and Lo both. She tried to teach Destiny, but all she cared about was the boy next door. Pretty sure she lost her virginity to him the last summer we spent at grandma’s.” Her eyes snap to me and she cringes when she realizes what she said. “That was probably too much information. Destiny really doesn’t sleep around.”
I lean on my elbows and reach into her eyes with mine. “Destiny can fuck anyone she wants. That’s her business, not mine.”
She swallows and pulls her guitar into her lap, but her gaze burns back into mine as she plays. That voice reaches into me and grabs right onto my cock. Strokes. Makes me hard for her.
Carol comes by with Marcus’s burgers. I give the bar a quick once over to be sure everyone’s set, then grab my beer and follow her to their table. I pull an empty chair around from the next table and drop into it.
“So, how’s Blaire’s couch working out for you?” I ask Marcus.
“It folds out into an actual bed, dude,” he answers through a mouthful of burger, and I see there are two on his plate. No surprise there.
“You’ve always been a overachiever,” I say to Blaire. Both she and Marcus were class valedictorians, he two years after I graduated and she the year after that.
She lifts her hand to high five her husband. “Yep, really shot for the stars, didn’t we babe? Living large in a one bedroom dump in the worst section of Oakland with a foldout couch in our rat infested living room. Doesn’t get any better.”
Caiden chuckles as his palm meets hers. If there’s ever been a couple who have had a tough row to hoe, it’s those two. He went to jail for fucking her when she was seventeen, and it was a year before he could come within fifty yards of her without getting his ass hauled back to prison. I was overseas during all that, but Marcus filled me in on all the gory details when I got back. He felt like Caiden had taken advantage of Blaire and wasn’t happy they were together. But he had to eat his words when he met Addie. She was a member of his Oak Crest High water polo team and he basically lost his coaching gig because he couldn’t stay away from her.
Moral of the story, don’t fuck underage girls.
No worries there. I toss a glance over my shoulder at Lilah and find her watching me as she plays. Destiny has to be at least twenty-one or Mom couldn’t have hired her to waitress. Good thing about twins is, that means I know how old Lilah is too. Not that I was worried. No question in my mind that Lilah is all woman.
I listen to the song she’s singing and let her voice works its magic on me. And as the words sink in, I realize it’s the first time I haven’t at least recognized the song. I look more closely at her face and her eyes spark, and that’s when I realize.
She’s doing what I asked. She’s singing something for me that she wrote.
I turn and listen to her sing about breaking rules and taking what you want. That voice combined with those words makes me want to climb right out of my skin and into hers. Before I realize she’s done it, like some fucking snake charmer, she’s pulled me right out of my chair with nothing but that voice.
Chapter 8
Lilah
Every time Bran’s eyes rake over me, I catch fire and have to remind myself of all the reasons this can’t happen. But I’m sure there has to be a wet spot on the back of the little black skirt I stole out of Destiny’s closet when I was getting ready tonight.
Which proves I’m the worst person who’s ever lived.
In my mind, I keep telling myself “hands off” when it comes to Bran. I’ve set my resolve that nothing can happen, despite the way I ache for him. When I changed out of my warm-ups and baggy T-shirt into some of Destiny’s most revealing clothes before I came here, I justified
it by telling myself it ups my tips. That’s not a lie. But the second I saw Bran standing behind the bar, his black Sam Hill T-shirt clinging to his cut torso, I knew in my heart who I’d dressed for. At the wolfish spark in his eye when he saw me, the image of him taking these clothes off with his teeth flashed through my mind and I’ve been wet ever since.
My heart pounds every time I look at him—every time I catch him staring back. And I can’t keep my eyes off him.
He’s at the table near the door with two couples when I clear my throat and start on a song that I just wrote this week. It’s still a little rough around the edges, but he asked to hear one of my original songs, and if there’s a song I’m going to sing for Bran, it’s going to the one he was the inspiration for.
He turns and looks at me, and at first it’s the same predatory gaze he seems to reserve just for me. But as I start on the chorus of his song, and he hears what I’m singing, his eyes widen.
“There's nothing left to lose. There's nothing else to find.
Take my invitation, leave none of me behind.
Rules restrain the meek, and chains are meant to bind.
Inhibition broken, I’m crossing every line.”
He stands and moves toward me, his eyes asking the question. I nod as I start into the next verse. His smile is so fucking sexy, it’s everything I can do to remember to move my fingers on the strings. And the second I hit the last chord, he’s got my arm and is dragging me off the stool. My guitar is still in my hand as he pulls me through the swinging door to the kitchen and halfway down a short hallway in back. He yanks me into a dark office and before I can process what’s happening, my guitar is banging off something hard and Bran’s strong arms are lifting me off the ground by the waist. As my eyes adjust to the dim light, I see he’s set me on a desk. I lean my guitar against it as Bran wedges himself between my knees.
“I want to fuck you worse than I’ve ever wanted to fuck any woman, but right now, I’ll settle for the taste of your mouth.”
His lips crash into mine and the rush is intense. Every hair on my body stands on end at the feel of his hot mouth doing everything it can to devour me. He forces my mouth open with his and his tongue invades my deepest recesses. And it’s like somewhere deep in my mouth, he’s found my sex autopilot button. Without my permission, my hands fist into the hair on top of his head, and my knees spread and lift over his hips, causing my skirt to ride up my thighs. The moan that escapes my throat is low and feral, and I know he hears it when he grabs my ass and pulls me against the bulge in his jeans. There’s only the thin cotton of my panties and the denim of his jeans between us as I grind the sweet spot between my legs against his hard length. He groans into my mouth as his fingers dig into my skin, and he grinds harder against me. His hand slips under my shirt and cups the swell of my breast, teasing the tight nub of my nipple with his thumb. The action sends shockwaves directly to my groin.