by Cat Mason
“I don’t know why you ask me somethin’ if you’re gonna just answer yourself.” Turning away to grab a beer, along with the bottle of whiskey and a shot glass, I head their way. Placing everything down on the table between them, I try to smile through the awkward tension that has begun to suck the air out of the room, the closer I get to her. “Here ya go. Food should be up soon. Need anything else before that, flag me down,” I say, silently willing her to look up at me. But, she doesn’t.
Bristol’s eyes stay locked on the movements of her fingers as she rips the top off the bottle and pours herself a shot. Her tongue peeks out, running the length of her plump bottom lip before closing her eyes and downing the contents of the glass. “I can honestly say that you staring at me right now is possibly weirding me out more than you perving on me earlier,” she breathes. Opening her eyes, she stares up at me, her lips quirking up in a sexy, smart ass smirk.
“I wasn’t—” I blurt, yanking a hand through my hair.
“Staring at me like, at any moment, you’d leap into the booth and lick my face?” she asks, interrupting me, and making Evan nearly choke on his beer. “Yeah... You totally were.”
“I’m not going to lick your face,” I inform her, crossing my arms over my chest.
“Nice to know,” she nods thoughtfully. Pouring another shot, she downs it quickly, before meeting my eyes again. Her smile spreads, nearly touching her eyes.
“Stop fuckin’ with the poor guy, B,” Evan interrupts, shifting his gaze between the two of us, before finally stopping on me. “When you go back to spit in her sandwich, can you grab me another beer?”
“Order up!” Uncle Felix shouts, tapping his annoying as hell bell.
Excusing myself quickly, I leave the two of them to their insulting banter and threats of bodily harm. Tossing the empty bottle in the bin, I grab another beer from the mini fridge and load up the serving tray.
“Deters has turned into a goddamn show pony,” Burleson says, shaking his head. “It’s a shame Coach Gillespie gave him Captain when you didn’t go back to the league, son. He hasn’t done right by it.”
“Gillespie didn’t make the call alone. Takes more than one person to name who leads a team,” I say, shaking off how angry hearing the name Mickey Deters makes me.
Looking up, the rage only grows as Mickey’s face fills the large, flat screen on the wall. My fists ball at my sides as he rambles on and on about winning tonight. The way the conceited jackass talks, you would think he took the opposing team on solo. My mind goes back to four years ago when I was Captain and considered him a friend. A teammate. Little did I know he was a circling snake waiting to strike.
Shoulda.
Woulda.
Coulda.
Yeah. No amount of hindsight, regrets, or wishful thinking will change the outcome of that shit show. It is what it is. Life has its good, bad and ugly. You learn to live with it. That doesn’t mean I don’t want to take Jimmy McGee’s advice and give Deters a post-game asphalt facial in the parking lot. It just means I have restraint.
There’s also the fact that I know I can’t pull off prison orange...
Making my way over with the food, I notice Evan is alone at the table. “Here it is,” I say, placing Evan’s food and second beer down before arranging Bristol’s things on her side of the table. “Enjoy.”
“Thanks, man,” Evan replies, diving into his nachos with both hands. “She’s hot,” he says, taking me by surprise.
“Excuse me?” I ask, wondering if I heard him wrong.
“Bristol,” he says, through a mouth full of chips, cheese, and toppings. “She’s hot.”
“Uh...” Blowing out a breath, I yank a hand through my hair and nod. “Yeah. She is.”
He nods. Sitting up straight, he grabs his beer. “Told her earlier if she saw the guy from the beach again to let me know and I’d fuck him up. Being head of her security team, it’s sorta my job.”
Great. I don’t want a fight with this guy.
Especially, not in the middle of my bar.
“Look,” I say swallowing hard. “It’s not like I—”
“Honestly, I thought she was full of shit. Figured I’d offer to fuck shit up and that would make her feel better. Ya know?” he continues, interrupting me while diving into his wings. “Shit happens. Weird shit. Especially with her. I get it. So, I’m not gonna throat punch you.” Nearly sucking the meat right off the bone, he drops it to the plate, licking his fingers before grabbing another and dipping it in blue cheese dressing.
“Thanks, I think.”
“Next door neighbor?” he asks, grabbing more chips. When I don’t answer, he stops eating and looks up at me. “You live next door, right? Figure that’s the only way I could’ve missed you earlier.”
Basically speechless, and unsure what this conversation is leading up to, I nod.
Sitting back in the booth, he nods, a smile spreads across his face as he glances around me. “Well, Denim Dan, this should be interesting.”
“I feel awesome!” Turning, I see Bristol coming up behind me. Swinging her hips, she struts toward us, stumbling a little as she gets closer, but recovering quickly. Stretching her arms above her head, she smiles, her tits hoisted up and on perfect display. “Fireball is my spirit animal.”
“B, liquor can’t be your spirit animal. If it were, you’d be killing it,” Evan laughs, gesturing to the half empty bottle.
Stopping beside me, she grabs the whiskey, taking a long pull straight from the bottle. My eyes lock on her, watching her lips parting to wrap around the bottle, her throat as it works with every swallow. “I’m not killing it. The two of us are coming together to become one.” She faces me, her tongue darting out enough to catch a drop of the liquid. Another drop slips down her chin, dropping onto her chest.
My goddamn knees nearly buckle watching it disappear into her shirt between her cleavage. Her tits stretch against the fabric of her tank, her nipples on full display through the cotton. My mouth is drier than any damned desert. I nearly choke trying to swallow around the huge lump in my throat.
“Hello?” she asks, snapping her fingers in front of my face. “I can’t believe this. My eyes are up here.”
Shaking images from my head of sliding my tongue between those lush peaks, I meet her deep brown eyes. She smirks, rolling her eyes. “You haven’t heard a word I’ve just said. Have you, Tage?”
“Eyes,” I blurt, shoving my hands into the front pockets of my jeans, hoping to help hide how hard my dick is right now. “We were talking about your eyes.”
The moment the words leave my mouth I know I fucked up.
My fantasy has quickly dropped me into the seventh circle of blue ball hell. My dick has bypassed all warm up and boarding procedures. My overly eager hard on is banging on my zipper, begging me to clear him for thrust off, while she stares at me like I have lost my damn mind.
Evan laughs, shaking his head. Bristol’s eyes roll so hard I fully expect them to disappear into the back of her skull forever. “No, but close. Actually, I was just apologizing for being such a bitch to you before.” Studying me, she arches a brow. “Since you were eye fuckin’ my tits for the forty-leventh time, instead of listening to me go on and on about starting fresh for the sake of being neighbors, I’m thinking I should change tactics when talking to you.” Placing the bottle on the table, she grabs my ears and yanks me down face first into her chest. “Can you hear me now?” she asks, before releasing me. Shoving by me, she drops down into the booth, eyeing her plate. “Food looks good. I’m starving.”
“Now that little lady knows how to tip her server,” Uncle Felix shouts from the bar with a hysterical laugh.
My face burns with embarrassment. I have no smart ass comeback for her after that. There won’t be any jokes to cut this tension or turn the focus of everyone in the bar away from me. I got nothing. Just like that, Bristol Lachlan has blown every thought from my mind, and nearly caused me to shoot my wad in my pants. Picking my jaw up
off the floor, and tucking my tail between my legs, I head for the safety of my office.
Chapter Four
Barking Beach Cows
Bristol
“I can’t believe you, B!” Quinn screeches. “You really gave some random dude’s face a tit ride in the middle of a bar?”
Stepping out the backdoor, I take a seat on the porch swing. Staring at my best friend’s face as it fills my phone screen, I roll my eyes. “Wasn’t my proudest moment,” I admit, thinking back to three nights ago when I singlehandedly ran a bar owner out of his own establishment.
Well, back to his office anyway...
What was hilarious at the time, didn’t prove to be so entertaining when I sobered up the next morning. It seems that in a small town where everyone knows everyone, news travels fast. Apparently, Tage’s seventy-three-year-old uncle, Felix, who is also the cook, didn’t have a problem getting the word out to the entire town.
The last few days have been spent dealing with legal shit back in Missouri to make sure the man who broke into my hotel room stays behind bars, cleaning up the mess my father left after he finished up here, and working on a song that has been half done for months. The verses are there, but I need the chorus and a hook to tie it all together.
But, I’ll be damned if it just won’t come to me.
“Once Greer and I are done visiting the parental units, I’m packing a bag and coming up there,” she says, pointing her finger at the screen. “Someone needs to be getting video of this shit. You know the rules. Pics and video, bitch, or it never happened.”
“No,” I reply, shaking my head. “I miss you and love you, but if you come up now, I’ll never get anything done. Trust me, other than that alcohol induced moment of stupidity, it’s been totally uneventful. I’m actually going to sit here on this old ass swing and try to figure out this chorus before I go for a swim.” Taking my phone, I turn it so that it scans the yard and beach, giving her a view of the water. “See. You’d be bored to tears.”
When I turn the screen to me again, she has scrunched up her face. “Fine,” she breathes, pouting her dark purple lips. “You’re no fun at all.”
A dog barking from the beach gets my attention. “Dammit, Moo. I said stop!” The loud thumps of something big running along the old wooden planks of the porch have me turning around just in time to scream. The large, soaking wet, black and white dog, leaps into my lap and licks my face between excited barks.
The chain snaps, sending the swing slamming to the ground. All the air rushes out of my lungs as my body slams into the back of the swing before flipping over the side. My back hits the porch so hard my teeth rattle from the impact, phone flying out of my hand as the dog lands on top of me, still barking and licking my face as I try to sit up.
“Oh shit!” a familiar male voice shouts, followed by the dog being yanked off me. “For fuck’s sake, Moo. How many times do we need to go over this? You’re not a lap dog.”
Dragging air into my lungs, I wipe my face and look up to see a wet, shirtless Tage, bent at the waist, pointing at the dog as if scolding a child. Moo barks, tapping the porch with his paw before spinning in a circle and sitting his ass on the now broken swing seat. Looking up at Tage again, I swear the dog smiles. “Don’t be an asshole,” Tage says, then turns his attention to me. “Are you okay?” When I nod, he grabs my hand and hauls me up on my feet. “Sorry about that. No matter how many times I remind him he’s a Great Dane, Moo insists he’s some kind of Toy Poodle that everyone wants to hold.”
“Your dog’s name is Moo?” I ask with a little laugh.
“Well yeah,” he shrugs, his lips twitching in amusement. “He doesn’t answer to asshole.”
Moo barks again.
“You’re really pushin’ it today,” Tage warns, causing the dog to cover his snout with both of his paws and let out a low groan.
My eyes move to the body in front of me. Tage’s bare chest is lean, but every muscle is so defined, I could trace them with my fingertips. Or my tongue... A large tattoo covers nearly the entire left side of his torso. Random items like a broken hockey stick, red rose with sharp jagged thorns that appear to be cutting into his flesh, a busted hour glass with sand pouring out of it are just a few things catching my eye in the colorful piece. Droplets of water run along his skin, down his abdomen to the wet black trunks hanging low on his hips.
“Bristol?”
“Hmm?” I ask, chewing on my bottom lip, my eyes following the happy trail that leads down to some wickedly mouthwatering V lines.
“I think your phone is screaming.”
“Huh?”
“Your phone,” Tage says. Brushing two fingers along my chin, he tips my face up to meet his insanely green eyes. “It slid over there.”
Turning, I walk over to the corner and grab pick it up. “Bristol! For the love of Chase Rice’s sexy ass and filthy mouth, did you die?” Quinn screams. Looking at the screen, I watch as she appears to be running through the apartment she shares with her brother. “Greer! Pack your shit. Bristol’s been attacked by some rabid barking beach cow!”
“Quinn!” I shout, at the screen. “I’m fine. It was just the neighbor’s dog. See,” I say when both of their faces fill the screen. “Totally fine.”
“Who’s the dude?” Greer asks, arching a brow.
I nearly jump when Tage’s hand comes to rest on my shoulder as he leans in so close his face nearly touches mine. “I’m Tage. The neighbor and owner of the attacking beach cow.”
The dog groans loudly, probably taking offense to that comment.
Quinn’s face lights up and she smiles. “Ooooh! I’ve heard all about you,” she says with a wink.
“Gotta go, guys. Love your face, Quinnie. Talk soon,” I say, not needing to add her degree of crazy to this already weird situation.
“But, B!”
Ending the call, I shove my phone into the back pocket of my jean shorts. “You’re bleeding.”
Turning around, I take a step back, putting some room between Tage and me. Whacking my shin on the broken swing frame, I wobble unsteadily. “Fucking shit fuck,” I yelp, nearly losing my balance and falling on my ass.
“Careful, woman. You’re gonna break somethin’.” Reaching out, he grabs my arms, pulling me close.
“Pretty sure your beach cow handled that for us,” I breathe, meeting his eyes.
Glancing over, he laughs at the dog who is now lying on his back across the broken planks of wood, completely relaxed with his legs sprawled out, snoring loudly. Grabbing my chin, Tage brushes his thumb over my cheek. I wince, sucking in a breath.
“Yeah,” he says, tilting my head as he leans closer. “Let’s get you inside so we can clean this up. Could be a splinter in there.”
His hand drops to my forearm, his fingers brushing over my skin. Turning us, he steers me toward the screen door. My eyes drop to where our bodies touch, the rough callouses on his fingertips make me shiver. Then I see it. Blood. Everything around me begins to spin. “Bristol?” Tage’s voice sounds so far away, even though I can still feel him touching me. “Are you okay?”
“Totally,” I laugh, brushing him off.
“You don’t look so good,” he informs me, wrapping an arm around me.
Then, right before the man I shoved face first into my boobs, I faint.
Tage
“Bristol?”
Her eyes disappear into the back of her head as I hoist her into my arms. Making my way to the door, I glare at my no fucks given dog as he sleeps soundly. “Thinkin’ your name shoulda been asshole after all.”
Grabbing the handle on the screen door, I pull enough so that I can kick it the rest of the way open with my foot and move inside. “What the hell happened?” Evan asks, moving quickly up the hallway once he spots us. “Did you hit her?” he asks as I move through the kitchen and into the sun room. “Can’t say that I blame you. Tit teasing a guy’s face like that leads to cases of blue balls that would have Papa Smurf looking faded.”
“I didn’t hit her,” I reply, putting her down on the couch. Brushing the hair from her face, I look over at him and blow out a breath. “My dog did.”
“Your dog?” he asks, doubling over and clutching his stomach as he laughs. “I miss the best shit. From now on, no one can do anything while I shower.”
“I don’t understand,” I say, checking her over. The only injury I can see is the cut on her cheek. “She was okay one minute, then she went ghost white and it was lights out.”
Evan steps up beside me, clapping me on the back, he chuckles. “She see the blood?”
“I guess so. Why?”
“She’ll be fine,” he assures me, heading through the doorway into the kitchen. “Blood and needles freak her the fuck out. Turns her into the biggest chicken shit I’ve ever seen.” Stepping back into the room with a wet dish towel, he shakes his head. “She’s fainted in the doctor’s office over a finger prick. Fell right off the damn table onto the floor.” Carefully, he wipes the blood from her arm and face. Once Evan is sure there isn’t a splinter, he covers the scratch with a Band-Aid. Bristol stirs, moaning as she blinks her eyes. “Honestly, you’re lucky she didn’t hurl all over you first.”
“Throw up when you cut yourself shaving your legs one time and you never live it down,” she groans, scrubbing a hand over her face. Shooting Evan an icy glare when he starts laughing, she flips him off. “Keep it up, ya rancid twat puddle. You’re about to be the funniest fuckhole in the unemployment line.”
“Sing me a song I haven’t heard,” he says, waving her off.
“Bristol, I’m so sorry,” I interrupt, knowing that I need to say something since it was my crazed canine that caused all this. I should have known the moment he heard the screen door slam, Moo would bolt for the house.
After all, we spent a lot of time here.
“I don’t know why you’re apologizing,” she replies. Swinging her legs over the side of the couch, she stands to her feet. “You didn’t do anything wrong. This time.” Smirking, she brushes by me. “I’m gonna have a beer.”