by Cat Mason
“I’d love one,” Evan pipes up, flopping down onto the couch. Tucking an arm behind his head, he props his feet up and stretches out.
“I bet you would,” she fires back.
When Evan starts ranting, her eyes move to me. The brown softens and she smiles. “Do you want a beer, Tage?”
Not waiting for an answer, Bristol turns and heads for the kitchen. Brushing her hair off her shoulder, the dark waves tumble down her back. My eyes move to her ass before continuing down to her long tan legs and bare feet as I follow behind.
I can’t help watching every move she makes. The way she bends at the waist, while digging out two bottles, gives me a perfect view of her ass being hugged by a pair of faded jean shorts. Swallowing hard, I am relieved when she stands, bumps the door closed with her hip and turns to face me. “Lucky us,” she announces, handing me a bottle. “Looks like we get the last two.”
“I hate you!” Evan shouts from the other room, making her laugh.
“Thanks.” Twisting off the top, I take a pull from the bottle. For a guy who owns a bar, I am not a heavy drinker. Oddly enough, it’s about the sports, the food, and bringing people together for me and less about the alcohol induced haze most come in craving. “How you liking Grindstone Harbor so far?” I ask in a sad ass attempt at small talk. “Jo never would’ve wanted this place to stay empty.”
“It’s been weird being here without her.” Placing her bottle on the counter, Bristol hops up on a wooden barstool. Her fingers curl around a pencil as she mindlessly begins tapping a rhythm out on a bright yellow notebook. “I used to spend my summers here as a kid,” she replies, smiling sadly. “Crazy how so little has changed.”
“Oh, it has,” I assure her. “Nothing stays the same, Bristol. Even here.” Sitting my bottle down beside hers, I brace my arms on the counter, leaning in. My fingers brush the backside of her hand. Her breath hitches, those deep brown eyes widening as she stares down at our hands. “Jo would be happy you’re here. She talked about you a lot. Seeing you do what you love made her proud.”
Clearing her throat, Bristol looks away. “Thanks.” When her eyes meet mine again, I can see her struggling with her emotions at the mention of her grandmother. “About the other night, you should know—”
“How about we just put it behind us?” I ask extending my hand. “Hi. My name is Tage Crosby. I live next door with my Uncle Felix and my attacking beach cow.”
Her smile nearly touches her eyes. Bright and fucking beautiful. Slipping her hand into mine, she tightens her grip. “Nice to meet you, Tage. I’m Bristol.”
Not releasing her hand, I brush my thumb over her fingers, feeling a zap that goes straight through me. “Welcome to Grindstone Harbor.”
This is not what I expected to happen when I saw her again. But, I am glad it did. The last thing I wanted to do was make her feel uncomfortable while she was here. I had purposefully put some distance here after the other night, thinking that it was best. However, she has never left my thoughts. If anything, it has been a struggle keeping my mind off her.
Who in their right mind spends days thinking about a woman they just met?
That would be me.
Chapter Five
Waggling Brows and Pussy Pounders
Bristol
Frustration.
That’s the only word I can come up with today once Tage left.
After staring at the page for hours, I got angry and walked away. Being, not only the lead vocalist of AWOL, but also the one who writes most of our music, has only gotten harder and harder for me. I am in constant competition with myself. Anything I have written before has to be topped. I am determined to make each album, and every song, better than the last.
Yes, I am my harshest critic. Leaving my mark on this world is all I have ever wanted. Music does that. A song, and that feeling you get in your soul when you first hear it, transcends all time. Just hearing your favorite song makes your heart beat in time with the rhythm and goosebumps rise on your skin. Truly great music doesn’t get old, or wear out. It leaves a stamp on your heart forever.
That is what I want to be remembered for when I leave this world.
Good thing that wasn’t today...
Being that I was still alive and kicking, I changed clothes and told Evan to get in the car. I needed a break from the quiet and staring at the same four walls. The fact that we finished off the beer, and Evan quickly finished eating all the snacks, didn’t help.
Sometimes a girl needs beer and carbs. Today, is one of those days.
“It’s beer thirty!” Evan says, throwing up his hands as we step into the bar.
The Penalty Box is more crowded tonight than it was the last time we were here. All the televisions are tuned to the same hockey game and everyone in the place is shouting with excitement. While we make our way to an empty table, two waitresses run around the room delivering drinks and baskets of food. It is loud and chaotic, but everyone seems to be having a good time.
When I slide into the booth, Tage’s eyes catch mine. Flashing me a smile, he adds some orange slices and a wedge of pineapple to a drink before sliding it down the bar to a customer.
“Woman, you ain’t even playin’ hard to get,” Evan laughs. “Least you could do is wait more than sixty seconds to search him out.”
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me.” His eyes damn near dance in his head with amusement. “You’ve got the hots for the guy. The moment you spotted him your entire face lit up.”
“I do not,” I argue, crossing my arms over my chest. “I wasn’t searching him out. I was about to flag down someone for a drink.”
“Oh, Tage,” Evan teases. Batting his eyes, he clutches one hand to his chest and fans himself dramatically with the other. “Your sexy ass makes me so horny. Can I make out with your hot face?”
“Uh.” Tage’s voice has both Evan and I jumping in the booth. “I’m flattered, but you’re not my type.”
Evan’s eyes widen in surprise, his face turning blood red. “Well, hell,” he says, sighing heavily. “Wings and beer it is then.”
Losing my battle to keep a straight face, I erupt into a fit of laughter. Tage’s gaze moves to me, the look in his eyes makes my stomach flip. His smile widens, exposing lopsided dimples, causing heat to spread through my entire body.
“Beer?” he asks me when I don’t say anything.
Evan leans back in the booth, the smug bastard completely content watching the two of us. When I nod, Tage begins scribbling on his notepad, but his eyes don’t leave me. “Gets crowded in here during playoffs. If we actually make it into the finals, you won’t be able to find a seat. You like Hockey?”
“Never really watched it,” I reply with a shrug. “Isn’t it, like, really violent?”
“Can be,” Tage nods. “Though few sports aren’t.”
“Touché,” I admit with a shrug.
Along with my beer, I order some deep fried, white cheddar bites. Tage excuses himself to put the order in with Felix, saying he will stop back by when he can. A curvy, brunette wearing a tight black and white striped shirt and black shorts delivers our beers moments later.
“Here you go, guys.” Sitting the bottles down between us, she smiles. “I’m Jodi. I’ll be taking care of you. You need anything at all, just give me a shout.”
“Thank you, Jodi,” Evan says, raking his eyes up and down her body. Lifting the bottle to his lips, he winks at her. “I’m sure you’ll take good care of me.”
I roll my eyes, shaking my head at his ruthless tactics when it comes to flirting. Jodi giggles, her cheeks flushing. Leaning against Evan’s side of the booth, she runs her fingers up his arm, batting her lashes. “You can bet on it, Sugar.”
Really?
Seriously. Come on...
“Be back in a minute.” Pushing from the booth, I weave through the cheering sea of people, heading toward the ladies’ room.
Evan and I have a standing agreement. I have no issue with
him getting lucky when we aren’t on tour. The man has needs. I get it. Honestly, I have set him up with some chicks, including Quinn, who he even dated for a bit two years ago.
However, while him hooking up with my best friend seemed like a good thing at the time, it made something very clear to me. Shit like that can get awkward as hell. Thanks to her lack of filter, I now know way too much about the heat Heavy E is packing. Apparently, the man has mad pussy pounding abilities. And, though I didn’t have the need or attraction to him that made me want to experience them for myself, I also have no desire to hear it firsthand ever again.
Here’s hoping the walls aren’t thin...
Things like that don’t happen to me. If I were to sashay across the room and batt my eyes, I would trip over my own two feet. I am the lead singer for a rock band, but when most people in my position would use that to their advantage, I don’t see the draw in the whole one-nighter thing. While, a lot of times I get noticed and hit on by some good looking specimens, I usually refuse. I would rather not play Russian Roulette with a gun loaded with possible STDs.
Besides, when it comes to sex, I prefer quality over quantity.
Bodies bump into me, shifting me on my feet. Cheers echo throughout the bar; glasses being raised high as a loud buzzer sounds. “That’s our boys!” a man cheers, beside me. “That cup’s comin’ home to Michigan this year, where it belongs.”
Turning the corner, I see a door at the end of the hall partially opened. A dim light shines through the crack, drawing my attention. My feet move, without any direction from me, only stopping when I see Tage’s face silhouetted in the lamp light. His hair hangs down, only giving me a partial view of his face. He looks distant, staring at his arms sitting on the desk in front of him, completely disconnected from the craziness happening out front.
I don’t make a sound. Knowing that this makes me a complete creeper, I stand as still as possible, barely breathing as I watch him. Tage is unbelievably intriguing. He lingers in my thoughts long after he is gone.
His scent also lingered on my clothes after he carried me inside earlier today. I had to change my shirt before Evan caught me sniffing the damn thing. Whatever that scent is, isn’t just his cologne, but if I could bottle the stuff, I would be a fucking millionaire.
“Oh, hey.”
His voice takes me by surprise. “Hey.” Meeting his eyes, I push the door open enough to step inside. “Sorry. I was headed to the ladies’ room. You okay?” I ask, the rest of my explanation, unimportant. A framed jersey hangs on the wall opposite him. “Crosby,” I say, reading the name above the number ‘68’. “Wow. That’s you, huh?” I ask.
“Yep,” he nods. “That was me.” Pushing to his feet, he blows out a breath. Yanking a hand through his hair, he moves toward me. “Got intense out there. I needed a breather.”
“Yeah,” I agree. “You didn’t tell me you played.”
“No,” he admits. “Usually I wear a sign around my neck with flashing lights, but it clashes with my eyes.”
“Very funny, smartass,” I mutter, rolling my eyes.
“Seriously, though, that’s not who I am now,” he says, jerking his chin toward the frame. “After I left the league, I moved back here and became a different person. I run the bar, take care of my uncle and have ridiculous conversations with my dog because he is more human than some people I have met.” Closing what distance is left between us, he sighs. “I’m also the guy who is unable to get his mind off you, no matter how hard I try. That’s who I want you to see. So no, I didn’t tell you that I played as soon as we met.”
“Tage,” I breathe, unsure what I am going to say next.
“Don’t say anything else,” he pleads, his eyes searching mine. “Usually, when I am close to you my brain shuts down. I try to play it off and be cool, but something goes wrong or I say completely stupid shit and either piss you off or embarrass myself. Actually, I seem to be talented enough to do both at once. I don’t wanna get tripped up now that I’m finally making sense.” His brow furrows. “Am I making sense?”
“Uh...”
“Who am I kidding,” he breathes, grabbing my face with both hands. “None of this makes any sense.”
“Ta—” I gasp, then his mouth is on mine.
His right hand slides down, curling around my waist as he pulls me against him. A low growl rumbles from his chest when his tongue meets mine. My toes curl in my sneakers, the feel of his lips moving over mine sends a rush of excitement I hadn’t anticipated through my body. My hands run up his arms before gripping the back of his neck.
Needing him closer.
Wanting more.
Tage’s fingers slip beneath the hem of my shirt, stroking lightly over my skin. That intoxicating scent from before fills my nose, making me weak in the knees. How in the hell does he smell so good? It really isn’t fair. I can’t resist him when all I wanna do is sniff him, and yes, make out with his face.
Fucking Evan. I hate when he is right!
“Ahem.”
Just like two kids caught fooling around behind the bleachers during gym class, the two of us jump apart like the other just burst into flames. Standing in the doorway, wearing a bright green sweat suit and the biggest smirk I have ever seen, is Tage’s uncle, Felix.
“Guess you’re not interested in the score since you’re back here playin’ tonsil hockey,” he teases, waggling his white brows. “When you’re done, I need some help in the kitchen boxin’ up those to-go orders for the firehouse and police station.” Tipping his chin to me, he winks. “Beautiful girl. Just like her Nana Jo.”
Without another word, Felix heads up the hall, leaving us alone. The air crackles around us, tension building from the kiss we just shared. The moment still fresh in my mind, his touch like a phantom tattoo on my skin.
“You kissed me,” I blurt, touching my fingers to my still tingling lips.
“I did,” he replies, stepping closer. Reaching out, he brushes my hair from my face. “You kissed me back.”
“Yeah,” I admit, searching his face, wishing I could read his mind. I want to know what he is thinking. What he is going to do next. More specifically, if he is going to kiss me again.
Do I want him to kiss me again?
“I liked it.”
Tage brushes his thumb over my lip. My entire body shivers, anticipating more of his mouth. My mind is spinning. My thoughts racing around so fast inside my head it is making me dizzy. I just kissed a man I only met three days ago. Three days. It takes longer for left over Chinese take-out to spoil than it did for me to shove my tongue in this man’s mouth and sniff him like a perfume sample at the Macy’s cosmetic counter.
Fucking hell, I am a slut.
“Uh,” I stammer, taking a step back. “I better be getting back out there. Evan has probably already stolen my beer.”
“Bristol, wait.” Taking my hand in his, Tage, brushes his thumb over my knuckles like he did earlier today at the house. My heart skips a beat, just like it has every time he has touched me. “Let me take you out. You and me. No beach cows, no nosy uncle, no giant Evan shadow.”
“Are you asking me out on a date?” I ask in disbelief. “Two minutes ago, your tongue was halfway down my throat. I’m pretty sure this isn’t how it works.”
“You’re probably right.” Shrugging, a wicked smile spreads across his face that has him looking like the devil himself. “I’m willing to bet that nothing about this is going to be normal, Bristol. I like that too.”
“I don’t date,” I inform him, backing away. “It never works.” Turning my back to him, I head for the door.
“Then don’t date me,” he blurts, grabbing my hand to stop me. Stepping around to face me, he studies my face. “I don’t give a shit how you label it. I just want some time with you.” Slipping an arm around my waist, he pulls me against him. My stomach flips and my breath hitches. Tage smiles again, knowing he has me right where he wants me.
Damn him.
“Fine,” I
breathe, accepting defeat. “But, it’s not a date.”
His smile widens, nearly touching his deep green eyes. “Deal.” Sliding his hand into my hair, he brushes his lips over mine softly before nipping my bottom lip with his teeth. “I need to get out there before my uncle accidently poisons the police chief by mixing up the blue cheese and ranch dressings. Again.”
Nodding, I walk out with him. While Tage gets back to work, I make my way back to the table where Evan sits eating. “Did ya get lost?” he asks through a mouthful of chips and queso I don’t remember us ordering. Glancing up at me when I don’t answer, he chuckles and shakes his head. “You know,” he says, reaching across the table and swiping a handful of my cheddar bites. “If you’re gonna sneak off to suck face with the dude, is it too much to ask for you to bring me back some free wings?”
“I didn’t sneak off,” I huff defensively, rolling my eyes. “Besides, I don’t know what you’re talking about. I went to the bathroom.”
“Bristol, you’re about as transparent as a sheet of glass. It doesn’t take much to see what’s rolling around inside your head.” Dumping the tiny nuggets into the cup of blue cheese, he swirls them around with his fork, coating them all with dressing before downing the contents in one big gulp. “I also asked the cook if he’d seen you when he brought out our food. He filled me in,” he adds, reaching over for more.
“You’re such a dick,” I mutter, slapping his hand away and moving my food out of his reach. Grabbing my beer, I ignore Evan’s teasing, and enjoy what’s left of my dinner.
Chapter Six
Winging It
Tage
After helping box up orders, I deliver them to the police department and fire station. By the time I got back, not only had the game ended, but the bar crowd had thinned out a lot. Scanning the room, I quickly realized Bristol and Evan had already headed out as well.