by Anne Harper
Sloane whipped back around like she’d been slapped.
“I said I had to ask you about a drink. So, uh, if Carol follows up, it would be amazing if you could not sell me out on that lie.”
She didn’t give him a chance to comment. Instead she pulled a smile out and scurried back to the booth. Carol continued to stare. Brady found himself pitying Sloane. It didn’t matter if he kept her secret or not; Carol was going to eat that woman alive.
A sentiment that Santana the waitress shared when Brady made it back behind the bar.
“Everyone is trying to get famous by proxy,” she said, shaking her head. “Like pretending to be Sloane’s friend is going to score them points with the internet.”
“You know her?”
Santana snorted. “When anything Arbor Bay trends, I take notice. I’ve met her once, and she was nice. I’ve had more convos with her brother, though. I heard even he’s been getting people trying to interview him and had to shut down his social media because of all the attention.” She grabbed the tray she’d just stocked with drinks Dixon had made and shook her head again. “Here we are, racking our brains trying to get more people to take notice of the bar, and the poor girl has everyone knocking down her door with attention she doesn’t even want.”
Brady stepped aside as Santana went to deliver the drinks. He glanced over at Sloane.
He bet The Drinking Spot didn’t have one of her lying around. Maybe he could use that to help Cassidy’s Place?
A small shot of adrenaline went through Brady as the wheels in his head started to turn. He could take a picture of her and upload it to the bar’s Instagram or Facebook? It had been a while since Dixon, Santana, or he had posted anything interesting on either. He was about to voice the new idea to his cousin, but Dixon looked like he was already dealing with something of his own.
Or so Brady thought.
“What is it?” he asked, almost afraid to walk up to him. Like he had done with Sloane in the hallway, Dixon lifted his hand up in a stop motion. In the other was his phone. Brady could make out the Facebook icon in the top corner.
“I heard Carol say that Golden Boy got engaged, so I decided to stalk his social media to see who the new queen of town was going to be.” Dixon’s expression turned to straight sympathy. “Now, just remember, this bar might be owned by my dad, but that doesn’t mean you won’t get canned if you go start a fight with a customer.”
“Come again?”
Dixon slowly angled the phone to face him.
It took Brady longer than it should have to understand what he was reading.
“No way,” he breathed. “No fucking way.”
Dixon shrugged. “You did say Felicity had a thing for fancier living.” He motioned with his head over to the booth in the corner. “Marcus Robertson is pretty fancy.”
Brady didn’t know what to say.
He didn’t know what to feel.
Anger? Disbelief? Jealousy?
Fuck it. That’s what he felt.
He threw down his dishrag and exited behind the bar. Carol saw him coming first, then Sloane. The latter jumped up like she was ready to slap her hand over his mouth again.
But Brady had taken his earlier idea and transformed it into a disastrous, short-term one. It might not fix anything, but it was sure going to get Arbor Bay talking.
And anyone not talking about Marcus was a service to their country.
So, right there in front of both Robertsons, the rest of Cassidy’s Place, and God, Brady took Sloane De Carlo’s face in his hands and kissed her for every dime and penny he was worth.
Chapter Three
It was like one of those patterned posters with a hidden image. When first looking at it, there were just a lot of triangles or lines repeating. A bunch of bright, neon nonsense that made you a little dizzy. But if you kept your eyelids up and stared? Then suddenly that hidden image came through. Something that had been there all along, just beneath the surface. And once you saw that picture? It was nearly impossible to see anything but that.
That’s how Sloane felt the moment after kissing Brady Knox.
Logically, Sloane knew the man was attractive before his lips had crashed into hers. Sure, like most attractive men, he made her a tad nervous when talking to him. And, sure, that had all been before she’d placed her hands against his chest and noted how hard it was and how pleasant that felt.
Who didn’t like the classic aloof bartender type? Topped off with messy, dark blond bedroom hair and a set of hazel green eyes that had a constant hint of a smirk behind them? And who didn’t like arresting jawlines covered in five o’clock shadows? Never mind a set of plump lips that created electricity just by touching you?
Sloane wasn’t about to say she disliked any of that. No siree Bob. She, in fact, found out how much of a fan she was when Brady broke their surprise kiss and left her wanting right then and there, lips parted and face warm.
So much so that she plum forgot where they were for a moment.
“I’m sorry,” Brady said, voice a low-thrumming complement to his lips. “I know I said we should keep a low profile, but I couldn’t help it. I want people to know about us and couldn’t handle it anymore.”
He pulled back, taking his hands and lips with him. Then his gaze swept to her right, and Sloane remembered where they were.
She didn’t understand the kiss and barely knew the man, but, with one glance at Carol, she decided being clueless was better than being interrogated solo.
“Oh, well, I guess it’s o-okay,” Sloane stammered out, careful not to make too much eye contact with any one person. “I mean, I’m happy we don’t have to keep it a secret anymore.”
Brady smiled. It activated another wave of heat that traveled up from Sloane’s stomach and pooled in her cheeks. That smile transformed into a crooked grin.
The sight was even more pleasing.
And confusing.
Just like everything that was happening.
At least Sloane wasn’t the only one trying to grab on to some answers.
“Hold your horses.” Carol’s arched eyebrow was paired with her hand poised in the air, index finger pointing at Brady. Sloane wasn’t even going to chance a look at her brother.
Since she had sat down with the group, Marcus had gone from polite to lost in his phone within the first five minutes. His attention had, thankfully, not been on the multitude of questions Carol and Co. had asked Sloane about The Girl Who Said Nothing and Guy. If Sloane hadn’t caught a flash of his phone to see it was a text message conversation, she would have worried he was searching the blog out or googling her. Out of her periphery now, though, Sloane knew he was staring at the scene unfolding next to the booth. Honestly, she would have had a front-row seat, too, if she could have.
Woman who is the worst at lying and improv tries to stay afloat of her lies and mortifying secrets. Guest star: Brady the Bartender, bearer of her most secret of secrets.
“Are you telling me that you two are a thing?” Carol kept her finger trained on Brady, but her suspicion was all over the place. “I didn’t even realize you knew each other.”
“Just because you know most things that go on in town doesn’t mean you know them all,” Brady answered. He threw his arm around Sloane and pulled her against his side so they were both facing the music head-on.
Carol decided to skip to a crescendo.
“I’m just surprised is all. I mean, her entire thing right now is about lost love over this ‘Guy.’” Her eyes widened. She jabbed her manicured nail in Brady’s direction again but was looking at no one but Sloane. “Unless… Is he the guy from your blog?”
Sloane might have imagined it, but a hush settled over the bar around them. Like they were trapped in the aftermath of a collective, surprised intake of breath.
Her heartbeat started to gallop.
&
nbsp; Her ears and cheeks burned hotter.
The memories of nine years’ worth of blog posts were giant neon signs glaring in her mind’s eye, all with warnings to never let them see the light of day. No matter what.
This time, however, Sloane decided to look at Marcus before she answered.
He was one of the most beautiful men she’d ever seen, hands down. Golden-haired with soft curls that paid tribute to his boyish charm, blue eyes that held the depth of an ocean of compassion within them, a face filled with movie star angles, and a smile that had spent its whole existence learning how to win what it wanted.
While each handsome feature had added allure for her when she was younger, Sloane found the boy’s kindness, humor, and easy charm were what had left a hefty impression on her younger self. The years would go by, and out of nowhere she’d be transported back to that day in the park.
That perfect day.
The day she’d fallen in love with the perfect guy.
That’s where the blog posts about Guy were born. It didn’t matter what stage of life she’d been in; it was always nice to go back to that day and live in that perfect feeling. A feeling that had been easier to chase when she typed it out.
Why hadn’t she told Marcus how she’d felt?
Well, why mess with perfection?
And now? Now he was engaged to Felicity Fairchild, and Sloane had been out of his orbit for almost a decade. She could no more tell him the truth than she could stop blushing at him staring at her now.
Suddenly, Sloane’s heart made a decision before her brain could really think it through. This time it wasn’t about first love.
It was about self-preservation.
She placed her hand on Brady’s chest and patted it.
“Why do you think I came back to town?” she asked. “I thought it was finally time to come clean about how I felt. Like you said, it’s no fun when it’s one-sided.”
Brady squeezed her into his side even tighter. His body didn’t give an inch. Despite her world getting rowdy around her, Sloane couldn’t help but wonder at what was beneath his button-up.
“That’s right,” he said. “There I was, working, and she just jumps up on the barstool and lays it all out. This one’s surprisingly fierce.”
Sloane shared a look with the man.
“And this one is…” Her words stalled out. She didn’t know a thing about Brady, other than that he worked at a bar.
“Is now ready to get out of here,” he picked up. His smile was customer-service polite as he swung it out to Carol and her gang. “Sloanie and I were supposed to go out tonight, but I had to come in to do a few things first.”
Carol didn’t look convinced. She shared a look with Ruby, who, surprisingly, was still quiet.
“So why don’t you join us now?” she offered. “We’d love to be the first to get the scoop.”
“Sorry, but we’ll have to rain check,” Brady answered with ease. “We have a previous engagement.”
Carol opened her mouth to respond, but Brady was already turning them around.
“Thanks for the drink,” Sloane added over her shoulder.
Queen Bee’s eyes narrowed, but she didn’t call after them.
Sloane let herself be led to the bar, where two more curious faces met them. Her smile felt too tight as Dixon and the waitress, Santana, looked between them. Brady dropped his hold on Sloane and took his nametag off. He put it on the bar top and lowered his voice.
“I’m leaving for the night. I’ll explain later and make it up to you. Cool?” The question was directed to Dixon, but both nodded. “I’ll also clear out her tab tomorrow.”
Dixon scooped up the nametag, and that seemed to be that. He and Santana didn’t stare for a second longer.
Brady placed a hand on the small of her back and pushed her gently toward the door. “Let’s get out of here.”
“And where exactly are we going?”
Brady’s voice went low again, so that only she could hear him. “Anywhere without a Robertson.”
Sloane didn’t know much about the man next to her, but she did know that that was the sexiest thing she’d heard in a hot minute.
…
Cassidy’s Place was on the outskirts of Arbor Bay and mostly hidden in the woods. There was a small community of houses in the neighboring clump of trees, but, for the most part, Cassidy’s felt isolated. Which went hand in hand with what a bar offered in the first place. An escape. A respite from the normal. A much-needed break.
At least, that’s how Brady had always felt. To him, Cassidy’s Place was like an island. It was only after you moved closer to shore and saw land in the distance that you realized there was more world out there. That life continued to go on even though you weren’t looking.
Brady had grown up around the metaphorical island of Cassidy’s Place. He knew it like the back of his hand. So, to him, it made sense when he angled Sloane to the right as soon as they went through the bar’s front door. It also made sense to him when he made sure they walked past the corner of the parking lot and right into a thicket of trees. He knew what was on the other side.
Yet, in hindsight, it made sense that Sloane freaked out.
She dug her heels into the dirt just inside the tree line and shook her head fervently.
“I’m all for getting Carol to shut up, but I’m not about to go traipsing off into the darkness with you only to be a headline story tomorrow. Silly blogger doing silly things gets what’s coming to her.”
She threw her arms across her chest in defiance, as if to further prove her point. It was a surprisingly distracting move. She was wearing a short-sleeved shirt that clung to and outlined her breasts.
It wasn’t like he hadn’t objectively noticed them before, just as he’d objectively noticed Sloane before, but now that he’d kissed her, a few things stood out a bit more.
Like how his body had reacted to the softness of her lips, the feel of her body, and the dark, albeit confused, eyes that searched his expression now. Brady also couldn’t help the curiosity that was starting to attach him to the woman.
She’d played along with his kiss and lie.
Now it was time to see if she’d keep playing.
“We aren’t traipsing,” he said. “We’re walking to the clearing so we can talk in private. Unless you’d rather go back into the bar?”
Sloane glanced over at the door and then back to the trees. She sighed and followed him until they were in the clearing with the bar’s utility shed, a picnic table that had been in the small clearing since the early nineties, and a partially busted, short lamppost standing between the two.
“I didn’t know this was back here,” Sloane said, following him to the ring of light the lamp was putting out.
“My uncle owns the bar but hates sitting inside it. Says he needs the fresh air to think better when he’s looking over the books, so he put all this out here.”
“I get that. Sometimes you just have to step away from it all.”
Brady stopped just within the circle and waited for Sloane to face him. He could still read tension in her shoulders. Better to dive in headfirst than tire himself out by doing baby strokes.
“Okay, so here are the facts,” he started. “You have the hots for Marcus Robertson and don’t want to admit it but also know that you can’t keep it a secret forever. I’d like some good publicity for the bar after The Drinking Spot started taking our customers. Since you’re internet famous now, you can make that happen. So why not take out two birds with one stone and pretend we’re together?”
“I don’t have the hots for Marcus,” she shot back, eyes narrowing.
Brady clapped. “Even better. But I’m still guessing you don’t want him to know you did?”
Sloane conceded that with a slow nod.
“Then let’s use us fake dati
ng as the one stone to take out our problems.”
There was no reason, as far as Brady was concerned, to add in the part about Felicity. So he didn’t. Even without that complication, Sloane was in a pickle. An embarrassing, awkward pickle.
And she knew it.
“That’s a really weird stone,” she said after a moment.
“Weird doesn’t mean it’s not effective.”
She tucked her bottom lip into her mouth in thought. Once again, it was oddly distracting.
“Let’s say I play along and tell everyone that we’re dating and you’re the guy I’ve been writing about in my blog… What keeps you from changing your mind, admitting we’re not together, and making me look like I’m just out for attention? What keeps you from also telling everyone it was Marcus I was talking about, not you?”
Brady hadn’t expected her to question his honor. He didn’t like it.
“You can blast me on that same blog. Say I’m a scumbag who just wanted to get internet famous or some shit. I’m the grumpy bartender in town and you’re the quiet, nice girl. They’ll believe I was being a douche more than they’ll care about you lying.”
Sloane’s eyes narrowed again. “And what if I still didn’t want to play along now? Would you tell my secret? Is this blackmail?”
Again, Brady didn’t like the implication that he was a jackass. At least not like that.
“If you don’t want to do this, you can walk away now. I’ll keep your secret.”
“And what about Carol?”
“We can just say it was a joke. We thought it would be funny.”
Sloane sighed. “Which would be almost as much ammo for her to use as knowing about Marcus.” She took another small moment to look at him in thought. When she spoke again, it was slow. Deliberate. “If we do this, how long do we do it for?”
That wasn’t something Brady had thought about yet.
Seeing that Felicity, his Felicity, was engaged to Marcus had been a sucker punch. He’d known the two had gone on a date once, but he hadn’t heard anything else about it. He figured that meant they were through. But then there he’d been, standing behind the bar and reading the status update less than a minute after he’d found out another woman, Sloane, was wrapped up in the pretty boy. It had been enough to make him act.