Save Me (Saved Series, Book One)

by Laura L. Cline

  “Allie, there’s a complete ten at the south end of the bar," I lean in and whisper. "I met him last night and I want to take his order, okay?” As I talk to her, I’m forced to admit to myself that I don’t want Jack to really see Allie. If he sees her, any chance I’d have with him, even the slim one in my own mind, would go out the window. We’ve never competed over a guy before, but even though I have a curvy body and big boobs, she’s got a spark about her that most guys just go gaga for.

  She looks at the glass rack above our head to see him reflected in the mirrored top. It’s a thing we do to see people we don’t want seeing us see them. Her eyes go wide. “Where did you meet him?” she whispers.

  “At the convenience store on Maple,” I sort of lie.

  “Find out if he has a younger brother,” she says.

  I poke her in the shoulder and log in quickly. She saunters to the other end of the bar to a small gang of guys that she’ll have eating out of the palm of her hand before the second round of whatever they’re drinking.

  I breathe deeply, pull my already revealing shirt down a little and walk toward Sexy Jack.

  “What can I get you?” I ask, hoping my voice is all sex kitten. Questions are pinging around inside my brain, the rapid fire of Did he come here to see me? How'd he find me? Does my ass look okay? flustering me in spite of my attempt to seem calm.

  “A bottle of Bud Light, please,” he answers and his voice is just as I remember. Heat creeps through my stomach and down to my core as an intoxicated, tripped out feeling comes over me. I realize I’m a little drunk at the sound of his voice.

  “Coming right up.” I turn toward the beer fridge, aware that he might be checking me out. Oh, how I wish. At last my brain calms down a little, at least letting me focus on hand in fridge, beer in hand, beer on counter.

  I manage to sit the bottle down on the coaster and focus my attention on it. I want to meet his eyes, but I’m afraid that when I do, I won’t see anything there. No desire, no heat, no interest. He reaches for the beer, giving me a clear shot of his left hand. No wedding ring or ghost line of one removed.

  “So, what's a girl like you doing in a place like this?” he asks, sipping his beer.

  "Seriously?" The cheesiness of his line catches me off guard and momentarily breaks my coolness. I struggle again to recover it.

  "I suppose that question would've been more fitting last night, huh?" His eyes do nothing to hide what he means as he asks me this. We're both remembering the dancing Rabbit.

  "I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I feign confusion.

  “I never would've guessed you'd be coy,” he smirks, lowering his voice to an irresistible level. “What's your name?" he asks, taking another drink of his Bud Light. It leaves a wetness on his lips. Oh please, lick the suds off. His tongue slides over his lips and I have to shift my position. I lift the beer bottle off the naked bar and put it back on the coaster.

  “Carly,” I say.

  He sits back on his bar stool a little, his expression one of polite interest. At this distance, I get a good look at him. His eyes, deep brown, almost black, are rimmed with dense, long lashes. His coffee colored hair is slightly long on top and hangs into the corner of his eye again, as if it's protecting his high, chiseled forehead. It’s both neat and disheveled at the same time. His slightly long nose fits perfectly in the middle of his handsome face. And his lips. Oh, those lips are thick and plump, the bottom slightly pouty in a masculine way. His beard is neatly groomed and frames his face just right. He has a rugged, borderline dangerous appeal.

  “I already know your name,” I say, pulling my eyes and my brain from the study of his face.

  “Then tell me,” he says.

  “Your name is Jack,” I say, rolling my eyes. He smirks at me again, his lips full and knowing.

  “So, what'd you buy last night?” he asks.

  I blink. Did he just ask me that? He smiles wider as if he just asked some simple question with no embarrassing answer. Is he having this much fun teasing me?

  “Well?” He tilts his head to the side a little, waiting for my answer. It’s a bit distracting, the way his eyes can almost see through me.

  I think again about the vibrator dancing across the counter and I hesitate. “What were you delivering?”

  His eyes flicker and his smile twinges just a bit at the corner of his mouth.

  “Wood.” I can’t hide that this amuses me. “From the saw mill.”

  "So you work there?" I ask. He looks like the kind of man who could swing an axe.

  “Yep. Your turn,” he says, taking another sip of his beer. Again, I automatically sit it back on the coaster.

  I debate total honesty and complete embarrassment or dignified half-truth.

  “I was there with my sister. She had to take a phone call, so I paid for her things for her.” What a shitty lie.

  “I see,” he says, his eyes never leaving mine. “Your sister must appreciate you." His gaze is so intense, so penetrating, that I feel bare and stripped, as though every thought I have is his to read.

  “I’m a good sister,” I say.

  “I have no doubt you are a good many things.” He is flirting with me and my whole body likes it.

  “How come I never see you in here? I work every weekend and I’ve never seen you come in.”

  “I don’t get out much,” he answers. “People tend to rub me the wrong way.”

  Oh, I’d rub you the right way, I almost say out loud.

  “Well, what brought you in here tonight?” Please say it was me, I pray to the God of Sex.

  “Just a lucky coincidence, I guess.”

  This isn't the first time a prayer has gone unanswered for me.

  “Coincidence, huh?” I can hear the disappointment in my voice, but I hope he can't.

  Jack rolls his sleeves up and the chiseled forearms he exposes come as no real surprise. He leans in painfully close, his essence so painfully strong that I have to resist the urge to grab him and just inhale.

  "What if I told you I came looking for you?" His eyes have an edge to them, an answer-if-you-dare look. My pulse quickens, sending blood to my brain in the hopes that something stupid won't find its way from there to my mouth.

  "I’d ask if you knew what you were in for," I say. I lean toward him on instinct, the promise of something good lingering, but unspoken. How did this conversation go from bland to on fire in such a short time? I feel so unhindered all of a sudden. I channel the me I rarely listen to, letting her do the talking.

  “You’re not intimidated by me, are you?” he asks.

  “Why would I be?” I challenge. He is so smoldering, so fucking mesmerizing. I stare into the dark pools of his eyes, daring him to keep this going. His large arms are pulling at his white button down shirt, stretching each thread to its capacity. I wish he’d stretch me like that.

  “I just tend to have that effect on people," he says.

  "Come on," I say in disbelief. "I bet girls throw themselves at you all the time."

  "Not any girls I wanna catch," he says, staring me down intently.

  The rest of world is coming crashing back around us as the bar is getting busier by the minute. I know I won’t be able to talk to him much longer. The same thing has occurred to him.

  “What time do you get off work?” He checks his watch.

  My heart quickens even more and the influx of extra blood creates a flush in my face.

  “Nine, but my friend and I are going to a club afterwards.”

  He continues his silent appraisal of me until I wonder if I’ve come up short.

  “Which club?” he asks.

  “Riders, on the avenue?” My answer comes out like a question. Did I just ask him to come?

  “I didn’t have you pegged as the club going type.” His eyes are trained on me intently, too intently given that I’ve only spoken to him for less than ten minutes.

  “What does that mean? I just go to dance.” It’s true. I go to
let loose and dance and feel like my whole life isn’t spent on campus or the bar.

  “Well, you have fun, Carly,” Jack says, pulling a couple of bills from his pocket. He tosses a twenty on the bar and stands to leave.

  I panic. I don’t want him to leave and I realize I was inviting him.

  “You won’t come?”

  “I’m too old for the club scene,” he says. Bullshit. He doesn’t look a minute past thirty.

  “Oh, come on. You might have fun.” I lean on the bar a little, pressing my breasts together and out at him unintentionally. He looks at me, his eyes resting on the ample cleavage I’m offering. What am I doing? I lean back and straighten my shirt. My inner slut needs to chill the fuck out.

  “I’m not into that kind of fun anymore. I’m surprised you are.”

  Should I be insulted at this? Is this a dig at me? The normal me, the defensive, always-on-guard-for-the-hurt me shoves her way to the forefront of my head.

  “Well, I guess the age gap between us is wider than I thought,” I say. I pick up the twenty and his almost full beer bottle and turn my back to him. What an asshole. I tender out his bill, the screen shakes a little as I press too hard on it. I come back to bar and hand his change out to him.

  The change from the twenty has nowhere to go. He’s gone. I look the length of the bar, but there is no trace of him. Except for his scent which lingers in the air like a thin fog.

  Chapter 3

  Allie followed me to my apartment and we changed out of our bar clothes and into our club clothes. I can’t believe I let her talk me into dressing the way I’m dressed. We look like walking sex as I park my car at Rider’s. Allie teased my hair out and smoked my eyes up to high heavens. I gloss up my lips and hand Allie my phone.

  “If Nick texts me, I’m not answering. I’m just going to have a good time with you," I say. I loop my arm through hers as we walk close together to combat the chill. She drops my phone in her purse.

  “Really? You won’t go home with him if he comes around with those too big eyes and gives you a bullshit apology?” She’s skeptical.

  "I don't want an apology," I say. "I think I'm really done."

  The club is packed for such a cold night, but Allie and I head toward the bar and to Billy, our favorite bartender ever. I keep thinking if only I’d been different with Jack. Maybe I shouldn’t have come to the club at all, instead choosing to stay at the bar and talk to him. He’s probably already met someone else by now if he was on the prowl. The thought threatens to spoil my good mood.

  “There’s my girls!” Billy booms at us. He's close to fifty with a shaved head and a jolly face. Allie and I are his favorites and he always watches out for us.

  “What up, Billy Boy?” Allie asks, leaning over and planting a glossy kiss on his chubby cheek.

  “Good crowd, lots of short skirts and hard nipples tonight.” Billy chuckles and looks me up and down, but in a non-creeper way. “I see you’re in that group, huh?”

  I’m wearing a black skirt, not really meant to be as short as it is, but with my ass, it’s pretty short, with black stockings and a light white jacket over an itchy as hell sequin tube top. My big boobs almost pop out at the top. I smile awkwardly and remind myself to never let Allie choose clothes for me again.

  Bodies move en masse on the dance floor and I'm itching to join in. The vibration travels through the ground and up through my bones. I feel exhilarated as the bass line thumps from the speakers.

  “So which of my girls is drinking tonight?” He clenches his fist and holds the familiar line of stir straws out to us. Allie closes her eyes and pulls a straw and I do the same.

  “Hell yeah!” Allie says, looking at her long straw. She dances it back and forth in front of my face.

  “Looks like she is,” I mope, holding out the short straw for Billy to see. Allie and I take turns so that when one of us is drunk, the other is stone cold sober. I almost always get the short straw.

  "Gimme my shots, Billy Boy!" Allie cries, drumming her hands on the bar. I hate when she drinks Tequila. It's more likely to end the night early with her hung over the toilet and me holding her hair. He lines up three neon shot glasses and sloshes the brown liquid hell into them. She grabs a lemon and some salt and I cringe. A lick of her hand, sprinkling of salt and then she slams the shots, one by one. I watch as Allie licks her hand and sucks the lemon. Billy then hands Allie a Corona and a wedge of lime. I watch as she presses down it into the neck of the bottle with her tongue and Billy chuckles. I groan because it's gonna be one of those fucking nights.

  The familiar thump thump of my favorite dance song starts up and Allie whoops her dancing catcall in my ear. She takes a deep drink of the Corona before she grabs my hand and pulls me to the dance floor. People crowd us on all sides as Florence Welch’s eerily beautiful voice flows out over the bass of Calvin Harris’ mind thumping beat.

  You took my heart and you held it in your mouth. And with a word, all my love came rushing out.

  The music beats in my ears, but it goes everywhere. I close my eyes, moving with everything this body will offer and shake my ass. Allie grinds against me and we dance together as only best friends can.

  And every whisper, it’s the worst, emptied out by a single word. There is a hollow in me now.

  My hands move over my head, the music hitting such a good part of me and relieving all my pent up tension. The pressure of someone dancing up behind me interrupts my lack of thoughts and I open my eyes.

  “Hey there,” Nick half-shouts in my ear. Disappointment mocks me and I realize I wanted it to be Jack, even though I know he said he didn’t like this kind of fun.

  “What do you want?” I shout back.

  “What do I want? What do I always want?” Nick runs his hand around my waist and pulls my ass toward him. He's already semi-hard and I feel it as he presses his erection against my ass.

  “You've had your last piece of that, Cowboy,” Allie says loudly.

  “Mind your own business, Allie,” he calls out and flips Allie his middle finger. She returns it and then looks at me, urging me to stand by what I said earlier.

  “I’ve been texting you,” Nick says.

  “I don’t have my phone,” I say. “Besides, Allie’s right, Nick. I'm done.” I back away from him, leaving him on his own. Little flashes of the strobe lights bounce off his confused face.

  “What is it? Are you on your period?”

  Of course. I don’t want to be with him and the only plausible reason is that I’m on my period. Typical egocentric misogynistic asshole.

  “No, but I might as well be,” I say, unable to hide the smirk that takes over my face as it becomes clear on Nick's face that I just don’t want him anymore. I just want to dance and not think about anything, especially not why Nick only wants to have sex with me on his terms and more importantly, why sleeping with him even one more time seems like a bad idea.

  It isn’t easy for me to let it go. Cause I swallow every single word. And every whisper, every sigh eats away at this heart of mine. There is a hollow in me now.

  Nick stares at me for a second; his thinning blonde hair looks like cotton candy in the pink light that passes through it and I have to fight the urge to laugh again.

  “Are you pissed about last night? Is that it?” He makes to pull me closer to him again, but I push his hands off my hips. “Come on, you know how I am. I like you, but I’m not looking for a girlfriend. I thought you were cool with that.”

  The music continues to thump, but I hear every syllable of what he said, but I don’t even care.

  And it’s not enough, to tell me that you care when, we both know, the words are empty air. You give me nothing. Nothing.

  “Oh, I'm cool with it. I'm also done with it. Go get your other fuck buddy.”

  His face is just hanging there, all slack jawed and surprised. Good.

  I turn to Allie as he storms off and she grabs me into an awkward, celebratory hug.

  “I’m so prou
d of you, Carls! Now bring that ass over here!” She makes to spank me and I let her.

  I didn't expect it to feel so good, so liberating to cut Nick loose. What have I been doing with myself for the last year? Letting him come to my apartment, masturbate with my body and then leave without so much as a goodnight kiss.

  The song ends and the chords for “Shook Me All Night Long” by AC/DC ring out. The club goes wild as the drum beat kicks in.

  We dance through the song and a few more, each one bringing sweat out on my cleavage in little beads that glisten in the flecks of light thrown from the mirror ball. I look like I'm sparkling.

  “Hey, you bitches!”

  Chrissy Deel dances toward us, pulling some hot young thing by the arm. She has a drink in her hand and a smile on her face. Allie grabs her drink and downs half of it in one gulp.

  “Where’s Nick?” Chrissy asks.

  “Nick who?” I kid and she looks at me questioningly. Everyone in our circle knows about Nick and our arrangement.

  “He had to leave,” Allie says. “He got a case of the blue balls. A permanent case.”

  “There’s a lot of that going around,” the young stud at the tip of Chrissy’s fingers shouts.

  I laugh, my voice cracking and dry.

  “I need some water!” I yell to Allie. She nods and waves me toward the bar.

  I squeeze between people, trying to be polite to a bunch of drunks. I finally make it to the bar, but not without stepping on a few toes and bumping a few elbows.

  “Lemme have it, Billy,” I yell over the head of two older women who aren't as lucky as Allie and me when it comes to bar service. Billy watches our drinks for us when we dance to make sure no one adds a little something extra to them. He hands me a bottle of water and I take a deep drink, relishing the cold.

  I scan the club, see some people I know and wave. Nick seems to have disappeared. Maybe I'll regret breaking off our fucked up arrangement, probably in a few weeks when my libido takes issue with it. At least I have my new vibrator and a new guy to fantasize about. I wonder idly where Jack is right now.