The deck had mostly cleared off because the temperature had dropped and a cool breeze was now blowing outside. I was spending more time helping Raoul at the bar, but I still had my two-top with “the boys” outside. Both of the other waitresses and Carly, the hostess, had noticed Nick and Gabe right away, and we’d taken to calling them “the boys” when we gossiped back in the kitchen. They were both hot, but while Gabe was the cheerful, outgoing one, Nick got a girl’s heart pounding in anticipation when he looked at her.
He had dark hair and these beautiful baby blues that made me feel like he knew something secret about me when he looked my way. I could tell even when he was sitting down he was tall, over six feet I guessed. He was wearing a tight gray Aloha Surf and Sail T-shirt, and it was obvious the muscles under that shirt would make any girl thankful for the male anatomy.
I had just dropped an order at the bar, and was getting ready to head back out to the deck to see if the boys wanted another round, when I turned and stepped right into that gray Aloha Surf and Sail T-shirt . . . and the fabulously hard chest underneath it.
“Whoa, sorry,” Nick said smiling down at me. I was right. Over six feet. I felt my face flush. I was wedged in between the bar and him, people crowded all around us. It was hot and loud, and he smelled like lemons and beer. I steeled myself, and stared at his chin so I wouldn’t see those luscious blue eyes.
“Oh, hi!” I squeaked out, in the voice of a nervous thirteen-year-old. “I was just coming to check on you guys. Are you ready for your bill?”
He gave me a lazy smile, and the stubble on his chin was so sexy I gave in and looked at his eyes that glittered in the warm light of the bar.
“Actually, we thought we’d move inside where the action is,” he said, his voice rough, as he reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. Normally I would never allow a man I didn’t know to touch me like that, but something inside of me sparked to life at the contact, and at the same time that small touch felt like the beach on a spring afternoon: gentle and hot all at once.
“Oh, great,” I chirped again as he dropped his hand back to his side. I cleared my throat, and tried not to sound quite so much like a mouse on crack. “I’m not sure there’re any more tables around, but you’re welcome to sit up here at the bar. We always keep a couple of seats open by the wait station.” I gestured to the stools next to us, tucked well under the bar top.
“Gabe got us a spot just over there.” He pointed to one of the tall cafe tables nearby, where Gabe was saluting us with his middle finger. Nick chuckled and returned the gesture.
“Okay, well, can I get you guys some more beer?” I wondered when he was going to back up and let me breathe, because I was afraid I was going to faint pretty soon if he didn’t.
“Yeah, let’s have a couple more, and two tequila shots too.”
“Alright, I’ll get those out to you.”
“Sounds good.” He leaned even closer to me and bent his head down next to my ear. “And Lyndsey?” I nodded, now beyond any coherent form of speech. “Keep ’em coming.” He winked, and turned to walk back to his table.
* * *
I spent the next two hours running like a hamster on a wheel, checking on all the tables in the front half of the room, then stepping behind the bar for a few minutes to help out Raoul, who hadn’t been feeling a hundred percent for a few days. His face was still pale, and Leesa said he’d had to go straight to bed when he got home every night that week. I figured it was some sort of virus, but I didn’t want him to overdo it, so I made a point of serving at the bar whenever I could.
Our regular Thursday night band came in at 9:00 p.m. and the music had been blasting ever since. The Grill didn’t really have a dance floor, but Raoul had let some kids move tables around until there was a patch of bare floor in front of the stage. Girls with perfect tans and very little clothing clung to guys with board shorts and flip-flops while the band played cheesy beach music like “Margaritaville.” The main room had gotten so crowded we had to open up the doors to the deck so the cool sea air could blow through. Though we weren’t serving anyone outside by then, some couples had made their way out the doors while they danced. Meanwhile the beer was flowing like a river from taps to pitchers, and at the boys’ table there had been several rounds of tequila shots as well.
Raoul had a policy that we always served popcorn and peanuts for free on nights like this. He said the cost of snacks was less than the cost of the security and cleaning crews we’d need if people got really trashed. I was finishing up a round in my area, bringing everyone bowls of peanuts, when I stopped by Nick’s table.
There were three new guys partying with Nick and Gabe now, and they were all more than a little buzzed. No one seemed falling down drunk yet, but I sure wouldn’t have wanted to meet any of them behind the wheel of a car. I walked up and donned my standard server smile.
“Hey guys, here’s some snacks for you. Do you need anything else? Maybe some waters?”
The guy nearest me was mammoth, a football player at the university whose name I couldn’t remember. He leered at me and grabbed my waist, spinning me so my back was to him and his arm was clamped around me. He started nuzzling my neck and growled, “Oh yeah, baby, you’ve got exactly what I need.”
I’d been poked and patted and pinched a number of times in this job, so I was usually pretty cool about it, but no one had ever actually restricted my movement. I felt anxiety kick in as I wiggled, trying to get out of the steel hold he had on my waist. He smelled like sweat and tequila, the scents burning my nostrils, and he slobbered on my neck as he tried to kiss me. My head spun with memories; flashes of crushing pain and the feeling of helplessness rose like the bile in my stomach was threatening to do.
I struggled not to panic, but my heart rate increased as I hollered over the pounding music, “Hey, big guy, why don’t you let me go and then we can talk.” He kept his head buried in my neck, now muttering some sort of incomprehensible drunk guy crap.
Neither my captor nor I was looking up when someone shouted, “Dude, he’s drunk as hell, go easy!”
A split second later the football player grunted in pain and let go of me as he spun away. I blinked and looked back just as Nick landed a punch square on the guy’s jaw. As drunk as he was, he slumped half-conscious onto the tabletop.
While football guy’s two friends tried to keep him from collapsing onto the floor and taking the whole table with him, I looked up at Nick. His face was stony, but his jaw was clenched so tight I thought his teeth might grind into dust. He stepped forward, breathing heavily and shaking out his hand.
“Are you alright?” he practically snarled, while he stared at me.
I nodded and swallowed, my stomach still roiling, as a strange buzzing noise worked its way through my head. “Yeah, it’s all okay,” I replied, although my voice sounded shaky, even to me.
He nodded back and raised his uninjured hand up to my face. He cupped my cheek for a moment and leaned in. “You really are beautiful, aren’t you?” Then he dropped his arm and grinned at me awkwardly. “We’re obviously too drunk to stay,” he said as he reached into the back pocket of his board shorts. He handed me a credit card. “Just put the whole tab on there and we’ll get the hell out of your way.”
I made my way back toward the register in a daze, and as I put Nick’s credit card in my apron pocket, my hand shook noticeably. Raoul was pushing his way out from behind the bar when I reached it. “Did I just see someone grab you?” he said, pissed.
“Yeah, but it’s all over now, no harm done.”
“Where is the guy?” He looked over my head and scowled. “He’s not staying, and he’s not welcome back either.”
“It’s okay, seriously. One of the other guys . . . he, uh . . . took care of it.”
Raoul finally looked down at me. “So his friends handled him?”
“Yeah, it’s all cool.”
He breathed in loudly and sighed. “Okay, if you’re sure.”
“I am.”
Raoul went back to mixing drinks, periodically sending the evil eye toward Nick’s table. I ran the credit card through the reader, putting a $200 ticket on it. As I made my way back to their table to return the card, he appeared in front of me.
“Oh, hey, I was just coming over to give this back,” I said, holding up the Visa.
He took the card and receipt, then he leaned back and raked his gaze over me, making my cheeks heat up like there was a flame directed at them. He gave me a little half-smile and reached down to the pocket of my apron, then very slowly he removed the pen I kept there and used it to scrawl his name across one copy. He handed the receipt and pen back to me.
“So,” he said, his voice raspy like he’d just woken up. “We’ve got a buddy picking us up in a few minutes, but I hope I see you again, lovely Lyndsey.”
“Well, I’m here most nights,” I replied a little too brightly, giving away how nervous he made me.
“Is that so?” He leaned in and placed his hand on my hip, once again proving that he could get away with things no other men ever did. He bent his face down to my ear at the same time he brought his fingers up my back and gently touched one of the braids hanging from my ponytail.
“I’ve been wanting to touch this braid all night,” he said. “I think I’ll come back and see you some time.”
I nodded, struck mute by how close he was and how much the heat that emanated from him made my heart flare inside my chest.
“Alright then,” he murmured as he finally leaned back away from me. “I’ll see you around, Lyndsey.”
I watched him walk through the crowd and out the door, and all that kept running through my head was: this is bad, so, so bad.
Chapter 2
Nick
After that night at The Grill, Lyndsey flooded my thoughts. Gabe and his big mouth had opened Pandora’s box and there was no going back. I knew I wasn’t capable of being anyone’s boyfriend. Afghanistan had proven I was about the worst thing that could happen to a woman. But, I was also starting to realize I couldn’t go without ever touching another one either. Gabe was crude, but right—eventually my balls were going to start leading me around no matter how hard I fought them. Right now, they kept trying to lead me back to Lyndsey. It was a disaster waiting to happen, but I wasn’t sure I could control it.
The Grill hadn’t been my finest moment, but when I’d seen that dick’s hands all over her I swear all I wanted was to bust his face wide open. Compared to monster football dude Lyndsey looked like one of those little porcelain dolls. I saw her squirming around trying to get his big ugly paws off of her. She had a panicked look in her eyes, like a kid who’s really fearful. My skin literally itched to hit him. The idea of the bastard touching someone so sweet and perfect pissed me off to no end.
I’d been taking the shots and beer chasers slower than everyone might have thought, but I was still drunk enough to do it. I smacked him upside the back of the head to get his attention and then when he turned around I hit him as hard as I could. Luckily he and his buddies were so trashed they didn’t hold it against me. Part of the reason he pissed me off so much was that I was thinking the exact thing he was at the exact same time. She’d been so sweet and cheerful—so when she asked us if we needed anything else my dick and my brain were both screaming, “Yes! I need you!” But the football player acted on the impulse that I fought. Asshole.
So, I tried. I tried to stay away, and the longer I did, the more obsessed I got. But I hadn’t been back to The Grill since that night, so my obsession was unfulfilled. It might be a losing battle, but I wasn’t going down without a fight. God, I wanted her though. It was an ache inside of me that wouldn’t go away.
During the second week of school I got added to a math class I’d been wait-listed for. By the time I found out, I had less than five minutes to haul ass to the far side of campus. I careened into the building, my flip-flops making a loud slapping noise on the tile floors.
When I reached the classroom door with one minute to spare, I caught my breath before turning the cold brass handle and walking in. It was a typical classroom with about fifty seats that rose up on stairs away from the professor’s desk in the pit. I stood at the bottom of the room and looked for a place to sit.
I heard giggling and looked up to see two girls a few rows above me laughing and smiling. One batted her lashes. “Are you looking for a seat? There’s one right here.” Then she patted the empty chair next to her. I was about to take her up on it, since I did need the seat, but then I saw Lyndsey. She sat near the top, her chin resting in one hand while the other leafed through a book on the desk in front of her. She hadn’t noticed me yet. At the same time my mind was shouting, “Hell yes,” my legs were already moving. I jetted past the girls nearby and tossed off a, “Maybe next time, huh?” as I moved up the stairs and into the seat next to the girl of my dreams.
Her head snapped up as I sat and then her eyes got round and she blushed. God, she slayed me just by looking at me. “Hey, lovely Lyndsey,” I said, as smoothly as possible, all while feeling like a twelve-year-old talking to a girl for the first time.
She cleared her throat and looked back down at her book for a moment. “Hi, Nick,” she said and then smiled up at me. Oh, wow. I watched the glossy sheen on her full lips and inhaled deeply as she ran her tongue lightly across her teeth. I could imagine that same tongue stroking my teeth before it moved on to other things that needed stroking. I nearly groaned at the image.
“So, about the other night . . .” I said, trying to distract myself.
“Yeah?”
“I’m sorry about that. I mean about that guy, and me punching him in your bar and everything. We’d all had way too much to drink I guess. We were a bunch of assholes.”
“It’s fine, really. I was, um, sorry I didn’t thank you. So, thanks,” she said quietly as her cheeks pinked up and she looked down at the desk.
“Well, I can think of a great way you could thank me. Maybe we could grab some coffee later?” I smiled at her, trying hard not to let my eyes drop to the tight tank top she was wearing. The way it stretched across her curvy chest left little to the imagination. Did she go around like that all day? How did the guys on campus get anything done? I was pondering this earth-shattering question, waiting for her to answer me, when the professor came in and started class. I spent the next hour working to keep my mind off of my obsession while she sat right next to me. As if math wasn’t hard enough already.
Lyndsey
Before I could answer Nick’s question, my math professor started up his lecture. Like the previous class, it was dull beyond belief. I was a good student, but math had never been my thing, and this guy made calculus more obscure than it already was. Today, however, it could have been the Cirque du Soleil of lectures and I wouldn’t have noticed.
Nick was sitting next to me, and I almost couldn’t breathe.
He was in a plain white T-shirt, and a pair of blue plaid Bermuda shorts, with flip flops. His dark hair was on the shorter side but long enough that it was messy—that perfect, oh-so-sexy messy that looked like he’d had some girl running her fingers through it in bed. He was tan and his nicely rounded arm muscles bunched as he moved to write notes and flip pages in his textbook.
I snuck peeks at him out of the corner of my eye and noticed his left arm, the one closest to me, had a tattoo that ran around the bicep. It was writing of some sort, but not English: Memento Mori. I sat there breathing in the fresh smell of the ocean that seemed to follow him around and tried to guess what the tat might mean. Something about love? About his parents? About a girl? That one didn’t make me too happy, so I went back to looking at him. I licked my lips thinking about what his skin would feel like right there on that tattoo. Would my tongue be able to feel where the ink lay under his skin? And would it taste the same? I imagined licking all around those scripted letters on his biceps. How the muscles would flex beneath my mouth. How I’d move from that arm to his chest a
nd then further down.
I tried to ignore the slow burn working its way from my chest to lower regions and reminded myself of why I couldn’t ever be with Nick. I didn’t deserve someone like him. Sometimes I would get so lonely that I’d be tempted to let someone in, just for a moment. But, I couldn’t. I couldn’t trust myself, and I sure as hell couldn’t allow myself that kind of self-indulgence after what I’d done. So, I coached myself all through class: you can’t have him, you can’t have him, you can’t have him.
But oh, how I wanted him.
We sat in the generic classroom, lights low, while the professor wrote complex calculations on the overhead projector for an hour. When he finally dismissed us all, I started packing up hoping Nick would go away and I’d be free of the temptation of his presence.
Instead, he stretched slowly, raising his T-shirt a couple of inches and baring his stomach—which was rock hard and had a trail of silky dark hair leading to points further south. Lord, help me.
“So, do you have another class now?” he asked, after what must have been the longest, sexiest stretch I’d ever seen.
I shook my head trying to clear the fog of lust. “Nope, just have to cruise home and get ready to work the dinner shift.” I stood up out of my desk and swung my messenger bag over my shoulder.
He stood as well and grinned down at me, his teeth perfect and white. “So, if you want to give me a proper thank you for the rescue the other night how about that cup of coffee?” he asked as he shouldered his own backpack.
“Uh.” I twisted a strand of hair around my finger and looked away. You can’t have him, you can’t have him. “I should probably get going . . .”
“Did you drive to campus?” he asked, still smiling and looking at me closely.
“Yeah, it’s too far to walk, and I don’t have a bike.”
“So where’d you park?”
“Lot D, over by the Biology building.”
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