Blood Thorn

by A. S. Green

  “Me?” Ainsley asked.

  “Take the job,” Chelsea prompted. “It’s a science-y company. Right up your alley. Then you and Harper both get what you want.”

  “Whoa.” Ainsley sat back in her chair. “How drunk are you guys? People aren’t interchangeable. I’d have to interview. Someone would have to recommend me.”

  “My dad knows you,” Harper said, as if Ainsley was the one being unrealistic. “He’ll smooth it over. I’ll call him right now.” She stood abruptly and walked toward the bathrooms.

  “Wait!” Ainsley exclaimed, but Harper already had her phone to one ear and her fingers plugging the other.

  “What’s happening?” Ainsley asked, feeling like she’d slipped into a parallel universe.

  “You’re being a life saver,” Melody said, putting an arm around her.

  “And speaking of life savers,” Chelsea said, grabbing a pink gift bag from under her chair and setting it on the table. She undid the bow and pulled out a white T-shirt with Life Savers sewn all over it. On the chest, in bold black letters, were the words: Suck For A Buck.

  “It’s a fundraiser,” Chelsea declared proudly. “For Harper’s honeymoon.”

  “Fundraiser as in…?” Ainsley prompted. “Wait. You don’t expect her to wear that, do you?” There was no way Harper was going to cover up her cute little bar-hopping outfit with that foul thing.

  “Of course!” Chelsea exclaimed, shooting Ainsley a look that suggested she didn’t know Harper at all. “Guys can pay her a buck to suck a Life Saver off her chest.”

  Niesha laughed hysterically. Melody shook her head, but Ainsley could tell Mel was into it too. Chelsea tucked the shirt back into the gift bag.

  Harper reappeared with a huge grin on her face. “It’s done!”

  The other girls clapped, and Ainsley’s mouth fell open. What just happened?

  “Orientation is at nine o’clock on Monday,” Harper said, sliding her the company’s business card with the name of the human resource manager and an address for one of the suites in the IDS Center downtown, only a few blocks away. “Then your full-time start is on Tuesday.”

  “But—”

  “It’s one thousand a week,” Harper said smugly.

  Ainsley sat back in her chair. Even with her extra commissions at the Ren fair, she didn’t make nearly that much. The extra cash would really help with school, and it would be better work experience to list on her grad school applications. She hadn’t been looking forward to writing down “pseudo-Renaissance apothecary.” Maybe this wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

  “And you’re welcome,” Harper said.

  “Thanks, Harp.”

  “It’s only answering the CEO’s phone, taking his messages, filing shit, making dinner reservations and booking flights. That sort of thing. Nothing too exciting but better than hanging out in the dust and sun all summer, right?”

  “Yeah. Sure.” Was she actually doing this?

  “Here you go,” Chelsea said, sliding the gift bag toward Harper.

  Harper gave them all a look that said, Ah, guys. You shouldn’t have. Then she pulled out the T-shirt, and shrieked when she read what it said. The next thing Ainsley knew, Harper was pulling it over her head.

  “You can make money for your honeymoon,” Chelsea explained. “Do you like it?”

  “It’s hilarious. And it’s about time I shook my money maker. Let’s dance!”

  The other girls got up, but Ainsley held back. “I’m going to get a real drink first. You guys are way ahead of me.”

  Harper held up her hand to give her a high-five. They never high-fived, but Ainsley obliged her.

  “Catch up quick,” she said. “Oh, and sorry about your cowboy hat. We brought one for you but accidentally left it at the first bar.”

  Ainsley held her hands up to signify there was no need to apologize.

  Then all the girls hooted “Woo-hoo!” and pushed through the crowd, headed for the dance floor.

  Ainsley sighed and made her way to the bar. She slid onto a stool so she had a higher vantage point to watch the show. There was already a line of half-drunk male patrons and one female, each waving a dollar bill in the air wanting to suck a Life Saver off Harper’s chest.

  “What’ll it be?” the bartender asked.

  “Jack Diet.”

  “You got it.”

  As she waited, she touched her finger to the daisy in the bud vase on the bar. It had obviously been there for a while because three of its petals fell off at her touch, leaving its center partially exposed.

  The bartender filled her glass right up to the rim. “If you’re hanging out with them,” he tipped his head toward the white cowboy hats, “you’re gonna need it.”

  “Oh, you’ve noticed?”

  He gave her a sympathetic smile, then moved to the other end of the bar where someone was flagging him down.

  That was when Ainsley felt it. Or rather, the lack of it. It was as if a vacuum of space had opened up behind her. She would have looked, except that the emptiness was suddenly filled by a searing presence that had the hairs on the back of her neck standing at attention. Someone was watching her. Again.

  The sensation prickled at her skin, and after the weird incident at the fair, it unnerved her. She spun around on her stool, accidentally sloshing her drink onto the ground and just missing what appeared to be a very expensive pair of shoes.

  “Christ!” exclaimed a man who was approaching the bar with his money in hand.

  “Oh my god.” Ainsley grabbed a bunch of napkins. She’d totally overreacted. This guy’s focus hadn’t been on her; it had been on the empty stool beside her, the only clear access to the crowded bar.

  The stranger took the napkins out of Ainsley’s hand before she was able to drop to the ground and start mopping.

  “Easy there,” he said, though he still sounded irritated. “You need to handle your alcohol better. That one nearly got away from you.”

  “I’m so sorry. I thought— I mean, you surprised me, that’s all.” She looked up and up his tall frame, ultimately seeing his face for the first time. Um…yikes.

  Ainsley made it a point not to pay too close attention to a man’s appearance; what was the point when they were all the same underneath? But this guy would be impossible for anyone to ignore.

  He was handsome, for sure, but so were plenty of men. This guy was striking; well over six feet, ridiculously broad shouldered, and his dark hair was expertly cut. He had a square jaw and aristocratic nose, but it was his piercing eyes—Green. Obviously green, despite the dim lighting—that had Ainsley holding her breath.

  “You’re a jumpy one, aren’t you?” he asked, though there was no humor in his voice. He raised his hand to flag down the bartender.

  “Tonight is not my usual night.” Ainsley dropped her gaze to his chest and winced. She’d splashed some on his shirt, too. It was nice shirt, the kind a man wore with a designer suit; in fact, he probably had to have all his suits specially tailored to fit him. And while the guy wasn’t currently wearing a tie, she could tell that casual was not his normal gig.

  “I’ll buy you a new drink.” He gestured to the bartender again, then rolled up his sleeves, revealing a tattoo of a purple thistle on his left forearm. The tattoo was a surprise; he didn’t seem the type.

  Ainsley glanced back at the wet spot on his shirt.

  He must have noticed because he added, “I don’t mind smelling like whiskey. It’ll make me more irresistible.”

  She rolled her eyes—Here we go; cue asshole speak—and spun around to face the bar. “Irresistible to alcoholics, maybe.”

  Mr. Green Eyes rested his forearm on the bar. “How about just to women who drink whiskey?”

  3

  “Seriously?” Ainsley asked. Guys didn’t typically come on to her in bars. She wasn’t completely unattractive, but she wasn’t a classic beauty, and something about her never inspired strange men to approach.

  Actually, she took tha
t back. Strange men did approach her; handsome strangers definitely did not. And that was fine by her. Still, before she knew what she was doing she said, “I’m sorry.” Being autonomous didn’t mean she had to be rude.

  “Don’t worry about it. It was a terrible line.” He stuck out his hand. “My name’s Alexander. Alex, if you prefer.”

  “Ainsley.” She slipped her hand into his and gave it a squeeze. His grip was firm too, and something about his hand was familiar—not in its shape or size, not in its temperature or the texture of his skin. The familiarity went deeper than those superficial things, teasing at her memory. Had they met before?

  “Ainsley?” he asked, leaning in. “Are you of Scottish descent?”

  “Ha.” Obviously she wasn’t the only one who thought she looked like a grown-up version of the girl from Brave. “If that’s true, then you know more than I do.”

  His eyes narrowed. “I don’t get your meaning.”

  She gave him the side-eye. It was easier than looking at him straight on. “Don’t you think genetics are a weird conversation starter?”

  He shrugged. “I spent a lot a time in Scotland a while back, and something about you seemed familiar. Probably the hair. There are a lot of gingers in Scotland.”

  “Mmm. Well…” She crunched on some ice, trying to play it cool but, truth be told, the guy made her oddly nervous. “My mom is German and Swedish, but I’ve got no clue about my dad—” She hooked her thumb at herself. “You’re looking at the ill-advised relationship between a student and her professor.”

  Then she snapped her mouth shut and choked on some ice. What the heck was wrong with her? Two shots of whiskey and she was telling tall-dark-and-handsome her sordid origin story.

  “A professor here in town?” His eyebrows drew in even tighter, and she got a vague notion that under the right circumstances he could be terrifying. Maybe even dangerous. She felt a wave of sympathy for the poor business people who had to face him across a conference table.

  “No. In Duluth.”

  “Hmmm,” he said, as if he were considering the possibility.

  “It’s okay,” Ainsley said, waving her hand dismissively. She should have stopped there, but her mouth kept running. “He didn’t have much interest in kids. He took off before I was even born, and he doesn’t want to be found.”

  A muscle flexed in his jaw. “Why do you think that?”

  “Oh, maybe because of two years’ worth of wasted research and subscription fees to a genealogy database. It’s all par for the course with my family though. My mom’s dad took off on her, too.” God, stop me now. “So, anyway… If you’re really gung-ho on talking genetics, let’s just say I’m your basic American mutt.”

  “You don’t look like a mutt,” he said, and the intensity in his eyes softened, if only a bit. “You might want to take another peek.” He gestured toward her reflection in the mirrored wall behind the bar.

  Ainsley gave him a look that said she knew a player when she saw one. Then she glanced around the crowded room, expecting to see a table of bros watching their bud make his move. If they were watching, they certainly weren’t being obvious. “Where’s your posse?”

  He blinked, as if her question had startled him out of his thoughts. Then he looked over his shoulder, but only briefly. “Maybe they ditched me.”

  “Not exactly a ringing endorsement for you.”

  He pressed a fist to his heart as if she’d wounded him, but her cutting words were double-edged. After all, she’d just told him about her father. For twenty-one years she’d wondered what kind of endorsement his abandonment gave her.

  If Alex had similar thoughts, he didn’t show it. His amazing green eyes glinted with interest. “Are you here alone?”

  “Nope. My friends are dancing.”

  “Will they be wanting this stool soon?”

  Ainsley glanced toward the dance floor. It was packed, but she got a glimpse of four white cowboy hats bouncing up and down in the middle of the floor. “You can stay for now.”

  Fresh drinks were placed in front of them. Ainsley didn’t pick hers up, regretting having ordered it. Judging by the way her mouth was running, she didn’t need it. And if Harper and the girls were leaving soon, so would she; and she didn’t have a designated driver.

  “Thanks.” He slid onto the stool beside her.

  “So, come here often?” she asked being intentionally cliché and feeling uncomfortably warm. Heat rose from her gut and flooded her chest. Her hands tingled. She wished it meant she was coming down with something, but she knew it was him making her feel all awkward and sweaty.

  “Tonight is not my usual night either,” he said, repeating her words from earlier.

  “Not surprised. Douggie’s is mostly popular with college students.” Ainsley wondered how old he was. Definitely not in college. Maybe thirty? For a second, she imagined what it would feel like to have a grown-ass man hold her in his arms, especially one who looked like him.

  “Do you go to the University?” he asked.

  She shook her head, dispelling the lust-filled thoughts. “St. Andrews. Botany major.” Then she closed her eyes, wishing she had something more interesting to say about herself.

  When she opened them, he was leaning in, as if he found her completely fascinating. “Private college. That must cost you a pretty penny.”

  “Next up is grad school,” Ainsley said as if he’d asked. “Preferably at Northwestern—also expensive, so hopefully I’ll be making good money this summer.” She could not believe she was going into a new job totally blind. How did Harper talk her into things like this?

  His face took on a look of surprise. “Hopefully?”

  “Long story,” she said, flicking her hand to end the conversation. She’d shared too much already.

  “I got all night for a long story,” Alex said, and something about the firm set of his mouth had Ainsley imagining what all night with a man like him would be like. Probably devastating. Dangerous. Heartbreaking. Ruinous. Look away.

  Ainsley glanced toward the dance floor again, and the music changed to Lee Brice’s I Don’t Dance.

  “Am I keeping you from something?” He raised his glass and took a sip.

  “What?” Ainsley asked.

  “You look like you want to be out there with your friends. Do you dance?”

  She drew her eyebrows together. “You’re asking me to dance?”

  “Oh.” He glanced toward the dance floor, and a tendon flexed in his jaw as his dark brown sunk into a frown. “I guess I could do that. That is, if you want to.”

  God. Stupid. She’d totally misread that. “I’m okay staying put. I’ll actually be leaving soon.”

  Something in his body flinched, but it was so slight she almost missed it. “You know…” he said, still staring at the dance floor, “I think I do want to dance.”

  Ainsley declined, waving her hand through the air. “No, no. I’m good.” But the idea of being held in his arms almost had her rising from her stool.

  “Come on,” he urged, leaning in. “It’s just a dance. I won’t bite.”

  “Very funny.” She looked away—simultaneously embarrassed and aroused by his suggestion—and her eye caught on the bud vase.

  The daisy had sprouted brand new petals where the old ones had fallen off. That wasn’t scientifically possible. Did the bartender switch it out when she wasn’t looking? The old petals were still lying there.

  She didn’t have long to think about it though, because Alex took her hand and pulled her off her stool. His tight smile only spiked her unease, but the feel of his hand pushed the warmth in her chest into…other areas.

  Alex inhaled deeply and led her onto the floor, before pulling her into his arms. They didn’t end up too close to Harper and the other girls, though Ainsley got a glimpse of Harper’s blond hair.

  Alex leaned down and raised his voice to get over the music. “Do you have any idea what’s up with the cowboy hats?”

  Ainsley rose
on her toes so she could get closer to his ear. “It’s a bachelorette party. They accidentally lost my hat before I was able to get here.”

  His eyebrows shot up in surprise. “You’re here with the Life Saver bride?”

  Oh, no. “Please tell me you didn’t pay a buck for a suck.”

  “I absolutely did not.” He pressed his hand to her lower back and spun her in a circle under his other arm. That’s when Ainsley knew she was done drinking for the night. The room kept moving even after her body stopped.

  Fortunately, Alex’s massive arms were strong and steady. Sometimes she even wondered if her feet were touching the ground, and the feel of his hand in hers, his other pressed against her lower back… It made her skin prickle with anticipation and excitement. No one had ever danced with her like this before. She felt light, pretty and, for the first time in her life, maybe even a little…protected.

  His gaze moved over her face, then slowly down to her neck, where it lingered. His hands tensed against her body before his gaze moved on, traveling the length of her bare arm to where her hand folded into his.

  Sweet suffering Jesus.

  If she didn’t know any better, she’d swear she was glowing under his scrutiny. But in the back of her mind she knew that fantasies like that were just that—fantasy. Only a fool would buy into it, and she wasn’t about to change her opinions on the subject now.

  The music transitioned through other crowd favorites. Carrie Underwood. Garth Brooks. Blake Shelton. The Nitty Gritty Dirt Band was fishin’ in the dark. Then Kelly Clarkson was singing about the father who left her, and dang blasted, those lyrics hit deep.

  “Hey,” Alex said, as if he could sense her change in mood. “You all right?”

  She looked up at him. He cupped her face in his large hands and stroked his thumb over her cheek. Crap. Was she crying?

  She put her hand on his solid chest, feeling his well-defined pec under her palm.

  Alex’s pupils dilated as he looked down at her, and something yanked at the center of Ainsley’s chest. It was as if she were a green leaf, rushing down a swollen creek only to get snagged on a log. Every force in her life pushed her to break free and keep on moving, but she was caught.