Riptide (A Renegades Novel)

by Skye Jordan

  “You bet.”

  Grant moved to the SUV he’d left running and slid into the driver’s seat. He turned the heat on full blast to thaw his face and fingers. When he’d warmed up, he turned the car off and started up the block toward the local bar.

  Snow padded the cobblestone streets, but Grant could still feel the familiar roll beneath his feet. Snowflakes drifted from the sky, and he pulled the brim of his ball cap lower. He hadn’t sweet-talked a woman in quite a while. In fact, by the way he was drawing a blank, maybe never. Since he’d signed with his first NHL hockey team at twenty years old, he hadn’t needed to. And he liked it that way.

  Every iron lamppost on the street was wrapped in greenery and lights, throwing a rainbow of dappled color across the snow. Every building flashed in a variety of patterns adding a certain cheerful chaos to the surroundings, and despite his reluctance to return home, the sight brought great memories of long winters on the ice with his buddies. Pickup games of hockey to stay away from his parents’ critical eyes. Hours and hours and hours of practice—for club teams, for the high school team. For any team who would have him.

  He passed some businesses and stores that had been in town forever and some that were brand-new. All had Christmas-themed window displays, each more ornate than the next. A flower shop, chocolate shop, gift shop, bookstore and coffee shop, and, of course, what would Holly be without a Christmas store?

  As he reached the door of Yuletide Spirits, he paused, thinking of who he might run into.

  “Wait until they hear we’ve got a star in our midst this Christmas.”

  Mike’s words helped Grant’s sliver of apprehension melted away and he grinned. No more hiding his acne-laden face. No more fighting to put on enough weight to keep his feet on the ground in a stiff wind. Now, everyone could see how far he’d come, surpassing everyone who had ever ignored, teased, or bullied him in the past. The only thing that kept him out of fights was hockey. Even the bullies stayed away from a guy who was crazy enough to thunder guys against the boards for a three-inch puck.

  “All that practice paid off,” he murmured to himself. He’d never intended it that way. He’d always played hockey because it gave him a sense of belonging. A brotherhood. Something to strive for. A way to stay away from his fucked-up family. And because he was good at it. But, yes, his practice and perseverance had paid off. In big ways too numerous to name.

  Back then, he’d melted into the crowd, followed the pack, and observed. Now, people recognized him everywhere. Now, he led.

  Grant smiled, realizing just how far he’d come in eight years. Maybe coming home for the holidays wouldn’t turn out to be so bad after all.

  At the pub’s front door, he stood aside as three people stepped into the night, bundled against the cold. Voices and music, laughter and the clink of glasses spilled out with them. Grant kept his head down, hoping no one would recognize him. He’d have plenty of time to catch up with old buddies if any were in town. Right now, he wanted to get that damn tree, get home, and fall into bed. The NHL might be keeping him out of the games, but they couldn’t keep him out of the gym. And between working out, strategizing with teammates from the sideline during practices, and auditioning Rider Girls, Grant needed some heavy-duty Z’s.

  He stepped into the bar, taking a minute to let his eyes adjust while he searched for this “prettiest little blonde in town.”

  The space had been upgraded over the years. Now a mahogany bar stretched along one wall, complete with antique brass footrests. Behind that, bottles of alcohol lined the mirrored wall. The seating area combined booths and tables in dark wood that gave the place that true Irish pub feel, rivaling some of the most authentic pubs Grant had visited during his travels in Boston, Philly, and Chicago.

  Too bad they’d gone and fucked up a good thing with all the Christmas crap—on the walls, on the tables, art, figurines, decorations…

  The only blonde that caught Grant’s eye sat at the bar, chatting with a brunette woman about the same age. But this blonde was beyond pretty, and Grant instantly recognized Faith Nicholas, and not someone he’d expected to see back in Holly. She was probably visiting for the holidays, like half the other people in town.

  From where he stood, she looked even prettier now than she’d been back in high school—if you liked the girl-next-doorType. Grant might have been into Faith back then, but the “sweetest little thing in town” was definitely not what he wanted in a woman now.

  Her hair was cut shoulder-length and styled straight and sleek, but that was where her sophistication ended. She sported theTypical small-town country girl look with wore jeans, a thin tweedy sweater, and low-heeled, knee-high, tan suede boots. Grant had only been here an hour, and he was already missing the refinement of the city.

  The sooner he got that tree for his parents, the sooner he could go to bed. The sooner he got to bed, the sooner he could hit the ice with the kids in the morning. And as the daughter of the man who owned the hardware store, Faith Nicholas would be the most likely person to know how he could find the girl running it.

  He stepped forward just as a man strolled up to the bar beside Faith. He leaned his elbow on the shiny mahogany, and whatever he said drew the gazes of both women, giving Grant a better look at Faith.

  With one of the bar’s spotlights spilling over her, Grant realized he had to adjust his assessment. Faith Nicholas wasn’t just pretty. Her cheekbones, the shape of her face, her smile… She was a real beauty. If she were decked out in a form-fitting dress, four-inch fuck-me heels and a little makeup, she’d be the kind of woman Grant would have locked onto at a party. The kind he would have worked his way toward until he’d started a conversation and held her complete attention.

  But they weren’t in DC. And she wasn’t decked out. Still, that smile of hers sure lit up a room. And even from yards away, Grant could feel its warmth seeping into his belly. She slipped off the barstool and turned toward the man who’d approached. Grant’s gaze rolled down her backside.

  “Damn,” he muttered under his breath. “That girl rocks her jeans.”

  Maybe a little bit of country was just the variety he was looking for. Only, last time he’d seen Faith Nicholas, it was beside Dillon Brady. The high school football star had carried Faith on his arm all four years. They’d been slated for marriage and kids immediately after college.

  Grant glanced around the bar again, this time searching for Faith’s other half. But no one even resembling Brady caught Grant’s eye. Nor did any other pretty blonde. He returned his gaze to Faith, but that guy was still there, trying to make headway. He was an all-around average guy. Average height, average build, average dress, average looking,

  Grant glanced at his watch, crossed his arms, and leaned against the wall. If she was still the same Faith she’d been in high school, this wouldn’t take long. She’d brush off Mr. Average within minutes. She’d been the valedictorian, the head of half a dozen different clubs, the star of the swim team, the homecoming queen, and the girlfriend of the most popular guy in their class, if not the school. She’d certainly never taken a second look at Grant, who’d been as average then as the Joe chatting her up now.

  While he waited, Grant glanced at Faith’s left hand, surprised to find it bare.

  “Wonder what happened to Mr. Football Star.”

  But he didn’t have much time to wonder, because Average Joe had just been shot down and returned to his table, while Faith and the brunette started talking again.

  “Some things never change.”

  But some things did. Like Grant. He’d changed three hundred percent. He might not feel the need to prove himself to the people of this town anymore, but he was going to have to turn on a little of his swagger to get her to help him out tonight.

  No problem.

  Nowadays, Grant had swagger to spare.

  Two

  “And another one bites the dust.” Faith’s best friend, Taylor Sullivan, shook her head in disgust.

  Faith
gave Taylor her get-serious look. “He undressed my Barbies in second grade.”

  “Everyone undressed Barbies in second grade.”

  “Not like him. Creepy, I’m telling you.”

  “What’s creepy is that you remember how he undressed your Barbies in second grade and that you still hold it against him.” Taylor used her wineglass to point at Faith. “That’s creepy. You’re not looking for forever here, Faith. You’re looking for a date. You’re looking for casual. You’re looking for a—”

  Faith plugged her ears. “La-la-la-la-la.”

  Taylor rolled her eyes. “Nothing any guy did last month, let alone in second grade, matters right now. What matters right now is you getting a life.”

  “Hey, I have a life. Plenty of it, thank you very much. And I have the bills and headaches to prove it.” Faith picked up her second glass of Jingle Jangle punch, longing to escape the stress. For a night. An hour. Hell, she’d settle for a moment at this point. “In fact, in my opinion, I have a little too much life.”

  “Too much bad and not enough good. Which is why—“

  “Which is why”—Faith cut her off—“what I really need is more of this.” She savored the delicious blend of juice, berries, vodka, and Grand Marnier, licking the sugar from the rim off her lips with a hum of pleasure. “And less of you reminding me of exactly what I don’t need—more trouble.”

  “Why do you equate men with trouble?”

  Faith laughed and focused on her friend. Emma looked pretty tonight, just a touch of makeup brightening her eyes and cheeks, her dark hair falling in loose waves to her collarbone. She looked so young and so fresh and so happy. Happiness that came from Emma’s son, Caleb. And even though the boy also brought Faith an incredible amount of joy as her godson, she was too aware that all her family was gone.

  To Emma’s question, Faith smiled and shrugged. “Show me one person who’s given me a different perspective.”

  Emma’s angelic face compressed in silly frown. “You know what you need for Christmas this year?”

  “I’m sure you’re going to tell me.”

  “You need one great big O, that’s what.”

  Emma’s declaration took Faith off guard, and she burst out laughing. She didn’t disagree with Emma. Wouldn’t even argue if a man worthy of the honor came along, because the truth was, Faith could use quite a few orgasms to make up for the years without a man in her life. But the fact still remained...

  “You’re just trying to get out of finding dating material in this crowd, because you know you can’t.”

  “You didn’t say anything about dating material,” she sassed back. “You said a guy who wasn’t trouble, and I can too find that in this crowd.” She let out a huff and glanced around the bar.

  Faith did the same, laughing at their tipsy argument. Luckily they could both walk home. Milling around the interior of the bar, Faith saw the same people she always saw in Holly, local residents. Plus a few people who had moved away and come back to visit family. A few tourists here and there, mostly older couples. A couple of kids home on college break.

  Despite Emma’s belief that Faith never even entertained the idea of dating again, she did indeed think about it often. Actually, what she thought about more often than dating was just plain old sex. But even that was impossible with the mess in her life right now. Besides, she hadn’t crossed paths with anyone remotely interesting who also happened to be available.

  “Not all guys are trouble,” Emma insisted. “How about Joe? Joe and Mildred have been together forty-eight years. He can’t be trouble if she’s stayed with him through six kids and fifteen grandkids.”

  Faith turned from the bar, leaned back against the mahogany and scanned the direction of Emma’s gaze. But instead of finding Joe, a retired banker in town, her gaze stumbled on a man near the door. Someone she didn’t recognize. A big man in a ball cap, sliding out of a parka. She couldn’t see his whole face beneath the cap’s brim, but he looked young, about her age, and had a nice jawline. The body he unveiled beneath his jacket was even better, stretching his long-sleeved tee with the kind of muscle Faith hadn’t seen outside television or magazines in years. The kind that made sparks tingle low in her gut. He definitely wasn’t from here. She would have noticed that body in her store.

  “And Adam,” Emma continued while Faith scanned the stranger from his wide chest to his snow-covered boots. “He’s a great guy. So is his brother, Dale. And their cousin, Tim, who lives in the next county—“

  “Is a serial cheater.” Faith forced her gaze off the stranger and refocused on Emma with a smile.

  “And how would you know that?”

  “Hardware store, remember? Guys forget I’m a girl. They talk to me and around me like I’m one of their buddies. And I know Tim’s been off and on with Kelly for months because he keeps cheating on her. Something both Dale and Adam encourage. And even though Tim has a son by Kelly, Dale and Adam keep telling him he should leave ‘the nagging bitch’”—she put the words in air quotes—“and move on. Don’t try and tell me those men aren’t trouble.”

  Emma faced her and leaned against the bar again. “That’s your problem. You know too much.”

  “I don’t consider that a problem. I consider not knowing a problem.”

  “You never give anyone a chance, Faith.”

  She looked down at her drink with half her mind wondering who Sexy at the door belonged to. And wishing she could give him a chance. A big-old-O-for-Christmas chance.

  “I’m not looking for trouble again. Been there, done that.” She really couldn’t face being left again, either. But that was something she kept to herself. “What I am looking for and what I really need for Christmas is some relief from these money worries. The best thing you could do for me would be to sit your butt in a chair and tell me what you’ve got going on YouTube and how I can tap into that.”

  Taylor heaved an exhausted sigh.

  When she didn’t start talking, Faith said, “If you don’t tell me, I’m going to ask Caleb. Do you want your eleven year old teaching me how to make a Youtube video? Cause I know he knows how.”

  “Don’t you dare. He’s already too obsessed with the computer as it is.” She put her hands up in surrender. “Okay, okay. I’ll talk shop on one condition.”

  “Oh, God. What?”

  “You flirt with the next guy who comes up to you.”

  “Flirt? No, uh-uh. I don’t flirt. I’ve never flirted.” She waved the topic away and turned the topic back around. Taylor had developed her hobby of blogging and creating YouTube videos into a full-fledged, lucrative career. It wasn’t something Faith ever believed she’d consider doing, but right now, she was looking at all possibilities.

  “I’ve been seriously thinking about doing a little of what you’re doing with the blogging and videos, but with segments on things I know about, like hardware and fix-it projects. You know, repairing a hole in drywall, fixing a leaky faucet, that sort of thing. I’ve researched it online and I see them out there, but they’re horrible. I could do it way better, but figuring out where to start is overwhelming. I’ve never talked on camera, I don’t know how to target an audience, I barely even use Facebook. And I sure can’t afford a video camera.”

  She took a breath, set down her drink and rubbed her temples. “Even with the increase in holiday sales, the store isn’t going to keep me afloat. And if it’s not keeping me afloat, it won’t keep anyone afloat, which means I wouldn’t be able to sell it. I need to do something before I lose everything.” She lifted her gaze to Taylor and rested her chin in her hands. “So, what do you think? Are the videos worth my time?”

  Taylor exhaled, but the softened look in her eyes gave Faith a little hope. “You are exasperating.”

  She smiled. “I’m aware.”

  “Yes, I think it’s worth the time. There are a lot of DIY videos out there, but like you said, most of them suck. If you do it right, handle your links and sponsorships right, build a following, you
could eventually make a significant income.”

  Relief loosened Faith’s shoulders, and she turned her brightest smile on Taylor. “I don’t know anything about links or sponsorships but I really like the sound of ‘significant income’. So you’ll show me the ropes?”

  “I’ll make you a deal. You give one guy a chance, and I’ll get you started.”

  Faith’s expression fell. “That’s blackmail. Friends don’t blackmail friends.”

  “Excuse me, Miss Nicholas.”

  The man’s voice rolled over her from behind. Deep, slow, confident. Without even looking, she was sure it belonged to Sexy at the door. Faith narrowed her eyes on Taylor. “Did you set this up?”

  “You wish.” She widened her eyes a fraction and tipped her head slightly, a gesture Faith read as take a look.

  Frustration burned. She was a grown woman, dammit, and she could handle her own relationships—or lack thereof.

  She turned—and faced Sexy. Faith could see his face beneath the cap now, and he was sinfully scrumptious in more ways than she could even sum up in the moment. Like his voice, the man exuded confidence. He had light eyes, thick dark lashes, and full lips, quirked in a half-grin.

  A grin that told her he also knew just how attractive he was. She’d certainly seen that look enough to know. Only wished she’d learned to identify it a lot sooner than she had. Figured the only guy who’d caught her eye in...forever...would be full of himself.

  “I’m buying my own drinks tonight,” she said, hoping she sounded more congenial than she felt. “And I’m not interested in going out, but thanks anyway.”

  Faith slid back onto her stool with a pinch of guilt in her gut. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been so rude. She was clearly too overwhelmed too even think about having a man in her life.