by Lucia Grace
“Pfft, an hour. Good try, minute man.” She tosses her long, deep-red hair over her shoulder. Acting disinterested. But that small smile she’s sporting can’t be missed. She loves every minute of this.
These two. They aren’t fooling anyone with their sly looks and teasing banter.
Can’t say I’d be thrilled if they hooked up—my best friend and little sister—but I could choose a worse guy than Nash. I just don’t think anyone could be good enough for Saylor.
Or handle her for that matter. Goddamn spitfire.
“You two done?” I grunt.
Saylor reaches over to steal some of Nash’s French fries before tossing one at my head.
It hits my chest and lands on my station. I pick it up and pop it in my mouth.
She rolls her eyes again before handing over my usual order. I don’t even have to call it in anymore; she just brings it on over every day.
Opening the takeout container, I look down to see a buffalo chicken wrap—extra buffalo sauce, blue cheese, and jalapeños—wrapped up in a basil wrap with Gus’s homemade chips.
Fucking delicious.
“So….” Saylor hedges. I look up. She’s looking at me expectantly.
“What?” I ask, mouth watering over the food in front of me. But my heart kicks up at the look on her face, because I know who she’s going to bring up.
“You went home alone last night, huh?”
Nash swings his head around, huge burger halfway to his mouth. “This chick even had you stopping your game? Holy shit, man.”
Sighing, I set aside my food and pin Saylor with a look.
“What?” she asks, pretending to be innocent. And yes, pretending, because she’s anything but.
“You fucking know I went home alone last night, so why are you asking?” I sit back on my stool, crossing my arms over my chest.
Nash’s eyes are still wide as he eats his burger, standing to the side, taking it all in. Watching the show. His fucking mind apparently blown that no one was warming my bed last night.
But if he saw Kennedy, he’d know why.
“Just starting up conversation, big brother. No need to get all grumpy on me.”
I grunt. “Right.” Totally not buying what she’s trying to sell.
“And pointing out the fact that in the last several years you’ve come in to the bar trolling for chicks almost every night of the week. You know how many of those nights you went home alone? No girl on your arm?”
I just look at her. Because I already know the answer. And the fact that it’s a rhetorical question.
“None. That’s how many.”
“What’s your point?” I ask through a sigh, knowing she has one and hoping she gets to it so I can eat.
“She isn’t like the tramps you’re used to, big brother. Barely covered and hanging off your every word just to get you in their pants.”
“I didn’t say she was, did I?” My voice tight and irritated. Because just thinking of Kennedy acting like those girls has fire running through my veins.
Saylor’s eyes widen dramatically. “You really do like her, don’t you? Like…actually, really, truly like her.”
I just barely contain rolling my eyes like some chick.
“Oh, don’t look at me like that Rhett Shaw!” she exclaims. “You don’t like girls. Ever. You fuck ‘em and chuck ’em.”
My sister, ladies and gentleman. “Real classy, Say.”
Without missing a beat, she tosses her long, red hair over her shoulder and cocks a hip. “I’m classy as fuck. Ain’t no shame in speaking the truth.”
Nash coughs out a laugh somewhere in the room.
I just sit there, unamused, arms crossed over my chest as I look at my sister acting a fool.
“For the record, I knew you did. Could tell from the way you were looking and acting last night. Told her so, too.”
“You what?” My eyes almost bulge out of my head.
“What?” she asks through a smirk.
“Goddamn it, Saylor.”
“What’s the big deal? You do like her!”
“Way to make me sound like a fucking creep. I don’t even know her and you’re telling her…Jesus fuck, Say.”
“Stop being a damn drama queen. I did you a favor.”
I scoff. “And how is that?”
“Since she’s not like the girls you’re used to, she’s not going to be how you’re used to either, Rhett. Knew that just from looking at her, but now I know it for sure.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“We talked last night after work. I’m not going to go into detail because it isn’t my place. But she’s alone, doesn’t have anybody, and has been hurt—”
“Someone hurt her?” I growl through clenched teeth. My skin stretching tight and pulsing with a simmering rage ready to boil over.
“No, Hulk. Not like that. So chill the fuck out,” she says as she rolls her eyes. “But her past isn’t easy and honestly…reminds me a bit of ours.” Her eyes trying to convey more than her quiet words are saying.
My chest tightens. An angel like her should never know that kind of pain.
“So that means, if you really want to win her over, you have to up your game, stop bagging any vagina with a pulse, and be that big-hearted man I know you try to bury. And think that through, big brother. Because you have to mean it with her. If you don’t, then bow out now.”
Bow out? No fucking way.
“I mean it,” she points a red-painted, talon-like finger at me. Eyeing me just so. “She’s different and has been through enough—plus I like her—so make sure you know what you’re doing before you jump all-in with your tall, dark, and handsome me want, me take Neanderthal ways.”
I do want. And I will take.
But I’ll make damn sure she knows it’s for keeps.
IN THE FEW DAYS THAT I’ve been in town, I quickly learned Saylor isn’t a morning person. Anything before ten-thirty in the morning is considered too early to her. I assume it’s in large part due to the fact that she works all night shifts at the bar, not getting up into the apartment until one a.m. most mornings.
Because I’m the total opposite, rising by eight a.m. latest every day no matter how late I work the day before, I thought I’d come down to the local cafe that’s only a few doors down from the bar. She mentioned how much she loves their coffee and berry scones, and because she’s done so much for me in the last few days, this is the least I can do.
So as quietly as I could, I tossed on leggings and a baggy tee, tiptoed through the apartment, then made the couple-minute walk to the coffee shop, taking a moment or two to survey the main street as I went; the store fronts, the people, the scenery. Everyone seems friendly, and the lush trees and mountains are stunning. All of it new, the fresh start I needed.
Sunvale isn’t as small as where I’m from, not by a long shot, but it’s far from a city. So when I walked through the door of the café a few minutes ago, I was surprised to find it so busy. There’s a line six or so people deep with most of the tables and booths filled with patrons.
Utensils scrape against plates, coffee mugs clatter, and small talk between friends and family fills the quaint space. It smells delicious in here, too. Like freshly-brewed coffee and just-out-of-the-oven sweet treats. I smile, the atmosphere so inviting.
After scanning the menus above the counter and knowing what to get, the line moves fairly quickly and before I know it, I’m placing my order with the young girl behind the counter. The barista tells me it’ll be a few minutes, so I move to the side and wait at the counter.
While I’m waiting, I catch sight of a guy sitting at a table to my left. He stands, and at first I think it’s because he’s leaving or needing something for his coffee. So I shuffle forward and to the right a little to make room for him either way, but he doesn’t do either. The guy, I’d say around my age and a few inches taller with blond hair, walks right up to me, huge grin on his face. Immediately I feel uneasy, the way his
blue eyes run over me—head to toe. Leering and salacious.
“I was sitting over there, saw you come in, and I knew I needed to come on over and meet you.”
I try to smile politely, but I’m thinking it comes out more as a grimace than anything. Not knowing what to say, I just nod and turn back to face the counter fully. Hoping that if I ignore him, he’ll go away.
No such luck.
“You’ve got to be the hottest chick I’ve ever seen,” he says to the side of my face.
Uncomfortable now, I’m shocked a bit into silence because I’m not getting the usual butterflies that I normally get from a guy’s attention. The shock is apparently too long because he keeps on talking.
“Can I have your name? I’m Justin, by the way.” He steps closer.
My warning bells are blaring, my mind reeling, trying to think of a way I can get away from him. I don’t expect he’d do any harm, especially since we’re in a crowded coffee shop, but the way he’s looking at me makes my skin crawl.
I turn to him then, though I don’t want to, and see his all-too-eager eyes and smile and all over demeanor ratchet up another notch at my attention. “Look, Justin, you said?” He nods, so I continue. “I’m flattered, really.” Though I’m not. “I’m just waiting on my order, and once it’s here, I’m gone. I appreciate the small talk, but I’m not interested.”
Proud of myself for turning his attention away, I move to face the counter yet again. Hoping my order will be ready any second.
It’s then I feel a presence at my other side. Large, commanding, familiar.
“Mornin’, angel.”
Rhett.
My eyes close on a slow blink and a deep breath, somewhat relieved that he’s here but confused and agitated more than anything. I just met this man a couple days before, one who’s had me off-kilter ever since, and now he’s here and I don’t know how to feel.
“Everything okay?” he asks.
“Fine, just waiting on my order.” I shuffle another step that brings me a little closer to Rhett.
“This kid bothering you?” His voice dropping an octave or two.
“No. He was just leaving.”
“Hey, come on now—”
Justin reaches out a hand as if he’s going to place it on my shoulder, but Rhett’s not having any of that.
He walks right up to this guy, towering over him, then gently moves me to stand behind him. Speaking low, Rhett addresses him only loud enough for the three of us to hear. “Pretty sure the lady just said you were about to leave. Seems like a good idea to me. Move the fuck on because you won’t be getting her name. And think about touching her again, I’ll rip your fuckin’ arm from its socket.”
I look around the cafe, mortified, hoping no one is watching the scene I’m afraid we’re starting to make. My eyes practically bulge at hearing what Rhett just said.
My heart pitter-patters at the gesture. Something I need to stop and control, because nothing can happen. Not ever. Men are my weakness and Rhett…he’d be my biggest downfall if I let him close. Plus this move, it wasn’t to find another man to use and abuse me. It was to find me.
Justin startles at Rhett’s threat and scurries away, not sparing me a glance as he books it passed us.
Relief filters through, until I realize it leaves Rhett and me alone.
“You sure you’re okay, angel?” A gentle hand skims my shoulder, feather light.
I suppress the shiver that tries to run through me. But not from disgust…from want.
I need to get it together.
Clearing my throat, I’m able to answer. “Yes, I am, thank you. And thank you for stepping in. He just walked up and started talking.”
“He do anything else?”
“No.” I shake my head emphatically. “He walked up, called me hot, asked for my name, and then that’s when you showed up.”
“Damn punk-ass kid. Thinking he can waltz up on you. Touch you.” His fists clench at his sides.
“I’m fine, really, but thank you. I’m glad you were here. I wasn’t sure what to say and was worried he’d keep going even though I was trying to ignore him.”
“Glad I came when I did, too, angel. Not liking knowing you were made to feel uncomfortable. But damn relieved I was here to help.”
I smile a small smile at that.
“Gotta say, when I walked in and saw you standing there, I couldn’t believe my luck. Then when I saw that peckerhead standing next to you and how upset you seemed, I ‘bout near ripped him apart.”
“Kennedy.” The barista calls out.
Finally. Giving me the out I needed so I don’t have to respond.
“Well, thanks again,” I tell him, before walking up to grab my order.
“Yeah, no problem, angel.” His tone holds a note of confusion at my abrupt exit.
With pastry bag and drink tray in hand, I quickly walk out of the cafe to head back to the apartment, beyond flustered at what just happened.
The audacity of both of them has me well passed irritated.
That guy—Justin—for coming on to me. And Rhett for…for just being there in the first place and making me feel how I feel. Being all attractive and charming and protective.
Once I make it back to the bar, I take the stairs to the apartment and practically barrel through the front door.
“You alright, sweets?” Saylor asks in way of greeting. I’m so flustered by my entire morning, I can’t even be surprised that it’s barely nine o’clock and she’s already awake.
I huff. “Yeah, fine.” Distracted as I remove cups from the tray and pull out the scones to plate.
“Doesn’t sound like it,” she responds before taking a sip of her coffee. “Ah, nectar of the gods, I tell ya. Perfect. Now tell me.” She leans on the island between us. “What’s got your feathers all ruffled this fine morning?”
Taking a sip of my own iced coffee, I think over my response. “I ran into your brother at the cafe just now.”
“Oh.” Her eyes light up. “Do tell. What happened?”
“Well, since you were still sleeping, I thought I’d walk over to that coffee shop you’re always raving about.”
“Thank you for this by the way.” She holds up her coffee and scone with a smile.
“When I’m there, waiting for our order, this guy walks up to me and proceeds to hit on me. He was about my age but creeped me the heck out. Just the way he was looking at me, it made me uneasy.”
“What a goddamn jerk! Please tell me my brother put him in his place?”
Closing my eyes, I nod.
“Hell yeah, he did.” She pumps her coffee-free fist into the air.
I roll my now-open eyes. “I was mortified, Saylor. First because of that creep talking to me. I didn’t know what to do besides ignore him, and then because of your brother coming to the rescue. He wasn’t loud, but the things he said.” I run a hand through my long hair. “He threatened to rip his arm from his socket, for goodness sakes,” I say on a sigh.
Saylor shrugs. “Sounds about right. Rhett’s never been one to beat around the bush. He tells it like it is, and if he felt that was necessary, I’d bet my left tit it was.”
I shake my head, both at her choice of words and the situation. “I’ve talked to him twice now, Saylor. That’s it. We only met a few days ago. But how he acted, the things he said, you’d think we’d known each other a lifetime. But we haven’t. I barely even know him.” Though a feeling settles deep and won’t let go the couple times I’ve been in his presence. Like I do know him. But it’s something I ignore and will continue to.
Saylor smirks, her dark eyes so much like her brother’s twinkling. “Told you girl. My brother is smitten. Makin’ his interest known.” She winks, then bites into her scone, talking with her mouthful. “The Shaw Effect.”
IT’S THE NEXT NIGHT, AND my eyes are scanning every inch of the bar as I walk through the door.
Looking for her.
I closed up the shop as soon as the last cu
stomer left. Barely even saying goodbye before I was locking the door at their back. Needing to get the fuck out of there and across the street to see a certain angel who’s had me spinning all wild since I met her three days ago.
In Ruins has always been my home away from home since I opened Inked Souls. And each night I’d prowl the talent to secure my lay for the night. So no matter what, I’d be here.
But since I’ve laid eyes on Kennedy, there’s no way I could stay away. Because I need to see her. Especially since I kept my distance the last couple of nights in hopes I could shake her from my mind.
It didn’t work.
My skin is itching like a junkie needing a hit. Running into her yesterday morning not doing anything to quell the urge and want I have for seeing her, talking to her.
Moving through the crowded space—the nightlife never dying down no matter the night of the week—I head toward the bar and my usual place at the end. Hoping I’ll spot her before she sees me.
But before I can make it, pink-painted nails are fisting my shirt as a drunken squeal pierces the air. “The infamous Rhett Shaw. Thought you’d never arrive. Been waitin’ and ready and willin’ for hours now.”
Not again.
I grunt and pull her claws from my clothes. “No thanks.” My voice lost in disinterest as my eyes keep scanning and looking.
The girl releases her hands and takes a step back, but only one, barely giving me any space. “Looking for a rebound and figured you’d be just the guy.” She purrs, trying to act sexy, but only sounding like a damn child.
Her hands lift again to run down my chest, but I step back and shake my head. “Meant it. Not interested.”
As the words leave my mouth, a flash of light and honey-brown hair catch my attention. I look over the drunk girl’s head to see that sweet ass power walking by me. Head down, quiet murmurs of excuse me slipping past pouty, pink lips as she goes.
There it is again. That kick drum beat way down deep in my chest.
Thumping and banging against my ribs. Trying to bust free.
The girl lets out a disbelieving scoff as I move around her and continue cutting a path through the pressing, drunken bodies on my way to Kennedy.