Stand By Your Man: (Three Bad Boy Romance Novellas)

by Peter Presley

  “Yeah, that was impressive,” I say after I swallow another bite of my food. “But a mouthy drunk is one thing and whatever trouble might be brewing could be somethin’ else. I want to find out what the hell is going on, just to satisfy my own curiosity.”

  “I guess you’ll do what you gotta do. It’ll be interesting to see how this whole thing plays out with you and her. Just don’t get mushy on me man. Cool?”

  “Yeah, Ax, it’s cool.”

  Thirteen

  Abby

  Tonight’s a better night. There’re actually quite a number of people in the bar, and they’re all behaving. I’m not saying it’s crowded, in fact, far from it. But there’re a few more people in here than yesterday.

  Monica is bartending with me. I had to cut half my staff, due to the money problems, but I won’t get rid of Monica unless I’m so strapped that I’m forced to. I trust her 100 percent, and she’s one of the people who has been with me from the beginning.

  “Did we order more Absolute, Abby?” asks Monica. “I noticed we were down from the last time I was here.”

  Not only is Monica efficient, but she’s also attractive. Her short dark hair goes well with her athletic body. It never hurts a bar to have pretty women working behind the counter. That’s just the way it is. Monica understands that too. She gets that she’s good for business. She also gets that guys are going to flirt with her and hit on her in this job. She expects it and takes it all in stride. She does have firm boundaries though, and she’s not afraid to let the customers know where they’re at if they ever try to cross them. She’s got my full backing on that. Some of the guys are creeps, and we don’t entertain that just to keep them around for the price of another beer or two.

  Like me, though, she’s not averse to crossing those boundaries when the mood takes her, or someone hot catches her eye. She’s got my backing on that too. I’d be a hypocrite if I didn’t think that was okay considering my own track record.

  Monica’s from a similar background but wasn’t so lucky with the supportive parents. They wanted her to use her smarts for some high-flying career and didn’t like the fact that all she ever wanted to do was dance. Now she pretty much makes her own way in life. One day she’s going to get her big break, and I’ll be super happy for her, and sad for me. I rely on her a lot, and this place wouldn’t be the same without her.

  “Yeah, we got some boxes in yesterday,” I say. “In fact, I was just about to go stock. You’re okay for now?”

  “No problem, I got it.” Monica looks up at the door and just stares. “Damn, he’s hot!”

  I look over at the door. It’s you know who.

  “Him? Ah . . . yeah. He came in yesterday. I see he’s back.”

  “Mmmm . . . come on over here. I’ll be happy to serve you,” says Monica to herself with a devilish grin.

  I look at Monica. “Oh, you don’t want him.”

  She looks at me. “You know him?”

  I don’t want to tell her that he and I fucked last night. I just want to forget about him. “Yeah, I know him. He’s trouble.”

  I walk away from Monica, staring Colton in the eyes. He’s staring right back. And wouldn’t you know he looks even hotter than he did when he came into the bar last night. His tight t-shirt hugs his muscle and reveals more of his tats. He’s wearing jeans and a huge leather belt. His dark hair is all tousled, and those big brown eyes stare into mine.

  I stand in the doorway, and he approaches me. “You’re back, huh?”

  “Of course I’m back.” He looks me up and down. “You’re looking gorgeous tonight.”

  “Save it, Colton. I’m busy, and I’m not interested. Monica is working the bar. She’d be happy to get you a drink. I’ve got stocking to do before it gets busy.”

  “You think it’s gonna get busy?”

  “What is that supposed to mean?”

  “I mean it’s a Friday night and the only thing hoppin’ in this place is the music you’re blasting out of the speakers.

  “Then get out!” I scream despite myself. He just smiles. He knows he’s hit a nerve. What an asshole.

  “Relax. I’m gonna go get myself a drink like you said.”

  “Good. Go!”

  I turn my back on him and rush into the stock room.

  I really can’t believe he’s back here. I thought he was just passing through. I wouldn’t have fucked him if I knew he was coming back.

  Oh, who I am kidding. This guy is so hot, I’m sure I would have fucked him regardless. God, I’m so ridiculous. If I had a man, a good man, I wouldn’t be falling for these bad boy types.

  I finish stocking the shelves and head back out into the bar. Colton is sitting there with a beer in his hand, watching my every move. He doesn’t seem interested in Monica at all, which makes me feel good for some reason. So pathetic. I can’t believe I’m taking pride in that. I’m just going to go about my work and ignore Colton. I’ve got a job to do, and I can’t be focused on him. Maybe he’ll get tired of me ignoring him and leave. That would be nice.

  Fourteen

  Abby

  As soon as I get inside my home, I double lock the door. Nobody followed me, but it doesn’t matter. Shane knows where I live. After all, I used to fuck the guy. He’s been showing up at the bar, and I know sooner or later he’ll come here. I don’t think it’ll be tonight, but a distraction from worrying about it sounds good anyway.

  I look down at the bag that I’ve set on the floor. I was so excited when Colton brought it for me, even though I didn’t show it, but after all this drama with Shane, on my ride home, I practically forgot about it.

  Now that I’ve remembered I’m like a kid at Christmas again. I grab the bag’s handle, rush over to my sofa and set the bag on one of the sofa’s cushions. Then I pull out the box. It’s black too, just like the bag. No words, no indication of what’s inside. It looks mysterious and classy. My heart is racing.

  The box is sealed with tape, but I rip it open pretty good anyway. Inside, under the white wrapping paper, is something silky and black. At first, I think it’s gotta be lingerie, something sexy or slutty that says he wants to see me in it after dinner. I don’t know how I feel about that. It would kinda be like he was telling me he was expecting a return. I wouldn’t know whether to be insulted that it’s a condition, or flattered that he wants a repeat performance. I remind myself that I don’t know what it is yet and jumping to conclusions and speculating about them is pointless when the answer’s right here in front of me.

  I pull the item out, and although it makes me sound like a total girl, I let out a little squeak of surprise and joy. It’s not lingerie, slutty or otherwise. It’s the most beautiful little black dress I’ve ever seen. The material is exquisite, the stitching the most impeccable. And when I stand to hold it up against my body, I can tell that it’s just my size. He knew.

  I throw my clothes off, right there in my living room, down to my birthday suit. Gently, I undo the zipper on the dress and then slip it over my body. I can’t even begin to explain to you how exquisite the material feels against my skin. I reach behind and slide the zipper up. So smooth. I already figured by the feel but now I know for sure this isn’t a knock off. Does it fit me? Of course, it does. It’s as if Colton knew exactly my size and maybe even better than I know myself. God knows how many times I’ve tried clothing on that I thought, upon first glance, would fit me but didn’t. How the hell did he know? It both panics and thrills me that he noticed my body that much. I thought we were too hot and heavy for that, too frantic. Looks like I was wrong.

  I walk over to the full-length mirror in my bedroom to get a better view. When I get a glimpse of myself in the mirror, a huge smile spreads on my face. My god! I’ve never seen a dress fit me better than this one. It clings to my curves, but not in a way that makes my stomach or my hips look bad. After all, they’re not as skinny as I want them to be but this flatters them and makes me look all curvy and glorious instead of showing any lumps or bumps. It’s
also low cut enough to show off my cleavage, but not low enough to look cheap. I can’t help but wonder if he picked it out himself or had someone do it for him. As much as he’s a bad boy, he doesn’t come across as total low life scum. Maybe he’s a bad boy with taste and a touch of class. Is there such a thing?

  I walk over to my closet and pull out a pair of high heeled black sandals, ones I rarely get to wear, what with me always working at the bar. My feet would be throbbing and in tatters within the first hour of being in them behind the counter and waiting and clearing tables. Besides, they wouldn’t be so handy if I needed to kick ass.

  Feeling decadent and feminine, I slip them on and take another look. They work perfectly with my new dress. I’m practically transformed from the way I usually look. I feel like a million dollars if I do say so myself.

  I flush, feeling a bit dizzy, but dizzy with excitement. Colton told me I’d be wearing this dress on Monday, and now I know there’s no way I’m disobeying him. Yes, I’ll wear this dress. Why shouldn’t I? He wants me to look good, and I confess I want to look this good for him. My eyes glance down to the tag, something I didn’t notice before. It says $2,000. Two grand! Well, if he wants to spend two grand on a dress for a girl he barely knows, that’s his problem. I’m wearing this dress, and I’m keeping this dress. I deserve to feel good for a change and if this is the kind of thing he’s used to doing then I’ve got no reason to object. If it weren’t me then it would be someone else, right?

  I gently put the dress on a hanger and place the shoes underneath it. Then I text Colton.

  See you Monday.

  And that’s all I text. And then I turn off my phone. I could try to pretend that I’m playing it cool and mysterious. I could try to pretend that I’m playing smart mind games. By not mentioning the dress or gushing thanks it might look as if I receive gifts like these all the time, or by using his predatory instincts against him by not being overly enthusiastic, I’m making him want to hunt and chase me all the more. Sure, I could say all that, but the truth is that it’s after two in the morning, and I don’t want to talk to him right now. Don’t ask me how I know but I just know that he’d call the minute he got it. I’m tired, and even though I’ve distracted myself with Colton’s gift, I’m still pretty shaken up over what happened earlier. I want to go to bed and forget about Shane and his thug friends and what’s facing me tomorrow, or the next day, or whenever.

  It’s Monday evening. I’m standing in front of the bar in my black dress and heels, except I’m wearing a black coat over the dress. It’s a little cold out, and besides, I want Colton to get the full impact later when he’s not driving, and he can drink it all in. Yeah, I honestly think it’s that good. A designer cut can work wonders. My outfit is making me feel glamorous and confident, but I still feel tiny flutters of nerves about this date, or is it excitement. I can’t tell. It’s 6:50. I’m early, which is unusual for me. I guess I’m really into this guy whether I want to admit it or not.

  I see him pulling up in this very fancy sports car. Yeah, that car must have cost over 100 grand, just like the one Shane drove. I don’t want to admit to myself that Colton and Shane are anything alike but adding the dress and the car up can only lead to one conclusion —there’s no way this dude isn’t into something.

  He pulls up to the curb, the window rolls down, nice and smooth. The door opens. He leans over to me. “Come on in, gorgeous.”

  I climb in. Fuck! He’s got me already. And, yet again, he looks good enough to eat. His dark hair is tousled but not in a messy way. He’s wearing a black suit with a casual white shirt. His cufflinks are of the finest gold and he smells good. Really good. Fuck!

  “Nice car, nice suit.”

  “Thank you,” he says with an air of confidence. “You look beautiful.”

  I smile. He hasn’t seen anything yet. Wait ‘til I take off this coat. “Thanks.”

  “I can’t wait for you to get that coat off so I can see you better.”

  Shit, it’s like he’s echoing my own thoughts. “Thank you for the dress, Colton.” There, I’ve finally said it. “You shouldn’t have.”

  I add the last bit because it’s the polite and expected thing to say. I’m really glad he did, and I have no problem accepting it. Why should I since it’s what he wanted to do?

  “Fits you perfect, doesn’t it?”

  I blush. “Yes, how did you know?”

  He glances over and looks me down and then up. “I just know.”

  I take a deep breath; thoughts of our time in the back of the bar are invading my mind. I imagine him up against me, his strong hands on me . . . but I cut my thoughts off. Thinking about that can only have one result, and it’s not a good one right now. Not only would we never make it to the restaurant, but I’d probably ruin the dress before it even had its first outing. No way is that happening before Colton’s had the full effect. I need to put this conversation back on a less dangerous footing. “So where are you taking me?”

  “Spiaggia.”

  “Spiaggia? Well! You show up in an expensive car. You buy me an expensive dress. You’re taking me to an expensive restaurant. What do you do for a living Colton?”

  This time he doesn’t glance at me before he speaks but keeps his eyes firmly on the road ahead. “This and that.”

  I’m getting tired of that same old answer. “Don’t give me that ‘this and that’ shit. You’re into something dirty, aren’t you? I know guys like you.”

  “Hey, stop. The angry woman bit is hot, but save that for when we’re in bed. Reserve your energy!” He gives a small laugh, but it sounds kinda fake, as if the conversation’s made him uncomfortable.

  “Oh, whatever, Colton.” I fold my arms and then look at him. I’m hoping to guilt him into maybe apologizing and revealing something but he just turns his head to look back at me and the way he’s doing it just makes me smile. I was so wrong about him being uncomfortable. I’m not going to get anything more about his occupation out of him, at least not right now anyway. I might as well concentrate on the other issue he just raised.

  I raise my eyebrows. “And what makes you think you’re taking me to bed tonight? This is a first date, right? They’re supposed to end with you dropping me back home and maybe a goodnight kiss if you’re lucky, and that’s exactly how this one’s going to end.”

  “We’ll see.”

  Why do I find the casual arrogance so damn hot! There must be something seriously wrong with me. Still, he doesn’t need to know that I do, and I need to learn to stick to my guns and have a bit of self-respect. “No, not ‘we’ll see’.” I fold my arms again and look in front of me. “I don’t just sleep with guys because they tell me to.”

  “Good to hear, but I’m not like those other guys. I’m Colton.” He looks at me. “You know you want you some Colton.”

  I laugh. I can’t help it. His delivery is just too damn good. “You’re full of yourself aren’t you?”

  Colton looks back at the window. “That’s what they say.”

  “They?”

  “Yeah, they.”

  I shake my head. Colton wants to play Mr. Mysterious, but that’s only going to work so long with me. Against my better judgment, I’m along for the ride right now, but I’ve been burned too many times to let it go for much longer. Somehow, this guy is getting under my skin and if he’s got too many dark secrets I need to get to the bottom of them before I get in any deeper. If I find out that he’s another Neville or another Shane, I need to run as far and as fast as I can, but there’s no harm in enjoying a nice meal while I work out a way to get him to open up and tell me the truth. “Okay fine, for now. Just get me to the restaurant. I’m starving.”

  Colton grins, knowing he’s won this round. “Yes ma’am, pretty lady.”

  Fifteen

  Colton

  I like to spoil my women, and I like to leave them completely satisfied. When I met Abby at the bar, this gorgeous 25-year-old redhead, I knew I was going to give her everything I had
to offer. Yeah, she’s a businesswoman; she supports herself, but I bet she’s never been around someone as successful as me. Even though I gained my success through a bunch of illegal shit, I can portray the image of a wealthy man on the up and up. I tip well; I treat waiters and waitresses and bellhops and valets with the utmost respect, and the public is none the wiser.

  Abby and I had a nice dinner at Spiaggia. She was so blown away by the experience; she even let me order for her. I’m new to the Chicago area, but I guess she grew up in some fancy town called Lake Forest. And yet, this beautiful piece of ass hasn’t been to very many nice restaurants. Pity. I’ll have to change that.

  As we drive back from Spiaggia, one of the nicest restaurants in town, she sits in the passenger seat with her coat off. I take a glance at her and her beautiful body in the sexy black dress I bought for her. It matches perfectly with my black Armani suit.

  We’re at my condo. I’ve parked my car, and now we’re headed up. We step into the elevator.

  “So . . . ,” she says. “Nice car, nice clothes, and now here I am at your fancy digs. You’re a mystery man, and I don’t know what I’m doing here.”

  I grab her hand and give her a kiss on the lips. “You know what you’re doing here.” She just looks at me with her big green eyes. She doesn’t come back at me with one of her snotty comments. I’ve got her.

  We walk down the hall, hand in hand, and we enter my apartment. Inside, I turn on soft lights. My living room, a showcase of black leather, chrome, and healthy tropical plants comes into view.

  “Nice,” she says. “A decorator, I presume?”