by Jessie Cooke
“Stop, you’re embarrassing her.”
Daria almost admitted that he wasn’t embarrassing her…she was embarrassed, for them. This was their first date, and a blind one at that. How was it that this man already knew about her…and had time to read a hundred-thousand-word novel before she even got there? She’d only agreed to the date two days ago. This was too weird. “Would you gentlemen mind excusing me? I need to use the ladies’ room.”
“Of course not,” Luke said. “Would you like me to have the hostess show you the way?” Daria almost choked. Was this guy for real?
“No, thank you. I think I’ll be okay on my own.” The two men laughed again, too loud and too hard. As the other patrons turned to look she decided that yes, she was embarrassed for herself too, just a little. She wondered if there was an emergency exit that she could sneak out of on the way to the bathroom.
Daria didn’t get lost on her way, and after doing her business and washing her hands, she stood looking at herself in the mirror, coming up with all kinds of scenarios to get herself out of there. She might have just kept standing there indefinitely, or until some feasible escape plan occurred to her, if the two expensively dressed women hadn’t walked in. She must have looked as sick as she felt because they immediately stopped talking and one of them looked at her and said, “Are you okay, honey?”
Swallowing the bile that had been rising in her throat since the second she laid eyes on Luke, she nodded and said, “I’m okay, thank you.” She smiled at them, finished drying her hands for the second time, and resigned herself to going back out there. At least the wine would be there by now. She told herself to try not to look as happy about that as she was feeling, otherwise her sister might have an intervention arranged for her by the time she got back to New York. Her mind was so preoccupied that she didn’t see the waiter, thankfully with empty hands, turning away from the edge of a table. She barreled right into him and they both let out a surprised little cry. Mortified, she first apologized to him and then looked at the people at the table. One of them was a young, very muscular man dressed in a nice shirt with short sleeves and what she termed “yummy” tattoos peeking out. He had on jeans and boots…if she were ten years younger, or a cougar, she would have been in love. The other person at the table was a pretty young lady, dressed nicely as well, but not in the designer clothing she was used to women wearing. Her clothes also had a western style to them and she had on boots too. Lucky bitch. They were both smiling, and the man looked like he wanted to laugh. “Oh, my goodness. I’m so sorry,” she blustered. Looking back at the waiter with her face growing even hotter, she once again said, “Please forgive me. I wasn’t paying attention.” To add to her humiliation, she could see Luke coming toward her out of the corner of her eye.
“It’s really okay,” the handsome young guy said.
“Yes, I think it was my fault,” the waiter kindly told her.
“You’re all too kind. I wasn’t paying attention and…”
“Daria! Are you okay? You ran right into her!” Luke snapped at the waiter.
“No Luke, it was me,” Daria said. She took his arm, merely to try and lead him away from the table. That was when a shadow fell over them both…like when the sun goes behind a cloud suddenly.
“Is everything okay here?” That voice…deep, soft, and sexy, all at the same time. She knew that voice well because she’d written it into more than one of her novels. The men were all different…but they all had that voice. It was the voice of her dreams. She looked up and realized he was no longer just a dream. It was Steve, the boy she’d wanted to be her first, all grown up and looking sexier than she could have ever imagined him. A brief flicker of recognition crossed his face, but only deepened the scowl it held.
“We’re good, Sledge,” the young guy said, scowling himself now, at Luke. The waiter was trying to apologize again, and Luke was saying something…but it was all white noise in the background. All she could see was Steve…or “Sledge” as the hot young guy at the table had called him. Damn, he looked good. He had been a big guy in high school, but now, he was a mountain, a steaming, hot pile of flesh that her palms itched to touch. While that ran through her mind…and as if she hadn’t been humiliated enough by that point…the day suddenly caught up to her all at once. The long treks in the hundred-degree heat, the lack of food, the trauma of being on a blind date with a man she’d already decided she despised…the room began to spin and the last thing she remembered was reaching out and putting her hand on the massive chest of her teenage crush…and then everything went black.
6
Sledge kept the rubberneckers in the restaurant at bay while the manager, a waiter, the hostess, and some prissy-looking man fussed over Daria. There were a lot of people there who suddenly produced cameras from their pockets and purses. It was shit like this that caused the fighters to need the club members to follow them around when they were in town. The paparazzi came in the form of regular people with cell phones these days. Since this didn’t have anything to do with Freddie, Sledge wouldn’t be demanding anyone’s phone to delete the photos as they left the restaurant…but it still annoyed him. People were snapping pictures of Daria while she lay on the floor. The manager had shooed them away at first and finally Sledge had stepped up and volunteered for the job.
He couldn’t believe she was there. He’d just been thinking about her, fucking a woman that looked like her only two days before. It was like he’d thought her up. Laying eyes on her had been almost like a PTSD episode. He felt himself propelled back in time and suddenly instead of the big, bad biker, protector, enforcer…he was an awkward, scared boy again, just for a fraction of a second. He didn’t know if she recognized him or not…but he thought she did.
Maybe that was just his ego talking. He was sure Daria Ford had long since forgotten he ever existed and moved on to torment bigger and better people with her superiority. Her passing out like that was weird. Maybe that night at her sister’s wedding was a prelude to things to come and she was still a drinker. The manager wanted to call an ambulance, but the man she was with had insisted they didn’t. Maybe because he knew she was just drunk. He kept talking about her “reputation” and the press. Sledge wondered if she was really all that important now, so much so that the press would worry about what she was doing, or were rich people just that self-important that they assumed people would care about what they were doing?
He wanted to dismiss the very brief reunion altogether and his brain was on board with that…but his traitorous body was still reacting. When she started to go down, he’d caught her…so he didn’t just have to deal with seeing her again, he had to deal with knowing how she felt. Her date…the prissy rich boy…had rushed over right away and ordered him to sit her down in a chair. Sledge did, but then had to walk away to keep from knocking the bossy son of a bitch out. God, she was hot though, and she felt as good as she looked. She still wore her hair long and straight. It was as dark and silky-looking as he remembered it. Her hazel eyes looked green now, maybe just because of the soft green color of the dress she was wearing. It was short, but not club short. It showed off her thick, silky thighs and her muscular-looking calves. She had on shoes with a two- or three-inch heel, and they helped make her legs look like they went on forever. Her skin was soft and when he caught her, his nose had been almost buried in all that silky hair. She smelled as good as she looked, and felt, and his poor cock was sulking over the orders his brain was sending it, to stay down. He told himself and his overly interested cock that she was probably a bigger bitch now than she used to be and he didn’t need any of that bullshit in his life…again.
“I’m really okay,” he heard her say. He had his back to them now as he kept an eye on the crowd in the restaurant, watching for cameras and cell phones. Her voice sounded like he remembered it…he hated that he remembered it.
“You should go get checked out at the hospital, miss,” the manager was saying. He was still talking when the rude boyfriend inte
rrupted.
“I’ll take her there.” His tone was sharp and smug…like he owned her.
“No! I don’t need a hospital,” she snapped back. For some reason Sledge enjoyed hearing her talk to her old man like that. “I just got overheated and I didn’t eat today.”
“Get her something to eat,” the man snapped again. Damn, he was a rude piece of shit. “Come on, Daria, I’ll help you back to our table.” Sledge couldn’t resist then, turning to look over his shoulder at her. Her possessive old man didn’t give her time to object, if she was going to. He already had a hold of her arm and was pulling her to her feet. She looked pale, as white as a sheet as a matter of fact, and as soon as Sledge’s eyes were on her face, hers moved to lock into his. Half a second later, her old man realized she was looking at Sledge and gave him a look like he was a piece of trash, blown in on the wind. He whispered something to Daria that made her frown, but also got her attention off Sledge. He turned back away, not wanting to watch the sissy boy practically carry her back to their table. At least once they were at their own table, everyone seemed to be going back to their own business. Sledge went back to the fighter’s table and said:
“You two okay, Freddie?” Freddie was Frederick Santos, or Fred “The Walking Dead” Santos. It was what Jacob Wright had named him and since he’d already won his first two major fights by a knockout, it was fitting. Sledge liked the kid, though; he was personable and didn’t seem too full of himself the way some of the fighters did. His date’s name was Yvette and she seemed like a nice girl too. They both smiled at Sledge and Freddie said:
“We’re great. That was fun. You knew her though, didn’t you?” Perceptive little shit.
“Nah, she looked familiar at first,” he said, glancing over to the table her boyfriend had taken her to. The waiter was there now, bringing a tray of food that looked fit for a king, or a queen, which he was sure she thought she was. “She wasn’t anyone I knew, though. If you two are okay, I’m gonna go back to the bar.” Sledge had just ordered a sandwich before all the hubbub. It was a French dip and it had looked delicious on the menu. By now it was probably cold and his au jus probably had grease floating on top. But that was okay since he’d lost his appetite anyway.
“We’re good,” Freddie told him. The girl smiled too and nodded before saying:
“I hope the lady is okay. She looked really pale.”
Another sideways glance at her and Sledge saw her boyfriend pouring her a glass of wine…probably out of a five-hundred-dollar bottle. “I’m sure she’ll be fine,” he said. “Y’all enjoy your meal.” He kept his head straight as he walked back to the bar. He wasn’t going to let himself look at her again…no matter how badly he wanted to. He meant what he said to the girl, he didn’t know her, and he was sure he didn’t want to.
It was about an hour later when Sledge, working on his second beer of the night, and full from the sandwich and fries he’d finally eaten, caught a glimpse of shiny black hair in the mirror behind the bar. Before he caught himself, he spun slightly on his stool and looked at her. Once again, those gorgeous eyes of hers caught his but this time she stopped and turned to her date. She said something to him that Sledge couldn’t hear and after giving Sledge another look that said he’d scraped better things off the bottom of his shoes, the boyfriend let go of her arm and continued toward the front door without her. Sledge felt everything inside of him tighten up as she approached him. What the hell does she want? When she was about a foot away, she stopped and smiled.
“Steve, right?” He didn’t say anything. What did she expect…a hug, a heartfelt reunion? When she realized he wasn’t going to speak she looked embarrassed, which shamefully made part of his heart, the part still scarred from adolescence, dance. “I can see you remember me all too well,” she said, with a sad little smile. “You don’t have to say anything, I just wanted you to know that I’m sorry. I know that doesn’t mean anything after all these years, but that person…the one I was back then, she’s not who I am now, or who I ever wanted to be. What I did to you was horrible and to this day my heart hurts when I think about it.”
Sledge was shocked by her apology. She seemed so sincere that for a second the layer of ice around his heart thought about melting. He forced it to stop, however. Ten years had gone by. He deserved an apology…but a decade ago, not now. Besides, he was sure that whatever she intended by it, it had more to do with herself than with him. The way she’d been guzzling that wine earlier, and the way he remembered her from her sister’s wedding made him wonder if she was part of a twelve-step-program, and trying to make amends. She waited a few more beats, probably to see if he was going to accept. When he still didn’t speak she said, “Okay then, I’ll leave you alone. I hope things are going well for you.” She was about to turn away when he felt something like panic well up in his chest. What if he never saw her again? Shit. Would that be a bad thing? He could always go see if Heidi wanted to fuck again if he needed to get a fix.
“Hey,” he said, calling out to her before he even realized he was going to speak. Sledge could be an asshole. Life had hardened him and he wore his ability to be an asshole like a suit of armor at times. But there was still enough of his mother instilled in him that sometimes his manners prevailed. “Thanks.” It wasn’t much, but that simple word seemed to actually put color back into Daria’s cheeks. She smiled again and nodded.
“No need for thanks, it was a long time coming. Take care, Steve.”
“Sledge,” he said.
“Excuse me?”
“My name, it’s Sledge now.”
“As in hammer?”
He was doing his best to keep a neutral expression. He didn’t want to encourage more conversation with her…but something about the way she said that made him almost smile. Almost, but he caught himself before it was more than a tug around the edges of his lips and said, “Yeah, as in hammer.”
“Oh…okay…Sledge.” He nodded at her and after another few seconds of staring at him, she turned and moved on. He found himself wondering what she was thinking when she looked at him, but quickly decided he was probably better off not knowing. Fuck the past. Sledge was living his life the way he wanted to now and nobody judged him any longer. She could just keep walking…he couldn’t care less. Of course, he found his eyes going back in her direction. It wouldn’t hurt to let them feast on that round ass and wonder what it might be like to get under that skirt. Fuck, she’s hot.
When Sledge saw Freddie settling up his bill, he tapped the bar for his. The bartender came over and said, “The manager asked me not to charge you, sir.”
“Why?” he asked, surprised.
“He was just so grateful to you for keeping people back while they were helping Miss Ford. I’m sure she doesn’t need the negative publicity this might bring…you know how the tabloids are, they’ll claim she was drunk or something ridiculous like that.”
“Publicity? Is she famous or something?”
“Oh yes. She’s a best-selling author. I’ve read all of her books. Rumor has it that she’s in town for a movie they’re making out of one of her books. Her date said that’s why she passed out. I guess she was out in the heat all day. I can’t wait to see the movie,” she squeaked. “Her books are to die for. Anyway, they’re probably not something many men are interested in. They’re mostly romances, written for women. I’m sorry, I got sidetracked. I love to read so I just got so excited when I saw her come in tonight. I was going to ask her to sign my book before this all happened. Can I get you anything else?”
“Nah, I’m good,” he told her. “Hey, you have that book with you, you said?”
“Yeah, in my backpack. Would you like to see it?” Freddie and his girl were standing up. Sledge had to see them to their car and then he’d be off for the night.
“If you don’t mind,” he said. “I’ll be right back.” Once he was outside, and his lungs were filled with fresh air, rational thought took over once again. It didn’t matter if she was a famous a
uthor. It didn’t matter that she wrote romance or that she was hotter than he remembered…none of it mattered. She’d treated him horribly and he’d be a fool to pine away for her all these years later. He got Freddie and the girl safely to Freddie’s car and watched as they headed off, back to the hotel where they were staying and where another Skull…probably Bruf…would be watching through the night to make sure they were all safe. Then instead of going back in for the book, he ripped off the tie he’d been forced to wear, unbuttoned the top button of the stiff new shirt, and headed for his Harley. Within minutes he was headed down 99 with the warm air in his face and his memories at bay…well, for the most part anyway.
7
The phone was ringing again. Some idiot had gotten a picture of her collapsing into Steve…Sledge’s…arms and it was already circulating on social media. Her phone had been ringing since she got back into Luke’s fancy car and they were headed for her hotel. She couldn’t wait for him to drop her off. She was going to take a long, hot bubble bath and forget all about tonight…or that was her plan. The first call was from her publicist. She cringed, but answered it. As soon as she put the phone to her ear she said:
“What the hell happened? Who is that guy? He’s hot, by the way…shit, I’m digressing, though—you really shouldn’t be drunk in public like that, honey…”
“Judith, stop! I wasn’t drunk, first off. I think I just got too much sun and I hadn’t eaten all day.”
“Well then, why on earth didn’t you let me know as soon as it happened so I could make an official statement? That picture is already being turned into drunken memes.”
“Shit. Great.”