She rolled her eyes a little, her tone sarcastic. Playful. “Right. On one drink. That’s the hardest I’ve worked in my entire life.”
I shrugged. “It was nothing.”
She studied me for a second, like she was trying to figure me out, before she softened. “Thank you.”
It was honest and sincere and took me completely by surprise. Wasn’t used to people thanking me for anything. I was used to them expecting something.
A lump grew in my throat, and that strange feeling was back in full force, a weight I couldn’t decipher.
She looked away like she was trying to gather herself. A fake smile was plastered on her face when she returned her attention to me. She’d used it on me last night. A defense, like she wanted to hide. I had the overwhelming urge to reach out and smear it from her mouth with my thumb, smudge out all the counterfeit so she’d again watch me with the blatant curiosity I was watching her with now.
Because when she looked at me like that, I felt real.
“So what can I get for you tonight?”
You.
“Same as last night.”
Her feigned smile faltered, replaced with a twitch of something genuine and amused. “Charlie’s going to want to come shake your hand. Said he finally had a guy in here with good taste.” That genuine smile spread, this time with a flash of white, straight teeth. “Really, I think it’s just because he likes guys like you who can run up the bar tab.”
She winked, and I squirmed.
God, this girl was something else.
“Charlie?”
“The owner…my uncle.” She jerked her head toward the bar to the ratty, bearded guy slinging a drink while he talked to a couple of women tossing them back at the bar. “He’s owned this place forever. Feels like I’ve worked for him for just as long.”
“Huh,” I said by way of acknowledgment, but really I was taking note of the guy who was Anthony’s friend, wondering how much he knew.
Awkwardly, she stepped back and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear like she’d sensed my sudden unease. “Let me run and grab that for you. I’ll be right back.”
“Thanks.”
It took her all of two minutes before she returned, sliding the drink my direction. I reached out to meet the action, brushing her hand as the glass came to a stop on the table in front of me.
Dark.
Light.
More.
Confused eyes darted to mine, and her body went rigid.
What the hell are you doing?
I heard her question without her asking it.
Truth was, I didn’t fucking know why I was doing what I was doing. All I knew was I couldn’t stop. All I knew was the curiosity that had brought me back here had turned to straight up want.
I swallowed hard, tipped the glass her direction. “Thank you.”
I could feel her hand shaking as she slowly pulled away. “You’re welcome.”
She left me there to sip at my drink, the liquid burning as it slid down my throat and pooled like fire in my stomach.
Loved that feeling.
The way it soothed and hurt at the same time.
But tonight I wasn’t entirely sure if it was the alcohol or this girl causing the effect, the way my limbs felt a little fumbly and my mouth felt dry. I watched her as she made her way around her tables, laughing lightly. Friendly. Real.
Fucking gorgeous.
Innocent.
Unaware.
Finally she made her way back to me. But she moved differently in my space, all that ease she floated around the room on ripped from beneath her feet, replaced with caution and concern, like she knew exactly what was on my mind and she wasn’t sure if she trusted herself to be around me.
Wasn’t sure I trusted myself either.
But here I was.
Curious.
Curious.
Curious.
“How are you doing over here?” she asked.
Eyeing her over the top of the glass, I took another sip. My tongue darted out to gather the moisture, the girl watching like she wanted to dip down and get a taste of the tequila coating my tongue.
Every ounce of blood in my body rushed and surged, my cock all too aware of the look on her face.
“Just fine.”
She dropped a dishcloth to the table and began wiping it down.
Stalling.
Stalling.
Stalling.
“Long day?” she asked, peeking up at me with warm caramel eyes.
“Too long.”
Another long fucking day. Worse than yesterday. Reality was finally setting in.
Caving in, really.
The entire day had been spent fretting about Austin, attempting to engage him in conversation like a normal family would, knowing we weren’t anything close to normal. Hating what he’d overheard between Anthony and me. Worried he’d slip. All the while I’d worried about the guys who had to adjust to one more piece being knocked out of this busted-up band.
A world tour was huge and having it canceled was a blow none of us knew how to handle. All day, Ash had acted like a pussy bitch, moping and knocking shit around like a disgruntled teenager, while Lyrik stayed locked up in his room, strains of his guitar filtering through the enormous house. Only Zachary remained upbeat, because that was just his style, always trying to lift everyone up when he really should have been the one who was at their lowest.
Zachary, or Zee like he’d picked up when he was a kid, was Mark’s little brother and he’d been eager to fill his brother’s shoes when we lost him, whether to serve out some kind of penance or as a tribute, I wasn’t sure. Either way, he did his best to try and erase the void Mark had left.
But those voids? You couldn’t fill them.
I knew better than that.
Her eyes narrowed more. “Where are you from?”
For a second, I hesitated, before I cocked my head and draped my arms out across the back of the booth. “California.” A thick lump gathered at the base of my throat, before I forced myself to say it. “I’m Sebastian. But my friends call me Baz.”
As casual as could be, while inside I was fucking shaking, thinking saying it would clue her in. There was something desperate inside me that didn’t want her to know who I was.
Like maybe for a few hours she could make me forget who I was.
Make me forget.
I waited as my introduction penetrated her, and there was zero recognition behind it. Instead her eyes flashed with a second’s disappointment.
“Oh,” she said, and there was no missing the lilt of her accent. “Well, it’s nice to meet you Sebastian from California. I’m Shea.”
This girl was country. Through and through. Pretty damned sure even if I uttered the name Sunder she’d have no clue what I was talking about.
Suddenly I was picturing her in a car, top down, blonde hair whipping all around her face while she gripped the steering wheel and belted out a Faith Hill song or some shit.
The thought made me smile.
“What are you grinning at?”
“You.”
Heat gathered on her chest, raced up her neck to burn hot on her cheeks, and she was looking at me like she couldn’t believe the statement I’d made.
And if it wasn’t the cutest fucking thing I’d ever seen.
“Go out with me.” The words were out before I could stop them.
And God, it was stupid, because I sure as hell wasn’t looking for a girl. Didn’t need or want that kind of trouble in my life. I had enough of it as it was. Ash and Lyrik fucked around all the time, ate up the girls who threw themselves at us after every show, and I’d be a liar if I said I hadn’t taken advantage of that kind of situation on far too many occasions. But somehow about six months ago I’d gone and got stupid, hooked up with one of those Hollywood princesses with a too-bright smile, fake tits, and a starved-out body. Not that she wasn’t pretty and fun, because she was, but she’d gone and bailed on me the
second things went south. She told me I was a publicity problem.
She wanted the look but not the real thing.
Fuck that.
Sad thing was, I really didn’t care. I didn’t miss her or wonder where we would have ended up had I kept my cool instead of coming unhinged.
But Shea? This girl staring at me with those wide eyes? I wanted to escape into her layers, to skim along the surface, and get lost in the beauty. To feel the shyness. To sink beneath, deeper into that pent-up confusion and dark.
To feel her storm.
Just for a little while.
Make me forget.
Shea startled, before she shook her head, dropping it as she cleared away my spent drink and tossed a couple fresh napkins onto the table. “I don’t really date.”
I forced some kind of lightness into my voice. “Boyfriend?”
Disbelieving, amused laughter trickled from her. “Nope.”
“Married? God, tell me you’re not married.” It was all flirt and tease, supplied by the relief I wasn’t going to have to go around some fucker to get to her, because she wasn’t wearing a ring and I was sure I already had the answer to that question.
She bit at her bottom lip, a little hard, the skin blanching beneath the firm hold of her teeth. The redness on her face throbbed. “No,” she finally said.
“Then what?”
“I just don’t have time for those kinds of distractions.”
“It’s not a distraction. Everyone has to eat.”
With a small laugh, she shook her head a little, her tone sliding back into amusement. “You hardly look like the kind of guy who just wants dinner.”
“Just dinner.” I flashed her my best grin. “I won’t bite.”
Her gaze skidded all over me, across the ratted-out old concert tee stretched across my chest, tracing down over my arms covered in ink, slow to travel back to my face. The expression on hers told me she didn’t believe me for a second.
“I promise,” I said, knowing it was an absolute lie.
She shook her head with a wry smile. “As tempting as it is, I’m going to have to pass. I don’t really make it a habit of going out with guys who show up at the bar.” She shrugged a delicate bare shoulder, and my mouth watered. The only thing I wanted was a taste of that delicious skin.
“Bad for business, you know.”
“Then I won’t come back and I won’t be your customer. How’s that?”
She raised her eyebrows. “See…bad for business.”
She was all feisty now, like a fucking cute little kitten swatting at the ball of yarn I kept rolling her way.
And I really, really wanted to play.
“I’ll send in replacements…I know three or four guys I could coerce into taking my place. It’s a win-win.”
“You’re ridiculous,” she said, this time slanting a sweet smile my direction.
“Not ridiculous. I just know when I want something and I’m willing to put in the work to get it.”
She took an almost imperceptible step back, but one I noticed, shuttering and shielding and throwing up all kinds of walls.
Shit. Apparently that was the wrong thing to say.
“Hey, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it that way.”
“Didn’t you?” she accused.
Damn. Okay. I had no fucking clue what I was doing right now, because I was one hundred percent out of my element. Wasn’t lying when I said I never minded the work, but it wasn’t usually required when it came to women.
She took another step away. I wanted to reach out and grab her. Stop her. Because I knew she was running away.
Stay.
Stay.
Stay.
She straightened herself out. “Listen, it’s just about closing. Anything else I can get you before you go?”
I slumped back.
Fuck.
This was definitely not going like I expected it to.
“No. I’m good.”
She turned and walked away from me. For a few minutes I sat there, wondering what in the hell I was doing. Contemplating why when she walked away, it felt like I was losing something. Finally, I climbed to my feet, crossed the now almost empty bar, and plodded down the dimly lit hallway, directed by the sign that read Restrooms inside a big pointing index finger.
Apparently drunk assholes needed a little extra help.
I took a piss, washed my hands, and ran my hands over my face as I stared at myself in the dingy mirror.
My eyes didn’t even hint toward green. They were a roiling grey. Wild. Unsettled.
Wasn’t used to strangers having the power to wind me so tight. Wasn’t used to the uncontrolled adrenaline spike that slammed me when she came near, sending all this unfound anticipation firing through my nerves.
Though now it shivered through me like a high gone bad.
Shit.
Exhaling heavily, I stepped outside the restroom and into the long hallway.
Shea stood at the end of it, scribbling something onto a board hanging on the wall.
My lungs squeezed painfully, and that tension grew thick. Solid. Suffocating.
I felt her tense when she sensed me there, that invisible tether stretched taut between us straightening her spine, long hair swishing down her back.
Powerless to stop myself, I edged forward, unable to grasp the draw this girl held over me.
But it was there.
Unmistakable.
Irresistible.
The closer I got, the harder I breathed. Inhale. Exhale. Matching her. Matching me.
Her shoulders lifted and fell, anticipating, and I stopped only inches from my chest meeting her back. For the longest moment we stood there saying nothing, because the silence was too busy shouting a million questions neither of us had the answers to.
God, she smelled delicious, and I had the fundamental urge to get closer.
I lifted my hand, and my fingers grazed across the soft curls that bounced along the small of her back. My cautious touch skimmed up her side, barely brushing over her ribs, up, up, up as it swept under her arm still set to scrawl her pretty script on the whiteboard.
A small gasp shot from her when she realized the hold I had on her, the way my palm came up to rest at the center of her chest, right over her heart that thudded wildly against my touch.
Her body felt so delicate against all my hard—my cock and my heart and the muscles rippling in my arms as my hold tightened.
“Go out with me,” I whispered at her ear. But this time it didn’t sound so careless or aloof. It was curious. Filled with a primal need to figure out what this was.
The rush of chills sliding down her back was palpable, slipping into me.
She pressed her hand over mine, holding it closer. “I can’t,” she whispered just as low, though it sounded like it actually hurt her to force it from her mouth.
“Why?”
“You don’t understand.”
No, I definitely didn’t.
“I like you.”
“You don’t even know me.”
“Maybe I want to.”
I hugged her a little closer in an attempt to change her mind—her sweet body tight up against mine—and I was sure I hadn’t felt anything so good in a long time. For the briefest moment, she let me, and God, if holding her didn’t feel right. Like she was supposed to be there.
Then she untangled herself and took two steps forward, her shoulders slumped and her head dropped toward the ground.
Defeated.
Pausing, she looked back at me. Warily. With sadness? I wanted to wipe that look from those caramel eyes, eyes whose golden flecks glinted in the light above us.
Maybe that’s why I was here, because I could feel her inner turmoil, something deep and dark, just like me, something hard and tainted that was searching for freedom.
I felt my control slip a little further.
I knew it then. What I wanted.
To lose control.
Just for a few h
ours.
And I wanted to lose it with her.
I SQUINTED THROUGH THE HAZE of light shed by the sagging lamp swinging from the low ceiling, peering over my shoulder deeper into the hallway where I’d left Baz staring back at me. I wanted to make sense of his expression. To make sense of the confusion and hunger smoldering in those strange grey eyes. To make sense of the crazy reaction he’d sent curling through every last one of my nerves.
This wasn’t me.
Heart thundering, legs shaking, desire a constant throb right between my thighs.
Yet here I was, my senses on overload, all from a stranger’s accosted touch in a dim, dank hallway. It wasn’t as if I didn’t get hit on all the time. It came with the territory of working at a bar. The alcohol-coated pick-up lines, things guys would never have the guts to say without the courage found in the bottles lined up behind the bar, too friendly hands, and leering eyes.
I’d always remained immune.
Until him.
Baz.
This guy who looked at me as if he wanted to sink inside me, searching for a place to drown.
I wanted to let him.
My eyes got stuck on the bob of his thick, strong neck when he swallowed. I knew he’d caught me when his jaw clenched and his hands fisted, before his body took on a confident swagger as he came toward me. He slowed, and his mouth brushed against my jawline that was still twisted his direction as he passed. “Until next time, Shea from Savannah.”
His voice was like gravel and scraped across my skin.
God, I liked it.
Ripples of need surged through my veins. I stood there, trying to catch my breath as I slowly unfolded myself and watched him wind his way back to the hidden booth in the very corner of the bar. I was pretty sure I would forevermore think of it as his. Digging his wallet from his back pocket, he tossed another bill onto the table, which I had to assume was only going to be another outrageous example of this guy’s oppressive presence.
Too big and strong and mysterious.
Was he trying to impress me?
I shook my head.
No.
Somehow I knew he had nothing to prove.
Exactly the opposite, actually. It was like this stranger was begging me to see beneath all that coarse, harsh beauty.
Guys like him had never been my style, if I even really had a style anymore. I never went for the boy who screamed trouble and heartache and a fast, hard, blinding bliss kind of ride before he ripped apart your little world when he left.
A Stone in the Sea Page 3