by B. L. Olson
The place is already in full swing, everyone else seems to need a drink on this lovely Monday evening. I wave to Makayla's husband behind the bar and make my way to one of the empty stools in front of him, his wife nowhere in sight.
Brushing some crumbs off the seat, I plop my ass down and breathe a sigh of relief. I am just moments away from a slight alcohol buzz and can't wait to not care about anything for a while. I don't often drink with the expectation of feeling tipsy or drunk, but today is one of those days where I just freaking need to.
The encounter on the sidewalk with Wyatt earlier left me a little raw, an emotion I only ever felt when it came to Travis. Letting another man make me feel like that, well I am having a difficult time with it. I don't let the other gender pass my walls for a reason and here I am allowing a stranger who is only ever around to witness my failures dictate my feelings.
Jake finishes up with the drink he was making and slides it in front of a customer on the other end of the bar. He has known me long enough to know my preferences and starts on mine before I can even ask. What a gentleman! There are still some left in this world and it is a crying shame my best friend scooped up this one before I could.
He gives me a smirk and slides the drink in front of me, "One of those days Anniekins?"
I shake my head at him and take a long pull on the straw, "I think I just have one of those lives."
Jake chuckles and moves away to help another local who approaches the bar for a fresh drink. My mind wanders back to earlier today when the cougar Charlene attacked me and that muscular arm pulled me away from doing some serious harm. I am simultaneously both impressed and furious with him.
I obviously need to stop freaking reflecting on Wyatt, because he appears next to me as if summoned by my thoughts. Not noticing at first that I am the blonde on the stool next to where he towers, I study him for a moment while he is unaware. He looks just as weary and downtrodden as I do, evidence that I'm not the only one having a crappy day.
He must have felt me studying him because he glances down and the rigidness in his shoulders relaxes just a little bit. The corner of his mouth quirks up in an almost smirk and he declares, "Well that explains it."
I give him a confused look and take another sip from my drink before replying, "Explains what?"
"Why some dude is pouring hot sauce all over the door handle of a vehicle that very much looks like yours." My glass clinks on the counter and I gape at him for the second time today, "What did you do to piss someone off this time, Stormy?"
I let out a huff and hop off the stool, making a mad dash for the door. Please tell me he is messing with me and that freaking idiot did not dump hot sauce on my car!
I dash out to the parking lot just in time to see the man who had trapped me against my car squealing off in his car full of his douche canoe friends, the whole time cackling like a demented Disney villain. Which is not a good sign, to say the least.
Jogging to my car, I see that Wyatt is indeed correct. All over my door handle is a plethora of what appears to be sticky red taco sauce. Letting loose a sigh, I thank whoever is watching from overhead that it is not another sticky substance. Taco sauce I could deal with, but jizz? Yeah, fucking no thanks.
I don't notice at first that Wyatt followed me out to the parking lot until I back up into him in my attempt to run inside and grab some napkins. His arms wrap around my waist to steady me and I realize yet again how powerful this man truly is. Just as soon as he touches me though, he lets me go as if I shot him with an electric current.
I turn and narrow my eyes at him, "If you saw him doing this, why'd you not stop him?"
He shrugs his broad shoulders at me and has the audacity to look sheepish, "I wasn't entirely sure it was your car until I saw you in the bar. I was hoping he was just playing a prank on his friend or something."
I fling my arms in the air in exasperation, "That twat waffle dumped hot sauce on my car because I turned him down for a drink! Am I not allowed to say no to idiots who invade my personal space?"
A storm brews in Wyatt's eyes and anger takes over the subtle despair that seems to follow him everywhere, "He didn't touch you, did he?"
I jerk my head no and turn to head back into the bar. I seriously need that drink now and I may need my dad to pick me up with the way my thirst for alcohol is going. Wyatt happened to be around to witness yet another hot mess moment that makes up my life, and I don't care at that moment about anything or anyone besides numbing myself against the embarrassment.
Wyatt follows me back in and sits down on the stool next to me, clearly not done with this conversation. I look at Jake, who nods that my drink is safe from roofies and take a large pull from the straw. The alcohol manages to soothe the fire in my veins a little, but I know it is just a momentary thing.
The Gunslinger breaks the growing silence between us and asks me quietly again, "Annie, he didn't do anything inappropriate did he?"
I let out a long sigh, "No, he just got too close for comfort and acted like a petulant child when I told him no." I swivel my stool in his direction and give him a glare, "What is it with you men? Why do you have to be such assholes when you don't get what you want?"
He throws his hands up in defense, "Don't lump me in with them. I wouldn't have dumped hot sauce on your car if you told me no."
I roll my eyes at him and take another sip from my glass. I can feel the scorch of his eyes studying me and glance at him as I set my drink back on the bar, "Well it's a good thing you're not asking and we don't have to test this theory." The issue being, I am starting to hope that he would ask me out, and I'm not sure what is wrong with me for thinking so. Especially given our short and awkward history.
Humor crosses his face a moment before he stamps it down and gets serious again, "Yes, it's a good thing." I can't tell if he's reassuring himself or me.
Makayla chooses that moment to make an appearance and I thank the heavens for the interruption. The proximity of Wyatt is not helping my alcohol-muddled brain, and I welcome any distraction. She throws her arms around me and whispers not so quietly in my ear, "Who's the hottie?"
I pinch her arm and get some small satisfaction over her yelp of pain, "Makayla this is my new neighbor Wyatt. Gunslinger, this is my best friend of over twenty years, Makayla. She and her husband own the bar."
He gives her a strained smile and shakes her hand like the true gentleman he is. I wonder if he's a gentleman in the sack too? Woah Nellie, do not go there Annie, "It's a pleasure to meet you. I love what you two did with this space. It's perfect, especially given the location."
I glance around at the bar and try and look at it from his eyes. Jake and Makayla had put their heart and soul into this place and took advantage of the fact that they were connected to the library when it came to decorating. There is definitely a literary theme going on, the name of the place even being Olive & Twist. The booths are tan leather, bookish quotes and photos of scenes from the classics are scattered on the walls throughout. It is like walking out of the library and into my very own reading nook that involves alcohol.
Pretty sure if heaven exists, it would be here.
Makayla gives him her Cheshire Cat grin and winks at me, "Thank you so much! So what brings you to good ol' Lake Stevens, Wyatt?"
He tenses next to me, clearly not liking the direction of her questioning, and drums his fingers on the bar before answering, "Chris Pratt is always bragging about his hometown, so I thought I would check it out and see what makes it so fantastic." The haunted look is back in his eyes and I wrack my brain for something funny to say to get rid of it once more.
Makayla laughs but the damaged part of me recognizes another wounded soul, and I know there is more to Wyatt's move to our small town than meets the eye. Finishing up the last dregs of my drink, I motion to Jake to pour me out another. Wyatt eyes me sternly but wisely chooses to say nothing.
I take another long drag from the glass and smack my lips. The second one is going down a
lot smoother than the first, but isn't that usually the case with alcohol? I decide to break the now tense silence by changing the topic, "Hey Makayla, did you know Wyatt likes older women? In fact, his girlfriend tried to attack me at Solstice today."
Makayla gives Wyatt a bemused look, "I bet that was a sight to see. Annie is pretty ballsy these days."
Wyatt plays with the label on his beer bottle not looking at either us, it is clear by his expression that he is just as uncomfortable with this topic as the last but at least the sadness is gone, "These days? She wasn't always like this?" Completely skipping over your cougar girlfriend then? Okie dokie.
I slam my cup down on the bar, sloshing a little alcohol as I do, "You two know I am right here, right? I can hear you!"
They share a grin and Wyatt glances at me before his attention sticks once again on his beer bottle, "How can we forget, Stormy? You huff and puff and make your presence known."
Letting out a guffaw, Makayla claps me on the back and gets up from her stool to do some rounds around the bar, "Man, you are a quick learner there Wyatt. You know the expression, her bark is worse than her bite? Well, she's a kinky biter. Just keep that in mind."
My already flushed face manages to turn the shade of a ripe tomato. I am going to freaking kill her, who even says that to a complete stranger? Wyatt gives me a smirk and a wink, and takes a swig from his bottle, setting it back on the bar with an audible clink.
I try to take a sip of my own drink, and it is then that I notice I have already finished it. When the heck had that even happened? I motion to Jake to make me another and see Wyatt stiffen next to me, his joking mood gone as quickly as it came
He motions to the drink that Jake sets in front of me and grinds out in a gravelly voice, "Aren't you driving?"
I shake my head at him, which is a mistake because the strong drinks are affecting me more than I thought, "No, I can have my dad pick me up or just wait for the bar to close up and have Jake or Makayla take me home since they are sober while working."
He nods and a look of relief passes over his face. Is he actually worried that I would get behind the wheel of my car in my soon to be inebriated state? He taps the bar a few times with his knuckles and looks thoughtful before quietly saying, "Well to save them a trip, I can take you home if you want me too. Considering you're just next door."
He tenses at the look of surprise that flashes across my face, "Uh well thank you. But I wouldn't want to put you out."
He shrugs nonchalantly but I could tell he is still uncomfortable with the offer, "It's not putting me out, I am headed that way anyway."
I motion to his almost empty beer bottle, "Well I still have quite a bit of this drink left. You might as well have another while you wait."
"Oh no, I limit myself to one if I'm driving." He shrugs like it's no big deal, which in this day and age where people have multiple DUI's it really is, "I can hang out until you're done."
I stare at him a moment, studying the man sitting next to me. While he started off kind of an asshole, he is slowly wearing me down. I don't know if it is more his words or his actions, making sure I am okay after the incident in the parking lot and that I make it home in one piece. The more I study him though, the less sure I become that I need to keep him at arm's length. In fact, I want him close in every possible sense.
Makayla chooses that moment to head back our way and plops back down on the stool she vacated next to me, "What did I miss?"
I shake my head and Wyatt shrugs and stares back at his bottle. Does he expect it to do a little dance or something for him? Why does he keep focusing on it? I giggle at the thought of a dancing beer, which earns me an amused look from the people on both sides of me.
"Might wanna slow down there turbo." Makayla laughs at me and goes to grab the drink from my hand. I try and jerk it away from her but end up wearing most of what is left. I can do nothing but stare at the liquid spilled across my breasts and lament at the loss of alcohol. Makayla has the nerve to chuckle at my now soaked shirt and hands me some napkins to attempt soaking it up. Too late, I smell like a freaking distillery. Probably for the best I'm not driving, between the alcohol in my system and what I am now wearing as a perfume.
Mopping myself up as well as I can, I can't help but chuckle at this situation. Sans alcohol I would usually be pissed, but I am at the point where I no longer have a care in the world. Here I am sitting at the bar with my best friend and a hot piece of man meat, and half of me hopes that taking me home is some sort of euphemism for doing the nasty.
Shoving my mostly empty cup away from me I glance at Wyatt, "Well I guess we can go whenever you are ready." He takes the last gulp of his beer and stands up, paying for his drink and pulling out cash for mine. I stop him before he can lay it down, "Oh, thank you but I don't have to pay here. Perks of growing up with the owners." He shoves the bills back in his wallet and I stand up to leave the bar.
If he wasn't so close I probably would have gone down, my wobbly legs betraying me. As it is, he wraps those badass arms of his around me for the third time today and I swoon for reasons that do not include the alcohol in my system.
Fuck it, I'm a goner. This is it, bury me in these arms.
He steadies me and keeps one arm wrapped around me as he herds me off to the parking lot. Arriving at his truck, he unlocks the passenger door and opens it. Since I can barely walk, let alone climb into it, he gives me a boost and settles me into the seat, quietly closing the door as I click my seatbelt into place.
He climbs in the driver's side and starts up his truck. I feel the rumbling and let out a quiet groan. Clearly, I need to get some if the vibrations are enough to send me spiraling. We travel the short distance home in silence, my head spinning and full of all sorts of filthy thoughts.
Pulling into his driveway and turning the key in the ignition, Wyatt is out and around the front of his truck before I can even extricate myself from the seatbelt. He opens the door and helps me clamber down, keeping his hand on the inside of my elbow just in case. I look up at him and give him a grin, "Thank you for the ride, Gunslinger." Want to include another sort of ride?
He gives me a half smile and motions to my parent's house, "Do you need me to help you to the door?"
I shake my head no and glance down at the hand he still has on my arm, "You know, if I had eight limbs like an octopus, I could touch all of your no-no places with them."
The look of surprise on his face is enough to tell me that I voiced my thoughts aloud. I am drunk enough not to care, however, and patt his hand and stumble on home before he can respond or shoot me down.
Chapter 9- Wyatt
Repercussion #124: When a woman says she doesn't care, that usually means she does. Don't make the mistake of assuming otherwise or you'll end up sleeping in a leaky-roofed dog house.
I would be a freaking liar if I said that Annie's comment to me last night hadn't had me tossing and turning through most of the night, my sheets tangled in disarray. I am losing way too much sleep over a woman who should mean nothing to me, but my curiosity is getting the better of me. My mind is a whirlwind with too many thoughts and one woman too many, and I need to push Annie away before I get in too deep.
Heading out the door that morning and hearing a raspy male voice call Annie's name from where he is parked in front of her house, has me pausing. Something about that voice so casually saying her name has me tensing for a fight. Scanning the yard for the woman herself, I can see her hurling in the bushes by her front door. Three drinks and she's hungover and upchucking in some shrubs, today is off to a great start for her.
Wiping her mouth on the back of her hand, I see her tense at the sound of the approaching footsteps. A look of fear crosses her face before I witness her tamper it down. Pasting on a look of feigned disinterest, I watch her slowly turn around and acknowledge him. Whoever he is, I don't think he's welcome here. The tension in my body dissipates, but only just a little. Something is screaming at me that Ann
ie's uncomfortable for more reasons than getting caught throwing up in her mother's rose bushes.
Luckily for me, our houses are close together and their voices are traveling. I lean my hip against my porch railing and cross my arms over my chest, watching in case that fear returned in Annie's eyes. The initial sight of it had me worried and I'm finding myself intrigued by what the man had done to put that look there.
"Hey babe, you're not looking so hot. Need me to go inside and get you some water and aspirin?" The strange man tries to place a comforting hand on her waist, but Annie jerks back as if his touch repulses her. She looks like a caught animal, and my heart goes out to her. Should I butt in?
The man puts his hands up in defense and narrows his eyes before another attempt, "I'm sorry Annie, I am just trying to help." Knowing that her mom has been setting her up on dates for a while, I realize this has to be an old flame and not a current one.
Still looking green and eyeing the bushes behind her, Annie looks back at the man before her and crosses her arms over her chest, "Travis, if you wanted to help you shouldn't have cheated on me and thrown me out of the house."
I freeze where I stand. Part of me knows that Annie went through something that affected her irrevocably. I didn't expect her soul to be damaged and hurting almost as much as mine, however. My walls come down a little bit more, this time of my own choosing.
The man, Travis, has the audacity to look contrite, "Annie, I told you why we couldn't be together. I have a reputation to maintain, and you were writing porn! I couldn't let my family or clients see that. Especially since you refused to use a pen name and remain anonymous."
Annie's a writer? Granted, we haven't spent a whole lot of time with each other but that seems like a passion someone would share. Her eyes narrow at her ex before she mutters between pursed lips, "So that makes it okay, what you did? Hurting me, using my insecurities against me? I don't know why you are here Travis, especially since it has been four years, but I want you to go now."