“Annie, leave that one alone,” Bob said, shaking his head and looking back into the dining room at Lucas. “No good would come from you two together.”
“Don’t worry about us. I have a feeling I’m more trouble than he’s looking for.”
Bob left, mumbling something about calling our dad. He wasn’t calling mine, for the simple fact I never had a dad that gave a crap about me.
I glanced back out the small opening leading into the dining room. Lucas had placed himself in the corner where he easily could view the entire restaurant, but he seemed disinterested in everyone, especially the gaggle of girls surrounding him who were totally unaware he wasn’t even part of their conversation.
They each tried to gain his attention, but the most anyone achieved was a sexy little smirk where only one side of his face turned up. At one point, he reached up to pull his long, blond hair into a bun, causing the muscle in his upper arm to flex and my body to tingle.
“I think he might be the one causing the trouble,” Bob said and placed his hands on my shoulder physically to turn me.
Flames were shooting off the grill, scorching the vent hood. I immediately turned off the grill, and luckily, the fire died down to a small smoldering-flare. The burgers, unfortunately, didn’t survive.
“Told you I was trouble,” I said and shrugged my left shoulder.
For some reason, Bob had taken an instant liking to me and looked over all my faults. He had even found a place for me to stay. When I first showed up at his office looking for a job, I’d taken temporary resident at the Knotty Pine Inn. It was less than desirable, but it was a warm place to lay my head at night. But no sooner did I get my name out then he was on the phone and arranging for me to stay at a rental house in one of his friend’s extra homes for free. Normally, my pride wouldn’t allow me to accept charity, but with only $236 left to my name, I swallowed my pride as I said, “Thanks,” and moved in three days later.
“Annie, stay away from Lucas Carter. I’ve known his family for years. I promise you two will lead to nothing but problems.”
Bob knew everyone in the community except the one I wanted to know about. I came to Carterville to try to learn about my mother. All I had was a name — Evie Prieto — and that she was living in Carterville when she was killed in a car wreck off route 41 when she was only eight months pregnant with me. She was able to hold on long enough to give birth to me, but she never did reveal who my father was. Some people believed it was the man who was also killed in the wreck with her, Miles Blankenship. However, there was no proof that he was, either. The facts were, after spending my life in the foster system, I was more than ready to know where I came from. But if I didn’t find her small gravesite out at old Lanier Cemetery, I would swear I had the wrong town. At the mention of her name, I either got a flat-out “I never knew her”, or everyone around would go suddenly tight-lipped.
So, that was why I found myself in Carterville. And here I would stay at least until my questions were answered.
After cleaning up the mess the fire caused, I glanced back out into the dining room and wanted to kick myself that Lucas had left and I didn’t get the chance to see that fine ass leaving.
I looked down at the saltshaker in my hand, letting my ponytail create a curtain around my face. I didn’t want to be one of those girls that blushed in his presence. I didn’t want to be one of those girls with butterflies in her stomach.
I’m one of those girls, damn it.
I’m the least romantic guy there is, and while I’ve heard more than one girl talk about love at first sight, I never believed in it for a second, and I still don’t.
I would have almost placed a bet on it, but the first sight of Annie was sit with a clarity in my head that was almost mind-boggling. There was something about Annie, and when our eyes met, something inside of me clicked, kind of like a key in a lock. It had something to do with the genuine sadness of her smile or the warmth in those eyes. My heart and feelings connected with her. She was too familiar. Felt way too right — too wrong. All at the same time.
I couldn’t dwell on any of it. Being healthy and having a clear head had to be my main focus. Who was I kidding? I no longer knew what a healthy mind and body felt like. I existed; that was about the extent of life.
“Lucas, leaving already? You just got back in town.”
Their cackling was bad enough inside the restaurant, but them following close on my shirttail was more than I could bear. I needed a beer.
The past six months, I’d done everything I could to finally get my life straight. I attended class at a local community college and had not missed one service of church, all while living at a rehab center.
I had been back in town for two weeks and finally decided I needed to get out and away from the drama that came with my family. That had been possibly the worst decision I had ever made.
As soon as I started to mount my bike, I heard her.
“Lucas Carter, the rumor is true,” the high-pitch squeal came from behind me.
I wiggled my finger in my ear as I turned around and came face to face with Candice Armstrong. Hell, I only left the house because I heard my mom say Candice and her mom had some event in Nashville.
“I was beginning to believe it was a myth you were back. ‘Cause surely you aren’t trying to ignore me.”
Of course, I am. Isn’t it obvious?
I threw my motorcycle leather over the handlebars and sat my helmet on the seat of my bike. My 2016 Harley Forty-Eight™ motorcycle was waiting on me when I arrived home from rehab. I’d ridden dirt bikes my entire life and always wanted a motorcycle. Instead of spending time with me, my dad purchased me one. He said he hoped it could take the place of everything I’d lost.
On Halloween, the previous year, I flipped and told every one of them what I truly felt — Candice Armstrong had taken the brunt of the abuse. I’d felt guilty about some of the things I’d said, but not enough to ever want to go back to that place with her.
“Of course not,” I answered. “Just trying to get my head on straight before I threw myself back out there.” I leaned against the bike and crossed my arms.
Candice smiled. Her neon-pink tank top was so bright it could’ve possibly caused retinal burns. However, the jingly, silver earrings she wore showed off her blue eyes and platinum-blonde hair in full effect. But, what fully got my attention was the fact she was wearing the smallest pair of denim shorts in the damn world. When did Neiman Marcus start making denim underwear?
“Mom said that your dad got you a motorcycle. And just think, all I’ve gotten were a few outfits.”
Somehow, I doubted that. I’d seen the inside of Candice’s closet more than once; she had well over a couple of hundred different pair of shoes and an untold number of clothes. Her closet could have easily housed a Buick.
I twisted the handlebar. “It’s no Louboutin but I like it. I guess I should’ve told them all where to go earlier.”
Crap! Candice had started twisting a strand of her hair around her finger. I needed to shut her down fast because I wasn’t feeling it.
Candice never got me, nor did she ever try. Hell, I had a hard time figuring out my life and I lived it.
My dad, Wes Carter, was the golden boy of Carterville. He followed my grandfather’s footsteps and finished law school at the University of Mississippi before returning and marrying my mom. If my dad was the golden boy, Jennifer Carter was the town’s princess. What my dad’s parents didn’t own, hers did. My dad and mom were high school sweethearts who didn’t give a rat’s ass about each other. My dad would disappear for days, and my mom didn’t give a damn as long as he was back for the next charity event. Twice I even heard her ask him how his sidepiece was.
Shaking my head, I ran my hand through my hair and pulled hard. I just wanted out of there. “I need to go. Mom’s probably already walking the floor.”
“We both know your mom could not care less where you are,” she said and winked. “So do I get to
take a spin on your new wheels?”
No, you don’t. My bike hasn’t been soiled with the memories of my past mistakes, and I hope to keep it that way.
Candice and I were no better than my parents. She liked having the boy whose family was richer than God on her arm, and I liked how freaky she could be in the sack. There was no love or trust between us. Once she caught Harper Cooksey and me in my old tree house. She didn’t care that I was screwing her brains out; she just wanted to make sure I would be finished in time to make it to some event at the country club that night.
Candice was the daughter of my mom’s egotistical best friend, Jana Armstrong. Their family owned the biggest cotton gin in the state and about fourteen smaller ones. Our mothers had prearranged our marriage while we were still in our cribs. Good thing plans were often changed.
I slung my leg around and straddled the bike. “See you around, Candy.” I twisted my wrist to start the bike before she had time to reply. I wasn’t in the mood for one of her fights — the screaming, the threats of sleeping with one of my friends. By then she should’ve figured out I didn’t care who she slept with.
I rode down every back road in the county and still couldn’t get Annie off my mind. She was familiar, but hell, a man could never forget a woman like her. Not a mile passed by that I didn't think about that mouth. Those were the plumpest, sweetest lips I had ever had the pleasure of witnessing. I wondered what they tasted like. That long, dark, mahogany-colored hair was pulled back in an impudently cute ponytail, which only highlighted the most striking green eyes ever to look in my direction. I had to have come across as an ass to her, but she did things to my head I didn't understand. I was halfway relieved when Bob walked in behind me, knowing I had to get away from her, but all I wanted to do was free that ponytail and lose myself in that long, luscious hair.
The only thing left to do was to go back and see if she was truly everything my mind comprehended.
Chapter 2
Annie Prieto
Busting my butt was an understatement; I had not stopped since I walked in the door.
“You look like death had ran over you and came back for seconds.” John, the head cook, slammed a tray of glasses down onto the counter.
John was almost too attractive and knew how to capture anyone’s attention with his piercing gray eyes. The women flirted shamelessly with him. It was one of the main reasons he preferred the safety of the kitchen over the dining room. See, John didn’t care for the women’s attention. He swung for the home team.
“Gee, thanks, and here I thought I looked like Miss Carterville,” I said and slapped his shoulder with a damp washrag. “Speaking of beauty queens, did you see the guy with the longer blonde hair sitting at the table of beauties tonight? I believe his name was Lucas.”
John leaned against the sink I was washing dishes in. “Please tell me you’re not talking about Lucas Carter?” he asked.
Will, the manager at Downtown Cafe, walked in with a fresh load of dirty dishes. “The Lucas Carter? Messy blonde locks? Killer eyes that burn right into your undies? Lips that make you want to sin?” Will asked and arched his eyebrows that were in desperate need of some grooming.
“Sorry, man, if you have a thing for him forget I asked. You can have him.”
Will reached into the soapy water and splashed my face. “Not my type. Nice hair but wrong parts.”
“I’ll take him, if he’s offering,” John said and winked.
Will grabbed the bottle of bleach and a clean towel. “You’re both crazy. If you have any sense at all, he won’t be your type, either. He’s not worth the catfights. Those terms are only a handful of the words I’ve heard him described with on a nightly basis.” He smacked my behind with a towel. “I’ll clean the dining room if you finish the dishes.”
Thirty-six minutes later, Bob was sitting at his desk, counting the night’s profits, when I grabbed my backpack off the couch in his office.
“I got the kitchen clean, John has the kitchen stocked for in the morning, and Will took care of the dining room. If you don’t care, I’m headed out before the rain sits in.”
Bob looked up at me over the top of his glasses. “Wait a few minutes and I’ll drive you home.”
I slung my backpack over my shoulder. Bob had been nothing but super with me, but at times, he looked at me with this far-off stare — it was almost as if he was debating “what ifs” in his head. As much as I needed a ride, I wasn’t ready to be alone with him in the confines of a car.
“That’s okay, I kind of need to walk to clear my head.”
“Be careful, see you tomorrow,” he said, but never looked up from the desk and his counting.
I had to use the backdoor to leave, and the placement of the garbage dump bothered me. I kept envisioning some man jumping out from behind it.
Pulling the backpack firmly to my shoulder, I quickly darted from the alley that ran the entire length of the back of the building.
“Annie,” came from the left parking lot, causing my heart to race out of my chest.
No one knew who I was in this town. No one from the past knew where I was, either.
As if my heart wasn’t already pounding in my chest, I turned to look, almost lethargic. The effort was more than rewarded when I saw — oh, my God up in Heaven — Lucas leaning up against a motorcycle, smiling at me. I was doomed. Motorcycles had always been a major turn-on for me. I blinked three times in rapid succession, sure I was imagining a mirage brought on by pure exhaustion.
Lucas’s arms were crossed but he raised a hand in my direction, and O-M-G that smile alone was enough to get me to agree to almost anything he wanted. I noticed something I didn’t spot earlier — he had deep dimples in the center of each cheek. It was hard to catch my breath. Then he winked, and the little girl ballerina in me wanted to do a pirouette.
I approached him with an extra sway to my hips. Lucas tugged the baseball cap he was wearing low over his eyes, leaving them and his nose shadowed. I purposely licked over my upper lip before letting a smile peek out. He tugged at my shirt, bringing me against his hips and snuggled between his thighs. He started to say something, but I didn’t care what he had to say, I planted a hard kiss on his lips instead. Our mouths came together like two pieces of a puzzle. Only it was two pieces from two very different puzzles. However, his reaction was what I knew it would be — electric. He rammed his hands through my hair, working my head to move in unison with his.
Okay, that was not what happened at all.
I stood there like some incompetent nincompoop, chewing on my lip until I was sure I had permanently bruised it.
“I don’t bite,” he said, flashed that smile, and adjusted his ball cap. “At least, not on the first night.”
Okay, Annie, bitch face, never let them know they are getting to you. You’re not some inept, bumbling, social fool.
I shoved my hands in my pocket and slowly walked over to him, careful not to smile like the Cheshire Cat. “Lucas, right?” I asked, and tried diverting my eyes from his. I failed.
I wanted to read the thoughts passing through his mind. It was almost a need at that point. Especially the one that was in there right at that moment, hiding behind those stoic, unnaturally beautiful eyes.
“The one and only.” He flashed the same smile he had for the girls earlier. I wondered if he practiced it, because it was effective.
“Leave something?” I asked.
I couldn’t comprehend what he was doing there; the place had been closed for at least an hour and at the stroke of midnight, the streets of Carterville turned into a ghost town.
“You,” he said with a force that almost knock me over. “Annie Prieto.” His lips curled around my name as if he wasn’t only saying it but also making love to it.
Desire swelled between my thighs, but I would never let him know that. “Didn’t know I was missing.” I crossed my arms, trying to match his stance. He was more impressive, and no matter how I tried, I stood in awe of him in
his tight blue jeans and green polo shirt. A model in any magazine couldn’t compare to him at that moment.
A raindrop hit the tip of my nose. I had a thirty-minute walk ahead of me and needed to get home before the rain sit in but I didn’t want to budge an inch. And no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t think of one single thing to say to him as another drop of rain fell across my forehead.
“Need to get home,” I said, and felt the instant frown on my face.
“Where’s your car?” he asked and looked around.
The only car in the parking lot was Bob’s, and the Downtown Cafe scrolled across the back windshield screamed that fact. I felt a tad embarrassed to admit I didn’t own a car. I wasn’t some miser, but with no one to fall back on, I had no choice but to be thrifty.
“I walk. It helps clear my mind.” Plus, I don’t have the dough to buy a bike.
Tiny Dancer Page 2