Rush

by Violet Vaughn

  “Not gonna happen. He’s too pretty for me. Guys like that fold their clothes before sex.” I wink. “I like it fast and dirty.”

  Casey groans. “Tee-em-eye, girlfriend.”

  I chuckle. Lori is twirling the contents of her glass around, and that usually means she has something to say but is afraid to say it.

  “Cupcake? I know you want to tell me something.”

  Lori places her hands on the table and leans forward. “You said he smells good, right?”

  “Yeah.”

  “You’re into him.” She sits back as if that’s the final word.

  Megan snickers behind her hand. I think she’s a little drunk. Once again she’ll be calling Nick to come get her. No wonder he teases her about coming to our house.

  I look at Casey, and she’s smiling too. I ask, “What? If a guy smells good, he’s the one?”

  She holds up her hands. “Hey, it’s a thing. Your pheromones are digging his testosterone.” She giggles.

  “Lovely. Now I’m attracted to vanilla sex.” I sit back and cross my arms.

  Megan says, “What if he’s not vanilla? Who knows what lurks under—what did you say? Brown hair swooping over dark eyes, rock-hard, model-body gorgeous?” She smiles and gazes around the table.

  I get up from my chair. “You all are drunk. Or high. Or something.” But I smile at how ridiculous I’m being. “Anyone need another drink? Because if I’m going to start falling for pretty boys, I do.” I picture the lanky, tattooed body of my last boyfriend, and the way his hair was always too long. I try to imagine Derrick with a lip ring and smile.

  Lori gets up to join me in the kitchen, which is just through an open doorway from the dining room. Casey and I rent a small ranch-style home. It’s nothing fancy, but everything is in good working order and I’m grateful to live here. Not too far from the Breckenridge ski area and town, I can ride my bike where I need to go. Which is good now that I don’t have a car.

  Lori pours seltzer in her martini glass, and the bubbles fizz before settling down. She asks, “Did you get Sasha’s trampoline hours? I heard she’s moving back East.”

  “Yeah, thanks for telling her to text me.” I managed to pick up a few more hours at the rec center in town monitoring trampoline time, and I got a job tending bar. I should be able to buy a replacement car by the time winter rolls around.

  When I open the refrigerator door, bright light illuminates the colorful kabobs I prepared for the grill. I pull the platter out with one hand because my drink is in the other. Bumping the fridge shut with my hip I ask, “Lori, can you open the slider for me?”

  “Sure.” Metal scrapes as she pulls open the sliding glass door to the deck. Cool air blows through my hair. While it’s still summer, nights get chilly in the mountains.

  Heat from the grill blasts me when I lift the lid, and I turn down the burners. The meat and vegetables sizzle on the hot grate, and I lower the cover to cook things more evenly.

  I walk back into the small dining room to guilty faces. I choose to ignore them because I’m sure they’re planning my wedding with model boy. “Dinner should be ready in about twenty minutes. And then what’s it going to be? Movie or cards?”

  Megan answers. “I’m sick of movies. Let’s play hearts again. I feel like a winner tonight.”

  I grin at her. “You’re going down. Nobody is that lucky.” Megan has beaten us at cards every time we’ve played. She swears she was trained at a young age. If I didn’t know her better, I’d think she cheats.

  Even Lori has resorted to coaching from her boyfriend, Kaleb. I smile picturing it. Kaleb is a gentle giant of a guy while Lori is a petite thing.

  Casey gets up and winks at me. “Megan, need another drink?”

  I grab Megan’s glass and tease, “I’ll make it.”

  She jumps up. “Oh, no. I don’t trust you as far as I can throw you, Gretch. You drink like a fish.”

  Okay, I wouldn’t say fish. But I can certainly handle more than my friends. “Fine, let Casey make it.” I give Casey an exaggerated wink I know Megan can see, and go to the kitchen to get a spatula.

  Megan shakes her head at our teasing, and I hear her say to Lori. “Texting Kaleb?”

  Lori looks up without moving her head just as I return to the dining room. She says, “Maybe?”

  I roll my eyes at her, but I’m not upset. “I’ll let that slide, but you better put your phone away during dinner.” I shake my spatula at her before walking out to the deck.

  Honestly, I envy what my friends have with their boyfriends. I’m not sure I’ve ever known that kind of love and hope someday I will. If only I could find someone I want to stick around long enough.

  I roll the kabobs over and inhale the smell of roasted peppers and chicken. My mind recalls the delicious scent of Derrick. Too bad, the attraction is definitely there, but a guy like him would be nothing but trouble.

  Chapter 4

  One, two, three, and four, five, six. My hand rises up on the first three counts and falls on the second three as I pour rum through the spout and over ice. My other hand is holding the soda gun and cola fizzes into the glass. I add a quick squeeze of lime, sending the citrus odor up my nose. I drop it in while my other hand shoves a straw into Jed’s drink. Tending bar at the Breckenridge Golf Course Grill doesn’t make me a lot of money, but I need every penny I can get toward a new car.

  I set the drink down on a dark, shiny wood bar in front of an older man who doesn’t usually like conversation. I’m told Jed comes in every Thursday afternoon and sits so he can watch people in the mirror that’s behind me. He spends a fair amount of time typing on a laptop, and I suspect he’s a writer. I ask, “Have you decided what you’d like today?”

  He nods and purses his lips as if it’s a tough decision. “How about the BLT? Light on the mayo, please.” He’s had a BLT every time I’ve waited on him, but I think he likes to make that decision each week just the same. Tending bar over the years has taught me how to read people. The better I do at it, the more money I make.

  I tap in the order on the computer screen and check the slip that just buzzed out of the printer for the servers’ drink orders. Ice clinks into the glasses, and I line them up along the bar shelf where I make drinks.

  Our lunch rush is over, and only three people sit at the bar that can accommodate sixteen. Besides Jed, there’s a couple out on a married-with-children date. They’re telling each other stories about their kids that bore me to tears. That leaves me without conversation, so I’m wiping surfaces and bottles with a rag to pass the time until I can leave.

  Plenty of windows overlook the golf course, which make clean bottles a necessity. I don’t mind, because a room full of daylight and active people is much nicer than a dark, cave-like bar.

  As I clean the bottles, my pencil occasionally scratches against the pad of paper I use to make a list of what needs to be restocked for the night shift. Other than a couple cases of beer, I’m in good shape. I take a quick glance at my customers to make sure they won’t need me for a couple minutes and walk toward the kitchen.

  The swinging door opens easily, and the smell of sizzling beef surrounds me. I snitch a pickle from the garnish bin as I pass by on my way to the walk-in cooler. The sour flavor makes me clench my jaw as frosty air bursts out the moment I open the refrigerator door.

  Cases of beer are organized, and I grab what I need to fill two boxes and lift them up to walk out. They block my view a bit, but I can see enough to get where I’m going.

  “I would’ve carried those for you,” says Rick. One of two cooks on duty, his tone is sarcastic, and if I had a free hand I’d flip him off.

  Instead I retort, “I don’t give a boy a man’s job.” I hear Steve laugh as I turn to push the door open with my hip. I walk to the end of my rectangular space behind the bar and squat to set my boxes down. My long, bleached-blond ponytail falls over my shoulder, and I flip it back as I stand.

  My eyes land on a man who makes my heart stop f
or a moment. My memory hasn’t failed me; Derrick still looks like he walked out of a magazine ad. That long dark hair does the swoop thing over his forehead, and his grape-purple polo is tight across his chest. I’ve already decided he’s a not-gonna-happen, but I forgot to tell my body, and he manages to take my breath away.

  “Hi. What can I get you?” automatically comes out of my mouth, followed by a stupid grin. Saved by habit, I take another moment to inspect the goods. I’ll bet he’s even wearing Sperrys right now instead of golf shoes.

  “It’s you.” His lips twitch up into the hint of a smile that makes me think he remembers me calling him a dickwad. “What do you have for imported beer on tap?” Derrick’s voice is deeper than I remembered, and it reverberates softly in my head like a favorite memory.

  I list off the beers, and he chooses a Stella. Pouring it from the tap, I take care to tip the glass and not produce too much foam. I stop just as the head is threatening to roll over the side and present him with a picture-perfect draft beer.

  An impeccable hand lifts the glass to plump lips. Damn, he makes that look hot. He takes a sip and closes his eyes. When he sighs my core twinges. Holy shin guard. I would so do this guy. I smile. “Taste good today?”

  “It does.” He licks his lips, and I think I swoon a little. He says, “I’m going to order lunch too. Is there a menu?”

  “Yes.” I reach over and grab the menu with a sweaty hand. You’d think I’ve never been attracted to a guy before because I’m being such an amateur. I set it down and turn away to collect myself.

  I catch Jed’s eye, and he winks at me. I raise my eyes to the sky and give him a sheepish grin. He may not talk much, but nothing gets by him. He goes back to typing furiously on his laptop, and I fear he’s writing about a girl like me.

  I walk toward the kitchen window to get Jed’s sandwich and grab the couple’s dishes on the way. Pausing I ask them, “Dessert today?”

  The woman answers, “No, thanks. Just the check please.” She steals a glance at beautiful boy. Apparently I’m not alone in the appreciation.

  The plates clatter in the dishwasher’s window when I set them down and grab Jed’s lunch. I bring it to him and smile as his face crinkles in a silent laugh. I squint my eyes at him and say, “Enjoy.”

  Out of the corner of my eye I see the menu is still raised and know I have time to deal with the couple’s check. Once we’re done I walk over to take Derrick’s order.

  “Ready?”

  “I’ll take the Thai chicken salad, please.” This time I’m ready for the voice and have built up my barrier. My body barely registers the charm.

  I nod at him and plug the order into the computer. The beer cooler I need to fill has me facing him. Bottles clink as I lay them on each other in the top fridge. I know I should make conversation, but I’m afraid to make a fool of myself.

  I ask, “How are the dogs?”

  “Good. They love the woods here.”

  “Gretchen.” Lyndsey calls me from the other end of the bar, and I turn my attention to her. “I need a bottle of wine. Can I have the key?”

  I bring it to her as she tries not to gape. She whispers when I get close, “Oh, my God. Who is that?”

  I shrug and pretend I don’t think he’s the most gorgeous man I’ve ever seen. “Some guy I met on the plane. He could use a tattoo or a piercing, don’t you think?”

  Lyndsey chuckles as she walks away. She knows I have a thing for bad boys, and the guy at the end of the bar doesn’t even come close.

  I return to my beer chore. As I lean over to fill the fridge, part of me wishes I wasn’t wearing a polo shirt buttoned up primly the way I’m required. I give myself a mental face slap because I don’t know he doesn’t have a girlfriend. “So what do you plan to do this winter?”

  “Work.” He lifts his glass and takes another sip. He doesn’t offer more and I don’t ask.

  Nika was right; he is serious. I finish with the beer and take the boxes back to the kitchen.

  When I come out of the walk-in cooler I have a recycled plastic container full of oranges, lemons and limes to cut for drink garnishes. Rick says, “Lyndsey took your salad out for you.”

  I smile to myself. Uh-huh. No surprise there. I head over to make sure everything is okay.

  “How’s your meal?”

  Derrick gives me a thumbs-up as he chews. His beer is low, and I ask, “Would you like another?”

  He shakes his head so I grab a glass, and ice clinks in as I pour it from the scoop and add water. I place it in front of him with a thud. I pull out my cutting board and work on the fruit.

  I notice Jed is ready for his check. Wiping my hands on my apron I walk to the computer and then print his bill.

  “Thanks, Jed. It’s always nice to see you here.” A smile turns up my mouth, and I grip the slick credit card he has ready for me. When I return with it, he motions me to lean close and whispers, “Talk to him. He watches you when you aren’t looking.”

  I feel heat rush to my face, and I shake my head. I guess Jed’s looking out for his fellow introvert. I peek over at Derrick and note he’s done with his salad. I walk over and clear his plate.

  “So what kind of work are you doing?”

  His brown eyes thaw a bit and he says, “I’m going to work ski patrol and in the clinic.”

  “Nice. I love being on the mountain every day. There’s nothing quite like an outdoor office, you know?”

  He nods. “I’m taking a year off before I go to med school. I’ll have to get my fill before I spend all my time inside.” He fiddles with his napkin.

  He’s either adorably nervous or trying to figure out how to strangle me. I ask, “Is Nika working too?”

  He lets out a low noise that could be interpreted as disgust. “Dannika works when she feels like it.” When I frown he adds, “She’s a model.”

  Okay, so he’s not impressed with that. Having done a little modeling myself, it’s clear he has no idea how difficult that kind of work can be. Strange guy. “Want anything else?”

  I’m hoping he says dessert because I’m not ready for him to leave. Even though he isn’t being flirty, his mysterious ways intrigue me.

  Derrick has moved on to twirling his water glass between his hands and asks, “Can I have a cup of coffee?”

  “Sure.” I flash a relieved smile and walk off with his plate.

  Returning with the coffee, a bitter odor of dark roast beans floats toward me. Derrick lifts himself up to get off the bar chair and then disappears as I hear a crash. Oh, shit! I set the coffee down, hop on my step stool and onto the bar. He’s lying on the floor, tangled in his chair, and I jump down next to him. My legs suck up the impact and leave me in a squat. “Are you okay?” Grasping the smooth wood, I lift the chair off him.

  His face is pinched in pain, but it’s also flushed with embarrassment. “Yeah, I’m fine.” A strangled laugh escapes his lips, and he tilts his head. “Did you just jump over that bar?”

  Now it’s my turn for heat to rise to my cheeks. “Yeah. We snowboarders think any flat surface is fair game. Are you sure you’re all right?” He’s rubbing his ankle, and I reach out for his hand to help him up.

  He waves it away. “Yeah. I’m fine.” He puts weight gingerly on his foot and winces. He is wearing Sperrys.

  “Sit. I lead him to a chair and pull another near and prop his foot on it. “I’ll be right back with some ice.”

  “No—I mean. Sure.”

  This time I walk around the bar and wrap a bar rag around a mound of crushed ice. The chill comes through, but it’s not unbearable. I return to him and gently lift his foot to put the ice under his ankle. It doesn’t seem to be swelling, and my hand lingers on his skin. “I know you’re the EMT, but ice can’t hurt, you know?”

  He almost smiles and says, “Thanks. I’m sure it’s fine.” A spoon clinks in Derrick’s coffee mug as he stirs, and he splashes a little on the bar.

  As I walk back around my heart flips. Why, I’m not
sure. Despite what Jed said, Derrick’s cold and is trying to send uninterested signals. But my body isn’t getting the message, and I feel moisture between my legs. Derrick is definitely too serious for me, but funkadelic, he’s hot. What’s happening to me?

  I slide my fruit down the bar so I can cut and talk at the same time. My knife ticks on the cutting board steadily. While I’m sure this is a bad idea, I ask, “Where are you going to go to med school?”

  “Geisel.” He adds, “It’s Dartmouth’s medical school, they changed the name.”

  Damn, he’s beyond smart. I nod. “Ah, are you an East Coaster?”

  “I am. I grew up in New Hampshire. How about you?” the bar chair creaks as he leans back with his cup of coffee as if he actually wants to talk to me.

  Lime wedges thunk in my bucket. “I’m a Vermonter. I moved out here last fall instead of going to graduate school.” I’m not sure why I feel the need to let him know I have a brain. It certainly isn’t a requirement for most guys I date.

  “What are you going to get a graduate degree in?”

  “Physical therapy, I think. But right now I’m a competitive snowboarder. I’m chasing a dream before settling down.” As soon as it comes out of my mouth, it sounds lame, and I wish I hadn’t told him I compete. If last year is any indication, my chances for the Olympic team are slim.

  “Wow. Impressive.” His sits forward and leans his arms on the bar.

  I shrug my shoulders. “Don’t be impressed. I’m not that good.”

  “I’m a klutz. Anyone who can walk without falling impresses me.” His eyes are twinkling and light up his face, making him look even more incredible. A genuine smile forms on my face, and when he returns it I’m surprised at how comfortable I feel.

  I say, “It’s not going so well. I’m giving it one more winter because working this hard at jobs I don’t love isn’t what I had planned.”

  He asks, “Jobs?”

  “Yeah, my car died, and I need to make money for a new one.”

  He nods and says, “So how do you get to work?”

  “Bike. It’s great for my training, and I like being outside.”