by Susan Stoker
“No problem.” The other woman waved off her thanks. “Us women have to stick together.”
Wendy hopped off the barstool and headed for the back of the bar. When she got there, she had to stand in line behind three other women waiting to use the facilities. Of course. It was one room, and only one woman could enter and use the bathroom at a time. Even during the short time she’d been talking to Christine, the bar had begun to fill up. Apparently, it was very popular with the working crowd.
After several minutes, it was finally Wendy’s turn. She closed and locked the door behind her and leaned over the small sink. She curled her lips back and bared her teeth, looking for whatever was in them. She turned her head one way then another and couldn’t see anything.
She turned on the water anyway and scooped some into her mouth and swished. After spitting the water out, she bared her teeth again. Still nothing. Running her tongue over her teeth, Wendy couldn’t feel anything, either. Thank God whatever had been in her teeth must have worked itself free.
She took a step back and eyed herself. She’d put on some mascara after work and had brushed a bit of blush over her cheeks. She was wearing shiny lip gloss and had pulled her hair back. It had been in a ponytail all day, and she couldn’t leave it down because there was a weird kink in it, so she’d just pulled it up into a messy, hopefully, artsy bun instead.
Sighing, Wendy studied her reflection. She wasn’t a beauty, but she wasn’t ugly either. She had high cheekbones and really long lashes. She remembered her mom complimenting her on how pretty her dark brown eyes were. Her hair was thick and generally didn’t do anything she wanted it to, but Wendy still loved it. She refused to cut it short and had always worn it below her shoulders.
Yeah, the scrubs weren’t exactly the height of fashion, but Aspen knew where she worked. Knew she worked with the elderly. She had a feeling he’d think her story was hilarious. At least she hoped he would. The man she’d gotten to know over the phone wouldn’t care that she was wearing scrubs instead of fashionable jeans and a nice blouse.
Taking one last look at her reflection, Wendy took a deep breath and headed out of the restroom and back to the bar.
Her first thought, upon seeing Christine was no longer in the seat next to where Wendy had been sitting, was what a relief. She glanced around as she walked back to her stool and saw the other woman was now sitting on the other end of the bar.
But she wasn’t alone.
A man was with her.
He had his back to Wendy, so she couldn’t see his face—but he wore a black T-shirt and a pair of jeans. She saw a pair of cowboy boots on his feet as well.
Christine had her legs crossed and had spun the barstool around so her legs were almost touching the man’s. She was smiling and laughing, and occasionally she’d reach out a hand and touch the man’s knee. They were sitting close together, their heads bent toward each other.
In the ten minutes Wendy had been gone, the bar had gotten even busier. There was a football game on the television at the end of the room. The chatter was loud, and everywhere she seemed to look there were couples laughing and smiling at each other.
Wendy’s stomach tightened. Feeling extremely out of place, she stood next to her barstool and pulled out her phone to check to see if Aspen had sent her a text. He had.
Eleven minutes ago.
She’d missed the vibration notifying her of the message before she’d headed to the restroom.
* * *
Aspen: Be there in a minute or so. Can’t wait to see you!
* * *
The churning in Wendy’s belly intensified. Aspen was here…somewhere. She didn’t want him to think she’d ditched him. She’d been stood up once before and it was the worst feeling ever.
The more Wendy thought about Christine, and how she’d said Wendy had something in her teeth right around the time Aspen had texted, the leerier she got.
But the other woman couldn’t have known, could she?
Jackson was constantly telling Wendy that she needed to stand up for herself more. That she needed to stop letting people walk all over her. She never complained in restaurants when the food was bad. She didn’t return stuff she bought online when it didn’t fit. And she never, ever caused a scene in public.
But this seemed to be as good a time as any to practice asserting herself more.
She slid a ten-dollar bill under her half-drunk glass of soda, enough for the cost of the drink and a good tip—Wendy had been a waitress once and knew how hard the work was and how important tips were—and took a deep breath.
She began to work her way toward Christine and the man, hoping against hope it wasn’t Aspen sitting in front of the other woman. She had to push her way through the throngs of people now gathered around the bar, and as she got closer to the couple, she saw a clear bag sitting on the bar between them. It was tied off with a pink bow, and Wendy could clearly see the silver foil of the chocolates in the bag.
That bitch.
Christine knew Wendy was waiting for Aspen
Of course she did—Wendy had blabbed everything about their meeting to the other woman. How they’d never met. How she didn’t know what he looked like, and how he didn’t know what she looked like. Christine must’ve been laughing the whole time she’d been pumping her for information.
Christine didn’t give a shit where Wendy worked. She wanted to get as much information as possible so she could pass herself off as Wendy to Aspen.
Taking a moment to give herself a pep talk—and to calm down, knowing she’d have to confront the lying bitch—Wendy heard low, masculine laughter coming from the man in front of Christine. Looking up, she caught him smiling at the other woman.
Her heart sank.
He looked like he was having the time of his life.
Christine had been touching his knee suggestively, and Aspen moved his hand right then to cover her own on his leg.
Wendy decided she needed to move to get a better look at him…because if she confronted Christine and the man in front of her wasn’t Aspen, she’d feel like an ass.
Of course, it would be the coincidence of the century if the guy Christine was meeting also happened to bring her a bag of chocolate, but Wendy supposed it could happen.
She edged her way around a large group of people standing near the bar, having a good time, until she could see the face of the man sitting in front of Christine.
Wendy almost gasped.
He was beautiful.
He had dark hair that was in a typical military cut. Short on the sides and a bit longer on top. His T-shirt wasn’t tight, except around his biceps. His arms were cut and larger than those on most of the military men she’d seen. But it was his forearms that made Wendy’s knees go weak. She could see the veins in his arms clearly. There was just something about those veins, covered by a fine mist of dark hair, that did it for her.
He had large hands and a five o’clock shadow. He’d told her once that he hated how quickly his facial hair grew…how he’d had to shave twice a day when he was in basic training because his drill sergeants gave him shit about being unshaven when he didn’t.
To Wendy, the scruff on his face was irresistible and handsome…not something he should ever be worried about. His front teeth were slightly crooked; she could see them clearly because of the wide smile on his face.
The longer she stared at him, the more her anger drained away—as did her will to correct him as to the identity of the woman sitting in front of him.
He looked happy. He was staring at Christine as if she was the most beautiful woman in the room…and she was.
Wendy looked down at her own light green scrubs, then back up to Christine’s low-cut blouse. At her long legs showcased in the short skirt. Wendy couldn’t compete with that. Didn’t want to compete.
Looking her fill of Aspen once more, Wendy wished for the thousandth time that her life was different. That her parents hadn’t died. That she hadn’t become a surrogate mothe
r to her brother. That she could’ve gone to college like most other women her age. That she didn’t have to live life always looking over her shoulder.
Perhaps if her life had been different, she could be the kind of woman who had the confidence to boldly go up to Christine and confront her. To tell Aspen that he’d been duped. That she was the woman he’d come to meet.
But she wasn’t that woman, and she didn’t have the confidence to do any of that.
Allowing herself a rare moment of self-pity, Wendy stared at Aspen.
She’d obviously been staring at him for too long because suddenly his gaze broke away from the woman in front of him and met hers.
His brows furrowed for a moment as his beautiful brown eyes raked her from head to toe and back up again. He opened his mouth as if he was going to say something, but just then, Christine’s artfully manicured fingers rested on his cheek, and he looked away from Wendy to see what she wanted.
Using the distraction, Wendy sidestepped behind a group of people and headed for the door. Why would he look twice at her when he had Christine? She should be glad that he was happy. But just once she wanted a man to look at her the way Aspen was looking at Christine.
She almost snorted. As if.
It was time to get back to her real life. Aspen had been a nice distraction, but Jackson had two more years of high school. Maybe after he graduated she could try the dating thing again…when she had less to lose.
Chapter Three
Blade tugged on his shirt and took a deep breath before opening the door to the pub. He’d meant to get there early and get a good seat. He knew the bar was popular and would get crowded as people got off work, and he wanted to find a corner booth and have a bit of privacy as he got to know Wendy better.
But there had been an incident on the Army post and his commander had asked him and the other Deltas to be on standby, just in case. It had turned out to be nothing and the team wasn’t needed, but it had made him late. He’d had to go home to change and grab the plastic bag full of chocolate for Wendy before he could leave for his date.
He’d sent her a text letting her know he was running late, and she’d responded briefly that it was fine because she’d just arrived.
Blade walked into the bar and looked around. He held the bag of chocolate so it could easily be seen and tried to figure out which of the women milling around the bar was Wendy.
“Hi. Aspen?”
He turned to see a beautiful woman standing in front of him. She bit her lip nervously as she looked up at him.
For a moment, all Blade could do was stare. She didn’t look anything like he’d pictured in his head. She had brown hair like she’d told him, but otherwise, nothing else fit. She had on high heels, bringing her almost eye level to his six-three height. He couldn’t remember if Wendy had ever told him how tall she was, but was distracted when the woman held out her hand to him.
Her nails were painted red and looked manicured. She had on a short skirt that showcased long, slender legs, and the black blouse she was wearing dipped low on her chest. It was more than obvious she was wearing some sort of push-up bra because her generous-sized breasts were pushed upward, giving him an amazing view of her cleavage.
“Wendy?” he asked, confused.
“That’s me,” the woman said, beaming. “It’s so nice to meet you!” And with that, she stepped into his space and gave him a hug.
Blade’s arms went around her automatically. She smelled good, like some sort of flower. She held on to him for a beat longer than might have been appropriate if they hadn’t been talking on the phone and getting to know each other for the last couple of months.
“It’s good to finally meet you too,” Blade told her when she pulled back. “I brought these for you,” he said, holding out the bag of chocolate.
“Thanks! Want to go and sit at the bar for a while?”
Blade looked around and saw that all the booths were occupied. He sighed. Yeah, being late was definitely cramping his style. “Sure, that sounds good,” he said.
Wendy grabbed his hand and started pulling him toward the far end of the bar. Blade tried not to be annoyed, but couldn’t help the stab of disappointment that shot through him at her assertiveness. He didn’t mind holding her hand and it wasn’t that he had a problem walking behind her. Hell, her ass in that skirt, and the way her heels accentuated her shapely calves as she strutted to the bar should’ve had him as hard as a pike. But he’d pegged her as more…submissive.
That wasn’t exactly the word he was looking for. Unsure, maybe? He figured that he’d need to take the lead to make her comfortable, then as she got to know him, she’d open up more.
But this assertive, confident Wendy was throwing him for a loop.
They arrived at the bar, and Blade put a hand on her elbow and helped her onto the stool. She beamed at him as he got settled on the stool next to hers. Wendy rested her elbow on the bar and leaned into him as she asked, “Do I look okay?”
Blade blinked and tried not to blatantly stare at the way her position made her tits look like they were about to pop out of her shirt. The bar was loud and he could barely hear her. He raised his voice and said, “You look beautiful.”
She smiled at him and straightened on her seat. “Thanks.”
“What happened to the jeans and blouse?” he asked.
Wendy rolled her eyes. “I decided since I was meeting you for the first time, I should dress up. Look my best.” She smoothed her hand down the front of her skirt, effectively drawing his eyes to her legs once more.
“How was work?” Blade asked, not liking how awkward things seemed. Even the first time he’d talked to Wendy on the phone, he hadn’t felt this weird vibe from her. Maybe she was right, and meeting in person hadn’t been the best idea. He’d told her nothing would change with their relationship, but he had a feeling he’d spoken too soon.
“You won’t believe what happened,” Wendy said.
“Tell me,” Blade urged. The more he looked at her, the more he realized just how pretty she was. Whatever she’d done with her makeup made her eyes look huge on her face. Her smile was nice and he liked the way her hair fell in curls around her shoulders, brushing against the globes of her breasts as she moved.
He smiled back, encouraging her to talk about her day. It was the first time in a long while that she hadn’t immediately asked how his day had been before he could ask about hers.
“I was helping this old guy from his bed to a chair and he barfed!” Wendy exclaimed with a grimace. Her slight nose crinkled up as she recounted the story. “I managed to leap out of the way before it got on me. Can you imagine? Ugh, puke is the worst. Anyway, he threw up all over the floor and there I was, trying to dodge flying chunks and not let go of him at the same time. I managed to get him in the chair without stepping in it, and the old geezer looked up at me and said, ‘Darn, girl, you moved too fast. I was hoping for a wet T-shirt contest. You know it doesn’t take much to get me worked up.’”
Blade laughed. Then he felt Wendy’s hand on his knee and looked down. His hand moved without thought and covered hers as it tried to move up his thigh. He’d expected to feel something when she touched him. Tingles, lust, something. But all he felt was the weight of their combined hands on his leg.
Wendy was beaming at him, and if Blade wasn’t mistaken, she’d somehow moved her stool closer. “Sounds like it was quite the day.”
“Oh, it was. But the best part hopefully is still to come.”
Uncomfortable with the way Wendy was staring at him, as if he were a lollipop and she wanted to lick him from head to toe, Blade looked away. His eyes roamed the now full bar. There were folks dressed in everything from suits, ties, and other obvious work attire, to jeans and T-shirts.
A yell went up on the other side of the bar from a group who was watching the football game on the television, and Blade started to turn his head to see what was going on. But at the last second, his gaze was caught by a woman standing no
t too far from him and Wendy.
She was wearing light green scrubs, the kind of thing that was more appropriate for a hospital or a doctor’s office than a busy bar after work. She had on a pair of white tennis shoes and was clutching a purse in front of her.
Her dark hair was piled on top of her head in a messy bun that Blade had a sudden urge to take down. She wasn’t short, but she wasn’t exactly tall either. Her body was curvy, and the way the material of her clothes left the details of her body to his imagination left him wanting to press a hand at the small of her back and pull her into him, so he could see for himself how she was made.
Time seemed to stand still as they stared at each other. His eyes went down to her toes, back up her body, and to her face once more. Blade felt as if he knew the woman, though he’d never seen her before.
His lips parted to call out to her, to invite her over to where he was sitting, when Wendy’s fingers on his face broke whatever weird spell he’d been in.
“What are you looking at?” she asked.
Blade felt her fingers on his leg shift until she was using her long red nails to scratch the inside of his thigh. The hand she’d had on his cheek brushed against his shoulder, then she lightly ran her nails down his arm.
With a clarity that he should’ve had ten minutes ago, Blade knew without a doubt that the woman sitting in front of him wasn’t Wendy.
He had no idea who she was, but the Wendy he knew wouldn’t call any of the men she worked with at the home “old geezers.” She also wouldn’t be as aggressive as this woman. Not only that, but she still hadn’t asked how his day had gone. In every single conversation they’d had, Wendy had immediately asked about his day before he could get a word in edgewise.
This woman may be pretending to be Wendy, but there was no comparison between the woman he’d gotten to know and this imposter.
Blade was disgusted with himself for being duped so easily. Some Special Forces soldier he was.
The only questions left…who was this woman, and where was Wendy?