As Megan started to speak, I turned the key and the engine roared to life again…rumbling loud enough to drown her out. I rotated the handle to give it gas as her jaw snapped shut.
****
The bar was packed by 8:30 and I’d already told Todd to hold capacity for four more. No band tonight. Just a guest DJ. The small dance floor was overflowing. A night didn’t go by that I didn’t drink here—though no one dared give me shit about it. Not really a day, for that matter, but tonight I’d kept it to two beers so far. When dealing with…her…I needed to be of sober mind.
“She’s here,” I heard in my earpiece.
Instantly, my junk twitched, which pissed me off. And it only hardened when I actually spotted her. She and brunette were walking arm-in-arm and the preppy douche bags followed.
“Hi Kieran,” a girl cooed from behind me.
“Hey, Stacy.” I glanced at her then back to the girl in the white Converse.
“This is Telisa,” Stacey said, stepping around me and pointing to the hot blonde girl standing next to her.
On a normal night, Telisa would have been right up my alley. Jesus, her tits were at attention. But tonight, I wasn’t interested in the skinny blonde.
“Nice to meet you,” I said blowing her off and catching the eyes of the brunette who then poked Megan.
“We were thinking you might like to take us both home tonight,” Stacey said in a way that drew my attention for a second mainly because she emphasized both. Stacey was hot as hell, and knockin’ it out with her and Telisa would be a double bonus.
“I can’t Stace. Not tonight.”
“Kieran,” she whined, bottom lip out in a full pout.
“Sorry,” I said, firmer, eyes still on Megan, who finally spotted me from across the room. Stacey and Telisa flanked each side of me.
“Kier-an!” Corrine shouted from about ten feet in front of me and ran in for a hug.
I appeased her, the embrace quick, then searched for my redhead. They all four stood at the bar and that’s when Wink pointed to the reserved table near the dance floor.
“She’s here,” Wink said into my earpiece and I nodded from across the room.
Her group walked to the special table and I noticed the glass in her hand.
She drank wine. Red.
The four sat listening to the music and barely moved for an hour at least, until a slow song came on. That’s when the brunette dragged the other guy in khakis out to the floor. Megan busied herself scanning the room—looking anywhere but at her sorry excuse for a date. He tapped her shoulder and pointed to the floor. She nodded. Shit.
He led her to the floor, hand on the small of her back and once there took her hand as if it were ballroom dancing. I couldn’t help but notice that she stayed on the opposite side of the dance floor—away from me. That girl wanted nowhere near me.
I glanced up at Dustin the DJ and ran my finger in a slicing manner across my neck, urging him to kill the slow, romantic tune. Mid-song, he switched it up and held his hands out at me as the crowd moaned. Sliding off my stool and stepping off my perch, I weaved in and out of the crowd till I reached him.
“Keep it upbeat for a while,” I instructed.
The look she threw me when I stepped back and he cranked up some Justin Timberlake was absolutely adorable. So was the way she stormed through the crowd back to her table.
****
Megan was finishing her third glass of wine and there was no way, given her body weight that she could drink much more. Even though she was in sneakers, she was beginning to get wobbly. How did I know this? Because she was walking… stumbling toward me. My heart picked up a beat. I’d been watching her all night sitting bored at that table, and finally she was ready to acknowledge me.
“Hey,” she shouted.
“Hey back.”
She giggled. “I…we…I mainly…wanted to say thanksh.”
The music grew softer. I glanced up at Dustin and found Todd was talking to him. I had no doubt they had something to do with that. Dicks.
“What does thanksh mean?” I winked.
“Sorry. I didn’t eat much and the wine…”
“You’re welcome. You leaving?”
“No serioushly. Thank you. But this won’t get chou out of therapy, mister.”
I made a clicking sound with my mouth but wasn’t sure she could hear over the music. “Damn. I tried.”
“I know you don’t have a lot of money so I hope this didn’t put you out.”
This money thing was a real issue for her. “It’s all good,” I said.
“Kieran!” a girl squealed.
My lips pulled into a snarl. Heather, a girl I’d fucked last month, carried a tray of shots my way.
“I have for you, my slippery nipple. Sex on the beach. The orgasm. And the red-headed slut!” she said with emphasis on the red-headed part, not even attempting to hide the daggers she shot at Doc.
Megan stepped back and I held up a finger as a signal to give me a sec.
Casually lifting the tray off Heather’s hand, I sat it on my stool and gently grabbed her upper arm.
“Let me make something clear to you, Heather. Just because my dick has had a little fun with you, gives you no right to treat someone that way. And it by no means stakes any claim on me. Now walk the fuck away.”
In a huff, Heather spun on her heels and clicked in a different direction.
Doc, on the other hand was walking out hand in hand with Napoleon Dynamite himself. My chest expanded in a possessive rage.
“Malcolm is here. Just go,” Wink said into my earpiece.
I caught his gaze from behind the bar then glanced over at Todd, who nodded for me to get out of there. Hell, I hadn’t left work early in two years. I also hadn’t ever turned down a threesome or shots from Heather. What the hell was wrong with me?
****
When I killed the Harley, the quiet night soothed my ringing ears. Leaving the bar after dark was always peaceful. But, truthfully, what I was doing was wrong. I unsettled her. I knew that. Her car still sat empty in the parking lot and I didn’t know if they were even coming back here. Thirty minutes, that’s what I’d give them.
As I stared at the stars, I thought about her words slurring. She was too drunk to drive home. If they brought her back here…I’d…be pissed.
Forty minutes later, I saw the headlights spray over the bushes then the street as a car pulled in the lot. My thoughts bounced between speaking to Joe about requesting another therapist and shooting myself for thinking such a thing. Deep down, I looked forward to our meetings but I wasn’t sure how much it had to do with therapy.
I didn’t move…simply watched as she fell out of the backseat. She was riding solo. Napoleon must have turned into a pumpkin.
“You sure you’re OK to drive,” brunette girl asked out the window. I instantly didn’t like these people because they should have dropped her off at home.
“I’m fine.”
“Sorry about Lucas.”
“Yeah, well, when he shoved his tongue down my throat, I knew he wasn’t for me.”
Her words slurred, and I realized I wanted to rip Lucas’ tongue from his mouth. Those feelings brewing inside were unnerving. This girl was dangerous to me.
“Maybe Kieran would kiss better!” brunette girl yelled, laughing, as they backed out of the stall.
“I have no doubt,” she whispered. “Kieran probably does everything better.”
A slow smile spread over my face… and as I watched my therapist fumble with her keys. I slid off the Harley. What a swell bunch of friends. Allowing her to drive drunk. Not making sure she was in the car safe. Not looking around. Jackasses.
“Hey, Doc,” I said interrupting the silence.
She spun around, wide-eyed, and fists in position to attack.
A chuckle reverberated through my chest. So damn cute. Recognition settled over her features.
“Wha…?”
As I neared her, an acknowledging
grimace spread across her face. Did it hurt her to see me? She slid down the side of the car, sitting on the pavement, eyes closed. What did that mean?
“Owwwww…” she suddenly cried.
“What’s wrong?” I asked kneeling beside her. She seemed in pain.
She rotated her hand and her palm was blood-soaked.
“What happened?” I grabbed my phone from my pocket and shined it toward her palm. A small piece of glass was sticking up. Leave it to her to land on the one piece of glass in this parking lot.
“Ouch,” she moaned.
“Where’re the keys to your office?”
The keys dangled from her finger when she held it up.
“Come on,” I said cradling her in my arms and lifting her.
Once inside, I gently pulled the glass from her palm and washed the injured skin with soap and water in the restroom. I held her hand palm up and brought it to my lips. She watched, eyes hooded, as I blew across her skin. The goose bumps that flared over her arms were not only perfectly visible but one of the sexiest things I’d ever seen. I affected her and I fucking loved that little fact.
I knew women pretty damn well. Which meant I recognized the cloudiness in her gray eyes as they filled with need…I just didn’t know what exactly she needed.
I held her close and guided her out into the hall. She wasn’t feeling much pain as we walked back by her office.
“Shall we have a session?” she asked with an ornery giggle.
I only smiled.
“Typical,” she said. “You won’t talk.”
“I’m sorry about what Heather said at the bar. She was being a bitch.”
“My guessh is that….you prob…her…and”
Her mumbling annoyed me and at the same time she whipped her hair around, it flitted over my face. The sweet smell wafted through my nostrils.
I couldn’t fight what I wanted any longer. I did it. I gripped her arms, lifting her up and shoving her up against the wall.
“Your guess is what?” I gritted within an inch of her face.
Her lips parted and her eyelids stood at half-mast. Jesus, I wanted to taste those lips. Her gum was cinnamon. I could smell it. I loved cinnamon.
“I told you,” she said with her feet still dangling.
“No. You didn’t. You mumbled something bad about me.”
Her gray eyes narrowed with confusion. “It wasn’t bad about you.”
“Then tell me.”
She swallowed.
“I drank too much,” she confessed as if it were a secret.
“Tell me what you said, Doc!” I yelled, my gaze penetrating hers.
“I said you probably fucked her and she was staking her claim!” she shouted right back but then her eyes softened until they closed. “Wouldn’t anyone do that?”
She was dead on about Heather, but I cared more about her last question.
“Watch your fuckin’ mouth.”
Her eyes popped open anger blazing.
“Oh, you can say fuck and I can’t? You have no right to tell me what to do or feel where I’m concerned. Fuck. Fuck!” Her face contoured in a mocking smirk, voice rising from a raging yell to a full-blown scream. “Fuck!”
“Well, I tell you what sweetheart, I obviously care more than the fucktards who dropped your drunk ass off expecting you to drive home. And I’m sorry about the tongue dart from the banker.”
Her mouth fell open on a gasp. “How’d you know he was a banker?”
I laughed. He had a teller stamp on his forehead.
“You had no doubt I would kiss better, I heard you say that myself.”
Her chin actually quivered. “You’re going to kiss me aren’t you?”
There wasn’t a damn thing I wanted more in my life at that moment.
“No. Not until I know exactly what you want out of a kiss.”
“Put me down,” she panted.
“Not until you tell me.”
Her lids closed and reopened slowly.
“Tell me damn it!” I demanded lifting her even higher.
“I will but I can’t look at you.”
“What?”
“Put me down and I’ll explain.”
So I did. I allowed her feet to rest on the floor but I offered no distance. I watched as she opened the door to her office, flipped on a lamp and said sit, pointing at the carpet by the door.
“Are you joking?”
“Please. Sit right there and promish shoe won’t open it.”
“No way, Doc.”
“I promish I’m not leaving,” she assured me.
Unwillingly, I sat, like a jackass as she closed the door. Something hit the door from the other side.
“Tell me what we’re doing,” I said loud enough she had to have heard.
“I’m ready to talk now,” she said her voice seeping out clearly behind me.
“We’re talking through a door?”
“Yep. I like a kiss to be soft. Not aggressive. The word mashing is not for me. I like little pecks. Some tongue. But I want to taste you. All of you. Slowly.”
I smiled bigger than I had in a long time.
“Not you specifically,” she quickly corrected but it only made my smile spread. “I meant. A kiss shouldn’t be all tongue. It should be a series of small kisses and nibbles. A first kiss should be two mouths getting acquainted.”
The world nibbles made my dick harder than it already was.
“How about you?” she asked.
“There isn’t anything you said that I disagree with. Your description was perfect.”
“You never express how you feel!”
“Spoken like a true therapist,” I chuckled.
“Kieran…”
“What do you want to know?” I asked resting my head back against the door.
“Tell me about your mom.”
Shit. Not looking at her was easier. I released a breath and just said it. It’s not like she’d remember anyway. “She was beautiful, Doc. Always made me laugh.”
“And your dad?”
“He was smart. Brilliant. Serious.” That was the most I’d said about them in two years. “Tell me something about yours.”
“Mine isn’t a pretty story, Mr. Scott.”
There we go with the Mr. Scott shit. “What do you mean?” I asked.
“They say the reason people become therapists is to figure their own shit out.”
“Watch your mouth, Doc.”
She giggled from the other side and I smiled at the absolute sweetness of the sound.
“OK Pot, Kettle will watch her mouth.”
“So tell me your story?” I pressed.
“It’ll spook you.”
“I doubt that. Give me a try.”
“Here goes then. My dad is an alcoholic. An abusive alcoholic.”
I lowered my head to rest on my knees. I was spooked—only because that was the last thing I expected to hear.
“My mom left us when I was 11. She was his punching bag for as long as I could remember. Then she left. A teacher called Child Protective Services the first time she saw me with a black eye.”
My stomach churned. I stood, fists balled tight.
“The state of Oregon put me in foster care when I was 13 because of his drinking. He’d sober up long enough to complete a reintegration plan and I’d go back home. Then the cycle would restart. It’s the reason I have no real friends. I graduated from Hood River Valley High but moved there halfway through my senior year.”
The top of my head rested on the door, both hands lying flush with the wood. The urge to hold a woman, just to hold her, I’d never felt but I wanted badly to take her into my arms.
“Did he continue to hurt you?” I asked.
“He went through anger management classes, parenting classes, you name it. He wanted me back. I was an extension of my mom. But he didn’t know another way.”
“Did he continue to hurt you?” I repeated, anger exposed through my hard tone.
&nb
sp; “The older I got the easier it was to leave or run from him.”
“And today?”
“I still see him. Not real often.”
My hand rested on the doorknob.
“Why are we talking through the door, Doc?”
Silence hung over us until she finally answered, voice cracking. “Because it hurts…”
“Hurts?” My brows pinched. “What hurts?”
“Looking at you and not being able to touch you,” she confessed in a whisper.
Those words wrapped like a vise around my heart. I focused on my breathing, in and out. She had sixty seconds to say something more. To contradict her words. If she didn’t, I was going to bust down that door and kiss her, maybe even take her home and bed her down… My watch read 1:45 a.m. She remained silent. After a few minutes, I finally opened the door; surprised she hadn’t locked it, and then watched as she fell backward to the floor.
“Doc!” I yelled, trying to catch her, but I was too late. She’d crashed or passed out, with tears streaking her cheeks. FUCK! I should have opened the door sooner.
Chapter 10—Megan
Something was cramming against my skull and it stirred me from my sleep. One eye slowly came open, and immediately I brought my hand to my eye socket. I felt around for a dagger or a sword that might be jabbing me in the forehead. There was nothing there. My other eye opened and a wave of nausea hit me so I quickly sat upright.
My jeans were neatly folded over the chair in my bedroom. What the hell? I glanced down at my body under the covers. Still had my T-shirt on, no bra. Panties—check. I closed my eyes, trying to pull up even a flashback of the night’s events. Ruthie, Jerry and Lucas and I eating dinner. Going into Winks. Seeing Kieran. Girls all over him. Thanking him for all he did. The red-headed slut comment from some bitch. After that it got a little fuzzy. Kieran! I racked my throbbing head trying to recall how I’d gotten home. Kieran was at my office. My cell phone. Where was my phone?
Feeling like I was making my way through a moving funhouse, I padded down the hallway and turned into the kitchen, where I leave my purse.
“What are you doing here?” I asked, louder than intended, seeing Kieran standing against my kitchen counter with his feet crossed at his ankle. He held a cup of coffee.
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