by Paige North
She gasps and rubs her chest. “Oh, that’s hot going down.”
“Pretty sure it’s suppose to be,” I lob right back.
She laughs, and her whole face lights up. The sudden shift in seeing her like this makes my pulse throb. Holy fuck, did I say earlier that she’s gorgeous? She’s ethereal when she’s smiling. “You make it good,” she says, and her compliment warms my chest in a way I find slightly disconcerting.
“What’s your name, sweetheart?” I find myself asking.
“Aubrey.” The word is a small breath, and she licks those sexy lips again.
“I’m Smith. Welcome to Rock Bridge.”
Her eyes widen in mock surprise. “That was actually polite, Smith. I hope you’re not losing your surly demeanor. I’ve so come to enjoy our encounters and I’d hate for you to change just for me.”
The half grin that had been working its way across my face grows bigger. Aubrey is…refreshing. She’s definitely flirting with me, that much is clear. But I like that she’s busting my balls too. Not afraid to throw it right back at me.
This one’s full of surprises, I decide.
“You ready for your next shot?” I lean toward her and stare into her eyes. Fuck, her gaze is so intense as she looks back at me with increasing sexual interest, like she has no filter at all. I can see everything on her face, every nuanced emotion. How the hell has she made it through life exuding this level of innocence, of naivety, and not been utterly broken yet?
I can almost smell her heat; the thought of how expressive she probably would be in bed makes me bite back a groan. I’m sliding into dangerous territory here—this girl is so not for me. I’d do well to remember that before I get caught up in her.
She nods. “What’s our drink of choice?”
“Jameson.”
“Whiskey.” Aubrey gives a nervous laugh. “I…really haven’t had a lot of that.”
“Seems like a good time to try something new,” I tell her, knowing my words are loaded and that I shouldn’t be saying it.
“Smith!” Maria bellows. “My new friend here wants to buy me a drink.” There’s a sharpness in her voice that I don’t quite care for. Clearly she wants me to feel jealous over some other guy trying to bang her.
I walk over to them, flinging a dishtowel over my shoulder. I keep my face expressionless; best to start cooling shit with Maria so she doesn’t think it’s ever going to be more than casual hook-ups. I give the guy a nod. “She likes rum and Coke, if you’re trying to get anywhere with her.”
Maria gives a little shocked gasp and blinks. She huffs and swivels to the guy, plastering a smile on her face. “That’s what I used to drink. Now I really like Jim Beam and ginger ale.”
I can’t help but laugh a little—it’s what the guy is drinking. Maria gets over shit fast, I’ll give her that. I mix one up for her and slide it to her, and the guy hands me a few bills. Then Sam is ready for a refill, so I pour him another beer.
“Thanks, man,” he slurs. His mussed brown hair is flopped over his brow, and he squints at his watch, trying to read the time, moving it closer and further away.
“It’s ten thirty-five,” I tell him. Sam hasn’t told me much of his story—unlike most drunks, he doesn’t treat the bar like a personal confessional. But I can tell he’s avoiding going home. Of course I wonder why, but I’ll never pry. The man has a right to his privacy; in fact, most of our “clientele” frequent Outlaws because no one gives a fuck what you’re doing. We all just mind our own here.
Sam nods, and I sidle back to Aubrey. She’s quietly watching me, taking in everything going on.
“So.” She clears her throat, and the pink on her cheeks deepen. “Um, we’re doing a shot of Jameson?” She digs in her purse.
“This one’s on me,” I say, waving her off. With deft, practiced moves, I pour the shots and give her one.
Her thankful smile makes something in my chest tighten. How is it she can look so fucking appreciative over someone buying her a shot? The more I’m around her, the less I think she’s a princess. No, she doesn’t have that air of easy money about her. That demeanor that says she naturally expects to get things handed to her. This girl is different than that sort of bullshit.
“What should we toast to?” she asks me in that sweet tone that simultaneously makes me want to grab the back of her head and kiss her, but also run the fuck away.
This girl feels dangerous to me in all the worst ways.
“Let’s toast to more blowjobs,” I say in a distancing tone, then down the shot without looking at her. I hear her clink the glass on the counter, and I take it and walk off, rinsing them out and putting them back.
My brother Jax slides behind me and slugs me in the shoulder. “Hey, you almost look fucking happy for once in your life. What gives?”
“Shut up and go pour something,” I tell him.
He pauses and eyes Aubrey. “Oh, she’s back. Mmmm, she’s looking mighty nice tonight.”
I shoot him a glare. “No. Just no.”
Jax quirks a brow at me and says in an overly innocent tone, “I’m merely being friendly with the customers. And you left her without a drink. Tsk-tsk. That’s lost money, isn’t that what you’re always telling me?” Jax smirks; he knows how to push my buttons better than anyone else. “I’m going to go help her, because she looks like a little lost lamb in a den of wolves.”
“More like an angel in a den of demons,” I mutter. Maybe it’s better if Jax serves her though. I’m finding her too charming anyway.
Jax goes over to her, and within two minutes, she’s giving that sparkling laugh again, the one that lights up everything around her. And I kind of hate that Jax is the one making her laugh this time. Because a stupid part of me wants it aimed all at me.
My gaze is drawn over to the pool table, where I see a couple of guys standing in front of each other, posturing with each other, trying to be overly macho. I give a heavy sigh and head over there to talk them down before shit explodes.
The joys of co-owning a bar—guys get drunk and fucking stupid, and they start having dick-measuring contests. Jax, my middle brother, and Asher, our youngest brother, leave most of the business operations to me, so I have to admit, the bar feels more like “mine” than “ours.”
I walk up to the two men. “Is there a problem? If so, take it the fuck outside.” I don’t care if people are rowdy in here. I just don’t want them breaking my shit. It costs money to replace tables and glasses, and we’re not quite flush with cash.
One of the guys, a regular at Outlaws named Shep, huffs. “No problem, except that this guy is a total pussy.”
“Your mom didn’t think I was a pussy last night when I was banging the fuck out of her,” the guy tosses back.
Shep lunges toward him, and I hold him back and roll my eyes. “Grow up and stop being idiots. Come on.” I grip their shoulders and make them look at me. “Chill the fuck out and have a beer.”
They both give reluctant nods and separate, Shep with his tall and skinny girlfriend, the other guy by himself. Good. I don’t have time to deal with this horseshit. Too much on my mind.
Like how my body keeps wanting to turn back toward Aubrey and see what she’s doing. To see those sexy-as-hell legs crossed, with a good portion of her thigh exposed…
Without giving in to the urge, I head down the dim hallway and go out back. The air is thick and muggy tonight, and my skin is instantly slicked with sweat. My hand reaches for my back jeans pocket before I remember my cigarettes aren’t in there. Brilliant idea I had, giving up smoking a couple of months ago.
But Aunt Roselyn wouldn’t stop hounding me about it until I caved just to shut her up.
I rub the nicotine patch on my upper arm, wishing I could roll it up and smoke it, when the door creaks open and Aubrey walks through. She pauses, startled.
“Oh, sorry,” she says shyly. “Is this area employees only?”
Fuck. I sigh. “No, you’re fine. I’m going back inside.”<
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Aubrey takes a few tentative steps up to me. There’s a softness in her eyes, the haze of alcohol, and I can smell its delicate flavor on her breath. “Um, did I do something to offend you? I mean, at first it seemed like you hated me, and then like you didn’t, and now it feels like it again—”
“I don’t hate you. I don’t even know you.” I keep my voice flat, willing myself to not respond to her body language, her tone. The way she’s leaning toward me, her lips parted, her eyes wide, her breath coming in small pants…she wants me.
And fuck if my body doesn’t instantly respond. My cock jumps to attention, slamming against my zipper. My pulse is a throb in my limbs, and I suck in a deep breath.
“I just…” Her lips thin and she glances at the ground. “It’s… I don’t know how to feel around you. I think you like me and then you act weird. It’s throwing me off.”
Her honesty startles me, silences me. I’ve never met someone as open and blunt as she is. The girl holds nothing back. And it’s magnetic. I can tell where I stand with her, how she feels about me—it’s all over her face, in her body language, pouring through her tone.
She’s attracted to me and struggling over it.
Before I realize what’s happening, I cup the back of her head and tug her to me. The moment my lips press against her, I release a sigh that feels like it’s been in my chest for years, and then I part her lips with my tongue.
She opens to me, eager, pliant, submissive. Fuck, fuck, fuck.
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