Happy Hour

by Piper Rayne

  I have a feeling that man will forever keep me surprised.

  Trusting Roarke has been easy in the few short weeks we’ve been together and I know he’d never give me a reference he wasn’t more than one hundred percent sure would deliver, so I pick up my cell phone and dial the number he sent me.

  At six on the dot, I walk into Torrio’s and I’m not surprised to find Roarke there already waiting. His gaze stays on me the entire journey to my usual table and I’m not embarrassed to admit that yes, I do add a little extra flare to my hips, just for viewing pleasure.

  “Just so you know, this table is mine,” I say.

  There aren’t assigned tables at Torrio’s, but me and the girls always sit at this same one.

  “You’re not going to share with your boyfriend?” he asks, putting on a lost puppy dog expression.

  I slide into the opposite side of the circular booth, but he slides closer to the middle, patting the space right next to him.

  “Do I have to beg for a hello kiss?” he asks as though I’d have a choice. Not that I’m about to deny a lip-tingling kiss from him.

  “Boyfriend?” I ask once we part and a Vesper is placed in front of me by the waiter. “Thanks, Lincoln.”

  “I’m not sure how I feel about Linc knowing your drink order and not me.” His raised eyebrows pull a giggle from me.

  “Jealous much?” I tease.

  “When it comes to you, green is my color.” He tips his drink to his lips.

  Maybe alarms should be setting off in my mind, but I love the fact that he’d be jealous of another man. God knows, Todd never was. Still, the strong independent woman inside of me says I don’t want some caveman who pounds his fist to anyone who gets within a mile radius. But the lovesick teenage girl who’s still there says a little jealousy is a compliment.

  “Nothing to be jealous about, I would never do that to someone.” I push back the crippling lack of self-esteem that suffocated me when I found out about Todd’s cheating.

  “It’s not you I’m worried about. I know what happens in a guy’s mind. The fact is that I envisioned you naked when you sat across from me for the first time in that discovery meeting.” He leans closer not finishing his sentence. “It didn’t do the reality justice.”

  His fingers skim along my thigh and I press into his touch, always craving more.

  “I thought you were going to feed me?” I ask, wanting to speed this night along so we can get back to either one of our apartments.

  “After we finish our drinks. Tell me about your day. Did you call Jett?” He continues to sip his scotch neat and I bring the Vesper to my lips, the citrus flavor bursting on my taste buds.

  I nod but move us to another topic that’s peaked my interest. “We could’ve gone anywhere, why here?” I have a feeling he’s a little more caveman than I originally thought.

  I’ve noticed a few men’s gazes cast over to our table, spurring hushed whispers between them.

  He chuckles, sipping his drink again. “Can I get anything by you?”

  “Is this what I think this is?” I ask again wanting a straight answer. I’m not even sure how I feel about the fact he brought me here as a trophy to parade around.

  “You spend a lot of time here, no?” he asks, finishing the last vestiges of scotch in his glass.

  “Yes.”

  “Come here with your girlfriends?”

  I nod, sipping my drink.

  “Think of it as saving you the uncomfortableness of having to tell an eager male that you’re now taken.” He slides his now empty glass away from him.

  Again that hear-me-roar woman and the teenage girl fight a few rounds in my head.

  “I’m seeing this more as you staking your claim,” I say.

  His lips turn up into his cocky grin. “Is that a bad thing?”

  “It means you’re using me as a status symbol or a belonging of yours. I am my own person.” I push the Vesper away from me and slide out of the booth.

  “Hannah?” he asks, sounding confused.

  Keeping up appearances so as to not to give this group more gossip than they already have, I set my gaze on him. “I am not your piece on the side. I am not yours to own, Roarke. I am your…girlfriend. I have my own mind. I make my own decisions. I have my own life. I’m not the shiny fire hydrant at the end of the block you piss around to warn others off.”

  I turn on my heels heading for the door, smiling politely at the fellow patrons who had their attention set on us the entire time.

  “Good night, Sam.” I nod, and he opens the door for me.

  I stroll down the alley until a hand wraps around my wrist and whips me around, pressing my back to the brick wall.

  Roarke steps closer and his steady gaze is fixed to mine, his chest is rising and falling in rapid succession. “You have no idea, do you?” he asks, his tone curt and contrite.

  “I don’t have time for his.” I step to the side, but his hand lands on my hip, stopping me.

  “Ms. Crowley.” Sam’s booming voice echoes down the alley.

  Roarke’s eyes don’t move from mine.

  “I’m good, Sam. Thank you.”

  “Are you sure?” he asks.

  “Fucking Christ,” Roarke mumbles.

  “I’m sure.” I lift my voice so he knows this might be a lover’s quarrel, but Roarke would never hurt me. Something inside of me says that anyway. I know Sam’s eyes will be locked on the security cameras in case I’m wrong.

  “Okay,” he says reluctantly and the door shuts and my attention shifts back to Roarke.

  “Do you have any idea how many men in that room want you?” he asks. “ How they ogle you? Make remarks about your tight ass or your perky tits? I’ve already made threats to half of them already. I’m sorry Hannah, I know you are your own woman and I love that quality of yours, but those men in there will know from today on that you are mine. Am I claiming you? Hell yes, I am.”

  My chest heaves and I know I should push him away. Shove him to the side and run.

  “I’m not going to apologize for it.” I feel like he’s testing me.

  “I don’t belong to anyone,” I bite out.

  He lowers his head, his lips millimeters from mine. “I’m an equal opportunity guy. Would it help if you can claim me too?”

  I close my eyes and his lips press to mine and then disappear.

  “I’ve been yours for an entire year,” he murmurs.

  I wind my hands around his neck, pulling him into me, murmuring between kisses. “I never knew you were so soft.” I grin.

  His hands slide down and grip my ass, thrusting me into his pelvis. “Does this feel soft to you?”

  “Take me home,” I say.

  His lips are hard and firm as they land on mine again. My stomach rumbles and the vibration of his laugh ripples through his chest. “I need to feed you first.”

  A phone rings and he steps back from me, leaving my body chilled even though the humidity in the ninety-degree heat should make me sweat.

  “I have to get this. Hold on.” He steps away, lowering his voice when he answers. A horn honks and then a siren goes off. By the time the siren fades into the background, he’s tucking his phone back into his jacket.

  “Everything okay?” I ask as he approaches me.

  His jaw is tight, but he forces a smile onto his face that does nothing to convince me it’s sincere.

  “Fine. Just something I forgot to handle earlier.”

  His hand slides into mine and he leads me down the alley. He’ll always have a lot of work related issues and with the whole attorney-client privilege I should get used to not knowing everything when it comes to him.

  “So we cleared that up, right?” I ask because I think I may have lost my point somewhere between our kiss and his erection.

  “Yeah, we own one another.” His hand flies in the air to wave down a cab.

  “I have a feeling that this won’t be our last fight about this topic.”

  A cab pulls
up to the curb and he opens the door, so I can slide in. His large body presses to mine immediately and he rambles an address to the driver.

  “Let’s just enjoy tonight.”

  His hand lands on my thigh, his fingers dipping between my legs and the topic evaporates from my mind, replaced only with lust.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Roarke: Meet me at 5491 S. Shore Drive. Bring Lucy.

  I read the text one more time as Lucy and I step out of the car. She pulls on her leash and I barely shut the door before I’m halfway through a tunnel.

  “Slow down girl.” I try to show her the authority the dog trainer told me to, but I’m the worst dog owner ever or she’s the most stubborn dog ever.

  Once we’re out of the tunnel, Lake Michigan and a large lawn of grass fill my vision. There’s families, couples, dogs, and kids enjoying a nice Saturday. My eyes scan all the faces, trying to see why Roarke would have sent me to this.

  Then I step farther into the lush green carpet of grass and my eyes find Roarke.

  Usually my heart flips when I see him. My entire body responds with flutters and excitement boiling inside of me until I think I might burst. It’s the best feeling and I hope it never vanishes if we stay together for a long time.

  Today none of those things happen because he’s standing at the edge of the lake with a woman. A blonde who’s smiling up at him like he’s her savior and not in a brotherly type way. She’s all teeth, tits and toes out. She’s wearing a short mini skirt with a tight tank top, the strings of a bikini peeking out and wrapped around her neck. She’s also much younger than me.

  I watch them for a moment, and I know why I’m doing it. Back before I’d been burned, I would have stalked up to them, slid my hand through his arm, and claimed him just like he did me at Torrio’s the other night.

  But this is after and so I keep my distance, investigating and scrutinizing every smile, every shifting of weight and every look they give one another.

  Roarke’s hands stay tucked in his shorts. He never leans forward toward her, but she steps closer with every word. With his back to me, I can’t see his face, but damn I wish I could when she grabs the hem of her shirt, stripping it off her body to reveal a large pair of tits along with a smooth and taut stomach. Tucking her tank top in the back of her shorts she uses the excuse to push out her tits in his direction.

  The war inside of me continues. Do I want him to take the bait just to prove my notion that all men cheat?

  Lucy pulls and the leash slips from my grasp.

  “Shit!”

  Lucy barrels through the picnic goers and I quickly make chase.

  “Mommy, that lady swore,” one little girl tattles as I race by.

  I glance at the mom with apologetic eyes as I run by. “I’m sorry!”

  I’m sorry seems to be a chorus as I weave around families trying to enjoy a nice summer afternoon without a dog trampling them.

  “Lucy!” I scold, but she completely ignores me, her attention set on something, her feet galloping like a damn horse.

  Her tail wags and she jumps off a poor boy’s back, skidding to a stop right on the edge of the grass and the sidewalk along the lake.

  “Lucy!” I step on her leash until my hands can wrap it around my wrist twice. “I’m so sorry.” I apologize and glance up, finally seeing what’s in front of me.

  Roarke.

  His face pales, but without missing a beat, he bends at his knees and pets Lucy.

  “Lucy girl. Why do you give your mom such a hard time?” He smiles looking over her to me.

  I’m sure my face is beet red from the running and the embarrassment of having ruined people’s picnics.

  “You asked me to bring her why?” My tone is that of an ungrateful thirteen-year-old who was asked to watch her baby brother.

  “It’s a gorgeous day and she needs to get out of that condo.” Roarke leans over my out-of-its-mind dog, placing a chaste kiss on my lips. “This is Aspen.” He holds his hand out to the pretty young girl who was flirting with him.

  As usual, I plaster on my wonderful to meet you smile and extend my hand. Her small dainty hand slides into mine for the briefest of seconds before her vision shifts back to Roarke. “Nice to meet you,” I say.

  “Aspen, this is Hannah, my girlfriend.”

  Roarke might miss the slight fall of her smile, but he’s not a woman. A woman who is scrutinizing this entire situation.

  “Oh,” she says. “I didn’t know.”

  “And you two know each other how?” My finger wavers between the two.

  Roarke runs his fingers through his hair. A telltale sign that it’s a question he’s unsure how to answer and for a second I regret asking. Until the independent woman stands strong inside of me and says it is my business.

  “Well…” Aspen looks to Roarke for an answer.

  “We’re friends. I helped her out once.”

  Helped her out with an orgasm, I’m sure.

  Then it dawns on me. I guess she could be a client and under the client-lawyer confidentiality agreement and Roarke might not be able to tell me much more than what he said.

  “That’s nice. How he always helps everyone out.”

  Even I realize how stupid my comment is, but this is uncomfortable and I have a dog that won’t stop pulling on her leash every damn time a bird flies overhead, which is all the time down by the lake.

  “Yeah, he’s like a male Mother Teresa,” Aspen says, humor lighting her crystal blue eyes.

  Roarke smiles tightly.

  “Well, have a great day, Aspen. Perfect day for a run.”

  He looks up at the sky and grabs a backpack leaning against the rock, then swings it over his shoulder and untangles the leash from my hands.

  “Great running into you,” she says. “You know how to find me if ever…” Her gaze falls to me and her words trail off. “Nice to meet you, Hannah.”

  She sets off in a light jog down the sidewalk. Roarke starts walking in the opposite direction and I chance a look over my shoulder, finding her running backward staring at us. She quickly spins around when she spots me and disappears between the other runners and bikers on the path.

  “She’s cute.” My tone suggests there’s something more than he’s already mentioned.

  His arm weighs heavy over my shoulders and he pulls me into his side. “You already claimed me, remember?” When my only response is an evil eye, he waggles his eyebrows. “I like you jealous. I’ll show you tonight how much you don’t need to be though.”

  The usual electric bolt hits its intended target between my legs and I decide to try not to let the mystery girl ruin our day.

  “So, what are your plans?” I ask.

  His arm slides off my shoulders, and he captures my hand. “You want to know what I have planned for tonight or for right now?”

  I hip check him. “Now, Casanova.”

  He chuckles, stopping us mid-path and a few people grumble having to walk around either side of us. His lips capture mine and I forget about all the people upset about being disrupted and lose myself in his masterful tongue that does crazy things to my sanity.

  Drawing our kiss to a close, his hands don’t leave my hips and his forehead falls to mine. “You are the only woman I’m seeing.”

  “I never asked.”

  “The question was implied and I want you to always remember that. I’m not that type of man.”

  He waits until I nod that I heard him, and my heart that’s already way too invested pleads desperately to believe him. Unfortunately, Roarke will suffer the consequences from the man who fell in line before him. I remember Todd telling me something similar right after I caught him in a lie about working late. He went on and on about how much he loved me and asked me questions like what kind of an idiot would he be if he cheated on me? I’m regretful now that I believed him, but Roarke has given me no reason to think anything is amiss. One weird phone call and a run in at a park where he asked me to meet him aren’t rea
sons to assume I’m not the only woman in his life.

  “Come on. The wine is probably losing its chill,” he says.

  He takes my hand and we fall in line after an eager Lucy toward a patch of grass.

  For the rest of the afternoon, Roarke feeds me watermelon with cheese and crackers while I sip an expensive glass of Pinot Grigio. We lay on a plaid blanket that to my surprise doesn’t have square indents that would imply he just took it out of the package this morning. Our shoes are off and we gaze out at the Lake.

  “What a beautiful day,” I say, eyeing Lucy playing with a few kids from the multi-family cookout a few feet away. She’s laying on the ground letting them pet her belly.

  “It’s only beautiful because you’re here with me.” Roarke’s hip meets mine, his arm behind my back and his lips on my bare shoulder.

  “You and your lines. You know they usually say that a man who has so many lines is not truthful.”

  I look at the boats out on the water that are spurring the waves to crash a little higher over the cement ledge.

  “Who says that?” He continues to kiss my shoulder, his hand running up to my cheek. Turning me to face him, his lips land on mine for a second. “I only say what I feel. There’s no other agenda on my part.” He kisses me one more time, but with families nearby he keeps our affection PG.

  I dig through the watermelon, searching for a piece without the frail white seeds.

  “Besides,” he says, “I’ve already gotten you into bed. What would be the point of sweet talking you now?”

  My hands drop, and I tilt my head with a ‘you didn’t’ expression. He chuckles and I pick up a cracker and throw it at his face.

  “Maybe I should sleep at my own house tonight.” Both my eyebrows raise.

  “You’re only hurting yourself if you do.” He holds a piece of watermelon in front of my lips, one without the white seeds. A perfectly ripe piece from the outside layer, red and juicy just like I love it.

  “You think so?” I ask.

  He runs the sweet fruit along my lips.