Welcome to Sugartown

by Carmen Jenner

  I wrinkle my nose. “You have some serious issues. That’s gross.”

  “Gross, but true. Ana, he’s gorgeous and you need this.”

  “I do not need a date with Elijah Cade.”

  “Okay fine, you know what? I need a date with Elijah. Take off that outfit, I’m gonna trade places with you.” She grabs at my top and tries to lift it over my head but I bat her away.

  “Elijah’s my date, and I’m not having you steal him away like you did with Matt Roberts at Vanessa Carter’s party in year nine.”

  Holly rolls her eyes. “Are you ever going to get over that? I told you, I was standing in the hall and he just happened to fall onto my lips. It wasn’t my fault that the place was so crowded you could barely breathe without making out with someone. And I thought you said this wasn’t a date.”

  “It’s not. I mean, it is, but it’s not. I don’t know. He makes me all twitchy.”

  “Aww, you really like him.”

  It’s my turn to roll my eyes. “He’s all kinds of wrong for me, Holly.”

  “Who cares? No one’s asking you to marry him.”

  “He’s trouble. Exactly the kind of guy I should avoid.” I sigh. She’s looking at me like I just strung up her kitten as a Christmas ornament. “You know what this town is like. Within five minutes of walking into that pub tongues will be wagging and Sugartown will be rife with gossip. You know how antsy my dad gets with talk like that? The next time Constable Davis sees him throwing down, he’ll be locked up for weeks.”

  “Ana, this is exactly why you need a distraction like Elijah. Between Sam, your dad, the dragon and the shop you have too much stress in your life. If you don’t blow off a little tension, you’re gonna explode! And I am not cleaning up chunks of Ana from the shop floor.”

  “And you don’t think a date with Elijah’s just going to add to the stress?”

  “Not with those hands, he’s not. I wonder what kind of orgasm face he makes?” she asks and performs some kind of facial gymnastics. Either that, or she’s having a stroke. I’m kicking myself that my phone is in the other room, because moments like this should be documented for all time. “Ooh, oh, take a picture of it for me, will you?”

  “You are sick. You know that, right?”

  “Yep.” She leaps off the bed and scoops up a black top that I’d been considering. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a hot date with Zac Effron. He is so freaking hot post High School Musical. I wonder what kind of face Zac makes? Wear the white top, not the yellow, it makes your boobs look bigger and don’t forget to take pictures. I wanna see how far down those tattoos go.”

  After she leaves I apply a little make-up and consider pinning up my hair, but then I think about dealing with the helmet hair that’s bound to have me fussing all night and I decide to tie it in a loose knot at the back of my head until we pull up at the pub.

  When I’m done, I hear Elijah’s bike on the gravel drive outside. I tear through the house, scooping up an over the shoulder bag and my helmet from the kitchen table.

  I open the door and Elijah’s standing before me with his hand raised to knock. He gives me a startled smile. “Hi.”

  “Hi,” I reply.

  I start to pull the door shut behind me and he looks over my shoulder, “Your dad home?”

  “No. He and the dragon left already.”

  “Okay. You ready?”

  “Yeah. Let’s go.” I breeze past him.

  I knew my entrance with Elijah would cause a stir. Walking into the only pub in town with the newest resident sexy biker after you’ve been labelled the town whore is bound to make waves. The stares and silence that ensued were deafening. And thank god my dad was down at the river or Constable Davis would be making good on his threat.

  “We shouldn’t have come here,” I whisper to Elijah as he takes my hand in his and leads me to the privacy of the pool room—and, by privacy, I mean not-at-all-private, as there are at least two walls that open out to the main bar.

  “No one’s looking at you, Ana, they’re looking at me and I’m used to it. If I’m not worried, then you shouldn’t be either.” He takes out his wallet from his back pocket and lines four coins up along one end of the pool table, securing it as ours for the next good long while. “You know how to rack ’em?”

  I nod and bite down on my lip to avoid the smile that wants to spring forth. If there’s one thing my dad taught me to do, it’s play pool. I’ve been hustling money off of his friends, men three times my age, since I was ten-years-old.

  “Yeah, I think I’ve got it,” I mutter to Elijah as I take the cues down from the wall and set about racking up the balls.

  “What’s your poison, Ana?” The huskiness in his tone forces my gaze to lock onto his and heat to spread over my cheeks and between my thighs. And, as he stands there, challenging me with those melty eyes, I’m quite sure he already knows the answer to that question.

  Instead of making a complete fool out of myself I smile sweetly and say, “Vodka, lime and soda.”

  “Lightweight,” he whispers and the challenge is unmistakable. It’s true. I am a lightweight, but that’s not why I chose it. The truth is, I already feel so out of control around Elijah that I don’t really need the buzz of alcohol to impair my judgement anymore. “Vodka, lime and soda it is, but next time, I’m buying you a real drink.”

  “You planning on getting me drunk so you can take advantage of me, Cade?”

  “Ana.” He leans in close, sending a bolt of desire through me as his warm breath skates across my neck. “When I do finally get you naked beneath me—and trust me, it’s not a question of if, but when—I’m going to make sure you haven’t so much as looked at a drink. I want you to remember everything I do with my hands and my lips and my tongue.”

  My breath leaves me in a rush. I clutch the edge of the pool table behind me so tightly I can feel I’m losing circulation in my fingers. I’m having a hard time believing he’s just whispered something so intimate in the middle of a packed bar and an even harder time believing I could be so turned on by it.

  Elijah pulls away slowly, removing his hand that had somehow found its way onto my hip. How did I not know his hand was resting on my hip? His gaze is locked onto mine, clearly reading my every thought, because somewhere between him picking me up earlier this evening and him saying those words to me just now, the filter between us has vanished.

  He smiles, this playful lopsided grin that makes just one of his dimples pop out, and just when I think I’m about to melt into a puddle and let his hands fulfil all the promises he just made, he hands me a pool cue with a taunt of, “Your break, baby girl” before sauntering off toward the bar.

  I take aim at the white, imagining that cocky self-assured smile he gave me, and the table explodes with the thundering crack of scattering balls. Three find a home in the corner pocket. Elijah turns and cants his head to the side with a questioning look. I fold my arms in front of my chest, pushing my boobs up a little, marvelling at how easy it is to gain his undivided attention. I give my best attempt at a lopsided grin, like the one he shot me seconds ago. “You’re gonna regret playing me, Cade. I’m gonna eat you for breakfast.”

  “Keep looking like that, baby girl, and I’ll let you eat me for dessert, too.”

  My mouth drops open into a surprised little “O” and he chuckles and wanders off to get our drinks.

  Once Elijah returns we begin the first of many games, all of which I win—and I’m almost 100 per cent certain he’s not holding back on me. In fact, he’s seems to be trying his best to unnerve me with every shot I make, but two can play at that game and it isn’t long before he’s losing the battle of wills and wits.

  “So, where’s Mummy and Daddy tonight, Ana Belle?” Elijah asks as he breaks on our eighth game.

  “Out at another club meet, and please tell me you didn’t just call the dragon lady my mother?”

  His lips tip up into a crooked smile that forces just one of his dimples to pop out
. “I don’t know, I can see a little bit of a family resemblance there.”

  “I will hurt you, Cade.” I lean over the table and take my next shot. My boobs are spilling out of my top and I take a moment to readjust before I have a complete wardrobe malfunction—à la Tara Reid. When I glance up, I find Elijah eyeing me like prey. His gaze clouds over with lust, but there’s something darker hiding there, too. I haven’t a clue what it is, but it makes me want to run and throw myself at his mercy, all at once.

  “I don’t doubt that for a second, baby girl.”

  I sink another ball into the side pocket and try to pretend he doesn’t unnerve me. “What about you? Did you leave a string of heartbroken girlfriends back in … where did you say you were from again?”

  “Sydney.”

  Sydney. Wow. That only narrows it down to around 12,000 km². Give or take.

  Elijah takes aim at a ball that’s perfectly aligned to slide into the pocket, but he slams the cue against it with a loud crack. It ricochets off the cushion and sinks two of my balls as it slips into the pocket. “Nope. Don’t do girlfriends.”

  “Oh,” I mutter, feeling disappointment surge through me.

  He’s not exactly forthcoming.

  A commotion from the pub’s entrance makes me miss my next shot. Elijah glances between me and the group of guys that just walked in. I don’t have to look to know that Scott and his posse of tools just arrived, and that they’re headed straight for us.

  One of the reasons I was so anxious about coming here is because I know that this is where he and his collection of dickhead friends usually hang out on a Friday night. Between our awkward arrival and having so much fun whooping Elijah’s bum, I guess I forgot to be concerned.

  I feel Elijah watching me and, the closer Scott’s group drifts, the more anxious I get. He leans in and his warm breath skates the shell of my ear, sending a shiver down my spine. “Take the shot again, Ana, and this time forget about the room around you.”

  I nod, lean over and sink my last ball before the eight. Just as I’m raising myself up off the table I see a hand place a coin against the top rail. By now, our previous coins have vanished, eaten by the table in our pursuit of beating one another.

  I look up into pale blue eyes. Scott winks at me, already guessing correctly that I’m the one winning this game, meaning his coin ensures he gets to play me next. It wouldn’t matter, I’ve beaten him every time the two of us have ever played, but he’s doing it to mess with my head—and, unfortunately, it’s working.

  “Hey, Blondie.” Scott uses his stupid pet name for me, the one I always hated. His eyes slide over me from head to toe and I have to supress the urge to shudder. “Haven’t seen you in a while.”

  “No, you haven’t,” I reply harshly. I don’t add the part I’m really thinking, though. Not since the night I turned you down and you called me a cock-blocker and dumped me for a girl who would “put out”, then spent the last few weeks of our final year of school telling everyone I was a slut who banged you and three of your friends.

  I feel Elijah behind me. He slips his arm around my waist and playfully whispers in my ear, just loud enough for the room to hear, “You’re making me crazy in this outfit, baby.” Then he stops nuzzling my neck and nods his head in Scott’s direction. “Who’s this?”

  I don’t know who’s more stunned, Scott or me?

  Still, I’m not stupid enough to not take the boon Elijah is offering. The fact that he’s deliberately marking his territory by wrapping me in his arms and calling me baby in front of a boy I trusted who broke my heart, even if it is mostly for show, sends a thrill through me, and I can’t help but snuggle into him when I say, “Oh, no one. Just some guys I knew in school.”

  Scott’s eyes narrow and he thrusts his hand out in front of Elijah, who has no choice but to step away from me if he wants to shake it. “Scott Turner.”

  Elijah shakes but doesn’t offer his name.

  “Nice ink man,” Scott says in a voice like he thinks it’s anything but. He raises his brow and adds, “Did you get those in Juvie?”

  Elijah smiles, “A few of them, yeah.”

  Scott smiles too, only it’s smug, like he was just trying to prove a point and is delighted to be right. Elijah cocks his head to the side and looks thoughtful for a moment before pointing to the tattoo that is playing peekaboo with his shirt collar. “Though this one was done in a maximum security joint just outside of Sydney.”

  Scott baulks a little. His friends, who’d been whispering and muttering oooohs and ahhhhs like the childish morons they are all fall silent. I glance at Elijah, wondering if that’s true. It can’t be. Though I guess it wouldn’t be the first time my dad gave an ex-con a job. True or not, I decide that right now, I don’t care. I’m just so thankful for Elijah’s presence and the fact that he’s not fazed by an idiot like Scott.

  “’Scuse us a sec, boys.” Elijah takes my hand and leads me into the hall, which is kind of pointless, considering there’s a direct line of sight from the poolroom to where we’re standing. Dissatisfied with the scene he’s making by dragging me away he pens me in against the wall. His face is oddly serious when he asks, “Goldilocks in there, did he screw you over?”

  I nod, afraid he’s going to lose interest once I give him that clarification, and I’m thanking my lucky stars that Scott and his friends didn’t mention anything else about me being the town bike.

  “You want me to beat him up?”

  I laugh. “No Elijah, I don’t want you to get arrested for beating up some moron from my past.”

  “You wanna make him so fucking jealous he can’t see straight?” he asks in all seriousness. It’s absurd. I shouldn’t give a crap about what Scott and his brainless goons think of me, and yet the idea of shoving someone as hot—and yeah, okay, pretty damn scary looking—as Elijah under his nose sends a thrill through me. I find myself nodding, though the way Elijah’s smiling at me makes me realise that I’ve no idea what I just agreed to.

  “Then kiss me.”

  “What? How do you even know he’s looking?”

  “You, in this outfit? Trust me, he’s looking.”

  “What’s wrong with this outfit?” I say, but the words peter off with the way he’s looking at me. I know that look. That’s the way he looks at my pies when he comes in for lunch, like he hasn’t had a meal in days. I want to be the meal.

  He leans in, so close I can feel his warm breath brush my lips. “You gotta kiss me back.”

  “Huh?”

  “I’m going to kiss you now and, despite the fact that you don’t like me, if you wanna make this dickhead jealous, you gotta kiss me with all you got.”

  I can smell the whisky on his breath. I haven’t touched whisky since I was seventeen and got so sick I just narrowly escaped having my stomach pumped. I swore I would never touch the stuff again, and even the smell usually has me dry reaching, but suddenly I’m finding it a very welcome scent, and the fact that I’m hyperventilating has nothing to do with alcohol of any kind.

  “I never said I didn’t like you. In fact, I don’t know anything about you.”

  “Ana?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Shut up,” he says, and mashes his lips to mine. His mouth is hot on mine, and at first, it’s awkward. I have no idea if I’m kissing Elijah because I want to make Scott mad with jealousy or if I’m kissing him simply because I want to. He pulls back to study my face. I try to rein in my bemused expression, but frankly, I don’t think I’m fooling anyone. I probably look like a stunned mullet. Elijah looks kind of intense. Intense and a little angry.

  “That’s all you got? Seriously? Are you even trying to make him jealous? ‘Cause I gotta say, I think your method sucks.” I pull his face back to mine and take him with my mouth. I force my tongue inside while his eyes are still on me. He’s surprised, but when I clasp my hands behind his neck and push myself against him, his arm snakes around my back, his fingers tangle in my hair and he kisses me so hard and
deep we’re practically consuming each other.

  Elijah walks us back a step, until I’m pushed up against the wall. He’s found his way between my thighs and the pressure of his erection against my pubic bone elicits a moan from me. “You wanna get outta here?”

  “Okay.”

  He takes my hand and leads me past the gawking patrons, past Scott and his idiotic friends, past the smiling publican, Dave, who’s sure to give my dad a full report tomorrow, and out into the balmy summer air.

  He holds out a hand for the keys, that I confiscated earlier in the night. “I’m driving.”

  “Where are we going?”

  “For a ride.” He watches as I fumble with the buckle on my chinstrap, hooks his finger in it and pulls me closer, kissing me as greedily as he did inside.

  “I don’t think they’re watching out here,” I say when we come up for air.

  “That wasn’t for their benefit. It was for mine.”

  I bite down on my lip to keep the smile from busting out and making me feel like a complete mental case. Elijah runs his thumb over my lip, snagging it out from under my teeth and slipping his calloused thumb inside my mouth. My tongue darts out on its own, grazes the rough edges, tasting whiskey and leather. He releases a groan and smiles down at me, but it’s predatory and not all sweet enough for his dimples to pop out.

  He takes a few steps back toward his bike and then straddles it, his gaze never once leaving mine. “You have a curfew?”

  “I’m nineteen, Elijah. Of course I don’t have a curfew.”

  “Your dad’s kind of a badass. I wanna make sure he’s not going to turn my balls into pumpkins if I don’t have you home before midnight.”

  I slip onto the bike behind him, wrap my arms around his waist and hold on—and yeah, I may have trailed my fingers around a little slower and softer than was necessary. He flinches a little, his shoulders tensing, and the hard muscles of his stomach bunching beneath my fingers before he settles into the seat and my arms.

  “Besides, he scares the shit out of me,” Elijah adds.