Tangled: Emerson Falls, Book 1

by Harlow James

  Jesus, why do men always get the best lips? The ones that women pay good money for? I wonder what he can do with that mouth…

  “Yes, and they’re very protective of me. I don’t know if you have what it takes to take them on too,” I shrug as the waitress sets down my beer. “Thank you,” I kindly say in her direction before turning my daggered eyes back to the man who intrigues me more than he should.

  “Are we about to fight? Because I really don’t want to get my ass kicked by four women. That wouldn’t bode well for my reputation, Red,” he smirks as he calls me by a nickname I’ve heard one-to-many times.

  “And what reputation is that?”

  “How about we save that for the get-to-know-you portion of the evening?” He questions just as Perry, Clara, and Amy come staggering back to the table.

  “I didn’t realize we were going to get to know each other…”

  He chuckles. “Oh, I think we’re about to get to know each other very well.”

  Chapter 5

  Kane

  “Well, if it isn’t the greatest history teacher of all time!” Tony greets me with my signature IPA as I hoist myself onto my regular stool at the bar.

  “You always say that Tony, but for all you know I could be the worst teacher on the face of the planet,” I reply before quenching my thirst with that first sip of my beer.

  “I seriously doubt that, Kane. I may not have seen you in action, but I know how much you love your job. And any teacher that loves that job has to be doing something right.”

  “Those kids might drive me nuts, but when I see the passion come alive, it’s all worth it,” I shrug. “And I have a project they’re starting on Monday that I hope will spike their interest. Getting teenagers excited about studying history is a tough job.”

  Tony chuckles as he wipes down the counter in front of him, slinging the bar towel over his shoulder when he finishes. “I can only imagine. Any more nightmares?” He lowers his voice and flicks his eyes up to meet mine in a concerning manner.

  I shake my head while downing more of my beer. “Not lately.”

  “Good,” he grunts. “Just know they’ll always pop up when you least expect them to.”

  I nod, choosing not to continue our conversation on that topic. Even though Tony understands what time overseas can do to a man, it’s not something I like discussing in public, let alone a crowded bar on a Friday evening.

  “The place is packed tonight, Tony,” I say before spinning around to take in the crowd. Usually this many people would deter me from staying too long, but as my eyes move around the room, they pause on the deep red hair cascading down the back of a woman that I can only describe as mesmerizing.

  Her back is to me of course, but her curves are on full display, cinching into a tiny waist before continuing down to an ass only a true man can appreciate. Dark blue jeans hug her legs and a simple black tank clenches her torso as she sways to the music all alone at her table.

  “Yeah, plenty of people to talk to. You should go mingle.” Tony nudges my shoulder from over the bar, pushing me off balance so I slide off my stool. Luckily, I land on my feet before I make a fool out of myself, turning around sharply to glare at him.

  “Yeah, not interested,” I grunt before fixing myself back on my seat, ignoring the inkling in my brain to turn around and look for the redhead again.

  “You sure? ‘Cause it seems to me you found something, or should I say, someone, that sparked your interest there for a minute.”

  “Yeah, well, women are trouble. And my life has been trouble-free for a while now, Tony. No sense in changing that.”

  “Her friends will be back soon. Go talk to her. That woman doesn’t look like trouble. That woman looks like fun. Any woman who can move her body like that knows how to let loose. Lord knows you could use some fun, Kane.”

  I veer up at him with a glare. “I have fun,” I say, trying not only to convince Tony but also myself of that fact.

  Tony huffs. “Sure, okay. Name the last time you did something fun?” He challenges me, crossing his arms over his chest, resting on his gut.

  I take a minute to study him, his dark grey beard and matching hair slicked back on his head. His eyes framed by hard-earned wrinkles zero in on me like a father who’s caught his son in a lie. Only I have a dad, but my dad doesn’t scare me as much as Tony does.

  I sigh. “Fine. You’re right. I can’t remember the last time I ‘had fun’,” I throw up quotations around the last two words, mocking him with a roll of my eyes. Normally, I would answer with riding my motorcycle—but after Natasha, I haven’t even had the urge to do that.

  Twisting around to glance in her direction again, I notice the woman moving even more suggestively now, igniting an interest in me even deeper than before.

  As I stand, I grab my beer and turn back around to acknowledge Tony. “Here’s to some fun.” I raise my glass in my hand in his direction before heading towards the redhead. What the hell… what have I got to lose?

  Reaching her table, I stand behind her and watch her for a moment, contemplating my opening line, and then I opt for teasing her a bit. I want to see just how fiery this woman can be.

  “You know people can see you, right?”

  Her hips abruptly stop and her shoulders tense as she turns around and shoots me a glare that only a pissed-off woman can perfect.

  But when I see her face for the first time, I realize that this girl is more than just fun. She’s exactly what I thought she’d be in the first place.

  Trouble.

  The deep burgundy of her hair shimmers in the light from the lamps above us as it frames her face. Forrest colored eyes narrow back at me above pursed lips, so full and plump that I wonder what they’d feel like against mine. Her chest is just as curvy as her body, showing a classy amount of cleavage from the top of her tank. Her shoulders are square and she straightens her spine before lacing her reply with venomous confidence.

  “Not that it’s any of your business, but I don’t care that people can see me. When Jon Bon Jovi sings, you dance, and you don’t interrupt. This song is a classic,” she lifts her eyebrow at me.

  Standing there watching her, I let her words sink in. Rarely do you see a woman so blatantly secure in who she is or how she feels. Granted, I’ve only known her for about thirty seconds now, but the energy she gives off is no bullshit. She’s sure and confident, which is a total turn-on. I feel blood rush south as I offer her a sly smirk and steer the conversation in a different direction.

  “You know, I’d have to agree with you,” I reply, which catches her off guard. Her face immediately softens, but she recovers her icy glare.

  “Glad we see eye-to-eye then,” she fires back before turning around to grab her empty drink.

  “Here. Let me buy you a drink so then you can tell me just how many other songs shouldn’t be interrupted,” I tease before lifting my hand in the air and signaling Tony behind the bar, whose eyes have been glued on me since I walked over here. A slight tip of his head lets me know he understands our need for a refill and catches one of the cocktail waitresses on her next trip.

  “I can buy my own drink,” she argues as I take a seat at one of the empty stools at her table. I know her friends will be back soon, but now that I’ve seen this woman up close, there’s no way I’m ready for this conversation to end this quickly. Tony’s right. I need to have some fun, and by the way this woman is so easily offended and quick to fight, I’d say she’d certainly entertain me for a bit.

  “Expecting your friends back?” I ask as I take a sip of my beer. I watch her eyes follow my glass and study my mouth while I sling back the last gulp and settle my empty glass next to hers.

  “Yes, and they’re very protective of me. I don’t know if you have what it takes to take them on too.” She shrugs as the waitress sets down our beers. “Thank you,” she addresses Cindy the cocktail waitress in the sweetest tone I’ve heard from her yet, then turns her daggered eyes back to me. I can’t te
ll if she’s just really pissed off that I interrupted her or if she’s just keeping her guard up.

  “Are we about to fight? Because I really don’t want to get my ass kicked by four women. That wouldn’t bode well for my reputation, Red,” I smirk as I call her by the first nickname that comes to mind. It’s not original, but it fits her to a tee.

  When you think of the color red, you think of fire and passion, lust and power. And this woman is putting off all of those vibes and more. Not to mention, the deep red of her hair is gorgeous—clearly not natural—but eye-catching, nonetheless.

  “And what reputation is that?” She shoots back, watching my eyes as I peruse her face.

  “How about we save that for the get-to-know-you portion of the evening?” I jest as her friends stagger back up to the table.

  “I didn’t realize we were going to get to know each other…”

  I chuckle. “Oh, I think we’re about to get to know each other very well.” I raise my glass to my mouth as one of the women chimes in, interrupting our conversation.

  “Hey, sorry it took so long, but Amy is in pretty bad shape,” the professionally dressed blonde nods her head toward a woman who can barely stand.

  “Shit, Amy. I’m sorry. I never should have made you do tequila shots with us. I know you never drink,” Red consoles her friend, which shows me yet another side to her. Nice to know she’s not just pissed off at everyone in the world.

  Her overly drunk friend just sways with her eyes closed, as the other two women hold her up.

  “Hey, who’s this?” The brunette turns to me, pointing a finger in my direction.

  Red turns to me with her signature glare before twisting back to her friend. “This is someone who thinks it’s polite to interrupt people while they’re dancing to Bon Jovi,” she juts her thumb in my direction, which makes me chuckle.

  “Oh, shit, you interrupted her while she was dancing? Or singing?” The brunette leans into me, then throws her hand in the air. “Doesn’t matter. No one interrupts her while she’s jamming.”

  “See?” Red turns to me and smirks.

  “Wait… you look kinda familiar. Do I know you?” The brunette points at me again.

  I narrow my eyes at her and give her a once-over. Nope, definitely haven’t slept with her. I’ve probably just seen her around town.

  “Don’t think so,” I shake my head. “But I was just trying to get to know your friend here,” I toss my noggin in Red’s direction.

  “Well, we need to get Amy home,” the blonde pipes in.

  “Yeah, and my boss just called and I have to get on an earlier flight tomorrow to be in Philadelphia by nine, so I need to jet too,” the brunette adds, then turns to Red and covers her mouth with her hand to shield her words from me, attempting to whisper but failing miserably.

  “You want me to call you an Uber too? Or are you staying?” She tilts her head in my direction, widening her eyes in concern.

  Subtle.

  Red turns to me, sliding her eyes slowly down my body and then back up to my face, peaking her tongue out slightly to lick her lips. The movement makes me swallow hard. Fuck, this woman is making my heart race and my dick wake up from his celibate slumber, which would be slightly embarrassing if I attempt to stand right now.

  She turns back to her friends. “I think I’m going to hang out for a bit longer. I can get my own ride. Amy, feel better babe. Sorry again,” she lifts her hand to caress her friend’s shoulder before she mumbles something incoherent.

  The brunette digs in her purse and grabs her phone and then holds it up to my face and snaps a picture of me with the brightest flash I’ve ever seen, leaving me dazed and confused as I sit back and lift my eyebrows at her.

  “What the fuck was that for?” I growl a little too aggressively.

  “That was in case she goes missing, so I know who to send the police after,” she smiles evilly before gathering up their drunk friend and kissing Red on the cheek. “Be careful and have fun. You deserve it. Love you.”

  Red reciprocates the affection and nods at her. “Oh, I plan on it,” she confirms and then turns back to me, lifting her beer to her lips. “Now where were we…”

  Chapter 6

  Olivia

  “Well, you were about to tell me about all the songs you should never interrupt…” Mr. Mysterious replies, holding his beer in his hands between his legs.

  “That’s easy. All of them,” I shrug and then smile wide at him. I’m definitely buzzed, but the alcohol isn’t the only thing that’s making my mind fuzzy.

  He laughs at me, a deep belly laugh that shows his brilliant smile as pearly white teeth peek out from under his perfect lips framed by that rugged beard. God, that beard. I’m not usually one who gravitates towards men with facial hair, but something about it makes me even hungrier for him.

  The vibrations that resonated from the bottom of his stomach as he let out one of the most jovial but deep laughs I’ve ever heard traveled all the way down to the tips of my toes, making them curl just slightly in my black boots as my feet perch on the rungs of my stool.

  This man—Mr. Mysterious—was like a sinful, fluffy, covered in maple syrup and sprinkled with a dash of cinnamon stack of pancakes—loaded with regretful carbs that you try to convince yourself you don’t need, but have to have just one bite of.

  Only these pancakes are covered in red and black checkered flannel, dirty washed jeans, the perfect amount of dark facial hair to constitute a beard, and served to you on a platter of thick muscle and corded forearms showcasing those sexy veins that really shouldn’t be sexy but are, scented with the smell of pine and fresh rain, like he just stepped out of the forest.

  Rugged, rustic, and enough to put you in a sugar coma if you decide to dive in fork-first, soaking up the sugary river of sweetness, basking in the flavor of the bronze liquid and meltiness of the cake as it hits your tongue.

  All of a sudden I have the strongest craving for a stack of pancakes served up on the naked chest of the man in front of me.

  I swallow hard, desperately trying to fight off the need to sink my teeth into his muscles, or better yet, that plump lip that’s taunting me as he pulls it between his teeth, studying me while I study him. All I feel is a physical need, the need to forget everything that’s gone wrong in my life this past week and lose myself in some much needed physical pleasure.

  It’s all there, and tonight, I feel like maybe—for once in my life—I might need to give in to the carbs.

  This man is nothing like Trevor.

  No. Stop that, Liv.

  No comparing.

  Not tonight.

  Go with your gut.

  Well, my gut is telling me I’d like to ride this man’s face.

  “So clearly this is some rule of yours then, Red?” He asks once our staring match has ended.

  “I just hate when a good song gets interrupted, especially one you know all the words to. When that chorus comes on and you know you’re going to nail it, but then someone or something cuts you off, it’s more infuriating than getting interrupted during a good orgasm.”

  Mr. Mysterious chokes on his beer as he looks up and me and laughs, shocked by the words that just came out of my mouth.

  “Did you just compare singing a song to an orgasm?”

  “I mean, everyone has the things that they feel passionate about. For me, that’s music and orgasms.”

  My flannel-covered pal shakes his head and laughs at me before swallowing hard. His eyes peruse my body before settling back on my face.

  “I guess I can appreciate that,” he says, the deep rasp of his voice coating my body in tingles. I wonder what kind of orgasms this man can hand out.

  God, Liv. You sound like a slut right now.

  No, I’m just drunk and horny. Sue me.

  Shut up and for the love of God, stop drinking.

  Mind your own business, sub-conscience. I have given myself permission to have fun tonight, and if that means straddling the man in fro
nt of me, then so be it.

  “So tell me something about you, since we’re supposed to be getting to know each other,” I tease. “Like, maybe your name?”

  “Well, I don’t know your name yet either,” he fires back.

  “True, but you gave me a nickname. It wasn’t the most original one I’ve ever heard though.”

  “It just seemed appropriate,” he says.

  “So, what do I call you then?” I ask flirtatiously, the need to know more about him a sudden necessity I feel deep in my bones.

  “How about you call me by a nickname too?”

  I raise an eyebrow at him. “So, we’re not going to exchange real names?”

  He nods. “Seems more fun this way.”

  I smirk at him before taking a sip of my drink. “Okay then, what shall I call you?”

  He looks away for a moment in contemplation before focusing back on me.

  “Garrison,” he says, which completely catches me by surprise.

  “Garrison?” I ask, trying to clarify that I heard him right.

  “Yup. It’s what the guys called me from my time in the Army. It’s uh… it’s actually my last name.”

  “That’s not a nickname then.”

  He grins in a boyish way. “Yeah, you’re right, but it was the first thing I could think of.”

  “An Army man, huh? I can see that,” I offer as I peruse his body again. The sight of him sitting casually in front of me is sending sharp pangs of desire between my legs the more I take in his entirety. You just don’t see men like him anymore. And the thought of him dressed in Army greens and combat boots stirs up a fantasy I didn’t realize I had.

  “Yeah, I gave eight years, then got out,” he says before looking away. I feel like he’s done with the subject, so I let it go. I know little about that life, but I’ve heard countless stories about how serving affects the men and women once they’re home.

  “So, Garrison. What brings you into the bar then tonight?”

  “The same thing that brings me back each week… having a few beers to relax after a grueling week.”