by Nikki Lane
If You Let Me
Nikki Lane
In the Moment Publishing
Copyright © 2020 Nikki Lane
All rights reserved
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the author.
Contents
Title Page
Copyright
If You Let Me
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
About The Author
Books By This Author
If You Let Me
If You Let Me
Chapter 1
I couldn’t expect anything less when I agreed to go out with Shelby. I had used every
reasonable excuse possible to bail on her—no hot water, laundry needs to be done, an extreme case of viral gastroenteritis—but she wasn’t buying any of it. She showed up at my place a whole thirty minutes before she said she would to pick out the sluttiest thing I owned. After I explained to her that it was an old Halloween costume that I would definitely not be wearing in public again, she settled for the second sluttiest—a sheath of a garment tucked in the dark corner of my closet.
“One more.” She slid the empty shot glass toward the others huddled together.
“I can’t!” I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand, still tasting the tequila.
Yuck.
I hated hard liquor. But Shelby said it was the quickest and easiest way to get hammered. I had suggested she write a self-help book and add that bit of wisdom.
“No pussying out.” She signaled the bartender over.
I closed my eyes and swallowed hard, trying to quell the overwhelming urge to puke. I wasn’t going to lose bad memories of my ex, just my dinner, and possibly brain cells.
Shelby leaned against the bar with her arms crossed, her huge boobs spilling out. It was her go-to move for at least one round of free drinks. The bartender took a generous look at her chest while he refilled two more shot glasses with the amber liquid. She scooped them up with a wink and handed me one.
“I don’t think I can.” I bit my lip and shook my head.
“You promised,” she reminded me, clinking my glass with hers.
I did promise. I knew I would probably regret that decision, and it was starting to settle in. But I had reached the limit with Shelby and her nagging—I either sucked it up and went out with her on an actual weekend night, or I would have to kill her. It felt like the only two options to shutting her up. And since I wouldn’t make it a week in prison, there I was.
I flung back the shot, the burn crawling down my throat one last time. I slammed the glass down, a little harder than intended, and waited for the taste to disappear.
“That’s my girl,” Shelby replied. “There’s hope for you yet.”
“Do we have to do this?” The room swayed, and the music sounded louder. “I really just want to go back home.”
“You look hot tonight. Don’t waste it.” Her hand fluttered around my hair like a doting mother, or maybe a pimp about to send out one of his girls.
“I feel naked.” I looked down at my outfit. “I need a cardigan or something.”
“Oh, there’s a look. Black mini dress with a cardigan.”
Shelby and I had been friends since college. I still remembered the day we met in our British Lit class. She had asked to borrow a pen and a notebook. I realized she hadn’t bothered with bringing any supplies of her own, including a bookbag. I had secretly envied her curly blonde hair and blue eyes. Not to mention the way she effortlessly could approach total strangers and talk to just about anyone. We had bonded over our mutual love of British humor.
“I can’t believe you,” she replied. “I’m doing this for you.”
A lie she told herself to justify drinking ourselves silly. We both had day jobs that upheld our status as productive members of society. I had teaching, and Shelby worked as a marketing associate for a durable medical equipment company. She had shared with me once or twice before about the challenges of making hospital beds and prosthetics seem exciting, so I couldn’t blame her for wanting to let off some steam at the end of the week.
“I could have gone on a date tonight, but I didn’t want to let you down.”
Damn, if only she had mentioned that fact before, I could have insisted on going out another time. Like never.
“Well, thank you for your sacrifice,” I said. “Please excuse me if I don’t kiss the ground you walk on. I might not be able to get back up.”
My stomach did another flip-flop. Oh crap.
“You need to get out more,” Shelby said.
Her eyes surveyed the room. She had the look of a lioness on the Serengeti. I wondered who would be the poor gazelle.
“I get out,” I said.
I fanned my face a bit. Was the heat on in this place? Why did I wear these shoes?
“Rose, taking Walter to the vet is not getting out.”
The lights were strobing. Had they been that way the whole time? I couldn’t remember.
Shelby leaned her backside against the bar and scanned her eyes around the room. “I see a lot of potential here.”
And then it hit me—I was the gazelle.
She nodded toward a tall guy dressed all in black. Sunglasses inside? Hard Pass.
“Not my type,” I said.
“What about him?” Shelby said, focusing on another guy. “He’s cute.”
“I think I need another drink.” I ordered a dirty martini with extra olives.
We found a tall table to set our drinks down. The room had slowly become more crowded.
“I know someone here can break your dry spell.”
“Who said I’m having a dry spell?” I replied.
“When’s the last time you got any?”
I ignored her question and surveyed the room. I had caught a movie on Netflix last week and practically busted into flames at the sex scenes. So, yes, maybe it had been a while.
“That long, huh?” she said with a smirk.
“Shut up.”
“You’re too picky,” Shelby said. “You need to relax a little.”
“Having standards is not being too picky.”
I did bend my own rules a bit in the past, but it never failed to bite me in the ass. I was still recovering from the last chunk out of my cheeks and would be for some time. His name was Paul, and he was an expert at hiding his opioid addiction. Unfortunately, my credit card knew all about it.
Shelby’s eyes looked past me. She nodded her head, signaling me to catch a peek. I did my best to be sly, slowly turning my head to see who she was adm
iring. I pretended to be interested at the bar’s décor, my lips still clinging to the edge of my martini glass. My eyes wandered to the handsome man who was leaning against the adjacent table just inches from me, ordering a drink.
My eyes trailed from his dark pinstriped suite all the way to his square jawline that was covered with a trimmed salt and pepper beard. His dark hair was on the longer side and combed back behind his ears. When our eyes met, I realized he was already looking at me, giving the smallest hint of a smile.
I whipped my head back around, my mouth gaping open at Shelby.
She jutted her eyebrows up and down. “Yes,” she mouthed.
“Are you crazy?” I murmured. “He’s way older.”
“So what? It’s not like he’s got an AARP card tattooed to his forehead.”
“He’s got to be fifty at least.”
Grant it a fine-looking fifty. He drank his milk and ate his spinach.
“He’s hot.” She popped an alcohol-soaked olive into her mouth and stole another look.
I ignored her as she jabbed me with her elbow, coaxing me closer to him.
“Excuse me,” someone behind me said.
Shelby finally let up as I turned to the deep, smooth voice.
Salt and Pepper was standing there as I stood frozen, distracted by his ice blue eyes. He had a glass in one hand and a purse in the other.
“I think you dropped this.” His watch glistened as he handed it to me.
I didn’t move. I couldn’t speak. The sound of his voice melted over me, drawing my eyes right to his mouth. Shelby delivered a final jab, knocking the sense back into me.
“Thanks.” I grabbed the purse from his hand. “I must have knocked it off my chair by accident.”
“It looks like you need another martini,” he said.
I looked down at my glass. “I think I’ve had enough for one night.” Wasn’t that the fucking understatement of the century.
Shelby stared at me wide-eyed, tearing her eyes away from tall, dark, and handsome for the first time since he spoke. I gave her the slightest shake of the head, hoping it was enough to shush her usual persistency.
“That’s too bad,” he replied with a smirk. “I’ve been buying those guys drinks all night, and they’re not half as pretty as you.” His eyes laid heavy on me, and it was more than a little intimating.
My cheeks blushed, and I wanted to blame the alcohol. I didn’t know what to say. I just stood there, like a statue, waiting for the pigeons to land on my head. I had been out of the game too long. The nunnery would be coming for me soon.
He smiled, not showing any teeth, but still affectionate enough to make me squirm. My eyes followed him as he turned back to his table. He stole one last look back at me before rejoining the rest of the dark-suited group.
“Can you believe that line he used?” I scoffed.
I looked over at Shelby who was too busy still staring at him. “I would sell my left ovary to go out with a guy like that.”
“You can’t be serious.”
“I could use a sugar daddy. Think he’s interested?”
“It’s not too late to find out.”
“Too bad he barely looked at me. I’ve gotten more flattery at a teeth cleaning.”
I was desperate to look over my shoulder. A part of me wanted to say fuck it. A little fun flirting wouldn’t be so bad. It’s not like I’d be promising him anything. Maybe he was gay. He might not even be interested in me at all. Shelby probably had it all wrong.
“You should go and talk to him.”
“Have you lost your mind? I can’t do that!”
“Why not? You think you’ll have that body forever?” she said. “Do you think I don’t know that my tits won’t be in this very spot ten years from now?”
The alcohol was fuzzing my brain. “Where will they be?”
Shelby was clearly losing her patience. “All you need is the lady balls to go over there and talk to him.”
“I don’t have the lady balls. I thought one perk of being born a woman was not having to deal with balls.”
“I wouldn’t go that far. I’ve dealt with my share of balls.”
“I can’t go over there,” I said.
I had given up all attempts to look at him without being obvious.
Shelby’s slender shoulders sunk. “You’re hopeless.”
“Can we just let it go?”
“Hold on,” she said before taking another sip of her drink. “I know that guy.”
I was relieved to finally have a legitimate excuse to turn around.
“I swiped right on him damn near a few hours ago.”
I looked back at her confused. It’d been at least a year since Paul and I had ended things, and I still hadn’t jumped into the swamp that was online dating.
“Is right good?” I asked.
“He’s sitting at Salt and Pepper’s table.” Her curls bounced a bit.
“Pa-push it real good.” A snort escaped amid my laughter. “The song, you get it?”
Shelby was not amused. “Pull it together, Rose. He’s coming over here.”
It was like someone had poured a bucket of cold water over my head. Shelby’s swipe right, whose name was Tyler, invited us to his table. Tyler introduced us to everyone, including Salt and Pepper, aka Callum. Two females to four males. I never wanted an invisibility cloak more.
Callum and Tyler were business partners and took turns buying rounds. I’d tried to keep a low profile, which was easy to do next to Shelby. She usually was the bright light that distracted the moths. But I felt Callum’s eyes on me more than once, and it was getting harder and harder to pretend I didn’t notice.
The group had dissipated a little, the other two guys probably realizing they’d better pursue other avenues if they wanted a chance to get lucky. Tyler and Shelby were tucked in a corner either making out or practicing their CPR skills.
Callum spoke something in my ear. I couldn’t make out his words against the noise of the club, but the soft breath from his lips lit the goosebumps on my arm. He held out his hand, and reluctantly I took it before following him to the cool air of the patio. The ringing in my ears was immediate, but the fresh air helped sober me a bit.
“I thought it’d be easier to talk out here,” Callum said.
He released my hand.
“Yes, I needed a bit of air.”
The patio bar had a few people quietly chatting. String lights decorated the potted palms around the perimeter.
“Can I get you another drink?” Callum asked, pointing to my nearly empty glass.
“No, thank you.” I set the glass down on the nearest table.
A strong breeze blew through the palms. The full moon had been swallowed by clouds.
Callum smiled gently. I didn’t see a ring on the hand holding the lowball glass. But that wasn’t a sure sign these days.
“Are you from around here?” I hated how awkward I sounded.
I managed to put a safe distance between us. His smell was intoxicating. What was he wearing? Probably something called Panty Dropper in a Bottle.
“Not far,” he said. “How about you?”
His eye contact was relenting.
“No, but Shelby heard about this place and thought it’d make a fun night out.”
“Fun,” he said, considering the word. “I had that once. Before business took over my life.”
I stood a little straighter, not feeling as uptight as I had at first. “You looked like you were enjoying yourself tonight.”
He slipped his free hand into his pocket. “Business disguised as fun. I have a talent for that illusion.”
I imagined what it would be like to touch that soft beard, what it would feel like grazing against my skin.
“Are you in business, too?” he asked.
“No, I’m a teacher.”
“What subject?”
“High school English.”
“It’s a good thing none of my teachers looked like you in hi
gh school. I never would have graduated.”
I pulled my hair to one side of my shoulders, feeling my cheeks burn red. This guy wasn’t some horned-up, twenty-something doofus who would screw anything with a pair of X chromosomes.
“Do you teach around here?” he said.
“No, in Bristol.”
“I know Bristol,” he replied. “I own several businesses there.”
The breeze had picked up, sending most people back inside. My eyes frantically searched for Shelby through the oversized windows. “Maybe we should go back in.”
“Are you sure? You’re looking a bit flushed.”
Find me a hole because I wanted to crawl into it.
“The alcohol does that.”
Callum gestured the way. I took one step and nearly rolled my ankle. One of the torture contraptions, known as stilettos, which Shelby insisted I wear, had broken a heel.
Fuck.
“Woah.” Callum caught me by the elbow.
If my face was flush before, it was now flaming-hot.
“My shoe broke.” Duh, wasn’t I the fucking genius?
“I see that,” Callum said. “Although, I’m not surprised considering the heel isn’t much thicker than a pencil.”
I bent down as gracefully as I could in a dress as short as the one I was wearing. Halfway down, my equilibrium betrayed me. I wobbled to the left, barely landing in the vertical fashion.
“Easy there.” Callum steadied me once again. “You okay?”
“Yeah.” I stood straight up again. “I was just trying to take my heels off.”
“Well, let me help you.” He bent down on one knee.
“No really…”
But it was too late. His fingers were already skimming my ankle.
“Hold on to my shoulders,” he said.
“W-What?”
Dear God.
“My shoulders,” he repeated, looking up at me. “So, you don’t fall over again.”
“Oh.”
I grabbed a hold of the smooth material of his jacket, swallowing the lump in my throat. He grasped my calf and guided my foot out of the shoe.
Holy shit. I hoped my feet didn’t smell. Could he see up my dress from that angle? Thank God I let Shelby talk me into a pedicure the other day.