Contusion

by Ofelia Martinez

  It is two in the afternoon when I arrive, and per the hours on the door, they won’t open for another hour, but I see movement inside, so I try the door. I turn to my security guard, Andreas, before going in. “Wait out here.”

  Andreas nods.

  I enter the bar and freeze when I see her. Even from her backside, I can tell it is her. My eyes glue to her slender frame as she stays busy taking chairs off the tops of tables and placing them on the floor. She has the body of a supermodel. Why the fuck is she waitressing?

  “I’m sorry, we won’t open for another hour,” she says. “Lola, you forgot to lock up when you got in this morning!” Sofia calls out, though I can’t see anyone else.

  “Sorry!” A voice drifts into the room from elsewhere. Then the same woman yells something in another language—Spanish, I think—and Sofia yells back, also in Spanish. Sofia is smart, I think to myself, and I smile. That is such a turn-on.

  “Um, actually, I was hoping to speak to you,” I say.

  Sofia spins around, and her breath hitches as her posture stiffens.

  She has a uniquely rare beauty that almost leaves me speechless. I can’t tell if her heritage is American, American Indian, Hispanic, Asian, or a combination of those things. But the sound of her voice in Spanish carries a sensuality to it that I shouldn’t be thinking about, especially after I jerked off to thoughts of her last night.

  “You,” she says, her eyes narrowed. “I don’t see what we need to talk about.”

  I clear my throat. “I owe you an apology. Last night—I acted like an ass. I’m sorry.”

  Sofia uncrosses her arms. “I appreciate that. Apology accepted. Anything else?”

  “See, you accept my apology, then you’re short with me.”

  “So?”

  “So, it makes me think you don’t really accept my apology.”

  “Look, I appreciate you making the trip. You apologized. I accepted. I’m not sure what else you want from me—”

  “Dinner,” I say, surprising us both. That was not my plan.

  “What?” she asks, stunned.

  What the fuck did I just do? I swore I’d apologize and get on with my life, my next tour destination, forget all about the waitress named Sofia. “Yeah. Dinner. I’d like to make it up to you and explain why I—”

  “It’s really not necessary, Brenner—”

  “Please. Call me Bren. All my friends do.”

  Sofia cocks her head to the side with interest. “We’re not friends.” She keeps her hands busy pulling more chairs off tables as we continue our conversation. It doesn’t escape me I’m trailing her like a puppy. Pathetic.

  “I’d like to be. Please. Just one dinner.”

  “Even if I wanted to, I can’t.” She spreads her arms as if she were showcasing the room. “I work tonight.”

  “All right. How about a nightcap after?”

  The woman who matched the voice in Spanish from earlier materializes, interrupting our conversation.

  “Oh, sorry,” she says. “Am I interrupting?”

  The woman, if she can be called that because she looks like a teenager, is short and wears her blond curls in a mess of a bun like a bird’s nest on top of her head.

  “No, Lola. It’s fine. This is Bren. Bren, meet Lola. She helps out a bit around here.”

  Lola can’t bring her eyes to meet mine, but I don’t think she recognizes me, so I step forward and offer my hand, but she only shakes her head and apologetically shows me the cleaning gloves covering her hands.

  “I’ll get out of your hair,” says Lola. “Just, are we out of this?” she lifts a spray bottle of cleaning fluid for Sofia to see.

  Sofia shakes her head. “We should have some. Try the cabinet in the office.”

  “Okay. It was nice to meet you,” Lola says and keeps on working, not interrupting the few times she walks by us again.

  “So, where were we?” Sofia asks.

  “Nightcap.”

  “Bar closes at two in the morning. Bit late, don’t you think?”

  “You’re really making me work hard here, aren’t you?”

  “I’m not trying to—”

  “Night cap, morning-cap, call it whatever you want. Just have one drink with me.”

  She looks past me out the window, a question in her eyes as she takes in my security guard.

  “That’s Andreas. My security.”

  Her eyebrow quirks up.

  “Purely a precaution.”

  Sofia’s posture relaxes, and I can see the minute her resolve wavers. “Fine,” she says. “One quick drink. Here.”

  “Perfect. I’ll be back at closing.”

  Once the last of the staff leaves, she pours us two shots of tequila and places the bottle between us. She takes a seat next to me and leans on the bar, cupping her cheek in her palm as she waits for me to talk. She looks tired.

  “Look,” I say. “I was a fucking asshole last night. Not that it’s any excuse, but I was exhausted—”

  “You’re right,” she says. “It’s not an excuse.”

  “No. It’s not, but please, hear me out. I was tired, and the texting thing . . . well, it’s a pet peeve of mine. I shouldn’t have bitten your head off about it, though.”

  “Don’t forget that you also insulted me for being a waitress—”

  “You heard that, huh?” I ask.

  Sofia nods, but there is a teasing glimmer in her eyes. She picks up a lime wedge between her fingers and brings it to her mouth to lick it once.

  When I recover my senses after watching her tongue dart out and slide over the flesh of the fruit, I speak again. I smile because I’m fairly certain her licking that lime wedge was her intentional flirting. “I didn’t really mean to insult you. If I’m sincere, I thought you were really hot—still do. When Fritz and Karl expressed interest, I admit I put you down, but I did it to try to get them to stop sniffing around you like hounds.”

  “So you don’t know me, and you’re displaying possessive behavior?”

  “Again, I was an ass, and I’m sorry.”

  “Possessiveness is really unattractive, Brenner.”

  My full name on her lips grates at my ears. “Please, call me Bren.”

  “You said that’s what your friends call you.”

  “It is,” I say.

  “We’re not friends.”

  “I’m hoping we could be.”

  Sofia fills our shot glasses a second time and sips on the tequila, not once making a face, which I’ll admit impresses the hell out of me. She leans forward, and I have difficulty keeping my gaze on her eyes and not on her cleavage. Then she licks and bites her lower lip, and my dick stirs alive. This woman is going to be the end of me.

  “Is that what you want from me, Bren? To be friends?” Her voice is low and sultry when she delivers the question.

  “No, actually. If I’m honest, that’s the last thing I want to be.” I rub my bottom lip with my thumb. I can almost anticipate the feel of her lips on mine.

  “What do you want, then?” Her eyes are hooded when they freeze on my lips.

  “More,” I say.

  For a moment, Sofia considers my one word and all the implications we both know I placed in that one syllable. We let the silence stretch for a long moment, but it isn’t uncomfortable. I could stare at her rare beauty for hours without exchanging a word and die a happy man.

  For some reason I can’t explain, I feel light around Sofia.

  Women have used me in the past. For press, or to make a quick buck on my name. Normally it takes me a long time to trust a woman. But Sofia is different. I don’t know for sure that I can trust her, but my gut is telling me I can, and I need to find a way to spend more time with her. I’ll take crumbs from her if that’s all she offers me.

  Finally, she breaks the silence. “I can’t give you more.”

  “Why not? I know you don’t know me, but I’d like for us to get to know each other.”

  “Even if we got to know each oth
er, and you were the perfect man, I don’t do more.”

  “Okay . . .” Shit. This isn’t going my way at all.

  “I’ll admit I’m surprised. The last person I’d expect to be looking for something serious would be the lead singer of a famous rock band, but—”

  “Who said I’m looking for something serious?” I try to backpedal.

  Sofia leans back and crosses her arms in front of her, deepening the distance between us so she can study my face. “It was implied, Bren.”

  “All I’m proposing is that we spend some time together.”

  She bites her lip while she considers her next words. “You mean it?”

  I nod.

  “Fine. Here’s the deal—if you want it,” she says. “One night. No strings. No repeats. No sleeping over.”

  I blink. What the fuck did she just say? I’d hoped for lunch the next day, and she has turned it into something much more indecent.

  “One night?” I croak out, incredulous.

  “One fuck. That’s it. That’s all I can offer. Take it or leave it.”

  “I’ll take it,” I say, because really, who in their right mind says ‘no’ to this woman? I’ll woo her later, and she’ll take back her conditions. I just know it.

  She grins devilishly at me. “All right. Let’s go.”

  “What, right now?”

  “Want to risk me changing my mind?”

  “Definitely not.”

  Sofia and Bren’s story releases on November 19, 2021. You can get your copy here.

  Acknowledgments

  This book is dedicated to my partner and best friend, Robert. I would like to thank you for choosing me as your person and for loving me every day. You make me laugh on the best of days, but what I love most about you is that even in my dark moments, you find a way to make me smile.

  As always, I owe much gratitude to my beta readers without whose feedback this book wouldn’t exist: Claudia and Tamara. Big thanks also due to the editors at Midnight Owl Editors. Your team is amazing, and I couldn’t do this without you.

  And of course, a big thank you to you, my reader. Because of your support, I get to live my dream of making stories up and writing them down.

  About the Author

  Ofelia Martinez is a Mexican-American author. Originally from the Texas border, Ofelia now resides in Missouri with her partner and their dog, Pixel.

  This is Ofelia’s second book after Remission.

  She loves good books, tequila, and chocolate. She proudly shares a birthday with Usagi Tsukino. When not writing, you can find Ofelia making visual art.

  Visit OfeliaMartinez.com to learn more.