Authors: Amber Scott
The song ended, and so did our little show. She playfully hugged me and led me back to the table. Had I assumed she’d get in the way of my scoring tonight? If I didn’t know better, she was trying to get me some—even more than me.
I’d thank her, but didn’t quite know how to say it. Besides, Moira was within earshot. She liked to have as much fun as any girl, but she mothered us. She took it as her duty to keep us safe, and that included our hearts.
Maybe that was part of why I’d kept Crew a secret from her those few weeks. Maybe I’d been avoiding her fretting rather than a real risk of jealousy or betrayal. Betrayal? The words didn’t sit well. I didn’t like the memory of avoiding her any more than remembering telling her. Why had I ever cared that Moira would be against my being with Crew?
He was a great guy, through and through. Funny and kind and so freaking sexy. He’d seen the real me, and few people truly did. They saw the not-so-stunning-girl who must be the smart one. Or the tall girl who must be the awkward one. I got pegged as a tomboy, or worse, as just one of the guys.
Crew saw me as sultry. Deep. Enigmatic.
Stop!
I had to stop allowing him to creep into my thoughts like some addict plotting how to get a fix. Crew was gone.
I was still alive and kicking.
“Tall guy at ten o’clock checking you out, babe,” Kim said, nudging me and handing me a beer.
It took me a second to realize that she meant me. I twisted to get a good look. “Where?”
“Uh, subtle much, hon? And try your other ten o’clock.”
“Oh,” I said and tried a little more finesse this time.
“Oh, he is super-hot,” Moira said. “He’s totally your type, too.”
Really? Moira was agreeing with Kim? Wow. I must as pitiful outwardly as I felt inwardly if Moira seconded a guy on the prowl. Still, I didn’t see who they were talking about. I turned back. “In the blue?”
“No,” Kim said, sipping her beer and pointing her pinkie in the correct line of sight.
Pretending to stretch a little and fix my shirt, I followed the direction of her pinkie. Leaning against the edge of the bar, looking toward the stage, stood one fine specimen of all- American male.
Broad shoulders and a shadow of whiskers along a square jaw. I swallowed past a tiny flutter and let my gaze slide up the length of him. “Him? In the gray T-shirt?” And faded Levis that reminded me of a black and white billboard ad. My imagination filled in the deep V of hip muscle diving under the tattered edge that I couldn’t actually see from this position.
The guy shifted his weight. He looked over. Right at me.
The flutter in my throat flapped lower. Vague recognition tingled in my mind. Something about his throat. Or maybe the way he stood. He looked so much like … Crew.
Damn it, Sara.
I looked away.
Heat flashed over my face. I looked at Moira, waiting for her to see my reaction. Or worse, to see the resemblance too, and then say something. She only smiled and nodded. “He’s cute, and he’s definitely checking you out. You should go talk to him.”
“No!” She said it loud enough, but, really, Kim’s wide eyes shouted for her. “Don’t go talk to him. Wait for him to come to you.”
“That’s stupid. This isn’t college, Kim. Sara, just go over, stand next to him, smile and order the next round.”
“We already gave the waitress our order for another round.” Kim gave me ‘the hand.’ “No, seriously. He’ll come, Sara. He can’t take his eyes off of you.”
How could she tell? He could be staring at the table just past ours for all I could estimate. Except when his eyes had met mine. Probably just a reaction to being gawked at. My heart thudded in my ears. Sure, the entire way here, I’d pep-talked myself into thinking I could do this. Flirt. Cock-tease. Maybe even put out. Now? Forget it.
My past was invading every part of my life. Either I was doomed to obsess over Crew the rest of my days, or I happened to walk into a bar with a guy who happened to ... wait. Moira didn’t see the resemblance? No. Scanning her face, I could tell. She didn’t see it. No fretting in sight.
Hmmph.
Maybe I’d imagined the resemblance. I stole another glance his way. Yep, still looking right at me, so directly that my knees knocked. I forced myself to hold his gaze. A lazy half-grin crooked his mouth. He drank from the bottle in his hand.
An ache formed in my chest. The kind I only ever felt with Crew.
What if I’d found a clone of my Crew? The more I looked, the more I saw Crew—the straight nose, the bow of his top lip, his thick eyebrows, and piercing gaze.
“There’s too many of us,” Kim said. “Too many chicks intimidate a guy.”
“Exactly, so she should go talk to him. Or at the very least, go stand near him so he can talk to her.”
“Nah. We should ditch her. Come on.” Kim stood up and grabbed Moira’s hand. “Let’s dance.”
Moira resisted. “I don’t like this song.”
“Bullshit. You just want to keep your eye on her. Sara’s a big girl now, Mama. Let her be.”
Moira glanced at me. “You’ll be okay?”
How could she not see the resemblance? How could she not see my reaction to the guy, and he hadn’t even come close enough for me to know for sure. What if I was superimposing my basic desire for the past onto this guy? I didn’t want my friends to go. Before I could shake my head and tell Moira to stay, Kim yanked her away.
My tongue thickened in my mouth. I jerked my gaze to where the Crew-clone stood. He made a beeline for my table. I couldn’t take my eyes off of him. He even walked like Crew. A thud on the table made me realize I’d been clutching the locket, and it had slipped from my fist. Probably because my hands were sweating.
Crew-clone sat down. “Hi,” he said.
The music thumped around us, but I had no problem hearing the velvety sound of his deep voice. A thousand moments from the past pinged through my head. “Hi,” I said despite the dryness of my mouth.
His gaze fell to the table. To the locket. He reached it before my hand could move to retrieve it. I wanted to hide it. Everything around us seemed suspended as he drew the locket closer, pulling my neck as the chain strained. I leaned in, speechless, my mind a jumble of confusion and hope.
He popped the gold frame open. His large, rough hands made the locket seem all the more delicate. Seeing the pictures inside, he gave a half-chuckle. “She looks like you.”
I almost said, “He looks a bit like you.” Thankfully, my brain caught up with my mouth before I embarrassed myself. “Sort of ... not really,” I stammered. “It isn’t. Of course. I bought it actually.” Well, before I embarrassed myself
a lot.
He closed the frame, his eyebrows drawing together. “If we were in a bar somewhere and had never met, that would be the perfect pickup line, don’t you think?”
I laugh-gasped. “Uh, yeah. That would be convenient. A bar. Strangers. Old photos.” My tension eased by a few degrees seeing the humor glinting in his eyes.
Still a tease. No! Just a clone and a lot of coincidence. Moira would have seen the resemblance if there was any. She’d have peed herself. Not just because Crew was dead, or because my heart was still strung so tightly to him, but because she believed in a lot of witchy woo-woo shit.
“Good thing we’ve already met,” he said. “Or this might get awkward.”
Warmth slid under my skin. “Awkward? You and me?” I teased back, exploring the feel of flirting again. “Never that.”
He guffawed. His Adam’s apple bobbed. I wanted to run my fingers over his stubbly neck and chin. I wanted him to be my Crew. Screwed up or not, how delicious would it be to pretend for one night this was him? Really and truly Crew?
“I’m Sara,” I said and extended my hand across the table.
He gave me an odd look, taking my hand. He shook it then turned my hand palm up. Tracing a finger down my wrist, he tickled the skin there, over my palm, and ended at the tip of my middle finger. “I was never the type to believe in fate. Or magic. Or the impossible.”
I swallowed, feeling the weight of meaning in his words. “No?”
He retraced up my wrist. “Nah. Too much of a realist, I guess. You?”
“I don’t know. I try not to rule out anything.”
He met my gaze with his and the blue of his eyes darkened with intensity.
I knew that look. That brilliant blue hue. “Crew,” I breathed, a whisper.
“Where can we go, Sara?” he said.
A tremble coursed through my veins. Any minute now, I’d wake up. I was certain. Anywhere but here?” I said.
The intensity in his gaze rose. “Your friends?”
I shook my head. “They’ll be okay.”
“Don’t make them worry. You should tell them.”
I couldn’t! They’d try to stop me. They’d see how insane this was, how risky my hopes and thoughts had become. This
couldn’t
be Crew. Logic spelled that out to me over and again, but my heart sifted for alternate answers. I thought of the shopkeeper and her stories. I thought of my wishes and what he’d said in my last dreams of him.
“I already told them,” I lied. In part, it was true. Kim would talk Moira out of worrying. Wouldn’t she? I scanned the crowd, hoping to catch one of them, send a visual signal of some sort.
I glimpsed Kim and willed her to look my way. Crew-clone waited patiently, his eyes warming me in an all-too-familiar caress. Dear God. This
was
Crew! I had to get out of here before I woke up or he disappeared and proved me wrong.
This was my chance to find out all those what-ifs that nagged at my heart and soul for too many lonely years without him.
What might have been seconds felt like an hour as I waved to try to catch Kim’s eyes. At last, when I did, she sent me a wink and shooed me with her hand. I could almost hear the jangle of her bangles as her wrist flicked. Or was that my heart?
“Let’s get out of here,” I said and stood.
Crew got to his feet, took me by the hand, and headed for the door.
The sunset cast a bluish twilight over the street. A left turn, a right, another block down, and he pulled me into a narrow alley that was once a thoroughfare for foot traffic. Probably still used for that purpose, but it sat empty.
“Where are you—?” He cut off my question, pulling me into his arms. He was the perfect height. Tall enough that if I wore heels, I would meet his gaze evenly.
“Shh,” he said. “Sara, I’m sorry to rush, and you’ve gotta promise to stop me if I’m going too fast, but …”
His mouth met mine. The sound of him inhaling as our mouths melded thrilled me. I kissed him back, winding my arms around his neck, pressing my body to his. His hand on the small of my back urged me closer. I gasped into his mouth, felt his hard-on straining against his jeans, pushing at my lower belly.
The ache in my heart coiled and twisted down between my legs. Crew. My Crew. Just like I remembered. Even better. His mouth tasted salty and good. His wide shoulders made me feel small and delicate. Safe and spinning all at once.
His hands moved from my back to the front of my shirt. Mine followed suit and I gasped once my palms touched his hot skin. “Crew,” I moaned into his mouth. “Please. Take me somewhere. Anywhere but here.”
He grinned against my lips and kissed them once more before pulling back. “A bed?”
“God, yes.” I noticed he didn’t correct me when I called him Crew. Had he heard me? I wasn’t dreaming. This was too real to be a dream. I smelt the aromas of local restaurants in the air, nothing like the pasture stink of farm country. I felt the rawness to my chin from his whiskers, and the moist breezy air as we loped down another block.
By what magic could he possibly have come back to me? After all these years, why here and now? The locket didn’t seem enough of a magical omen to bring a living and breathing man to life.
More importantly, though, did I care?
Nope.
I didn’t care how he got here—or if he even was Crew. All I cared about was that he was real flesh and blood. His roughened hand clasped mine. Desire sparked between us, with the simplest glance past his shoulder and back to me.
He led.
I followed.
To where, I didn’t know.
~~~
Chapter Five
We wove down a quiet street, slipping through a narrow passageway, my hand in his all the while. He held my hand loosely but firmly. His fingers were as warm as the balmy evening air. I smelled something in the breeze. Little white flowers I suspected were Jasmine of some sort, as we walked down a lamplit street.
No cars passed. No pedestrians. Just him, me, and this exquisite silence.
“Where are we going?” I asked Crew. I couldn’t help thinking of him as Crew, despite a rational part of me that refused to accept the idea as remotely possible.
He shot me a mischievous grin. “You’ll see.”
He led me past the squares, and to the gate of a cemetery that sat smack in the middle of town. Weird, but cool. “Uh ... what’s this?”
Quirking a daring eyebrow my way, Crew opened the gate. But he didn’t answer. He only tugged my hand a little. I looked at the darkening sky, at the headstones, at him. Showing up here stacked evidence in favor of this being my real Crew. This was right up there in something only Crew would do. Take me to a graveyard for romance.
Logically? Still impossible. Emotionally, though, I was getting sucked under.
A thousand little hopes flurried in my heart. I cleared my throat. “So, you come here often?”
A broad smile broke across his face as he laughed. The deep sound made me chuckle, too, and the air changed. The ache in me, the weight I’d carried so long I’d forgotten it existed, lapsed. Whoever he was, my Crew or mere possibility, I was following.