Enslaved (The Inbetween Novels) (19 page)

“I drank all of it. Didn’t mean to. I was only going to drink half so I didn’t end up tipsy in front of everyone. But somehow it’s all gone, and, oh God, I can’t stop rambling. Make me shut up, Kelly. I don’t want to talk too much. What if people get annoyed and don’t like me. Not that they really knew me in the first place. This can’t be their first real impression of me outside the office.”

Her friend blinked and burst out laughing. “Breathe, Shayla. No one is here to judge anyone. We’re here to blow off steam and share stories about finding Xeroxed ass pictures in our mail boxes.”

“You’re welcome, ladies,” Bradley said and raised his glass.

Everyone laughed. Shayla scooted to the edge of the booth seat and sat with her legs in the walkway, hoping the air there would be cooler than the air under the crowded table. She forgot how hot hard liquor made a person feel. Using the cold glass, she pressed the insides of her wrists against it in an effort to cool down before she ran to the bathroom to strip out of her pantyhose.

She kept her head down, willing the bar around her to stop swaying back and forth in slow motion. Shayla had a feeling she’d gone too far past tipsy on just the one drink.
Damn I’m a cheap date.

A pair of polished dress shoes stepped into her line of sight. They rested under a pair of dark jeans, which stretched up a pair of what could be nice legs. Shayla’s eyes continued up until she met the gaze of the man stopped beside their table.

He smiled and his teeth seemed impossibly white against his tanned skin. “I couldn’t help but notice that your glass is empty. Would you like to get another?”

Shayla gaped.
Is he hitting on me?

Before she could ask aloud, Kelly leaned over. “She’d love one.”

Unceremoniously, Kelly shoved Shayla out of the booth. She barely caught her balance in her low heels. Shayla shot a glare over her shoulder and silently promised to give her friend an earful after they left. If she ever sobered up enough to drive home.
This is becoming a habit. Maybe I need to go to AA meetings.

She forced herself to smile at the man. He couldn’t have been over twenty-eight and if he were, she’d eat her shoes. “I’m Shayla. What’s your name?”

He gently pushed her elbow and led her toward the bar. “Harry. Don’t laugh, Harold is an old family name passed down to the first-born son.”

They wedged their way in between a pair of giggling blondes and a couple of older men who were obviously checking them out. Harry waved down the bartender and ordered another round of Long Islands. Shayla hid her cringe by fixing her hair. When she looked back at him, he grinned.
Crap.
He thought she was flirting.
Stupid men’s magazines and their endless articles about, “Ten Signs She’s Into You” and all that bull.
Sometimes a hair fix was just a hair fix. Not everything a woman does with her body revolves around her sexual interest in someone.

“You make a habit of coming here?” Harry’s breath tickled her ear.

“No. My friend, the one who talked to you, dragged me out. I’m not too into the bar thing.” Shayla should do the sensible thing and go home. She’d call a cab and find a way to work in the morning.

He ran a hand through his short, dark, curly hair. It sprang back into place—obviously too much mousse. “That’s a shame. This place could benefit from having a woman like you around more often.”

The bartender set their drinks on top of a pair of white napkins and grabbed the ten Harry held out with instructions to keep the change. Shayla toyed with the straw, spinning it in circles around the ice. She had no comeback to offer. Harry managed to shock her into silence.

He picked up his glass. “To cheap booze and new acquaintances.”

Shayla lifted her drink. “May neither bite you in the ass in the morning.” She took a token sip from the straw.

Harry cocked a brow and drank. Shayla had to admit, he was cute. But something about him struck her wrong. She kicked herself. Nothing was wrong with him. She was hung up on Deryck and seeing him again. Every man she saw looked like the hunchback of Notre Dame in comparison.

“So, do your dates often bite you on the ass in the morning?”

Shayla choked on her second sip. “No, and if they did, I wouldn’t be telling you.”

He held up a hand. “Sorry, that was crossing the line.”

She grabbed a napkin out of the pile next to the wedges of lemon, cherries, and olives and dried the drink that’d splashed into her chin.
God, I’m a wreck. Why is he even talking to me?

“It’s okay. I handed you that one.” Shayla looked over her shoulder, hoping Kelly would come bail her out. Her friend gave a little finger wave and mimed fanning herself—Kelly’s code for a smoking hot guy.

Harry leaned over to follow her glance. “I’ll let you get back to your friends. Do me one favor, first?”

She was on her feet and about to step away. The question made her pause. “What is it?”

“Have coffee with me sometime soon?” He slid a business card next to her drink on the bar. “My cell number is on the back.”

Shayla picked the card and her drink up. “I, uh, I’d have to check my schedule.”

Harry smiled and leaned against the bar. “Take your time. I’d really like to see you again.”

“Well, I have your number.” Shayla waved the card before tucking it in the pocket of her skirt.

She turned and high-tailed it back to the booth with her coworkers. Sliding into her seat, Shayla did her best to not look over at Harry.

Kelly stole Shayla’s glass and took a drink. “Did he ask you out?”

Shayla dragged the glass back over in front of her, ditched the straw, and drank half of it in one gulp. “He gave me his number and asked if we could go out for coffee.”

“That’s great. Maybe your luck is finally changing.”

Shayla stole a glance through the crowd. Harry stood at the far end of the bar, his back to her, but there was no mistaking him. Women all around likewise watched him, a predatory gleam in their eyes. She shook her head.
That’s gotta be the alcohol talking.

“Maybe you’re right, Kelly.”

Luck had two faces, though. Shayla wasn’t sure which was coming her way, but something in her gut told her by the time she figured it out, it’d already be too late.

It was just before dawn—the moment when the brightest stars overhead fought desperately not to be swallowed alive by the approaching sunrise. Satellites floated amongst them, winking like flirtatious stars. Wisps of clouds passed over Orion’s Belt on their way west. A storm was building over the mountain range barely visible in the twilight.

Deryck crossed his ankles and shifted to dislodge a rock poking him in the lower back. Tall grass covered him from prying eyes—not that anyone was on the hillside to see him. He watched the lights below alternately switch off and on as people and businesses prepared for the coming sun and the beginning of their day. A day that’d lasted well beyond the usual twenty-four hours for him.

He picked up his cell phone from his stomach where he’d left it and dialed the voicemail. No matter how many times he’d listened to it, he couldn’t get enough of hearing Shayla’s voice. Gods, how he loved technology. It’d saved her voice just for him, despite his being called to the Inbetween when she tried to reach him.

A wave of disgust made Deryck’s stomach roil. His last mistress demanded depraved things from him. The sort of things he did not enjoy personally. Being forced to have sex was bad enough, but being commanded to submit to a twisted woman’s whims was something he could not stomach. When he transported himself to the human realm after he was released, Deryck considered picking up something sweet and going to Shayla for comfort. Then the memories came. He was soiled, used, unworthy to face her so soon after being with another woman.

He hit replay on Shayla’s voicemail message one more time and savored the subtle accent coming through in her voice. He couldn’t believe she wanted to see him again. The date, or lack of, had been a disaster.

The first rays of sun crested over the low hills surrounding the city. Deryck watched the first shadows of the day slowly rise from their slumber and wondered if Shayla would be rising with them to prepare for her workday. He allowed himself a brief moment to wonder what she slept in before cutting the thought short. She was not an object to lust after.

No, Shayla was a woman to court properly. Deryck smiled and checked the time on his phone. It was far too early to call and propose a date, an actual date. He’d wait until lunchtime before contacting her.

Deryck stretched his arms and got comfortable. He rested his head on his hands and watched the dark sky brighten. His eyelids felt like they had bricks attached to them. Eventually he gave up on trying to keep them open.

I’ll take a short nap.

For a brief moment, Deryck thought someone had left the showers in the barracks on full blast for too long, as some of the younger males often did, thinking it humorous. His mind changed the second he cracked an eye open and was greeted with a giant fireball directly above him.

“Shit. That is bright.”

Deryck rocked into a sitting position and rubbed his eyes. Bits of dirt and grass fell onto his cheek. Cursing, he used his t-shirt to clean his eyes before opening them again.

His pants were covered in a light dusting of yellow pollen. Barbed pieces of weeds clung to his socks and t-shirt. Deryck ran a hand through his hair. Dust showered down around him.

“Great. How long did I sleep?” He pulled his phone out of his pocket and hit the button to turn on the display. “Two-thirty?”

Cursing again, he punched in Shayla’s phone number from memory and prayed she’d still answer even though she would be sitting at her desk at work. The phone rang once, twice, three times. On the fourth ring, Deryck’s heart sank.

“Hello?”

Startled, he dropped the phone into his lap. Deryck fumbled to pick it up. He heard Shayla repeat her hello. Finally he recovered the damned thing and pressed it firmly against his ear to prevent it from doing a kamikaze dive again.

“Hello, Shayla, it’s Deryck. I just got your voicemail. Sorry I didn’t call back sooner.”

“Hey, Deryck. That’s okay. I got wrapped up in something with my coworkers after I called. I was going to try again later tonight, actually. You beat me to it.”

A grin spread over his face. He was glad she couldn’t see how goofy he probably looked. “Do you still want to see me again or has my tardiness put another black mark next to my name?”

Shayla laughed. Deryck’s heart flipped at the pureness of it. “No, I called to ask you for a good tuna casserole recipe.”

He frowned. “What is a casserole recipe?”

She laughed harder. The sound of her voice retreated from the phone for a moment. “That was a joke, Deryck. Yes, I’d love to see you again. We didn’t really get a chance to know each other well the other night.”