She leans on the bar, her substantial rack all up in my face. “Fuck me from behind,” she purrs.
I follow Lilah with my eyes until she disappears into the ladies’ room, then give the redhead in front of me a quick once over. Just my type—killer bod and no name.
I picture her pressed up against the wall out back, her tiny skirt around her waist. My balls pull tight at the image of pounding her, fucking all this frustration out of my system. But in my mind, she morphs into a tall blonde with an hourglass figure and a purple stripe in her hair.
Nothing but the real deal is going to satisfy this hunger.
Chapter 6
Lilah
When I come out of the bathroom and head back to the bar, there’s a redhead with dark roots leaning across the bar toward Bran, her huge boobs ready to tumble out of her low-cut shirt.
I’m back at my seat in a flash on a wave of jealousy-charged adrenaline…just in time to hear her say, “If you don’t have the coconut, you can make me a Wet Pussy instead.”
He braces his hands on the bar and his jaw tightens as he glances sideways at me. “I’ve got the coconut.”
I turn my back and pack away my guitar, trying to shake the sense that my jealousy is personal. This is about Destiny. She likes him. He’s slept with her. He shouldn’t be ogling some other bitch’s tits. I shoot a quick glance at him as the redhead slides onto an empty barstool and tells him a Fuck Me From Behind is shaken, and not to be gentle, and I realize he’s really not ogling her. He looks mostly indifferent.
Until his eyes shift to me as he strains the drink into a shot glass. The cold disinterest turns to molten heat and those black eyes flare.
Destiny made good on her threat to register me for school and I started Wednesday, so my days are swallowed up in a blur of useless information. I went to the park with my guitar after school yesterday and found a bench near the play structure at the top of the hill, hoping the moms and dads there with their screaming kids might find the music soothing and tip well. I made twelve dollars in two hours. So I had no choice but to break my vow to stay clear of Bran. I’d convinced myself that I could be in his presence and not be affected. I’d told myself he’s just a player, like half the guys in my high school, only with more experience—that he looked at every other woman in the bar the same way he looked at me.
I was wrong.
The heat in his gaze has nearly scorched me every time his eyes scour my body. I feel like I’ve spent the last three hours in a sauna. When he looks at the redhead, there’s no fire in his eyes. Not even a simmer.
So what does that mean? And the bigger question: how does he look at Destiny?
I don’t really want to be anywhere near Bran when Destiny’s there. I know how my body reacts to his presence and there’s no way I could hide it from my sister. They’ve slept together. Now that I know that, I thought I’d see Bran in a new light. I thought that would stop the flood of hormones he seems to unleash in me.
Not so much.
I shouldn’t have come back, but until I can find an actual job, I need the money.
He sets the drink on a bar napkin and pushes it across to the redhead. She sips it and her red lips pull into a lascivious smile. “Perfect.”
I yank my bag off the bar and head for the door.
“Lilah!” Bran calls from behind me. When I turn, he’s rounding the end of the bar, moving toward me. He stops just in front of me and it feels like I’m caught in a solar flare. “You’ll be here tomorrow?”
“Unless I get a better offer,” I say, flicking a glance at the redhead, who’s watching us with dagger eyes.
He nods slowly. “Just checking.”
I spin for the door, because the redhead at the bar might have gotten the drink, but I’m the one getting wet. And that can’t happen. “I’ll tell Destiny you say hi.”
When I hit the sidewalk, I take a second to catch the breath Bran stole from me, then try to clear my head.
It’s still spinning when a voice comes from behind me. “Hey.”
I turn, expecting Bran, but instead see the guy Bran threw out. His friends are nowhere to be seen.
“Hi.”
“You’re probably thinking I’m some kinda stalker,” he says, his words fuzzy with alcohol.
I hug my guitar case in front of me like a shield. “The thought crossed my mind.”
He holds up his hands. “I just wanted to apologize.”
“For…?”
He takes a step toward me. “I was a dick in there. It’s my birthday and the guys were buying me drinks. I guess I had a few too many.”
“Happy birthday,” I say without moving.
He laughs. “Would have been better if I coulda not gotten my ass booted outa there.”
“So, was he right? Were you lying about the Army?”
His smile turns sheepish. “Yeah.”
“So, what’s the real story?”
“Where you headed?” he asks, instead of answering.
“Home.”
“I’ll walk with you and tell you the whole sad story.”
Does this guy seriously think he’s coming home with me?
“You know what?” I say, my hand rifling through my bag. “I left my keys on the bar.”
“I’ll wait,” he says as I back toward the door.
The redhead is still at the bar and one boob, partially encased in a black lace bra, has fully escaped her shirt now. Bran is leaning toward her on his elbows and she’s laughing shamelessly at something he said. He smiles…until he sees me standing in the door.
Carol’s passing by with a tray of drinks and stops. “Hey, hon. Everything okay?”
“Yeah. Just waiting out the creep Bran threw out of here earlier.”
Her eyes widen. “What do you mean, waiting out?”
“He’s out there,” I say with a jerk of my thumb at the door.
“Seriously,” she says, glaring at the door. “Want me to call the cops?”
“I think that’s probably overkill. He’ll get the message when I don’t come back out.”
“Normally I’d do this myself, but…” She rubs her belly. “Hey, Bran!”
I glance his direction and see he’s at the end of the bar wiping the counter, but he’s watching us.
“Stalker,” Carol says, with a tip of her head at the door.
Bran steps around the bar. “Can you keep an eye on things in here?” he asks Carol.
“Got it,” she says heading with the drinks to the group in the corner.
He grasps my elbow and I’m totally unprepared for the electric rush as he pulls me aside. “What’s going on?”
“That guy you threw out was waiting for me outside.”
His eyes narrow and cut to the door. “Fucking dick,” he says under his breath.
“I just figured I’d wait him out,” I say with a shrug.
“Like hell.”
He slams through the door and I follow.
Stalker is standing with his hands in his pockets, grinning. But the second he sees Bran, the grin falls off his face.
“I thought I told you if you showed your face here again, I’d bloody it,” Bran snarls.
He lifts his hands in surrender and staggers back a step. “You said not to set foot in your bar, dude. I didn’t.”
Bran takes a step. “But you’re stalking my friends, which isn’t cool with me.”
The guy glares at Bran. “You know, you’re a fucking piece of work. You go off and blow up a bunch of people because George fucking Bush told you they’re terrorists, and now you think own the world.”
“Go home,” Bran says, rage oozing out with the words and turning them into something darker. “I’m not having this conversation.”
“Figures you’d say that,” Stalker spits. “Because then you’d have to think about all the babies you killed.”
Bran is in his face the next second, pinning him against the wall with a forearm to the windpipe. “Get the fuck out of here. I’m not going to say it again.”
He shoves away from the guy, who grabs at his throat and staggers back.
“Fascist,” he snarls, then turns and lumbers up the sidewalk.
“C’mon,” Bran says to me. “I’ll walk you home.”
Neither of us moves for a minute and I realize he’s waiting for me to show him the way. I’m honestly not sure if I’m any more comfortable with Bran walking me home than the stalker. “You’re still on the clock. I’ll be fine.”
He shakes his head, staring into the darkness in the direction Stalker just went. “No way I’m leaving you alone out here with that pervert.”
I start toward the middle of town. He keeps step at my side.
“Did you?” I ask.
He glances sideways at me. “What?”
“Kill babies.”
His jaw grinds tight and there are several footsteps where we’re silent. “I don’t think so,” he finally says, “but you never really know sometimes. Things happen fast, or the intel says a building is clear, and then you find out it’s not.” He shrugs. “You can let that shit eat you alive, or you can tell yourself you did the best you could and move on.”
I stop on the corner to wait for the only traffic signal in this shitty town to tell me it’s safe to cross, even though there’s not a car in sight, and turn to look at him. “Which have you done?”
He looks at me for several beats of my speeding heart, then steps into the street without waiting for the light. “You see that guy anywhere near you, I want you to call me.” He pulls his phone from his pocket. “What’s your number?”
I rattle it off with a shake in my voice and he types it into his phone. The next second, mine is ringing.
“Save that number in your contacts,” he says. “Better yet, speed dial. You even think you catch a glimpse of him, I want to hear about it.”
“I don’t think he’s really dangerous.”
His feet slow as he looks at me all protective. “Nothing is beyond a guy who’ll do something like that to get a girl to hook up with him.”
“Okay,” I say, typing SOS into the name spot on contacts. I don’t want Destiny to see his number and think I have a reason to want it.
We reach the gun shop and our door just beyond. “Thanks,” I say, digging in my bag for the key.
He looks around, his brow creasing. “This is it?”
“Home sweet home,” I say, unlocking the door.
He still looks unsure as the door creaks open. “This isn’t the greatest area.”
“But it’s the cheapest.”
“My complex is pretty cheap,” he says.
I step through and turn to face him. “Three seventy-five cheap?”
He shakes his head then looks over the door lock. “The landlord should replace this entire door and frame. There’s dry rot. Anyone could just kick this in.”
I shrug. “You get what you pay for.”
He scowls at the deadbolt a moment longer then swings the door most of the way closed. “Lock up.”
I flick him a sharp salute. “Yes, sir.”
He raises an eyebrow and those dark eyes drill through me. I think he’s going to yell at me about disrespecting the uniform or something. Instead, he says, “And don’t forget it,” then closes the door. I twist the deadbolt and a second later, the knob rattles and the door shakes. “Tell him to replace this door,” he calls through it.
“Yes, sir,” I repeat.
“Good night, Lilah,” he says, then I hear the fall of heavy boots on the sidewalk.
I press my hand against the door, listen until his footfalls fade out, and climb the stairs to the apartment.
Destiny’s in the kitchen, mounding spoonfuls of chocolate chip cookie dough onto a baking sheet.
“My birthday’s not until January,” I say, dumping my tips on the table.
“They say the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach.”
Bran. My stomach cramps as I drop into the seat and start sorting bills.
She turns and nods at the money. “How’d you do?”
I think about telling her what happened with the stalker, and that Bran walked me home, but decide she’ll only panic and tell me I can’t go back. “I got there a little late, so not as good as last weekend.”
She rinses her hands and brings a plate of cookies to the table, slipping into the chair across from me. “Still looks like a pretty decent haul.”
“I guess so.” I watch my hands stack the cash into a single pile. “A redhead was hitting on Bran when I was leaving the bar.”
She sighs heavily and reaches for a cookie. “Doesn’t surprise me.”
“You’re not jealous?” I ask, lifting my eyes to her now that I think my face won’t betray my own jealousy.
She nibbles at the edges, obviously uncomfortable with the thought. “We’re in the ‘I’m giving him space’ phase of our relationship.”
“What does that even mean?” I ask, grabbing a cookie off the plate.
“It means Bran thinks he doesn’t do relationships, so if I push him, he’s going to push back. But I can see the truth in his eyes. The string of women is getting old. Before too much longer, he’s going to realize he wants more, and I’m going to be the one who gives it to him.”
“Seems like an awful lot of work,” I mutter, my mouth full of gooey chocolate. Despite the fact I think I was four the last time our mother baked cookies, and she stopped cooking altogether by the time I was ten, Destiny’s got the baking thing down. While Grandma was teaching me guitar, she taught Destiny everything she knew about pastries and cookies and cakes. Everything she makes is amazing. But we usually don’t have the money. “You really think Bran’s worth that kind of effort?”
“I have responsibilities.” She threads her finger through the hair on the top of her head and grabs a fistful. “I need someone who’s steady and reliable and can support us.”