One Lucky Hero (3 page)

“Good, 'cause you know I was just messing with you.” His explanation was quickly followed by, “But you do need some action, because I gotta tell you, lately you have been acting like a real dick. And I mean, not your normal amount of dick, but a whole bucket of dicks, and I figure it's gotta be because you're backed up.” Slapping Dean on the back, Best continued, “So why don't you take Violet home, clean out your pipes, and when you come into work on Monday, we'll see that frown turned upside down.”

Dean shrugged off Best's hand, barely resisting the urge to twist it up behind his back until he screamed. Usually Best left him alone, preferring to torment their other friends, but tonight it was just the two of them, and Best's favorite pastime was being a wisecracking, annoying asshole.

“If I want to take a woman home, believe me, I don't need your permission,” Dean said.

“It's not permission. I am
begging
you to take that beautiful, sexy woman home, bang the shit out of her, and then tell me all about it on Monday.”

Dean knew Best was only messing with him. He might talk big and come off as obnoxious as possible, but he was a good guy deep down. Way, way deep down. Sometimes the guy loved a few too many women at once for Dean's comfort, but it seemed to work out well for him. Best looked like a surfer with blond hair, blue eyes, and golden brown skin, and his charm could disarm even the angriest woman. The guy had absolutely no issues with the opposite sex, whereas Dean, well . . .

Dean could be called brooding on a good day, and as Best put it, a dick the rest of the time.

Not that he cared, really. He needed to get his career back on track before he got involved with anyone seriously. Besides, some women were into assholes. He just had to keep things simple.

His reaction to Violet wasn't simple, though. Never before had he experienced a magnetic pull like this, an invisible force drawing him to her.

And he didn't like it. Not one bit.

“If you want me to be your wingman, then pick a girl whose friend doesn't look like she belongs in a poppy field or a church choir.”

Best chuckled. “You afraid she's going to try to get her hooks into you?”

“I just thought it was going to be us drinking beer and hanging out,” Dean said.

“Dude, I spend all week with you and most of my free time at Mick's. This is about hooking up with chicks in halters and bikinis—maybe both.”

“Sorry, I guess I like girls who know the score. And that one isn't the type for a hookup and blow off. Maybe that kind of thing doesn't matter to you, but it does to me.”

“Hey, I don't blow them off. I give them the best night of their lives and let them go without disappointing them. Besides, most women who hook up with a guy their first time meeting him
do
know the score. No matter how wholesome they may seem.”

Dean thought about the things Violet had whispered to him. Could he have been wrong about her? Was she just looking to hook up?

“I don't think Violet is that way,” he said. Think
being the operative term.

“How do you know? You've hardly spoken to her, except for a few growls. From what I saw, she was more than happy to give you a little rubdown.”

Dean downed his beer with a grimace and walked into the bathroom with Best behind him. Several urinals on the wall were already occupied, so they waited by the opening in silence.

Well, Dean was silent. Best wouldn't shut the fuck up.

“I know you want to get the hell out of here, man, but there's nothing wrong with finding someone to pass the time with.”

“It's not fair to her.” Dean saw a guy turn his way and gave him a hard look.

Nosy fucker.

“Whatever, all I'm saying is that if you screw me over by being an asshole, I'm gonna be pissed.”

“Way to strike fear into my heart,” Dean said.

Dean and Best finished up in the bathroom a few minutes later and headed back toward the beer garden. Dean pondered Best's reasoning.

It had been hard being here on his own, with only the guys to hang with. He had grown up in Queens with his Catholic father and his mother, who had been raised an Orthodox Jew, and his five brothers and sisters. Although his mother's family had basically ignored them until his grandfather had died, his father's family was a large, loud Italian bunch who made family holidays chaotically awesome. It had been hard to go from that, to the barracks and his team, to his lonely apartment.

He missed his big, boisterous family so much that he found himself Skyping them just to hear them bicker. He usually didn't have time to dwell on the shit storm that had screwed his career while he was working at Alpha Dog, but once he got home to his quiet apartment, it was harder to ignore. He tried to block out the past with TV or a trip down to Mick's Bar, but at some point, he had to sleep.

And he hated sleeping alone.

It would be nice to find someone for a no-strings-attached deal, but not many women could handle that for long, and he wasn't much for sleeping around.

Back in the beer garden, Dean spotted Violet and Tracy talking to a couple of people they seemed to know. One of the guys was edging closer to Violet, his hand brushing her shoulder as he picked up a lock of her hair. He was a short guy with dark spiky hair and skinny jeans.

Jesus, skinny jeans?
It just wasn't natural.

Tracy spotted them and waved them over. As Best started to head that way, Dean said, “I'm going to grab another beer.”

Best paused, looking from Violet to Dean with a shake of his head. “Sack up, man.”

And with that sage advice, Best went to join the group, sliding in next to Tracy and throwing his arm around her shoulders with a grin.

Dean caught Violet watching him for half a second before she turned her attention back to the guy in front of her, suddenly hanging on his every word.

This is what you wanted, right? So get your beer and listen to some music. You came here for the concert.

Dean decided to do exactly that and, walking out of the beer garden, resisted the urge to look back at her one last time.

V
IOLET SWAYED TO
the music as she sipped on her fourth wine in two hours, enjoying the buzz. Meghan Trainor was up next, and Violet was excited to cut loose and dance her heart out.

If only she was attracted to her dance partner.

It wasn't that she didn't like Robert Tran in general. He was a nice, if awkward, guy she'd gone to high school with, and although they'd been friends, she'd never been into him like that. Mainly because he was about eight inches shorter than her. She couldn't help it that it was her biggest turnoff. Being tall had always been a sore spot, especially when guys in middle school had called her giraffe.

To make matters worse, Robert was extremely opinionated and didn't mind pushing those opinions onto others. He was known for jumping from one soapbox to the next, which was probably why he'd been so good at debate. Violet thought he would have made an excellent politician, but he'd been talking about finishing up his med school program at UC Davis for the last thirty minutes, so maybe he'd gotten over arguing with people constantly.

Violet was a little intimidated by how put-together Robert seemed. She had one semester left to complete her bachelor's degree but still needed her master's degree and maybe even her doctorate. She wanted to help people suffering from severe depression, like her mother had been. Right now, she worked at Here to Listen, a national suicide hotline. It was astonishing how many callers had absolutely no support system. No counselor, no family or friends who understood. It was heartbreaking and gave her a better understanding of what her mother had gone through before she died.

Died.
Even in her head and ten years later, it was still hard for her to say
suicide
. Her mother had committed suicide, leaving her three children alone with an unstable father.

But when she put it that way, it made her angry with her mother, and she didn't want that to consume all the good memories of her. So she always used the words
died
or
passed away
.

But even the words couldn't always banish the images of her mother in the bathtub, her pale face turned toward the door, her eyes closed . . .

And the water running over the side tinted red.

Violet blinked, pushing away thoughts of her mother, and refocused on Robert's lips.

Which were moving. Shit, how long had he been speaking? Trying to hide the fact that he'd caught her spacing out, she pointed to her ears.

“Sorry, it's loud. What did you say?”

“I said I'm glad we bumped into each other.”

“Oh, me, too,” she said. “It's good to catch up.”

Suddenly he took her hand and brought her to him. When his arm wrapped around her waist and he gazed up at her with desire in his eyes, she swallowed.

Oh no.

“You know, I've liked you since freshman biology.”

Why? Because your face is eye level with my boobs?

“You . . . You have?” Violet looked around for Tracy to save her, but her friend was a little busy with Tyler's tongue down her throat. Violet couldn't believe it. Tracy normally made men work harder than a couple of beers and some smooth lines.

No help from that quarter.

“I almost asked you out, too, but then your mom died and you always seemed so busy with family and everything . . . ”

It was the standard explanation for why guys avoided getting involved with her. Her life was straight-up drama, had been for as long as she could remember, but it had only gotten worse after her mother died. Not many guys had wanted to date the girl who couldn't go out on a Saturday because her little brother had a sore throat and fever. It was like being a teenaged mom.

And everyone knew at least some of her situation, if not all of it. It was kind of hard to hide the fact that your mom had committed suicide when it was plastered on the local news stations.

Violet hadn't had a lot of friends to begin with, but most of them disappeared that first year.
“Her house is depressing,”
she'd heard one girl say, and another had told her she was scared of Violet's dad. It made sense; the girl had slept over one of the nights when her dad had ransacked her room for money and then screamed at her for over ten minutes before taking off. The only friend who had stuck it out was Tracy. Probably because Tracy understood how scary life could get.

But despite all the dark spots in Violet's life, the isolation and tough situations, it had been worth it to keep her family together.

And once again, she'd drifted off while Robert was talking. Damn it.

“Anyway, now that things are different, maybe we could get dinner sometime? My schedule will get crazy again once school starts, but my weekends are wide open now.”

Violet didn't have a lot of experience blowing guys off, but she'd watched Tracy master the skill. Violet just wouldn't be as blunt. “Oh, Robert, that is super sweet, but I have a lot going on. My sister is going away to college in a few weeks, and between my job, my brother, and school, I don't have a lot of time for dating.” Violet said a silent prayer that he'd drop the subject.

“Really? You don't have time for just one drink?”

“I wish I could, but I'm just too busy.”

“We could keep it casual. Why don't I bring dinner by your place? Are you still living at your dad's?”

His persistence was another thing she remembered now. It was super annoying.

Glancing around, Violet caught sight of Dean towering above the nearby crowd. He was still except for the slight bob of his head to the beat of the music. She didn't actually think that Dean would rescue her, not after he had practically run away from her, but at this point, she was desperate. Staring hard at him, she willed him to turn her way.

Come on, dude! Make yourself useful.

“Believe me, if anyone would understand being busy, it's me. With my extensive schedule at school, I hardly ever leave my apartment.” He gave her what she assumed was supposed to be a sultry look. “But I would definitely make time for you.”

“That is such a nice thing to say, Robert, but I hardly even see Tracy anymore. I don't think I'll be free to date anyone until after this last semester, at least.”

Violet glanced back toward Dean, redoubling her efforts to get his attention. Dean finally turned, and she widened her eyes.

“Well, if you can make time for Tracy, I'm sure you could squeeze me in.”

Dean raised his eyebrow, and Violet flicked her eyes down to Robert and back.

“That's true, I could, but wouldn't you rather date a girl who is more available?”

“No, I like that you're busy. It means you won't get too clingy, unlike my last girlfriend, who wouldn't stop calling or texting, even when I told her I had to study.”

Violet had a sneaking suspicion it was the other way around but didn't say that. Shooting pleading eyes at Dean, she tried once more.
Rescue me. Now.

Dean, the bastard, grinned at her but made no move to help her.

Defeated, Violet tried waiting until Robert stopped talking about the supposed clingy girlfriend, but there seemed to be no end in sight.

“Hey, Robert, sorry, but I've got to go to the bathroom,” she said, cutting off the rest of his bullshit.

Releasing her waist, he reached for her hand with a smile. “That's fine, I'll walk you over.”

“You know, that's okay. I think my breakfast burrito isn't sitting well, so it may be awhile,” she said.

Robert seemed at a loss for what to say, so she made a break for it.

Thank you, Morgan Tookers. Diarrhea does shut down everything.

Violet searched through her tote and grabbed a strip of gum from the back. Between the wine and the dancing, her breath was smelling kind of rank. She kept walking in the direction of the restroom, despite the fact that she didn't actually have to go. It was disappointing that this whole day was shaping up to be a bust.

Someone brushed against Violet's shoulder, and she turned, expecting to find that Robert had caught up to her. Only it was Dean, looking far too hot considering the evil soul that lurked beneath the surface. “I see you managed to escape.”

The balls on this guy. He had encouraged her attention, ditched her, and then, when she really needed a hero, had left her to flounder.

She was done giving him the benefit of the doubt. He was a total jackass.

“No thanks to you. Couldn't you at least have pretended to be a nice guy for two seconds?”

He shrugged.
Shrugged!
“The guy was hobbit-sized. I figured you could take him.”

“I didn't want to
take him
,” she hissed. “I wanted you to come over and do that thing guys do to scare other men away so I didn't have to.”

“Come on, how hard is it to tell a guy you aren't interested? It's better than leading the guy on.”

Violet, fuming, stopped dead in her tracks and faced him with her arms crossed over her chest, sarcasm dripping from her tone. “I figured I'd just take a page from your book and suddenly have to go to the bathroom.”

He didn't say much, at least not right away. Finally, he cleared his throat, clearly uncomfortable. “You're right. That was a dick move.”

“Yeah it was.”
Not that I ever thought you'd admit it.
“So, why are you following me? You've made it perfectly clear that I repulse you—”

“I never said you repulse me.”

“You didn't have to say it; believe me, your attitude was all the evidence I needed.” She choked on the last word and spun away before he saw the tears swimming in her eyes, nearly knocking a couple of teenagers over in the process.

“Watch it!” one of them snarled.

Violet ignored them and walked off the path, trying to get it together.

Unfortunately, she had no time before Dean took her arm and pulled her behind a corn dog vendor and away from the crowds.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“I think we need to clear a few things up.” He seemed so calm, almost amused.

Oh, hell no.
He did not get to be an asshat and laugh at her when she blew up about it.

Pointing her finger at Dean's chest and breathing so hard she was sure fire was exploding from her nostrils, she advanced on him, furious when he didn't budge an inch. When she finally stopped, there were mere inches between them, her heaving chest brushing his as she raged quietly.

“Since the moment I met you, you've made me feel like I'm diseased. Wiping your hand on your leg, running off after I bought you a freaking beer without even returning the favor—”

“You want me to buy you a beer?” He still sounded like he was about to laugh at her expense, and it fueled her righteous indignation like wind on a wildfire.

“No, I don't want your stinking beer! I just want to know what it is you have against me. Is it that you don't like redheads? Am I too tall for you? Please, explain to me why you seem to be fluctuating between avoiding me and antagonizing me.”

“I'm not sure.”

“You're not
sure?
What the hell does that even mean?” Violet threw up her hands with a frustrated groan. “You know, I had plans today. I was going to sing and dance with my best friend, flirt with a hot guy. Maybe even hook up with him, who knows. Instead, I've been insulted by you, ditched by my best friend, and the only guy who has looked twice at me is a guy who was voted most likely to rule the world in high school.” About ready to go bury her head in a corn dog and a whole bottle of whatever alcohol she could grab, she took a step away from him, her face burning with humiliation. “So, if you don't mind, I'm about to take the buzz I'm working on and upgrade it to a full-on bender.”

Before she could escape, she was jerked back and pressed against the hard side of the food truck. Dean loomed over her, his face so close her eyes nearly crossed.

“You done throwing a tantrum?” he asked.

As his hard body moved into hers, tension hummed around them. “I was not—”

“Yeah, you're revved up into a full-on hissy fit, but I'm going to overlook that while I . . . clarify a few things.”

The way his voice softened on those last four words made her body tighten, especially when she realized one of his legs was pressed between hers. His wide shoulders blocked her view of who might be watching them, and his hands were braced flat just above her shoulders. If she moved a fraction higher, he could graze her bare skin with his thumb, and just the thought of it made her nipples perk up against the sheer lace of her bra.

“First of all, yes, I was rude to you, but not because I wasn't attracted to you.”

Violet held her breath at this, her eyes riveted to his lips.

“I was trying to save you.”

Huh? Save her?
She could hardly concentrate on what he was talking about, his proximity casting a spell of confusion over her. Maybe she'd been binge watching too much
Charmed
, but she was too caught up in the obsidian flecks in his brown eyes to fully process.

“From what?” Was that her voice? It was soft, dreamy, and not at all normal.

And good God, but were his lips inching closer? “From me.”

“Are you dangerous?” Silly question.
If he was really dangerous, you wouldn't be putty in his hands.

His right hand moved, and he began trailing one of his fingers along her temple and cheek, until the very tip smoothed over her bottom lip. “I would never mean to hurt you, but I'm not looking for anything serious.”

That woke her up a little, and she frowned. “Neither am I.”

His finger dropped, and he stared down at her grimly. “You say that now, but—”

“Okay, you know what, that's enough.” The balls on him, getting her all revved up and then acting like she was just a soft piece of feminine fluff who didn't know her own mind. Putting her hands up against the wall of his chest, she pushed hard, but he wouldn't budge, so she settled for pointing her finger up between them, wagging it in his face. “Don't act like you know me or what I want. Don't just assume that I'm looking for a relationship because I have ovaries. I have too much going on in my life to handle anyone else's wants and needs, so the last thing I'm looking for is a boyfriend. And you might have learned that if you had bothered to spend more than ten minutes at a time talking to me tonight, instead of running away like a big wimpy asshat.”