SHELBY (Second Chance Novels Book 4) (4 page)

I'm sick with myself over my current train of thought, but like an alcoholic ignoring the hangover waiting for her the morning after, I decided to go out tonight. I hope I don't run into Mr. You're-My-Bitch, but I'm ready to live. I'm ready to be wanted again.
 

Within hours I'm in my skinny jeans and fuck-me heels, walking into the bar. I check the sign on the way in. "Joe's" is the name of the place. How creative. Then again, if Joe looks anything like Ledger, he
should
have a bar named after him. Maybe I should flirt with him tonight. I walk straight to the bar and smile my sexiest to the moderately-attractive bartender.

"What can I get you?" he asks, his attitude matching the darkness of the bar.

"Vodka shot. Are you Joe?"

He grabs the bottle and a glass and nods to the corner of the bar where an old guy in a greasy shirt sits. He's occupied with scratching the chest hair tufting from his collar. I will most certainly
not
be flirting with Joe tonight, and the bartender is too surly to consider. My mistake from the other night is nowhere to be seen, thank goodness, so I sit at the bar and try very hard not to think about why I'm here. I fail miserably, and the pain begins to slowly suffocate me again.

This is a rush,
I lie to myself again.
 

I notice a guy sidle up next to me, and I look over with my smile plastered in place, ready again to consider my options. My heart may be frayed, but my body is ready to feel the heat and connection. I crave that sensation and the fantasy swirling through, simply needing a fix.

When my eyes meet my new drinking companion, my face falls in disappointment.

"Hi Dade," I sigh, shaking my head. He's going to try to cock-block me again, all while
not
picking me up.
 

"Hi Shelby."
 

He remains too clean-cut for this bar. His casual button-down isn't covered with any leather, and his perfectly trimmed hair and nails are the only two things in the bar that shine. His chiseled features and dark hair would fit in, but only if his skin were covered with tattoos and his expression tainted with attitude. His brown eyes are entirely too concerned for this establishment.
 

"You said you don't come here often," I accuse with my eyes narrowed.
 

"I do now," he says.

"So you're stalking me?"
 

His expression shifts to sarcastic again. "Why would I do that?"

A frustrated sigh precedes my next words.
 

"Well you can cut it out now," I say flatly. "Don't you have some golf course to keep you occupied?"

"Not this time of night," he says plainly. "So what are you doing here tonight? Don't you have some cozy pajamas and a good book waiting for you?"

What the hell? In the back of my mind I wondered if he showed up tonight ready to flirt with me, but he wants me to go home, apparently by myself.
 

"Go away, Dade," I mutter in frustration.
 

"I haven't gotten my drink yet."

I sigh and shake my head as I look around, trying to figure out how I'm going to get what I need tonight. As my options are limited based on the small number of people here who don't scare me, I remain at the bar while Dade orders water. Seriously?

"
That's
your drink?"

"Quite refreshing," he says in his brooding tone, still staring at me through narrow eyes. Is he trying to intimidate me?

"I can't figure you out, Dade."

He smirks, and all I can do is scan the room again for someone besides this enigma beside me. Instead of finding a knight in dingy armor, I'm left with nothing but the need for another drink. I quick wave to the bartender and a gesture to my glass later, I'm tossing back another shot. The hot sting of the alcohol burns down my throat, and at least I have a sensation to feel.

"So tell me," Dade starts mildly, "What do you do for a living?"

"You're going to try for
this
conversation again?" I roll my eyes at him. He should be leaning in or caressing my knee if he wants to fake interest.
 

"What conversation
should
we have?"

"None," I utter under my breath.

"I heard that," he shakes his head and turns to his 'refreshing' water.
 

I toss back my shot and order two more rapid-fire, hoping to send the message to Dade. I'm his or I'm going full-on self-destruct. No cozy pajamas for this girl. Not tonight.

My plan backfires, though. He draws me into more conversation. I know better than to drink this much. I get far too honest when I'm this tipsy, and honesty is on my shit list now. I've been honest with my friends and my lovers. Honesty aligns far too easily with pain for me to want to play along.

"Ha," I chuff bitterly when he brings up the concept of relationships in an obvious attempt to deter me from my goal here. "You know what? You win. I'm out of here."

I call a cab and go home, hating even the decent guy from the bar tonight.

Twice more in the next two weeks I head to the bar with one goal, and each night I'm blocked by some strategy of Dade's. I have no idea why he's stalking me or why the hell he cares if I sleep around or not.

Our third conversation later, and I get tipsy enough to actually talk with him. He asks about my friends, and I can't believe I answer him.

"So you don't believe in the happily ever after?" Dade asks me in response to my bitter rantings of my former social circle. I swear he sounds like a therapist.

"Actually I do," I correct myself. "Cam gets a happy story. That naive, stupid little girl gets a blissful, story-book tale even though she made every wrong decision in the book. Even if you skip past every dumb, destructive choice she made about Garrett, she made all the same dumb decisions with Ledger! At least
I
was trying to teach her independence. But Ledger? He got her to move in within weeks! She let him buy her a car! She relies on him for everything! SO STUPID!"

I didn't realize how loud I was getting with my rant until Dade shushes me.

"Well, she
was
stupid," I defend myself more quietly. "So goddamn stupid."

"Aren't you happy for her?"

"Of course I am," I shake my head at myself. "Ledger's a great guy and I know she's ok with him."

"But…." Dade encourages.

"But…she broke my heart," I say as one tear finally falls. "I had been trying for two years to help her get away from Garrett, and when I finally had the chance to help her, she pushed me aside. I thought I had my best friend back, but she was quick to latch on to her next guy. My dumb ass introduced them. The friendship is more one-sided than I ever thought. She never even missed me."

I bite the inside of my cheek for a moment, trying to keep all this honesty from drowning me. If I can focus on the physical pain from the bite of my teeth, maybe I can get away from all the shit swirling through my head. Dade sits with me for a minute quietly, and I smirk when he defends me from an opportunistic guy. Sometimes vulnerable equals easy target, which makes me appreciate Dade for the moment.
 

"So what about you," he starts, "you believe in happily ever after for Cam, why not for yourself?"
 

I chuckle and point my finger at him. "No way,
Mr. I'm-in-Shelby's-way-again-tonight
. You're not getting another word out of me."

"In your way?" he cocks his eyebrow. "You didn't seem to mind me getting in your way a few minutes ago. Don't you want a break from the drooling caveman crowd?"

"What other crowd is there?" I mutter. I bite my cheek again.
 

"Come on, Shelby. What's your story? Why do you keep settling for the guys who pick up a beautiful woman like you and not even recognize what's in front of them?"

"Shut the hell up, Dade," now annoyed with him again. I order another shot and face away from the man who's treating me like a project.
 

We drink in silence for a few minutes until his name pops out of my mouth.

"Dade."

"What?"

"No, just the name.
Dade
. How in the world did your mom come up with that?"

He looks at me and cocks his head to the side. "You tell me
his
name, and I'll tell you my real name."

I know he's referring to Mason, and I don't care. His name was the only one I left out earlier, because those five letters are too painful to speak.
 

"Dade's not your name?"

"Not exactly," he says cryptically. "So who's the guy who's made you believe your love story will only end in heartache?"

"Mason," I say with a sigh. Damn alcohol.

"Mason."

"That's his name," I confirm with a single, solid nod. "Lying, cheating, Mason."

"How long has it been since he broke your heart?" Dade asks me quietly.

"No, no, no, sir. We made a deal. You need to explain how Dade isn't really your name."

He puts his hands up in defeat. "My
middle
name is Dade, after my mother's mother's maiden name. So it's my name, but not really."

"So what is your first name?" I ask, finally curious about this rough-ish, handsome mystery who seems more interested in me than he should be.
 

"No, no, no, ma'am," he mimics. "I already explained about Dade. You want more? Tell me how long it's been since Mason broke your heart."

I scowl at him and call for another drink. Dade waves the bartender off, so I scowl harder. I'm not going to let him control my night completely. First the guys and now my buzz? Screw that.

"I don't care enough about your name to play that silly game. Now stop getting in my way. You know? Here. I'll show you how this name thing works."

Dade looks at me with caution as I get up on my toes and wave at the guy who tried to hit on me earlier. He's hot, he's willing, and he's
not
trying to get me to open up. Nope, I'll cram all that honesty down Dade's throat and get what I was after tonight: a chance to have some fun and be someone's world for awhile.
 

My would-be suitor saunters over with a degree of arrogance, smirking deliberately at not-really-Dade.
 

"Ok, sir," I say the new member of our conversation. "He and I are talking about names. I'm assuming you have one."

"Yep," he says, amused that I'm playing this game to irritate the other male vying for my attention. "Jake."

"Well this guy won't even tell me his name, so I say names don't mean a thing. You good with that?"

"Sure," he says, playing along if playing my little game gives him a chance. He doesn't care what my name is either. He doesn't need those six letters to get between my legs.

"Ok, then tonight, I'll be Shel and you'll be Mason, and we'll have fun, all while this guy with no name sits at the bar and conducts therapy sessions by himself."

"Works for me," he shrugs and pats a very surly Dade on the shoulder. "You've got the drinks, right?"

I laugh at the look on Dade's face as this random guy puts his arm around my waist, leading me to the door.

"Shelby!" Dade calls after me. Right now, I'm thankful for all the alcohol. The only honesty I'm feeling right now is the honest need to be adored tonight. Dade doesn't adore me at all. He's merely there, forcing me to dwell on things which are better left rotting far away from my consciousness. My new Mason loves me tonight, and that's all the truth I need.
 

"Night, Dade!" I call over my shoulder as I feel my date's hand sink lower down my hip. "Ok…
Mason
…where would you like to go?"

"My place is two buildings down," he answers with a hot smile. I answer with a teasing kiss. He chuckles a low growl deep in his throat and grabs my ass hard before leading me to his door.
 

This is the part I need. This is the moment I live for. Jake allows me into his apartment ahead of him, then spins me quickly to lock my entire body against him. God, it feels good to be wanted.
 

"You were eye-fucking me the whole way here," he says in a sexy, seductive invitation. "Tell me exactly what you want."

"It's all about me tonight," I respond. Damn alcohol again.

"Hmmm," he says as he grabs my hair. "Half the time."

I chuckle and kiss him with everything I have. I'm living in total abandon right now; this exact moment offers enough noise to drown out the sad whisperings in my brain.

Jake doesn't take long getting to the good part. He has me naked and writhing in no time flat, not to mention the condom that seems to magically appear. He's damn good.

"Yes…fuck, Jake…oh…"

"No," he almost snaps. "It's Mason tonight, remember?"

My entire body freezes. I don't want to play that game anymore. Jake is helping me forget, and now he only serves as a reminder. What seemed funny and flirtatious now seeps into my skin as pain.

"It doesn't have to be," I shake my head, still breathing in anticipation of what I need.