ZEKE (2 page)

“Oh good, you’re back.” Rayna glances at me, snatching her purse off the coffee table as I come through the front door. “Emmie is upstairs waiting for you. She has a couple of outfits picked out for you and,” she points at me, “make sure she does your makeup.”

“Why?” I halt in the living room. “What’s up?”

Standing up in a pair of tight skinny jeans and a black cami, she swings her purse over a slender shoulder and lifts her head with a big smile. “We’re going out tonight.”

“Where?”

“A bar. Jay’s. I ran into an old high school friend, Melody. She works there, says it’s the new hangout in the Bayou. You never know, maybe Zeke will be there. Oh, hey,” her eyes widen, “did Emmie tell you that she ran into Jax Declan at the market?”

“No. She didn’t,” I say, rolling my eyes as I recall why we’re here.

“Yeah, and she didn’t see a ring on his finger. So we found one unmarried Declan brother, just two more to go,” she says with a few quick finger gestures.

“Rayna, this idea of yours to come back to your hometown and break these Declan brothers, you do know it’s insane, right?”

She shakes her head, laughing as she walks over to me. “Yes,” she pinches my cheek, “but it’ll be fun.”

“I don’t know about that,” I blow out, reshaping my furrowed cheek.

“Oh, come on.” She tilts her head. “That’s what you said when I tried to talk you into zip lining and look what happened?”

“Okay. It was fun but-”

“Fun?” She arches a thin dark eyebrow, setting her hands on her hips. “I believe the exact words that came out of your Mary Poppins’ mouth were
fan-fucking-tastic
and
super coolage
. And, honestly, who says super coolage anyway?”

“Seventh graders.” I defend the phrase that I heard Sheldon Miller say two years ago in class. I was ecstatic that he was actually interested in
The Scarlett Letter
. It’s a struggle to get the kids involved, let alone excited, about English literature.

“Exactly.” Rayna gives me one of her polished smart-ass smirks. “I got you to zip line, ride a horse—bareback, I might add—and I taught you how to be a wedding crasher. Now, it’s time for me to get you laid and not by just any guy but by the best damn fuck,
I might add
, in the Bayou.” She pats me on the shoulder. “Zeke Declan is going to make you scream out words like fan-fucking-tastic and super coolage. And for that, my friend, like all the other things that I have convinced you to do, you will thank me.”

“Well, excuse me for reserving the right to be skeptical. After all, you also talked me into going skinny dipping, and we ended up having our clothes stolen.”

“Oh-ho, that was funny,” she says, her sleek cat-like eyes dancing. She’s crazy. She’s the kind of friend who gets you to do things you’d never do all on your own. And that’s the reason why I keep her around. I need her for it. “And don’t forget,” she grins, “I also introduced you to Brazilian waxing, going to the gym, and how to count calories. You’ve lost weight, and you look great. That scary-hairy girl between your legs is well groomed and feeling pretty, isn’t she? Your body is ready. It’s the twenty-first century, Lurlene. You’re twenty-five years old, smart, educated, successful, and a hot-blooded woman. Honey, it’s time to stop looking for Mr. Right.”

“I know that.” I clench my hands. Rayna always pushes me and my buttons. That’s just how she is, but you learn to love that about her. Besides, she’s right. I need to have sex. I’m over waiting for that nonexistent Mr. Right. “But just so you know,” I wave a finger at her, “white water rafting, Rayna, that wasn’t fun. Like this little challenge of breaking these damn brothers, that was insane.”

“Whatever it is or was, insane or crazy, you’re going to do this.” She grins. “Otherwise, you wouldn’t have come. I know you, Lurlene. There’s a wild bitch inside you. So forget about being the good little English teacher this summer and let your hair down. You are going to conquer the notorious Zeke Declan. You are going to bring him to his knees, you’re going to break him, and you’re going to have a fan-fucking-tastic time doing it. I promise.”

“And how might I ask can you be so sure?”

“Because I know Zeke Declan and you are exactly the type of girl he wants,” she leans in toward me, “but never takes. And like you, he loves a challenge too. With your persuasion, he won’t be able to resist. There’s no past, no history, no prejudgment. He doesn’t know anything about you. So this summer, you can be whomever you want. You can set that wild bitch free and break every single one of Zeke Declan’s rules.”

“Nobody likes you right now,” I say, aware the girl knows me all too well.

“Maybe not, but by the end of the summer, somebody is going to be thanking me,” she says with a wink and quick kiss on my cheek. “Now, I’m off to get us some wheels. Go upstairs, Lurlene. Emmie is waiting for you.”

CHAPTER THREE

I stroll behind the bar.

“Hey bitchmeat, I heard you kicked some ass tonight,” Rusty says. My eye flinches as she brushes her soft knuckles against my bruised cheek.

“You expected something else?” I throw my arms out, heading for the beer cooler. “Any good prospects tonight?” I glance around the bar, crack open a cold one, and toss the bottle cap in the garbage can to my right.

Rusty throws the rag she was wiping down the counter with over her shoulder. “A couple of cute blondes walked in a few minutes ago.” She sets her hand on her hips. “Too bad they didn’t get to see you fight, though.” She grins, batting her long eyelashes. She’s my best friend, the manager of our bar, and she is hot as hell. Thankfully, I’m not her type− I’m a guy. After all, I do value our friendship.

“What? You think I can’t win them over with my boyish charms?” I wink, taking a swig of my beer. JZS’s is slammin’ tonight.

“Oh, I don’t know. Isn’t Jax in the ring right now?”

“Yeah.” I lower my beer.

“Yeah.” She nods with a huge grin. “You’re going to have a bit of competition tonight after those girls get a glimpse of him fighting.”

“Jax don’t fuck around with the chicks at our fine establishment here. You know that.”

“It’s that kind of attitude that makes your older brother so damn hot. Guys aren’t the only ones who want what they can’t have.”

“Shit. I’m not interested in playing hard to get. I tell the ladies what they like to hear, I give them what they want, and then I take what I need.”

“Sure,” she taps me on the chest, “after they agree to your ridiculous rules.”

“What? They’re good rules.” I smile, tilting my beer back for another swallow.

“Right,” Rusty snorts. “
Don’t call me, I’ll call you. I don’t date. No sleepovers and absolutely no virgins
. They’re ridiculous rules, Zeke. Ri-dic-u-lous. Hell, if I told some chick that, she’d slap me in the face,” she says, back to wiping down the bar top. “Hey,” she nudges to the left, “isn’t that the girl you took home last night.”

I glance over at Missy Mills who’s standing with a group of chicks, some familiar, some not. With her eyes fixed on me, she gives a wave. I tilt my beer her way with a lazy grin. “Yes,” I say, before finishing the last few gulps of my beer.

“And …” Rusty laughs. “She gets it, right? She agreed to your rules, right. ‘Cause the way that girl is looking over here at you,” she says all laughter, brassy and thick, “I’m not sure she-”

“She gets it,” I say, reaching into the cooler for another beer. I slump back against the counter, shoving my fingertips into the front pocket of my jeans. “Missy Mills is just like the rest. She knows that I’m only here to sow her wild oats, and that’s it. She doesn’t think of fat babies, picket fences, or diamond rings when she thinks of me. Nope. That girl sees me just as I want her to.” I turn to Rusty. “And that look in her eyes, the one she’s burning my way. Well, Rusty, my beautiful carpet-muncher,” I lean down and whisper into her ear, “that’s just her recalling what it felt like to have my face nuzzled between her slender naked thighs last night.”

“You’re an asshole.” Rusty shakes her head bumping me with her hip.

“Just statin’ the truth,” I say with a smirk. “Believe me, she knows that I’ll never get a best-boyfriend mug, and she also knows that I’m all good with it. When little Missy Mills over there settles down, she’ll marry a lawyer, a doctor, or an accountant. And she’ll forget about the one-night stand she had with some MMA fighter who owns a bar called JZS.”

“That’s because, unlike you, she’s probably not afraid of commitment.”

“Hey.” I tap Rusty’s straight nose. “I committed to Verizon for two years, once.”

“Like I said, you’re an asshole.”

“You’re right. And this asshole is going to head on over there to see which one of Missy Mill’s girlfriends he can take home tonight.”

“You’re bad, Zeke Declan. Just all kinds of wrong.” She whips me in the arm with her rag.

“Ah, come on. You wish you were bad like me.”

“Yeah. Right. I’d probably get laid more. Now, get out of here.” She shoves me. “Go do your thing. Go play, some of us have work to do.”

I chuckle, grab my beer, and head over to the group of chicks being sure to make extended eye contact with each one of them.

“Zeke,” Missy says, curling up against me as her arm slides around my waist. I look down, happy to see flirtation and not affection in those big, baby-blues.

Yeah. She gets it.

“Missy.” I pull her to me, lifting my head for another sweep around the circle of women. “Ladies.” I nod. Some smile, some blush, and some respond with a high-pitched “hi.”

“We watched you fight,” Missy says, grinning at a couple of the girls. “You looked good out there.” She presses against me and whispers in my ear, “Jenny really, really likes you. I didn’t tell her about, ya know, last night. So if you could keep that our little secret?”

I tug Missy closer and bend down. “Of course, babe,” I say as the heat of my breath radiates from her willowy neck. I raise my head, glance up, and stop as all of my confidence, strut, and gumption drops to the floor. It’s her. The girl from the park, the one who made me double back to get a second look at her while I was out jogging earlier. Transcendentally, she pulled me over to that damn bench with this unexplainable lure, the kind that I’d never gotten from any chick before. And after talking to her, hell, she drew me in even more. She didn’t view me as the player that I am. She didn’t see me as a one-night stand. She looked at me differently. While I liked it, I knew that I couldn’t measure, so before I crushed her image of me—before that precious enthusiasm dulled from her emerald eyes—I hightailed it out of there.

Peeking over Missy’s shoulder with my hand nearly grabbing her ass, the woman who made my heart stop for a split second, not once but two times today, looks at me. She sees me for who I really am. And fuck, I don’t like it.

This chick is not like all the others, easy to conquer. She’s not a hammerfist, an axe kick, or a spinning back-fist. This girl is more like a guillotine, the most lethal MMA fighting move. It’s where the guy gets himself in front of you, wraps his arm around the top of your neck and under your chin, and applies pressure to your throat. It has rendered some unconscious. Even I have a tough time getting out of that one. I’m quick, though, and try not to let myself get too close. No guillotine is gonna take my ass down. But the longer I gaze into those gripping emerald eyes, the more I’m convinced that I should kick up my guard and block this sexy little guillotine. Instead, like an idiot, I slowly smile at her, deciding to swing for the fences. Something a fighter does to indicate to his opponent that he’s giving it his all in the final round.

Her full red lips spread upward. She sweeps, hooks, and with a quick, tight clench, with that sweet returning smile, she takes my ass down. The guillotine renders me senseless, and as I release Missy and move toward her, I know without a doubt that I am fucked. And not fucked in the way that I want to be tonight.

CHAPTER FOUR