Embracing Juliette (Texas Heroes: Station 9 #1)

Chapter 2

2

Juliette

“ W here are you dragging us?”

“Nolan’s. A bar. A place people go to socialize and have fun.” Nicky rolled her eyes at Jenna and me.

I would’ve made a face back, but applying mascara required my undivided attention, lest I ended up with it halfway down my face, or worse, in my eye.

“And why are we going?” Jenna asked.

“Just a quick happy hour for my colleague’s birthday. I need you guys because I don’t know them well, and you’re more fun than anyone else who’ll be there.”

I had to stop working on my makeup for a long moment to laugh at that.

Jenna and I were the least likely people to be a good time at a bar. Jenna wouldn’t venture far from our sides, but at least she could make small talk, while I was unlikely to talk to anyone. Out of the three of us, Nicky was by far the life of the party, not that the bar was set very high.

“Stop it. That wasn’t funny. You guys are my best friends, and you’re lots of fun.”

“Just not in a bar,” Jenna said.

“Or with new people,” I added.

“Not true! I love you girls, and I love you even more for coming.”

An hour later, I was squished into a booth at Nolan’s with Nicky, Jenna, and five of Nicky’s colleagues, and I was having a surprisingly good time.

Bars aren’t my scene. I have dyspraxia, which basically means I’m an uncoordinated mess.

Having dyspraxia is like having the messages from my brain go through a twisty slide on their way down to my body, with an extra spiral tacked on specifically for my speech. Sometimes those messages make it through the way they’re supposed to, and sometimes everything gets jumbled. By the time words come out of my mouth, they don’t always resemble what was in my mind. They take on a life of their own: slurring together, skipping sounds, and mixing up simple words, often jamming up in that damn slide then coming out in one big rush.

The more nervous I get, the twistier that slide feels.

It’s hard for me to talk when it’s loud or if I’m with more than a couple of people. If I’m distracted or nervous, I’m likely to spill my drink or have half of it dribble down my chin when I take a sip. Anything could go wrong.

But this evening was turning out great. I was uneasy at first, but Nicky’s friends were welcoming, and I actually knew two of them. Except for Jenna, we were all occupational therapists, so it wasn’t surprising. I worked in a special education school, and they worked for a home care agency, but there was some overlap. I even loved the bar. With its dark wood tones, sunlight shimmering through the stained-glass windows, and classic folk rock softly playing, it had an unexpected warm, cozy vibe.

I was talking to Nicky’s friend, Mel, about a physical therapist we’d both worked with, and I was so happy to be connecting and having a good time, I didn’t even care that we were talking about work. She was laughing at a story I’d just told—yay!—when her eyes drifted over my shoulder.

I’m well acquainted with the signs of someone who’s finished with the conversation. Maybe I hadn’t been as clear or interesting as I thought. I stumbled over my next words, trying to end the conversation quickly before Mel was forced to awkwardly excuse herself.

“Cole’s here!” she interrupted me to announce. “And he’s with all his hot firefighter friends!”

There went my easy time. At least I’d made a decent first impression while it was just us girls in a quiet booth. And she’d had a real reason for ending our conversation, not just because I’d somehow made it uncomfortable.

Nicky’s coworkers chattered excitedly about the sexy fireman Mel had hung out with a few times, and whom she clearly hoped to go home with again tonight, while Jenna and I quietly pasted on our smiles.

“Look at those muscles! Happy birthday to me!” the honoree of the night, whose name I forgot, said.

Nicky threw us an apologetic glance as her friends slid out of the booth to head over to the guys at the bar while we trailed behind.

Holy smokes! Mel wasn’t kidding. Their San Antonio Fire Department shirts confirmed that they were indeed firefighters, and each one was taller, more muscular, and hotter than the next.

The last one was especially hot. He was at least half a foot taller than me, maybe six feet. His navy-blue SAFD polo shirt hugged his chest and arms, more than hinting at the muscles underneath. His dark brown hair had a slight wave like it would curl if it was longer. He was gorgeous, the kind of guy I’d love to ogle from afar where there was no possibility of having to talk to him, because there was no doubt he’d make me tongue-tied. I kept my smile pasted on as we were all introduced, trying not to be obvious in my search for an escape.

“Hi, Juliette. I’m Dylan.” His deep, warm voice cut through my mounting panic.

I smiled—or tried to, at least—and waved, hoping it didn’t look as awkward as it felt. Oh shit, he had his hand out to shake. I dropped my hand toward his like I’d planned that all along, a hot flush spreading across my cheeks. Why didn’t I run away when I had the chance?

“Uh, hi. I’m Juliette.” Shit, what was I saying? He knew my name.

“Pleasure to meet you, Juliette,” Dylan said smoothly, ignoring my bumbling reintroduction.

His hand surrounded mine, and it felt more like we were holding hands than sharing a brief, polite greeting. I looked up in surprise and found his gaze already on me. His eyes were a deep, dark brown that conjured thoughts of molten dark chocolate, warm, delicious, and oh so tempting. He smiled at me, his teeth perfect and a small curve to his lips, so sweet that I couldn’t resist smiling back.

His warm hand still held mine, as did his beautiful eyes, and his smile grew. Warmth—his warmth—radiated from his touch, up my arm and through my body. I didn’t want him to let go. I didn’t want to run away. I don’t know what it was about him that caused me to have such a visceral reaction, but I knew I’d never had it before. I knew I liked it. A lot.

My mind raced for the next thing to say. Anything to prolong this moment. “Um…”

“Hey,” Jenna interrupted. “They’re heading back there.” She pointed at the back of the bar where there were a few high-top tables, pool tables, and a dart board.

I didn’t know if I should be annoyed or grateful for the interruption.

Jenna took a step and waited for me to follow.

“After you.” Dylan put a hand out, indicating for me to go.

I walked ahead with Jenna, hyperaware of Dylan following behind me. One foot in front of the other, eyes straight ahead. Ignore Dylan. I could do it. I just had to walk across the room without tripping, bumping into anyone or anything, spilling my drink, or any one of the dozens of clumsy things I could do. Things I’d done before. Easy.

The good news is I made it through the bar without embarrassing myself. The bad news is, the second I walked into the slightly separated back room, the noise assaulted me. There was no way I was talking to Dylan in this chaos. Our friends were gathered around a few high tops, talking over each other to be heard across the tables. This was why I hated bars. And groups of people. And meeting the sexiest guy I’d ever seen, with a sweet smile and friendly yet intense eyes, who didn’t flinch when I said something stupid, who held my hand a touch too long, leaving behind the imprint of his huge, warm hand and his callused fireman’s fingers that were still sending tingles vibrating through me in said bar. In a group of people. In the exact situation that brought out the worst of my dyspraxia.

I pulled Jenna with me and squeezed between Nicky and her colleagues, leaving no room for Dylan to follow. He found a spot on the other side with the firefighters. Good. It was easy to look at him, but didn’t invite conversation.

“Sorry,” Jenna whispered into my ear. “Everyone else came back here, and I didn’t know it would be so much louder.”

“It’s okay.” I hated the contrite look in her eyes. She didn’t want to leave me alone with him, nor did she want to be out there with just us, and I’d never hold that against her. I hugged her, hoping she felt everything I couldn’t say.

I felt Dylan’s eyes on me, so I kept my eyes on the firefighter who was talking—a blond, surfer-dude looking guy—and nodded at whatever he’d said. There were at least two conversations going on. He was talking about a movie—I think the new Avengers movie, or maybe they were comparing the new one to the older ones—and some of Nicky’s friends were talking to a couple of the firefighters about firefighting, oohing and aahing and flirting. Why did it bother me so much that they might flirt with Dylan if there wasn’t a chance in hell that I was going to? I’d rather streak naked through the bar than talk in this loud crowd.

I nodded along with whatever Nicky had said, hoping it looked like I was part of the conversation while I tried to sneak subtle peeks at Dylan. My skin prickled when one of the guys, Brady I think, turned to Nicky and asked her a direct question. Shit. No way was I waiting to see if I’d be next.

“Hey,” I said quietly to Jenna. “Want to play pool?”

“ Yes! ” Her relief was palpable. She didn’t mind talking to people like I did, but I could tell the guys were making her uncomfortable. As friendly as they were, they were big and sexy and exuded this alpha male confidence that couldn’t be missed.

Jenna told Nicky where we were going while I headed towards the farther table. I was okay at pool—not good, but not horrible. At least it gave me the time I needed to strategize, not just react to a ball flying at my face like most sports.

Jenna and I started playing, and we were a fantastic team in our unique way. We forewent the traditional rules and just had fun. Jenna hit whichever balls she could reach without leaving her spot on the wall side of the table, a safe distance away from everyone, and I stood across from her facing the wall, where I could try to ignore anyone who might be watching while I tried to hit the balls from my side. Maybe it was the drinks we’d had earlier, or maybe it was the relief at getting away from the others, but for whatever reason, we were completely invested in the game with mock seriousness. It wasn’t easy to hit the balls, though, when we were laughing so hard at how badly we were playing.

“Dylan is watching you,” Jenna said just as I lined up a shot.

“Some friend you are. That’s a mean way to make me miss.”

“I’m serious.”

“For real?”

Jenna nodded.

“Your turn,” I said, without taking the shot. No way was I doing it with him watching me.

Jenna smiled and hit a solid that had been lined up perfectly for her.

“Cheater!”

Jenna laughed, and I laughed with her, but then her eyes widened at something over my shoulder. Not something. Someone. My skin started to tingle, and the hair on the back of my neck stood up, and I knew before I turned around that it was him.

“Hey, Juliette, Jenna. Mind if I cut in?”

Jenna’s gaze flew to mine, sharp and ready to come to my defense.

I gave her a tiny nod. I had this.

“I was just about to go back to Nicky and everyone. You good, Juliette?”

“Yeah, I’m good.” I think.

Dylan racked the balls, and I couldn’t help but admire how the muscles in his back and arms rippled as he reached across the table, even as nerves filled me. How was I going to make it through this game without embarrassing myself? This wasn’t anything like playing with Jenna.

“You want to break?”

I nodded and took my time, carefully lining up my shot and hitting it as hard as I could just to push a few of the balls out by a couple of inches. He went next and sent two balls sailing into the corner pocket while the rest scattered around the table.

I forced out a laugh. “You do it next time.”

He grinned back with that adorable smile and perfect teeth.

“You’re an OT like the rest of them?” he asked as he lined up his next shot.

“Yeah, I work in a school,” I answered as he studied the table.

“And you know Nicky and Jenna from college?”

“Yep, we met freshman year and have been best friends ever since.”

He was still looking at the table as he walked around to shoot from the other side. I don’t know if the game provided a distraction which took some of the pressure off, or if it was Dylan himself, or just that all the stars were aligning for me, but so far—knock on wood—my speech was coming out fine. The twisty slide that screwed up the messages from my brain got more twisty when I was nervous and eased up when I was relaxed. And in some bizarre, inexplicable miracle, playing pool with the sexiest man I’d ever met seemed to put me at ease.

So I kept talking. “They came home with me during some of the breaks and they loved it. I was so happy when they decided to stay here instead of returning to Georgia and New York.”

Dylan sank another ball and flashed a smile at me. “Where did you take them to show off our city?”

“The Riverwalk, of course, and the Japanese Tea Garden. Market Square. The best day we had was when we did the hop- on, hop-off bus tour. It was us and a bunch of tourists, but it was fun.”

Dylan finally missed, and it was my turn. I missed, of course, even when he let me take two extra shots.

“Was Whataburger part of their decision?”

“Of course, and tacos too.”

My God, his laugh. How could such an ordinary thing sound so amazing?

We continued playing, talking, and laughing the whole time until all but one of his solids were in and none of my stripes were. I was close a few times, though, and once I even cheered because I was so excited that a ball almost went in, but it stopped just millimeters shy.

“May I help you?” He watched me closely, his eyes dark and intent.

My stomach dropped and a nervous laugh snuck out. “Yeah, I…uh, I could use a little help.”

Dylan stepped closer, so close I felt the heat of his body against mine, and placed a hand on my shoulder, the weight and warmth of it stealing my breath. Then his other hand trailed down my wrist to cover my hand. My heart raced and my skin tingled everywhere he touched. Part of me wanted to move away, confused by my reaction. A bigger part of me yearned to press closer.

He turned slightly toward the pool table, moving my body with his. His strong fingers stroked over my hand as he shifted my grasp on the stick. “Right there,” he said, his voice huskier than before. “Keep the cue straight, pull it back, and push forward hard.

I did as he instructed, and the ball glided into the corner pocket. “It went in! Thank you!” I turned and threw my arms around his neck. I quickly pulled away, my face flushed, almost as surprised as him by the hug.

“You did it,” he said, his voice still husky. Gravelly. So damn sexy.

“Well, we did it. Can—uh…”

“You want me to help you again?”

“Yes.” Did my voice sound different too?

Dylan stepped in again. This time, his arms wrapped around me, moving my body with his.

Crack.

The cue ball shot forward, sending the other balls flying, one into the pocket directly in front, another ricocheting off the side into the pocket closer to us.

“Two balls in!” I yelled.

“You’re amazing!” Dylan said, his smile huge. He was so close to me, we’d only have to move the slightest bit to kiss.

I jumped with a little cheer, excited to be here with him, flirting and talking and playing. And, somehow, everything was going so right.

Crack .

This time it wasn’t the sound of the balls. It was the sound—the feel—of the cue stick hitting the ceiling. My eyes followed the stick up to the dime-sized chalk-blue divot in the ceiling.

Tears sprang to my eyes, and I tried hard to blink them back. This beautiful bar. It had welcomed me in, and what did I do?

“Hey, it’s okay.”

I shook my head and turned away, hiding my tears. I hated how easily I cried. I knew it was silly and I was overreacting, but I’d felt so normal, so comfortable and happy, I’d almost forgotten that this was the kind of thing I usually did.

Dylan didn’t let me hide, though. He stepped in front of me and put a finger under my chin, gently lifting my face to his. “It’s okay,” he repeated, kindly yet firmly. “Look.” He released my face and took the cue from me, and then he took my hand in his. He pointed both our hands to the wall. “See that crack?”

I obediently looked at the crack on the wall and nodded. It wasn’t the same, though. Whoever did that was probably playing when it happened, at least.

“And there, and there.” He pointed out other cracks and dents in the walls and ceiling. “It’s no big deal, happens all the time. No one will notice one more dent among the rest of them. Okay?”

“Okay.” I forced a smile back onto my face. I couldn’t deny his earnest expression.

“You good?” He studied me intently, and I tried to relax, to get back into the easy flirting we were enjoying just a few minutes earlier.

“Yeah, let’s keep playing. I think I was about to win.”

He laughed, and we went back to the game, but I was more nervous and awkward now. Still, he soon had me laughing for real again. Even when our friends came over and we all took turns playing, Dylan stuck by my side. Instead of feeling self-conscious, I felt like the luckiest girl at the bar. With Dylan and me playing as one, his hands wrapped around mine, I was a fucking superstar.

“Thank you for coming out for my birthday! I had the best time!” Nicky’s colleague burst out, drawing my attention away from Dylan.

What? How was the night over already? I looked around, desperately hoping she was the only one leaving, but everyone was taking her cue and getting ready to go. My eyes snapped back to Dylan. I wasn’t ready to say goodbye to him.

Dylan held my gaze, his eyes warm and soft, and he ran his fingers down my jaw.

“Juliette,” he murmured.

I could barely breathe. Was he going to ask for my number? Kiss me? Or just thank me for a fun night?

Please don’t thank me and walk away.

“I’m not ready to say goodbye yet. Are you hungry?”