Chapter 11 – West
WEST
W hat a fucking week, unlike any other. The lack of sleep, the distracting thoughts of Kira and knowing looks from Jackson, and I’m ready for a beer and unwinding with the Blasters game on the big flatscreen.
I’m not even much of a sports fan but having it babbling in the background sure is relaxing, so long as it’s not NASCAR.
I find a familiar face at the bar and take the empty stool next to him.
“What’s up, man?” I give Hunt a lazy fist bump as I throw my ass on a barstool and let out a decompressing breath.
Collin is tending bar tonight, and he shoves a cocktail napkin in front of me and immediately starts drawing my beer.
Even though it’s only Thursday, I give myself permission to settle in and let go.
I take a quick glance over at Hunt to find him spaced out with his eyes on the game and then to the bar in front of him where a half-full tumbler of whiskey sits.
“I see you’re skipping the beer. Hard day?”
He nods vigorously as he blows out a breath. “I can’t hire any good help to save my life, and I’m about to kick my idiot brother to the curb,” he explains as my beer is set in front of me.
I take a long chug and set it down with a sigh of relief. “Do it. His scrawny ass isn’t going to learn shit until you take his training wheels off.”
This gets an amused snort out of Hunt as he nods in agreement. “He was too hungover to do shit this morning, completely fucked up the measurements on the the Porter’s coffee table, and now, here he is, back at the bar to do it all over again.”
I sit back and drape my elbows over the back of the stool.
Hunt’s younger brother Ryan is basically the town fuckboy who doesn’t take anything seriously.
Probably because he was used to their mom picking him up, dusting him off, and handing him a cookie after every fuck up before she retired to Florida.
“Have him come work for me.”
“And why would I do that to you?” He glances at me. “You run a good business, and he’s sure to do something to shit on it. I don’t hate you that much,” he quips, his eyes going back to the screen.
“I’ll make him my toilet-cleaning errand bitch, he won’t so much as touch a socket wrench,” I assure him, adjusting the bill of my ballcap.
“You’re stuck in this cycle with him because he’s your brother and you have no choice but to care about him.
But if you cut the cord, he’ll have no option but the one I offer him, and it will teach him some damn humility. ”
I know a thing or two about this, as the one good thing my dad did was never handing anything over to me.
Quite the opposite, actually. While I could sometimes be a little punk about it back in my youth, I appreciate reaping rewards from hard work now.
Although I’m not sure it was dad or jail that instilled that in me.
“You trying to say I can’t handle my own brother, Dr. Phil?” he snarks, downing the second half of his drink.
“I’m saying you can barely handle your dick,” I jab with a grin, and he biffs the bill of my ballcap, knocking it off my head.
“Pick that up!” I point down at the floor, laughing.
“Pick it up yourself asshole,” he laughs.
“I know you like to see me bend over, but this is going to extremes,” I chuckle, pushing out of my seat to retrieve my hat. “And I’m just trying to help your ungrateful ass.”
“Fine, you’re right,” he sighs. “I appreciate it buddy. I got the next round,” he relents, turning back to the bar and signaling to Collin. “Can we get another one?”
As I stand and push my hair back on my head before replacing my hat, I see a large portion of the bar’s clientele is gathered by the dartboards.
“What’s going on over there?” I ask, sitting back down and picking up my beer so I can polish it off in time for the next one. “There a tournament tonight, and no one told me?”
The makes Hunt perk up a little and he raises his eyebrows to answer me. “No, some new chick in town is showing a few guys up at darts. Ryan’s over there somewhere to check out the fresh meat - his words, not mine.”
The mention of a new girl sends my thoughts skittering back to Kira, not that they had wandered far.
I wonder how she’s doing over at Agnes’s.
I haven’t heard from her in the past three days.
My mind starts to drift, and to distract myself, I glance back over towards the dartboards, and the first thing I notice is a hot ass in jean shorts.
My eyes pan upwards and take in the loose t-shirt that’s half-tucked in and a swinging black ponytail.
“Kira?” I narrow my eyes to focus. In my peripheral I see Hunt’s head turn in the direction of my gaze and back to me.
“What, you know her?”
I continue to stare, trying to register the change in her from her new attire to the lack of makeup on her face, to the way she grabs up her pint glass half full of beer.
“I … rescued her,” I respond slowly, and I put a smirk on my face as my eyes dart back to him, hoping he doesn’t make a big deal.
“Rescued her,” he snorts into his glass.
“She broke down on the side of the road last Sunday,” I explain as he continues to chuckle at me, shaking his head, but I ignore him.
“She kind of got stranded here, and she’s been staying with Agnes.
” My eyes dart back to Kira, still trying to believe what I’m seeing.
She looks … I don’t fucking know how to say it, but I like it. Apparently, so does my dick.
“Holy fuck, you hit that.”
Hunts declaration snaps me out of my stupor, and I brush him off, lean forward on the bar, grab my beer and pretend to be completely enthralled by the game. “You know, you say a whole lot when you keep your mouth shut,” he prods.
“Fuck off,” I huff, just as some commotion breaks out over at the end of the bar.
We both go on high alert as our heads do a synchronized swivel in that direction. I can’t quite see what’s going on behind the cluster of spectators, but my instincts kick in, knowing that’s where I last saw Kira.
I’m out of my seat and barreling towards the fray. I push between two other patrons just in time to see Kira throwing her beer on Ryan.
“What the hell is wrong with you, you fucking bitch?” He barks, his hand going to his shirt and pulling it away from his body.
Oh fuck no.
My tired brain doesn’t take even a second to assess the situation. Instead, it sends my body hurling in Ryan’s direction and getting in his face. “The fuck did you do?” I demand.
“Fuck off, Bradford,” he spits with narrowed eyes and a chin tilt. “Mind your own fucking business.”
“She is my business,” I snipe at him, not even realizing the words until they’re out of my mouth.
“She’s been a hustling tease all night,” he spews back just as I feel a gentle hand on my arm.
“West,” Kira’s voice has a gentle commanding quality to it but it’s not enough to let Ryan’s insult at her go.
“Watch your fucking mouth,” I warn him through clenched teeth.
“Watch your fucking face,” he snaps back and draws his fist back.
I duck the punch and snap back up, throwing one of my own, and my fist connects with the side of Ryan’s stupid head.
The bar erupts in mostly masculine whoops. Collin breaks through the wall of bodies, pushing people aside. He grabs Ryan by his damp shirt and points him to the door. “You - out!” he demands, before looking to me. “West…”
I hold my hands up, knowing I’ve fucked up here. “Sorry Collin,” I tell him, sincerely. “He was disrespecting the lady,” I explain.
Collin looks at Kira and then toward Ryan, being ushered out the door by a pissed off looking Hunt.
“That true?” He looks to Kira.
“Yes,” she conveys firmly. “And he threw the first punch.”
“So I don’t need to ban you from here?” He cocks an eyebrow at me.
Please, God in Heaven, no, it’s one of only two bars in this rinky dink town!
Kira
“No Collin,” a deep, rich voice chimes in as a tall and rugged man with dark everything saddles up beside West with arms crossed over his broad chest. “I saw it. West was defending himself.”
Collin nods at the man, clearly valuing his word. “Alright, break it up!” He yells to everyone still milling around, and they quickly all disperse back to their tables, not wanting to piss off the person who serves their beer.
“Thanks man,” West gives the tall, smoldering man a shoulder bump as he moves around to regard him face to face.
“No problem,” he rolls his eyes. “It’s about time someone took that little fucker out, and unfortunately, it’s frowned upon from a first responder; off duty or not.”
West nods before turning to me, placing a hand on my back. “Sorry… Jace, this is Kira. She’s new in town, as I’m sure you gathered.”
Jace holds his hand out and we shake. “Jace?” I ask, the name sounding familiar. And he said first responder. “Are you with the fire department?”
“I’m the lieutenant for Station 7,” he nods, sans smile but his tone friendly enough.
“Oh! I’m living with a woman named Agnes Shmaltz…
” I don’t miss the heavy breath he lets out and the faintest tug at one corner of his mouth.
“And she told me to ask you something about ladies night?” I’m hoping he can fill in the blanks.
Agnes was pretty vague about what she meant.
In fact, she’s vague about a lot of things, including why she insisted I leave the house tonight.
“You’ve been rotting in this house all week, you need to get out and sow some wild oats, and this is the perfect town because everything is walking distance.
If you meet a guy named Ryan, stay away from that douche canoe, and if you meet a hot fireman named Jace, ask him if he wants to start a side hustle if I start a ladies night.
Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do, and if you do don’t get caught! ”
She said all of that, and yes, she said it fast as she shoved me out the door.
Jace recrosses his arms. “I get the feeling it has to do with a strip show,” he sighs through his nose.
“Oh… yeah, makes sense,” I retort, and then realize West’s hand is still on my back. Unexpected, but we lcome.
“Tell her that’s sweet, but no thanks. I’m a professional. Speaking of which, I suppose I better get out there and make sure that little shit doesn’t need medical attention. Excuse me.” He makes his way in the direction of the door, albeit slowly.
West turns to me, concern taking over his features. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah I’m fine,” I nod, offering him up a smile. “Thanks for rescuing me for the second time this week. Who knew leaving home would make me such a damsel?” I shake my head at myself.
He slowly blinks, shaking his head before pulling a chair out at a nearby high-top table and gesturing for me to sit. “What happened?” He asks as we sit.
“That ass goblin couldn’t take someone beating him at darts, I guess.” I fold my arms on the table.
“He said something about hustling, are you a master at darts or something?” Before waving down a waitress.
“I’ve never played before,” I admit. “I told him that, and when I turned out to have some kind of beginner’s luck or something, he lost his shit.”
West orders us both beers, which is nice, since I wasted the last of my BushyTail on assface. “He’s a dipshit, but he’s pretty good at darts. How’d you beat him?” West leans in, getting comfortable and somewhat close, I note.
“Pretended the target was Preston’s face.” I lift a shoulder and he laughs. It’s a gorgeous rumbling sound.
“You might be a natural,” he points out as our beers arrive.
We make idle, but comfortable chat for a few minutes before another handsome man approaches our table. God, this town is full of eye candy. The guy holds his hand up and they do that manly slap-shake thing that I never see the rich twats in my world do.
“You cutting out, man?” West asks him, and he nods before West introduces us. He’s toned and fit but not in a brick shithouse kind of way. More like his job keeps him exceptionally fit kind of way.
“Sorry you had to meet Dick - for - brains that way” he sighs, looking like he just wants this day to end.
“I was just asking her what happened,” West chimes in. “Apparently Ryans’ a sore loser.”
“Yeah, but that didn’t piss me off so much as when he grabbed my ass and suggested I let him tap it if he won the next game.”
Hunt pinches the bridge of his nose. “Alright, I’m gonna hurt that boy,” he announces. “Then I’m going to fire him. Your offer still stand?” He asks West.
“Yeah, but I don’t think he’ll be as inclined after tonight.”
“Like you said, he’ll have no choice,” Hunt reminds him as he takes his leave.
“What offer?” I ask, after he’s gone.
“Long story.” West chuckles.