9. charlee
NINE
charlee
What a week.
Between my father’s revelation about the VP position and running into Lucas Wednesday, I’d been looking forward to this happy hour. The fact that Boots and Brews was next door to his tattoo place? Hopefully, irrelevant. Because unlike a few days ago, I no longer wanted to run into him.
Liar.
“I love these saloon doors,” Natalie said as we pushed open said doors. “They really set the tone for the place.”
Zoe, a woman who’d just moved to Kitchi Falls a few months ago, laughed. “I’d say the music does a pretty good job of that too.”
As it was a country-western themed bar, it was no surprise we opened the doors to the sound of George Strait. Zoe, a complete and utter spitfire who had been recruited to manage one of my dad’s resorts, did not waste any time. The woman’s motto—work hard, play hard—was on display pretty much twenty-four seven. Although I was glad to count her as a friend, there were times I simply couldn’t keep up.
“Where does she get her energy?” I asked Natalie.
“Damned if I know,” she said as we sidled our way to the bar. Of course, Zoe had already ordered three vodka sodas. “Never mind there were already a half dozen people here,” I said of the crowded bar.
“I don’t know where Mazzie found the bartender, but look at that guy. No wonder Zoe got served so quick.”
I was already looking. Smoking hot, with tousled brown hair that was somewhat wavy and on the longer side, he looked like a cross between a surfer and a banjo player, but one who could stick on a suit and fit perfectly into the Wall Street crowd. Zoe didn’t seem to notice. She was on her phone, texting the boyfriend from hell that literally no one liked.
Except Zoe.
Putting her phone away, tossing some bills on the bar, and handing us her drinks, Zoe raised her own in a toast. “Happy Friday, bitches!”
It was impossible not to feel empowered beside her. We toasted, and just like a week ago, began to sway to the music. My plan for the night? Not to think about my dad. Or him . Or any man. It was simply to enjoy my friends and the music, and to look forward to a day off. With a wedding photo shoot at the resort Sunday, I’d be working at least a half day. But tomorrow was all for myself, and since I had a ton of projects to choose from at my apartment, I’d be using it to catch up on at least one of them. Painting my bathroom didn’t sound like a ton of fun, but it needed to be done.
Watching Zoe and Natalie run out onto the dance floor, having politely declined to join them, I leaned against an empty space at the bar. And did not look for Lucas. (Although he didn’t appear to be here, not that I was looking.)
Apparently, my Deep Eddy’s had a hole in it. I turned back to the bar and waited for the cute bartender to notice me.
Nah, more than cute. The guy was a certified hottie. So why didn’t my libido respond? Like it had with that dickhead who shall not be named?
“What d’ya got there?” the bartender asked.
Nice voice. Probably around my age. Where the heck had he come from? I knew most people in town.
“Deep Eddy’s Sweet Tea vodka and water,” I answered.
He took my glass with a smile. I watched as he got my drink, willing myself to feel something similar to when I looked at Lucas. But it wasn’t there.
“Thanks,” I said, “how much?”
Reaching into his back pocket, he threw cash onto the bar “Doesn’t matter,” he responded. “Enjoy.”
I blinked. “You aren’t going to make much by buying the customers drinks,” I scolded him.
“Just one customer,” he said, erasing any doubt the guy was flirting with me. “I doubt I’ll go broke from one drink.”
“True.”
Just as the bartender opened his mouth to respond, I felt something behind me.
Not something. Someone.
With a deep breath in, my traitorous body told me even before my mind could register the fact that Lucas was there. Standing really, really close to me.
So close, in fact, that when he leaned forward to order a drink, his head nearly touched mine. “Bourbon. Neat.”
The bartender, looking momentarily confused, but no more so than me, went right to work getting Lucas his drink. Back when we’d dated, Lucas had been a bit of the jealous type.
Leaning into my ear, still from behind, he whispered over the music, “Having a good time, Charlee?”
He said it in a way that made me feel like I’d done something wrong.
“I am,” I said, without turning around. When the bartender slid his bourbon toward him, tossing his credit card on the bar, Lucas said, “Keep it open,” and then took the drink.
He was so damn close I could feel his breath as he stood back up.
I couldn’t turn around. My face would be right next to his. Essentially, he had me trapped.
“Thought you were a rum girl?”
I swallowed. Jesus. Fucking. Christ.
This guy.
I’d told Natalie he had an edge now, which he did. Problem was, I was beginning to think that edge was too sharp for me.
“That was a long time ago.”
“Mmmm, you’re right. Ten years to be exact.”
“You did say you changed.”
I had to turn around. Fuck it. Let him move back. So I did, and sure enough, Lucas was literally inches away from my face. With the bar at my back and a person sitting on a bar stool to my right, I had nowhere to go. Thankfully he was turned to the person next to him and didn’t appear to be paying us any attention, and the bartender had moved on.
“You can back up now,” I said, my drink still on the bar with my fingers wrapped around it in a death grip.
“Can I?”
He didn’t.
“What game are you playing here?” I asked.
Inches. Our faces were inches apart. To anyone watching, we would look extremely intimate. But I knew better. Lucas was trying to intimidate me.
And it was working.
“No game. Just figured if you want to talk, to get reacquainted. . . maybe I’d give it a shot.”
“Oh really? Now, all of a sudden, you want to talk? Honestly, it feels like a game to me.”
His brows went up, but his expression stayed neutral. I couldn’t read him at all.
“If it is a game,” he said, just loud enough for me to hear, “I feel obligated to tell you that I always come out on top, so. . . there’s that.”
“On top,” I managed. Sigh. The visual of that.
“Yes, Charlee. On top. I play to win. Always.”
Every word was enunciated. And Lucas meant each one.
I shivered.
“Cold?” he asked, this time looking down at my breasts without hiding his gaze. Something had shifted with him, obviously, though I wasn’t sure why. Maybe he sensed I’d had enough. That I wouldn’t be pursuing him anymore. That he’d pushed me too far?
“Yes,” I lied.
“Mmm.” That sound again.
“Charlee?”
My avenging angels had arrived. At the sound of Natalie’s voice, Lucas finally stepped away from me. Had I really asked him to do that? The space between us now felt like a chasm. One that threatened to swallow me whole.
“Right here,” I squeaked.
Zoe, wide-eyed, looked at us both. She knew about Lucas. Everyone in my life knew about Lucas, so no surprise there. But she’d never met him before.
“Zoe, Lucas. Lucas, Zoe,” I said by way of introductions.
And damned if the man didn’t turn down the heat and warm right up to her. “Nice to meet you, Zoe,” he said in a perfectly normal, perfectly civil, non-sexy voice.
“Nice to meet you too,” she said, clearly stunned.
Yeah well, same, girl.
“We were coming to pull you out on the dance floor,” Natalie said just as the music stopped.
“This one,” the singer said, beginning to strum a new tune, “is for the lovers out there.”
Sure enough, “Gettin’ You Home” by Chris Young, a favorite of mine, began to play. Just what I needed in my life right now. A song about sex.
“Do you still like to dance, Charlee? Or is that something that’s changed about you?”
Now he was just mocking me.
“She loves to dance,” Natalie pitched in.
“And so, we dance.” He put his drink down on the bar and took the liberty of doing the same with mine. Without giving me a choice, he asked Natalie to look after our drinks, grabbed me by the hand, and steered us to the dance floor.
“Why do I have a feeling your words have a double meaning?”
“Because they do,” he said, lifting our still joined hands. “Exhibit A.”
I did pull away then, prompting a laugh from Lucas.
“Now you’re laughing at me,” I quipped.
“Come here,” he said, pulling me toward him.
Without a word, I half reluctantly and half more than willingly put my hands around his neck.
His arm went around my waist.
And we began to dance. And not just on the dance floor if Lucas’ tone had meant what I thought it did.