2. Drew
DREW
The bass pounds through my chest, people yell over one another, and it’s too damn hot from all the bodies packed into this place.
Why the hell did I agree to this?
I like things that make sense. Numbers. Patterns. Structure.
People... not so much.
Then I look over at my sister-in-law’s flushed cheeks. Ivy has a crown on her head and a sash across her chest that reads “Birthday Queen.” She’s dancing with my brother in the middle of the small, crowded dance floor.
Even though my brother knows maybe three dance moves, he looks happier than I’ve ever seen him. The fact that he’s out there dancing at all tells me two things:
One: he’s madly in love with his wife and would do anything for her.
Two: she dragged him out of his stoic shell.
Maybe not completely, but enough for him to be dancing to Taylor Swift’s “The Fate of Ophelia.”
I take a pull from my beer. I didn’t even know he knew a Taylor Swift song existed.
Another Ivy influence.
Not that that’s a bad thing. She’s grown on me.
Even though I still think my brother was insane for not padlocking his doors, bolting his windows, and installing the most high-tech alarm system money could buy after meeting his stalker-turned-wife.
We’re so different. I married the first—and only—woman I’d ever been serious about. Sebastian was allergic to dating, let alone relationships and marriage.
Until Ivy stalked him.
I lower my bottle to the table and sigh. There were times I wanted my brother to get his head examined for letting Ivy barge into his life and take over.
But there’s no doubt he loves her.
I glance at them again, horrified by the way they’re grinding on each other—in public.
Jesus Christ. Get a room.
I flip my phone over, hoping it’s late enough that I can leave without offending my slightly crazy sister-in-law, when it vibrates.
Oh, shit. It’s my ex-wife.
What the hell does Julia want now?
I stand, my phone in hand. Catching Sebastian’s eye, I lift it and gesture toward the door. He nods, already looking back at his wife.
Lovesick bastard.
The second I step outside, I answer. “Hey, Julia.”
She launches straight into a tirade without even saying hi. Something about Dan—the guy she cheated on me with. I’m only half-listening. She burned that bridge when she spread her legs for him.
She finally pauses to breathe.
Fantastic.
She’s found oxygen.
I speak before she starts ranting again. “Not my problem, Julia. You made your bed—”
I jerk the phone away from my ear when she screeches so loud Mr. Pickles probably wakes up from his nap on my bed ten minutes away. Or maybe he’s busy pissing on it because I wronged him in some mysterious way. Who knows? That cat is psychotic.
I pace back and forth outside the bar, pinching the bridge of my nose and regretting every life choice I’ve ever made.
Especially marrying her.
I tune out most of her rant until she says something that really pisses me off.
“No, that’s not what I meant when I said that.” I lower my voice when a couple gives me a look as they head inside.
This is not a conversation I want everyone in Hollow Creek hearing. Nosy Vermont bastards don’t have anything better to do than eavesdrop on private conversations.
I head down the steps and across the parking lot.
“You’re not a slut,” I mutter, stopping in a dark corner where the lights barely touch the parking lot. “Why would you even take it that way?”
She continues with her temper tantrum.
I drag a hand through my hair, gripping the phone so tightly I’m surprised it doesn’t crack. She’s a real piece of work. How the hell did I stay married to her as long as I did?
I know the answer to that. Even if I don’t want to admit it.
I didn’t just love her. I built my life around her.
And she threw it away like it meant nothing.
I turn and nearly barrel into a shadow.
“Hi,” a female voice cheerfully says.
“AHHHH—Jesus Christ!” I shout, my phone flying out of my hand, clattering to the blacktop.
My heart slams against my ribs as I stare at the woman standing in front of me, one hand pressed against my chest.
She looks like she’s been standing there for a while, waiting.
But not for me.
Right?
I mean, there’s no way a striking redhead like her would be waiting for me. Even in the throes of my coronary, I’m still mesmerized by her.
I blink at her.
She doesn’t look bothered.
She looks amused.
I straighten, trying to recover what little dignity I have left.
“Hi.” I run a hand through my hair, then smooth my button-down shirt. “I don’t normally scream like a—”
She cocks her head, waiting.
I am absolutely blowing this.
“Woman?” Her red lips curl into something halfway between a smile and a snarl. It’s hard to tell in the dim light.
“Umm… well… I uh…”
She laughs and puts a hand on my elbow.
“You can say it. I won’t be offended.” She leans in, lowering her voice. “But I’ve heard men scream louder and higher than women. We’re talking full-on soprano.”
I laugh, and it comes out way dorkier than I intended.
“Are you talking to your girlfriend?” she asks, looking up at me through long, dark lashes.
I blink at her, unable to comprehend what she’s asking.
Girlfriend? What girlfriend?
“On the phone,” she says, pointing to where it landed. “You were arguing with someone.”
Oh. I get it. She was close enough to hear me arguing with Julia.
I stare at her for a second too long.
Was she listening? Where was she? Why didn’t I see her until now?
She stares at me with curiosity in her eyes and a slight smile on her red lips.
She looks harmless.
But so does Ivy. And she stalked my brother.
Her smile grows, and she takes a step closer. So close I can feel the heat of her warm body against mine.
This is... not normal.
Right?
I’m probably overreacting.
Just because my brother ended up with a stalker doesn’t mean I’m about to attract one too. It’s not like there’s a stalker gene in our family.
Oh, God. Is that a thing? Should I Google it later?
No. Absolutely not.
That’s ridiculous.
Lightning doesn’t strike twice.
She’s still staring at me, waiting for my response.
“Oh. Um, no. It was no one.”
I reach down and snatch my phone from the ground. Somehow, the call is still connected. I end it, then shove it in my pocket. Julia’s probably still ranting, having no idea I hung up on her.
She lifts her brows like she doesn’t believe me, but she lets it go. “How about we go inside, and I buy you a drink?”
She wants to buy me a drink?
“Oh, um...” I have no idea what to say. I’ve never been in this position before.
She cocks her head, her smile widening. “Come on. Just one drink.”
“I suppose that won’t hurt anything.” I take a step back, realizing how close I am to her. Like my body naturally gravitated toward hers. Only, I end up tripping over the shoestring of my loafers.
She reaches a hand out and grabs me, helping to steady me.
“Thanks.” My face burns from embarrassment. “I swear, I’m not drunk.”
“I know.”
I stare at her.
She quickly adds, “You’re not slurring your words. Or giving any other indication you’re intoxicated.”
I nod, then bend down and tie my shoe. “I’m just clumsy.”
When I stand back up, she’s right in front of me. The scent of jasmine mixes with the balmy late August air. I breathe her in, hoping she doesn’t notice.
Her hand lightly touches my arm. “So how about that drink?”
“Oh. Um. Okay. Sure.”
She links her arm through mine like this is normal and we head to the bar. I’m very aware of her touch, which has goosebumps running up my arm. And she’s not even touching my skin.
I shiver, trying to hide it from her.
If she affects me like this, I wonder what would happen if she touches my bare skin.
I rack my brain, trying to find something intelligent to say to her. But when I look down at her, and the neon bar lights illuminate her porcelain skin, I forget how words work.
God, she’s unreal.
Every coherent thought I had just clocked out for the night.
I swallow hard and look away.
Come on, Drew. You can do this.
I look at her again, and I’m speechless.
Under the parking lot lights, I get a better look at her. Ivory skin. Big eyes that lift to mine like she feels me staring. Long red hair glowing beneath the lights like fire.
The black dress she’s wearing is short and tight, showing off legs that seem to go on for miles.
Then it hits me.
She’s the woman from the back booth. The one whose eyes locked with mine before I looked away like an idiot.
Up close, she’s even more gorgeous than in the shadows of the darkened booth. The kind of woman you notice. And keep noticing.
Why the hell is she hanging onto me?
Sebastian got the jawline women write songs about.
I got the ability to explain payroll deductions.
Women lust over him.
They fall asleep the second I open my mouth.
And this woman beside me… she’s way out of my league.
We’re almost to the wooden steps that lead to the bar door. The nameless woman is still hanging on to me.
For a second, I debate asking her for her name, but that thought is replaced by the way she’s still holding onto me.
Is she… not going to let go?
Don’t be ridiculous, Drew. You’re being irrational.
Calm down and try to be normal.
I blow out a breath, then look down at her again. “So what’s your—"
The sound of a motorcycle roaring into the parking lot behind us cuts me off. The engine rumbles louder as it stops right behind us.
I turn around, lifting a hand to shield my gaze from the headlight beaming right at my face.
The noise stops, and a hulking figure climbs off it. He yanks his helmet off, glaring at us.
Uh-oh. I have a bad feeling about this.
His footsteps pound over to us, hot and fast. His angry voice cuts through the muffled bass seeping out from the bar windows and the crickets chirping around us.
“Violet.”
She stiffens beside me.
I nearly choke. “Oh, shit. Do you—” My voice betrays me and comes out thinner than I’d like. “Do you know the motorcycle-riding dude?”
She glances at me, then releases a long sigh. “Unfortunately.”
Attitude simmers from her as she turns, still holding onto me. “What the hell are you doing here, Smoke?”
“Smoke?” I look between them. “Oh. Um. I should probably—”
Her grip tightens on my arm like a vise. I get the feeling I’m not going anywhere.
“What the hell are you doing here, Violet?” He glares at her, then glowers at me for daring to breathe the same air as her.
Oh shit.
You know those cartoons where somebody gets stomped straight into the pavement? Yeah. That’s about to be me.
At least I know the beautiful redhead is named Violet before I meet my demise.
I hold up my hands in a gesture of surrender, but before I get a word out, Violet’s voice comes out strong and loud. “Having a drink.”
Smoke takes another step, but Violet lifts her hand to stop. The huge, leather-clad dude actually stops.
He’s still too close for comfort, but at least he’s not within swinging distance.
I think.
“Don’t start.” She points at him. “If you followed me here to ruin my night, turn around, get on your bike, and get the hell out of here.”
Wow. She’s fearless.
I’m impressed. And a little terrified.
“Violet.” His voice lowers. “I just don’t want you to get hurt.”
She snorts. “I don’t need your protection.”
She releases me, stepping closer. My mouth drops open as she jabs a finger into his chest. “I’m an adult, fully capable of taking care of myself. Now get back on your bike and leave.”
I stand perfectly still, impressed by her take-no-prisoners attitude. She’s not afraid of Smoke at all.
Meanwhile, my loafers are rooted to the ground, scared shitless.
I can’t help but compare myself to him.
Smoke is terrifying—tall, muscular, and clad in leather. Tattoos line every exposed area of his skin.
And me? I look like I’m about to sit down and file everybody’s taxes.
Why the hell does she want someone like me if she’s been with him?
Smoke shifts, biceps bulging as he puts his hands on his hips.
Come to think of it, I probably wouldn’t do his taxes. He looks like he’s involved in the kind of stuff that isn’t taxed because nobody’s brave enough to ask for a cut.
“Just leave, Smoke.” Violet whirls around, her fingers biting into my arm through my shirt as she grabs my arm again and drags me up the first step. “Come on, Drew.”
“Now, wait just a damn minute—”
Boots thud closer, and I tense, waiting to be jerked away from her.
Instead, his hand closes around her arm, and he jerks her backward.
Something hot flashes through me. This asshole is manhandling her.
Before I can think better of it, I whip around and grab his arm. “Now, wait a damn—”
He shrugs me off like I weigh nothing, his rage now fully directed at me.
Smoke shoves Violet back a step, cracks his neck, and squares up.
Oh hell… I’m about to die in a bar parking lot.
I glance at the door. It’s too far.
Fantastic.
Instead of imagining kissing the gorgeous redhead, my last thoughts are about doing taxes.
I really need better priorities.
I brace for the hit, but it never comes.
My eyes fly open right as Violet’s fist flies out and cracks against his jaw. Then she stomps on his boot and drives her knee straight into his balls.
Smoke goes down hard.
Even better, the sound he makes rivals the scream I let out earlier.
“Go home before I really embarrass you.” Violet stands over him with her hands on her hips. “I told you to knock off your macho bullshit.”
I gape at her.
Holy shit. She’s terrifying.
And somehow, that only makes her hotter.
Smoke curls into the fetal position, groaning into the pavement.
She stomps on his hand with her heeled sandals, and he screams again.
“And don’t ever try to hit a man I’m with again. Or I’ll embarrass you even more than I am right now.”
I stare at Violet in stunned silence. She just saved me from getting my ass kicked.
Somehow, that doesn’t bother me as much as it probably should.
Smoke looks up at her, grimacing. “I just wanna—"
“—Butt into my business like the nosy bastard you are,” she finishes.
I gape at her, shocked yet impressed. She’s a firecracker in high heels.
An exasperated sigh falls from her lips. “I can take care of myself, Smoke.”
“Clearly,” I murmur from behind her.
He moans again. “I think I’m gonna puke.”
“Ew.” Violet whips around and grabs my arm again, her grip just a little too tight to be casual. “Come on. Let’s get that drink.”
She’s already pulling me up the steps before I can say a word. I’m too stunned to resist.
“I’m buying. Heineken, right?”
She yanks the door open, and noise rolls out in a wave. Even if I could answer her, she’d never hear me.
She tugs me through the crowd, her hand wrapped around mine, and I follow in a daze.
Although I’m not a fan of beer, when I drink, it’s always Heineken.
How the hell did she know that?
It has to be a lucky guess.
Millions of people drink Heineken. It’s a popular beer.
Except she said it like she already knew the answer.
Something about this feels... off.
I scratch the back of my neck. This makes absolutely no sense.
And yet, I don’t pull away.
Even worse, I realize I don’t want to.