15. Mr. Bad Boy
Chapter 15
Mr. Bad Boy
Rafe
“Come with me to see Leo.”
“Absolutely not.”
Izzy doesn’t give me a passing glance as she argues. She’s too in the zone.
The Hideaway is busy tonight, and since she’s filling in for one of their missing bartenders, she has no time for talking. Somehow, she still found time to incessantly text me until I dropped by. I’m not going to talk to anyone other than her, but I know that’s the plan. I’m her excuse to talk to nobody else either. Plus, I offer to take out the trash behind the counter when it gets full. If I’m here, I may as well help.
Izzy finishes pouring the shaken tumbler into a glass, drops in a cherry, and slides it down the slick wooden bar to Laura. As Never Harbor’s community center manager, she’s always buttoned up too tight. Charity events are when she lets her hair down.
Christ, I didn’t realize Laura was sitting next to me. I’d purposefully chosen the far corner of the bar to sit in—the seat beside the wall of framed event posters. I shift in my stool to face away from her, but that’s when I come face-to-face with Hideaway wall art I know all too well.
Bonnie’s created multiple event posters for The Hideaway in the past. They’re full of life and sketchy lines. Authentic lines.
When did she become less confident in them? When did she stop standing up for her talents?
“Hiding?” Izzy asks with a grin, already preparing another drink without anyone asking.
In our town, it’s easy to know people’s orders by heart. I don’t even work here, and I’m aware of Wendy Darling’s affinity for pink drinks and Jukes’s love for little umbrellas in every order, including beer.
“I’m not hiding,” I grumble, still holding up a hand to guard my face.
I am hiding actually, and I thought it would be easier, given how crowded this place is. Most of Never Harbor is present tonight, supporting the community center’s latest charity function.
The Hideaway is the only truly acceptable place to party in town. Hidden down a winding road with a balcony overlooking Crocodile Cove, Peter Davies’s restaurant-bar combination is an adult tree house. Its theme—intentional or not—is on point, with a large trunk anchoring through all three stories and a canopy of leaves partially shrouding the open rooftop bar.
I don’t like crowds. I don’t like talking to people much either. But I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t also hiding from a certain redhead. I don’t know if Bonnie is here. Word around town is, she doesn’t come out much anymore. She is normally with Lulu, and I hear Lu’s been studying at home lately. Without her best friend, Bonnie isn’t much of a partier. She really doesn’t like crowds, does she?
The third floor of The Hideaway is packed. Peter can host a party—I’ll give him that—but we all know the real mastermind behind its inner workings lie with the bar manager, Izzy.
“You look ridiculous,” she says.
“Stop drawing attention to?—”
Large hands land on both my shoulders, and I jump.
“Rafe!” Cassidy Davies bellows. “You made it!”
“I’m just spending time with Izzy,” I explain.
“Whatever gets you out here,” he says with a grin.
A scruffy five-o’clock shadow covers Cassidy’s jaw and chin, and deep lines bracket his mouth, like he’s spent most of his life laughing. If a dog shifted into a man, I’d imagine that man would be Cassidy Davies. He has that massive, boyish smile, similar to Peter’s but far less mischievous. Purer. He’s Bonnie’s most gregarious brother, but I like him. I respect that he couldn’t find an enemy if he tried.
“Taking care of my sister, right?” He slings his arm around my neck, tugging me close.
Where I’m tall and lean, Cassidy is built like a linebacker.
Christ.
I roll my shoulder and shake him off.
“She’s a perfectly good employee,” is all I can manage.
Bonnie is an employee , and that’s all—an employee I’m definitely not thinking about every fucking waking moment.
After last Friday’s awkward conversation, I’ve kept myself closed off from Bonnie this week. She comes to work, I critique her portfolio, give her another assignment, and then she leaves whenever she finally looks up from her tablet. Sometimes, that’s five o’clock. Sometimes, seven. She flirts with outlasting sunsets nearly every day, and I let her. Irresponsibly. For me, not her. Because even though I admire her passion, I can’t. But I miss that flame of being a new artist, and there’s something intoxicating about watching Bonnie catch that same spark.
A grin splits Cassidy’s scruff, and he barks out a laugh, some pieces of his curls bouncing onto his forehead.
“I know she’s a good employee,” he says, patting my back and leaning a thick forearm on the counter. “Don’t let her fool you though. She can be trouble.”
Don’t I know it?
“She grew up with brothers. And we’re not easy. We’re also”—he leans in, raising his eyebrows—“ very protective.”
My lips straighten into a bored line. I’m far from rattled. It’s funny too; I don’t know how to explain that I’m starting to get equally protective of her as well.
“I’m just her boss, Cass,” I explain dully. “What’s there to be protective over? A mop?”
Unfazed, he laughs again and slaps my back. “I know, I know. I was just seeing what you’d do. You’re a cool guy, Rafe.” Even though he says that, his opposite hand still flexes unconsciously by his side.
Yeah, I definitely respect Cassidy.
Izzy groans. “Do any of you ever mind your own business, Cass?”
He beams, resting his elbows on the counter and placing his chin in his palm. “Never.”
“Where’re the girls?”
He sighs wistfully, looking at the night sky like he already misses them. “Marina’s at home with Melody. She said I needed to spend time out of the house tonight. Apparently, I’ve been ‘hovering’”—he uses bunny ears over the word—“in this pregnancy. Even Melody pushed me out the door with her tiny little hands.” He laughs, as if savoring the memory.
Almost three years ago, Cassidy and Marina had an accident baby after one summer together as roommates and have been mostly inseparable since. I didn’t know marriages could be healthy and loving until I moved to Never Harbor, and those examples only seem to expand as time goes on.
If I didn’t know how horribly relationships could fail, I might be inspired. But I know better.
“Oh my God, Rafe! You’re here!”
I grit my teeth into a forced smile as Laura finally notices me.
Cassidy smacks his palm against my back again. “Yeah! The hermit left his cave!”
“I have to speak with you, mister,” Laura says, pointing a finger. She is ninety percent frizzy brown hair. Wrinkled event T-shirts are her uniform, and tonight is no different.
“Uh-oh, someone’s in trouble,” Cassidy teases. “Let him have it, woman.”
My hand itches to reach for my cigarettes, but there are too many people around. I’d have to go to the railing overlooking Crocodile Cove to be polite, and that’s on the opposite side of the open-air rooftop.
Instead, I grin and bear it. “Speak away, Laura.”
She leans closer conspiratorially. She smells too much like tequila.
“I saw your donation,” she says in the least whispery whisper possible.
I lift an eyebrow. “Aren’t those anonymous?”
“Not to the coordinator,” she singsongs, reaching out to tap the top of my nose. I pull back just in time to avoid it. “And, Rafe”—she leans closer—“you really didn’t have to.”
“What’d you donate?” Cassidy asks, raising his eyebrows.
I run my tongue over my teeth. “Let’s not talk about it, all right?”
He slaps my back again. I swear I’m gonna have a fuckin’ bruise there.
“You’re so cool, man,” he says. “Bonnie’s lucky to learn from you this summer.”
Now I really need a cigarette.
Izzy takes Laura’s empty glass and wipes the wet ring it left with a rag.
“Laura, keep your mouth closed about Rafe or no more drinks,” Izzy says. “Got it?”
“One hundred percent,” Laura quickly says, sitting taller and motioning a hand, zipping her mouth closed, locking a key, and then throwing it over her shoulder. “Oh wait, Cass, I need to talk to you about the business-owner barbeque! Wait!”
I tighten my jaw. I don’t get invited to things like business-owner barbeques. I’m fine with it. I don’t know what fun I would be anyway.
Cassidy is already saying hi to someone else with Laura quickly snatching the new glass Izzy made and scampering after him, stumbling as she does.
I lift an eyebrow at Izzy. “Hasn’t she had enough?”
“It’s water,” she clarifies. “Also, why don’t you want people to see the best side of you?”
“There’s no side to see.”
“How much did you donate?”
“It’s anonymous ,” I say, emphasizing the word and tapping the wood bar top with my finger.
Not all acts of kindness need to be on public display. I’m not here for brownie points. And if I never tell Never Harbor what I donated, then they won’t be upset if it’s ever not there one day.
I clear my throat. “Now, back to Leo …”
“No,” Izzy snaps.
“It’s a free concert in Boston. You love Boston. I’ll even drive us.”
She gives a haughty laugh. “On the back of your death machine motorbike? No thanks.”
“Iz—”
“I’m busy. You should have asked me weeks ago when you knew.”
“Well, I got distracted.” I unconsciously fiddle with my ring, sliding it down my finger, then back up.
She pauses with a bottle of rum tilted over a glass of ice, blinking at me.
“What?” I ask, but I know what .
Izzy begins pouring again. “Never mind. I won’t talk about it.”
We don’t need to point out that I’ve been distracted by Bonnie. By her excitement for art, her gorgeous red hair, and her inability to not mention our one-night stand, leaving me with too many swimming thoughts. No, drowning thoughts.
“So, Boston?” I press.
She leans forward. “How about this: I’ll go with you to the art festival in Mourning next month?”
I exhale on a groan. “Iz, stop being difficult.”
I don’t take anyone with me to the festivals in Mourning, and she knows that.
“C’mon … I wanna finally meet your mom.”
Hair rises on my neck. “No.”
“Now who’s being difficult?”
My phone buzzes on the wood. I flip it over and look at the text.
Leo: Is Siobhan Davies your intern?
Rafe: Yes.
Leo: Her work is killer. Me and Jonah wanna see more.
Rafe: I’ll let her know.
Leo: Is she free in a couple of weeks?
Rafe: She’s not available for dates, asshole.
Leo: I meant for the concert, dickbag. We want to meet her.
I ignore him. I can’t even think about that possibility. An evening in Boston with Bonnie? It’s a recipe for disaster, and I’m already on the verge of one with how close we keep getting.
“You can take a night off from Pete,” I say to Izzy. “Isn’t that tempting enough?”
“It’s not Pete,” Izzy says. “It’s The Hideaway. I don’t want to leave it.”
“Sure it is,” I agree sarcastically.
“Rafe, I’m not going.”
“Who’s going where?” Peter asks, appearing on the opposite side of me with his long forearms stretching over the bar top.
He has that playful grin on his face as he sends a large palm through his sunny-blond hair. He leaves it messy, as if any style showing he might be over the age of thirty would seem too boring.
I give a smug grin. “Iz is coming with me to a concert. She’s my date.”
Peter’s face instantly falls. His green eyes dart to her. “A date?”
Izzy rolls her eyes. “He’s being ridiculous.”
A grin spreads across his big mouth once more. He holds up his hand in innocence. “Well, she said it, Rafe, not me.”
I roll my eyes. “Good one, Pete. Anyway, Izzy, were you gonna wear the green dress or the pink one?”
Peter’s eyebrows furrow in irritation. He opens his mouth to say something, but someone calls his name across the bar. Being the good owner that he is, Peter clicks his tongue and stalks off.
Izzy leaps across the bar top and slaps my arm. “Ass! If I could punch your pretty face, I would.”
I tap my chin in invitation. She groans.
My phone buzzes again, and this time, my heart beats just that much faster.
Bonnie: I got an email from the band’s marketing manager!!! I’m moving to the next round!!!
Rafe: Didn’t I say you were clever?
Bonnie: You say a lot of things.
Bonnie: Actually, no, you don’t.
Rafe: No, I don’t.
Bonnie: Then, I’ll happily take the compliment.
These are the texts I could get used to seeing. Excitement. Passion. Much preferable to Leo’s tour pics. The one of a messy bathroom last week was my final straw.
“Does pissing off your intern’s brother bother you at all?” Izzy asks.
I lock my phone and look up.
“Why would it?” I ask. When did I get out of breath?
Izzy stares down at my blank phone screen and sighs. “Don’t make me say what we’re not saying.”
I pocket my phone just in case she tosses it across the restaurant. “Then, don’t say anything.”
“Well, when I notice Mr. Bad Boy suddenly smiling at his phone …”
“I should honestly unfriend you for calling me Bad Boy.”
Izzy gives a taunting smile. “ Mr. Bad Boy , who’s gonna ruin her good-girl reputation.”
“Shut it, Iz.”
But the words hang in the air.
Am I ruining Bonnie?
Izzy snaps her fingers in front of my face. “Hey. I was joking. You know you’re the kindest person I know, Rafe.”
I snort. “My competition for friendship is Peter. That doesn’t say much.”
Her eyebrows pull into a straight line. “I will kick you out.”
“So, no budging on the concert?” I ask.
“No budging,” she confirms.
“I’m going to endure Leo alone?”
“Invite someone else.”
The person who immediately comes to mind is the beautiful redhead I shouldn’t invite anywhere alone in Never Harbor, let alone take outside of town.
“I’ll go by myself,” I say. “Since my best friend says she’s busy working.”
“I’ll make it up to you,” Izzy says.
“Quit your job with your shitty manager.”
She throws her dirty rag at my face, and I catch it midair.
“Worth a try.”