Chapter 13
“Are you ready for this?” Robin faces me, having just parked outside of Genie’s. The neon lights glow against her pale skin and add a colorful cast to her curls. The brown mass is a smooth cloud of loose twists around her head.
“Yeah,” I say because I know that’s what she needs to hear. Truth is, I’m not sure. I’m not sure what this is exactly. I’m here as her fake date, and that means we...
My mind is blank.
Her eyes narrow as she studies me. “You’re not ready for this.”
Damn, how was she able to tell that?
I do my best to put on my blank face—I can’t fake enthusiasm, but stoic indifference is easy enough.
But Robin has already seen the uncertainty.
“There’s still time for you to back out. I’m not going to make you do anything you don’t want to.”
I sigh and tug at the sleeve of my black henley, glad Robin didn’t demand I change into something fancier when she saw what I had on.
She looks like a knockout. Black jeans hug her curves, showing off how muscular her thighs are.
Over the past two weeks of her in my house, I found out she still does physical training most days—an exercise routine left over from her time in the military. She asked to use the weights I had set up in my garage, and the woman can deadlift a shit ton. Her strong arms are on display tonight in a tight, low-cut red tank top, made of some silky material. She called it “a good-tips outfit” when she caught me staring.
“More tits, more tips. Not that I have a lot of tits to swing about.” She grinned at me, as if making a joke, but I saw a dark shadow in her expression and remembered the shit Daren had said when we walked in on him. My cousin’s compliments about Trinity’s assets.
I wondered if that was one more paper cut on top of a bleeding wound.
“You look hot,” I told her, completely honest.
The shadow faded, and Robin had practically skipped on her way to the car.
“I want to do this,” I tell her now, moving to climb out of the car.
Her hand stops me, and I glance back.
As she studies me, Robin tucks her hair behind her left ear, and I make a note that she’s not wearing her hearing aid tonight. I remember her saying that loud places, like bars, have too much noise for it to help and the loud garble can set off her tinnitus. I’ll have to stick to her right side.
“Okay. You want to do this. Got it,” she says. “So, the plan is that from the moment we step out of this car, as far as anyone else knows, we’re dating.”
I nod.
She continues, “And that means I will be physically affectionate with you. The kissing practice will commence.”
I nod again as my nerves tighten in anticipation.
Wait, am I looking forward to Robin touching me? Kissing me?
I think . . . I am.
I guess that’s good. It would be hard to sell the ruse if I grimaced every time she leaned in. Deciding not to explore the anticipation further, I tilt my chin toward the bar, full of a crowd I can already hear.
“You good to go?” I ask.
Robin runs her gaze over me one more time, then gives my arm a pat. “Let’s do this.”
We meet in front of the car, and Robin immediately slips her hand into mine, lacing our fingers.
This starts now. Don’t let her down.
I gently squeeze her hand, enjoying the rough brush of her calluses against my palm. She put a special exfoliating soap in the bathroom, but it only smooths her skin so much, and there are still a few grease stains on the pads of her fingers, as if the dark oil has permanently ingrained itself into her cells.
I like how it looks. Makes her hands distinctive.
A wave of noise washes over us as we step into Genie’s. Saturday nights can get wild in here. There’s a live band and a lively dance floor, full of people stomping out a rhythm. The first scan I make of the room, I see plenty of familiar faces—not surprising since this is the only decent bar in a small town—but no one from my family.
No Daren.
I can’t decide if I want to see him or not. This farce is for his benefit, but I bet Robin hurts whenever she interacts with him now.
Silently, I hope Daren stays home tonight. Word of us being together will still make its way to him even if he doesn’t witness our date with his own eyes.
“Hey, pumpkin. Want to grab a beer?”
I glance down at Robin to catch her cringing at her own words.
“Pumpkin?” I ask.
“I was trying something.” She shrugs.
“Don’t.”
Robin snorts and shoves me with her hip, but our clasped hands keep us together. Robin uses her hold on me to guide me toward the bar.
Genie notices our approach, offering a welcoming grin, and then her attention drops to our hands and pops up to our faces, surprise widening her eyes.
And so it truly begins.
“Hey, Genie.” Robin greets the owner of the establishment and studies the chalkboard with a list of what’s on tap behind her. “I’ll take the hazy IPA.” She glances back at me. “You like stouts, right?”
I blink, then nod slowly, thrown off that she remembers. Robin rolls her eyes.
“I worked as a bartender for years. Remembering your order is habit.”
She turns her back to me and asks Genie for a pour of the stout. When I spy her free hand slipping into the back pocket of her jeans, where I saw her store her credit card earlier, I palm her ass.
To keep her hand in place, of course.
At least, that was my plan. But now, I have a handful of Robin’s perky butt, and my entire body flushes with heat.
Why did I wear long sleeves? It’s an oven in here.
My fake date gapes up at me, and I recall my original intent.
“Don’t pay. I’ve got this.” Trying not to show how reluctant I am to release my hold, I move my hand from her ass to mine, slipping my wallet out and maneuvering my credit card out with one hand.
I might have let go of her butt, but I’m not ready to release her palm.
For the ruse, of course.
Robin smirks as Genie leaves to swipe my card. When the bartender returns, something sparks in the mechanic’s eyes. “Thanks, lovebug.”
Then, her hand is at the back of my neck, fingers tangling in my hair until she has a firm grip, and with those powerful arms of hers, Robin tugs me down.
Into a kiss.
I freeze again. Like always. I didn’t want to admit to Robin that I knew what she said was the truth. That I’ve always been worried I’m a terrible kisser.
The problem is, I want the kiss too much. Want it to mean something. And that need overwhelms me, to the point that I can’t function. Can’t think. Can’t move. I hold my breath and hold still and wait for the punch from fate.
The one I shouldn’t be waiting for right now because Robin and I already did this and I know there won’t be that magical reaction my father described. The one he told to me at night like a bedtime story. A truth I’ve built my love life around.
Robin’s kisses won’t change my life. So, why can’t I relax into this?
Just when I think I might be able to thaw myself, she lets me go, humor in her eyes.
“We’ll work on that. And on the nickname. I don’t think lovebug is doing it for me.”
“Don’t need a nickname,” I mutter, still feeling the warmth of her on my mouth.
I want to tell her to kiss me again. To give me another chance. I’ll get it right next time. Like she said, I just need to practice.
Maybe we could find a dark corner booth and practice for the rest of the night.
But Robin boosts herself onto a barstool and pats the one beside her. I pick the seat up and move it out of my way, leaning against the bar instead as I grab my glass and take a deep draw. The cool beer eases the lingering heat of her lips.
“You don’t want to sit?”
“Been sitting all week.”
“Ah, true.” She leans closer to me, wearing a playful smile that draws me in. “Does your butt ever fall asleep?”
I snort. Then nod.
“What do you do? Drive around with a numb ass all day?” Her eyes twinkle at me over the rim of her glass as she sips the amber liquid.
The band really revs up the noise, so I lean in close to her right ear, making sure she can hear me.
“Pull over. Do squats.”
Robin barks a laugh, and when I straighten, it’s a struggle to keep from smiling in response to her amusement. So, I don’t stop myself. There’s no problem with grinning at the beautiful woman I’m pretending to date.
Then, Robin sets me off-balance again by resting her hand on my waist and squeezing my side, sending a hot spike of pleasure up my spine. “I need to see that. Arthur Kraut doing squats on the side of the road. Tell me, do you ever add in some booty pops? Get a little twerk going?”
I grunt and smooth away my smile. “No.”
“You should. Have some fun with it. Do we need to work on your dancing skills, pookie?”
“I can dance,” I protest. “Not pookie.”
“Yeah. I heard it coming out of my mouth and was not a fan.”
She continues to drink her beer, a pink flush spreading over her cheeks the more she consumes. I sip at a slower pace, scanning the room again and finding no sign of Daren.
Let’s keep it that way.
“Do you line dance?” Robin gestures at the crowd in front of the band.
“I can.” Hard to grow up in Tennessee and not know how.
“Want to help me work on my technique? I’m still a newbie.”
Robin gives me an eager, open smile, and I have the sudden urge to lean down and kiss her.
I should. It would help the ruse.
But I’m bad at kissing. Better let Robin keep leading with that.
Instead, I step close and slip an arm around her waist, taking possession of her. Staking my claim, false as it is.
“Let me finish my drink.”
“Really? Oh, this is going to be good. There was never any live music at the bar where I worked. But there was this regular who got in a singing mood after a few whiskeys...”
As I down my beer slow, Robin regales me with stories of her time as a bartender in Chicago. Over my time in getting to know the mechanic, I’ve found she likes to tell a good story.
And I like to listen.
There’ve also been plenty of times these past weeks where we’ll sit together in total silence. Usually, Robin is on her computer, working on online classes.
I knew she was going to school for business, but apparently, she’s almost done with her bachelor’s degree and is thinking of getting an MBA. The military has the GI Bill for veterans that covers the cost of the education, and I wonder if she wants the degree because of her interest in taking over Green Valley Aviation.
“You’re nursing that. Is this your way of getting out of dancing?”
She taps her nail against my glass that only has a swallow left.
“Fine,” I mumble, throwing it back. It’s just that I was enjoying listening to her. Hearing more about her life before Daren.
Robin slips her hand into mine again—easy, like we’ve been doing it for years—and draws me toward the crowd. Bodies press in on all sides, smelling like perfume, cologne, sweat, and beer. One drink in, and I’m relaxed enough to be okay with this, but packed bars aren’t normally my preferred scene.
I always feel like I’m stepping on someone, having to keep my head on a constant swivel so I don’t flatten an unsuspecting bystander.
Won’t happen to Robin though. I’ve got a lock on her location, right at my side.
“Okay, show me how it’s done, baby!” Robin calls over the music, then frowns and shakes her head. “Not baby. Gross, no. That’s not it.”
“Agreed,” I rumble back, huffing out a chuckle at the disgust she has for the nickname she came up with.
We claim our spot on the dance floor, and for the next few minutes, I guide Robin through the steps. She catches on quick.
Too quick.
“You know how to do this,” I say.
“Huh?” She tilts her head, offering me her right ear.
I lean in close, picking up the coconut scent of her shampoo. “You know how to do this!”
The woman’s blue eyes go comically wide as she tries for an overly innocent expression. “Who, me? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
I should’ve known. Daren loves going to Genie’s, and I’d meet up with him and Robin here sometimes. They’d be going strong, ordering more rounds when I would call it a night. Should’ve known my cousin had pulled his girlfriend onto the dance floor to teach her some moves.
I pretend to scowl down at Robin, but it’s hard to stay surly when her cheeks are ruddy like that and she looks happy and carefree. Like nothing bad has ever happened to her and this is just a fun night out with a friend.
Or a date.
I wonder when she’ll kiss me again.
At the thought, my eyes drop to her mouth, in time to watch the corners of her lips tighten and dip.
Glancing around to find what soured her sweet mood, I discover the answer standing on the edge of the dance floor, glaring furiously at me.
Daren is here.