4. Presley
Chapter 4
Presley
Even with Jake’s warning, I wasn’t prepared for how busy Night Hawk gets on a Saturday night. The place is wall-to-wall bodies, and from what I’ve heard, a line has started outside. It’s the first time, apparently, and I guess one of the locals volunteered to be a bouncer for the night until Jake could figure out a solution for the future. It’s insane.
“Presley, can you run to the back and grab some more limes?” Gavin yells over the roar of the crowd and Garth Brooks singing “Friends in Low Places.” It’s so loud, my ears are ringing. Makes me wish I could wear earplugs. I’ve always been sensitive to loud noises, and as a musician, my hearing is everything.
“Yeah, sure,” I yell back to him. He gives me a smile that looks exactly like Kade’s, and my stomach does a little flip-flop. But unlike his younger brother, Gavin has been nothing but professional with me. Despite it being busy and loud, it’s been easy to shadow him, especially since he stopped the endless questions I had to answer at the beginning of the night from the locals. As soon as they started to arrive, the curious bunch sat at the bar and wouldn’t stop chatting my ear off.
Polly Carson, a bright-eyed and sweet girl, asked me twenty consecutive questions about my hair color. Then her boyfriend, Tim, a cute red-headed cowboy, asked me questions about my tattoos. It was around the thirtieth question that I really did wish I had worn a wig and a long-sleeve shirt. Probably seeing my annoyance, Gavin made them leave the bar and go find a table. From then on, it’s been a complete blur of activity.
At seven, Kade started line-dancing lessons. The small dance floor near the bull swam with women in mostly white cowboy hats and painted-on jeans, including several bridal parties dressed like Jessica Simpson in The Dukes of Hazzard circa 2005.
After my interaction with him outside and our…I don’t even know what that was, I’ve tried to avoid looking his way. It’s hard, though, especially when I can hear his voice over the loudspeaker calling steps to the crowd and telling jokes. His voice is a strong baritone, not too deep and easy to listen to, like a warm hug on a cold afternoon. He’s encouraging to the dancers and definitely the flirt he demonstrated himself to be when we were outside.
When the song changes, and his “yeehaw” reaches my ears, I find the brim of his cowboy hat in the sea of women. He does some complicated move on the dance floor, spinning a girl out and back into his chest. My eyes follow the movement of his hand in hers, and my palm—the one that was against his earlier—tingles.
Before he came inside, I thought he was going to kiss me. Which is ridiculous. And not just because he’s handsome with his neck-length dusty-blond hair and tortured hazel eyes, but we’re going to be working together, and he’s six years younger than me—a fact I found out from a random local. Plus, I do not want to let any man get in the way of my life again. I let that happen with Derek right out of college and with the people who claimed to be “helping me” with my career. I’m not going to let my hormones make any decisions for me.
And did I mention the man is tortured?
If the way he stormed into the bar earlier, angry at his brother—plus the flask—isn’t a dead giveaway that he’s going through something, his sad, angsty eyes are. I know because I’ve looked in the mirror every day for the last six years and seen the same sadness. But his look…I don’t know, it’s more defeated in a way that has me wanting to avoid his gaze. I feel like staring into his eyes will show me a scary reflection of the feeling I ran away to avoid—and the entire reason I came here was to start a new life.
There was also the part of our conversation where he called me Sweetheart , which is an immediate no for me. That endearment burrows under my skin like a splinter. It’s one that Derek loved to use when he was being condescending, which was most of the time. But then Kade apologized, and I attempted to let it go. I reminded myself that despite his bad first impression, I don’t know him. If Jake judged me on my first impression, I’d be screwed—so I wasn’t going to judge Kade, either.
“Presley?”
My head swivels to Gavin, and I smile sheepishly. Speaking of bad impressions—he asked me to go get limes, and I haven’t moved.
“Limes, got it.” I think he chuckles, but I don’t linger, already embarrassed I was standing there like an idiot.
As I walk toward the back, the other bartender, Stu, smiles at me, and I give him a little wave. He’s been nice to me, too. Really nice. The thought makes my eye twitch because it’s funny how much that stands out to me, but it soothes the sadness I’ve felt inside for so long.
Apparently, people being nice without wanting anything in return is noteworthy now.
I release a long sigh as I enter the back room, stray peanut shells from the bar crunching beneath my feet. With my hands on my hips, I take a look around and wonder where the limes are. I see a door that leads to Jake’s office, a door to the alley, and a little table that we can sit at to take breaks as well as little cubbies for us to put our belongings in during our shift .
“Ah, yes!” I say to myself when I eye the rows of shelving with supplies, including bags of peanuts and pretzels, thinking they could be there.
I move through the rows, eyes scanning and hands searching, but I’m not having any luck finding them. I probably should’ve asked exactly where they were, but I thought they’d be easy to spot.
After another minute, I start to get annoyed. There are lots of different types of mixes for drinks and more pretzels, but I don’t see any limes. I move to the next row and keep looking. When I do, I feel my phone vibrate in my back pocket.
I’ve been feeling it go off all night. I should’ve just turned it off, and I don’t know why I haven’t. When it vibrates again, I look around to see if anyone is back here, but I’m alone. So I pull out my phone and glance at it quickly, not wanting to be the girl who leaves her coworkers hanging for too long.
I grit my teeth when I see who it is, even though I knew it was going to be him.
DEREK: Are you going to tell me why you did this?
DEREK: Seriously, P? What the fuck were you thinking?
DEREK: You’re ruining this for us. For me. Don’t you care?
DEREK: Answer your damn phone.
DEREK: Seriously, WTF! I know you’re not dead. Answer the fucking phone.
DEREK: We’re going to replace you, then. Is that what you really want?
My eyes sting, and the bridge of my nose prickles. Of course he wouldn’t be concerned about my well-being, only his own. And the last text—my stomach turns over, and I feel sick. I put my hand over my mouth and try to take deep breaths through my nose. It doesn’t help that the smell of peanuts and stale beer is thick in here, making me feel stifled and hot as if the very air I’m breathing is closing in on me.
My anxiety spikes, tendrils of dread curling in my gut and snaking up my back, causing me to shiver. I squeeze my eyes shut and scold myself. I will not have an anxiety attack in the back room during my shift. Now is not the time to let my stupid ex get to me.
I take my inhaler pen from my jeans pocket and take a long pull of it, the peppermint soothing my frayed nerves before I turn off my phone and shove it back into my pocket. I’ve been gone too long again. While Gavin is nice, he’ll probably start to dislike me if I don’t get my shit together.
I tuck the inhaler alongside my phone then take another few deep breaths as I try to focus on the task at hand. Limes. I need to find limes.
But just as I’m about to move, I register the sound of giggles.
I freeze, looking to the side to see Kade and a woman kissing as he walks her toward the back of the room. They’re so involved in each other, they don’t see me between the shelves.
“We have to be quiet, cowgirl,” Kade croons as they disappear from my view, the boxes blocking them now.
“What if I don’t want to be quiet?” the woman answers back.
“Then I’ll have to gag you.”
She expels a high-pitched giggle, and then they start to kiss and groan into each other’s mouths. Jesus . Why did Gavin have to send me back here for limes?
I stay still, trying to determine if I can get out of here without them hearing me. But I’m screwed, because the moment I move, they’ll know I’m here. I guess it wouldn’t be that bad if they did, but I can’t bring myself to budge. My body is paralyzed by the idea of being caught, even if I’m back here for a reason. I just don’t want to embarrass myself further.
The throaty moan of the woman draws my attention to them again, and I shift so I can peek through a space between peanut boxes on the shelf. I mute my breathing, careful not to make a noise as I observe them.
Kade’s hand travels up the woman’s thigh then disappears beneath the fabric of her dress. When my gaze reaches the top of her head, I notice she’s wearing his cowboy hat. It strikes me as odd, but then I remember the saying I’ve heard while visiting bars around the South: “Wear the hat, ride the cowboy.”
The woman writhes against him, her lithe body pressing into his. From this angle, Kade’s back is to me. He’s built, the kind of built you get from working long, hard days in the sun. I get lost in watching his biceps flex and the way the veins in his tanned forearms are more prominent as he grips the girl’s ass.
I bite my bottom lip despite myself. I don’t know why I’m watching. I need to leave. I should have gotten out right away, but—
“Yes, Kade!” The woman’s head thumps against the wall. He kisses her again, his other hand coming up to grip her neck. My interest spikes as I watch. I’ve made out, and I’ve had sex, but only with Derek. And never once did he touch me like Kade is touching this woman, like he’s a starved man and he needs her like he needs oxygen. It’s…
Hot .
“I told you to be quiet.” Kade squeezes her neck, this time a little harder so his thumb indents her skin and she gasps for air. For a split second, I wonder if I should be nervous for her, but he’s not gripping her throat in malice. And by the hitch in the woman’s cry and the way she grinds into him, she likes it.
I lean forward a bit and tilt my head so I’m still hidden but now I can see more of Kade’s profile. His long hair is mussed from his hat and a bit sweaty from all the dancing. The shadow of his stubble on his square jaw is more pronounced in the harsh overhead light, and his cheeks are flushed from their kissing.
When my gaze reaches the sly smile that tugs at his swollen lips, I think about our interaction outside—how I swore he was about to kiss me, the way his hand felt so strong and warm in mine. I press my tongue against the back of my teeth at the sudden onslaught of images that crash into me.
Instead of this random woman against the wall, now it’s me. Kade is squeezing my throat and pressing his body into mine. He’s using those perfect lips to kiss up my jaw then tease my tongue with his. I can almost smell the saltiness of his skin as I imagine what it would feel like to experience those well-worked hands all over me and what sensations his stubbled jaw would cause between my thighs.
I bite my lip so hard it stings, the action bringing me back to reality. Shame fills me, and my desire to get the heck out of here comes back. I’m a twenty-eight-year-old woman, and this is my place of work. I should not be standing here watching this. I should not be imagining that a younger man, who is also my coworker, is pinning me against the wall about to have his way with me.
I mean, crap . Am I this starved for attention that I was basically treating this like my own personal porn show? What is wrong with me?!
I quietly step away from my viewing spot and turn my back to the shelf. I need to get out of this room. Maybe I should consider going to live in the mountains somewhere. It will be me, myself, and my fiddle. A semi-pathetic existence to be sure, but at least I wouldn’t have to worry about embarrassing myself or having to deal with people.
“Presley?” Gavin’s voice calls. “I need those limes—” The words die on his lips as he enters the back room. From where he’s standing, he can see both Kade and the woman as well as me between the shelves. Kade’s hookup screeches, and I peer between the open space to find the woman flushing and Kade unbothered. He removes his hands from her body and faces his brother. A wide smile stretches his lips, smeared with pink lipstick. I don’t know how to explain it, but he almost looks as if he’s glad he got caught.
“Can you cover for me, Presley?” Gavin asks.
I jump at my name and remember I’m still here, still standing in between the storage shelves. My entire body burns with embarrassment as I meet Gavin’s eyes, taking several steps toward him until I’m revealed to Kade. I don’t know why, but I dare a quick glance at him. The corner of his lip twitches when we make eye contact, and I know he understands I’ve been here the whole time. Maybe he even knew I’d been watching.
My ears turn pink, and I’m developing pit stains from how much I’m sweating. Thank god this T-shirt is black. When my head turns back to Gavin, he raises one of his light eyebrows at me, and I recall he asked me a question.
“Yes, I’ll, um…” I stumble over my words. “I’ll go do that now.”
“Thanks, Presley,” he says. “And you”—he points at the woman as I walk by his shoulder—“please leave. This isn’t a space for customers.”
I think she whines in protest, but I’m not sure because I’m met with the boisterous sounds of the bar as I hurry through the swinging door. The chaos of the room breaks me out of the bubble I was just in, the one where I’d been imagining Kade between my thighs and his hand pressing into my throat. The one where I’d just watched him make out and feel up another woman when I was supposed to be getting limes. My awkward self has the urge to tell someone “I carried a watermelon,” but I doubt anyone would get my Dirty Dancing reference.
Stu walks by with a couple of beers and grins at me then eyes the back door. His bearded jaw clenches like he knows exactly what’s going on behind that door, which has me wondering if he saw Kade take the woman into the back room. They would’ve had to come through the bar area, so maybe Kade did want to get caught? But why?
“You good?” Stu asks.
“Yeah,” I lie. “I’m good.” My voice comes out squeaky, but I clear my throat to try to cover it up.
“Hey! We’ve been waiting for like ten minutes here!” a guy behind us yells. Stu’s brown eyes dart to the door then to me, and I know it’s time to step up and get my shit together. I need to prove to Jake that I can handle this job. Gavin showed me the ropes—now it’s time to sink or swim. This is the life I choose now. Or at least it is for the time being.
“I got it, Stu.”
“You sure?”
“I told Gavin I’d cover for him. I’ll be fine,” I say over the twang of Luke Combs singing “Beer Never Broke My Heart,” a song that seems fitting for the place and the people in it. Stu nods his assurance, and I turn toward the man who was just complaining.
I take in his black cowboy hat, the shine of it making it clear he’s not an actual cowboy. He’s also got on an expensive-looking T-shirt and designer jeans. I’ve seen his type all over the country, and I know he’s wearing this getup because he wants to be a cowboy for tonight and thinks it will get him laid.
I paste a saccharine smile on my face, the one I would placate Derek with all the time, and ask, “What can I get you, Cowboy?”