Chapter 18 Jesse
Jesse
NOW
The smell of musky cologne fills my small room as I dip my head down to take a look in the mirror above my dresser. All it took to get ready for the night out was swapping my faded gray work shirt for a clean black one, and I even added a small silver chain around my neck.
I can’t say it was the same for Penny and Fia, but I know better than to rush two women doing their hair. Or whatever they’ve been doing in Fia’s room for the past hour.
As I walk into the hall, they both glance up through the open bedroom door. There’s a soft glow from the lamp and purple painted walls, and I pause.
Fia offers a small grin from her wicker vanity seat while Penny stands behind her, fixing her hair. From behind the safety of her sister, Penny runs her eyes shamelessly up my body, and every muscle from my calves to my throat tightens.
I haven’t been able to stop thinking about those lips on mine, her tongue between my teeth. Fuck, I got so hard last night thinking about her, I had to relieve myself like I'm eighteen again.
And now she’s looking at me like she knows.
Like she’s proud of it.
She drops her sister’s long hair and mists it with hairspray.
“All done.” She sets the aerosol can down, fluffing Fia’s red curls. “You look stunning.”
I shouldn’t linger, but I do. “You both look great,” I say gruffly, but I mean it.
Fia shuffles around for something in her closet.
“Do you own anything other than black?” Penny asks but doesn’t wait for an answer before leaning into the mirror and seductively tracing her lips with cherry-red lipstick.
Her eyes meet mine in the small oval mirror as her open mouth puts me in a trance.
I’m beginning to think her hot and cold attitude toward me is on purpose. A little torment for good measure.
My dick is certainly starting to think so.
Even if Penny wanted me the way I want her, she’d never admit it.
Fia emerges from her closet, brown boots in hand, and walks past me with raised eyebrows but remains quiet as she heads down the steps.
But Penny pauses in the doorway, scanning my outfit.
I glance down to see what she’s scrutinizing. “The shirt has a pocket and no stains. I thought it was fine?”
What the hell do I know about fashion? Though no woman ever complained about my outfit choices.
“It’s a dive bar,” I remind her, and she tilts her head, eyes narrowing in on me. “Ever been to one, or has time made you forget that you used to dance on the tables in them, princess?” I wink at her.
Penny’s face goes red, her eyes snapping to mine. “I was a different person back then,” she rebuttals.
“Were you, though?” I ask and turn my back, skipping down the steps, not waiting for her.
Two people can play this little game.
The look on her face as she struts into the kitchen, all beauty and ice, says she remembers everything.
The last time I was at Rebel Tavern with her, she was wearing barely-there shorts, dancing on the bar—wild, young, and free. I remember the sound of her shallow moans, her nails digging into my shoulder as I held her against the wall of that tiny bathroom, doing unspeakable things.
There’s no way she forgot about it.
“You ready?” Penny asks, and Fia nods, grabbing her phone and purse.
I lock the door behind us and meet them in the driveway.
Penny’s digging in her tiny purse for her keys, and while I have a moment to stare, I do.
Thigh-high black boots encase her legs, a red leather miniskirt that’s dangerously short hugs her perky ass, and a tight black turtleneck sweater leaves nothing to the imagination.
Her hair falls around her shoulders in bouncy curls, and red lipstick lines her pouty lips.
She catches me looking and cocks her head at me. I wish with every fiber in me that I was taking her out on a date right now.
Instead, I’m somehow playing chaperone to these two chaotic sisters.
“We’re taking my car.” Penny nods toward her baby-blue convertible, and I bark out a laugh, spinning my keys on my finger.
“I can’t fit in that car.”
Fia glances between us like we’re bickering parents.
“We'll drive separately, then,” Penny suggests, and I shake my head.
This is where I lay my foot down.
“Miss has one vodka soda and is tipsy? I’m DD, like it or leave it.”
Penny looks pissed, but Fia pipes up before she can even respond. “Works for me!” She nearly skips to my black muscle car, and I unlock the doors, smirking at Penny in the dim evening light.
Checkmate.
Penny obliges, though she wears a scowl as she crawls into the seat next to me. I adjust the mirrors, making sure everyone is comfortable, before pulling out into the street.
I’d be lying if I said Penny’s presence in my passenger seat isn’t surreal as hell right now.
Ten years ago, this was all I dreamed about.
This was my dream car, and I worked my ass off after prison to be able to save for a down payment.
I took the first tattoo apprenticeship I could get in LA and trained dogs every spare minute.
I was working eighty-hour weeks just to stay afloat.
Just to keep my mind off everything I left behind.
I got the dream car, but I never had my dream girl.
So seeing Penny look like this in the front seat of my car fucks with my mind.
As I pull onto the dark street, the twinkle lights from nearby houses cast light on her face, and our eyes catch. She doesn’t look away right away.
She just looks at me like I’m fire that will burn her life down.
Nostalgia hits me like a ton of bricks the second I step inside Rebel Tavern behind the girls.
It’s not even late yet—the band’s still setting up, and the crowd’s thin—but the air already smells like cheap beer and poor decisions.
It’s been a long time since I’ve stepped foot into a dive bar like this, but they are all mostly the same.
I kind of dig how nothing has changed. The neon signs still buzz over the pool tables. The old dartboards sit in the dark corner, where college bros have pitchers of beer sloshing around. My boots still stick to the floor.
And one other thing’s still the same—every head turns when Penny walks in.
Only this time, I don’t get to wrap an arm around her, pull her close, and stake my claim.
This time, she’s not mine.
Penny and Fia follow me to the long wooden bar, and as I attempt to pull my credit card out, Penny beats me to it, sliding hers across to the bartender.
“First round is on me.” She doesn’t smile, but she’s standing so close to me I can smell her vanilla-scented hair and feel the heat coming off her body.
“Glad you don’t find me dangerous anymore,” I whisper in her ear, her hair brushing my lips.
Her shoulders snap tight, and those amber eyes find mine. A flicker of something passes between us. Maybe a memory, maybe regret, but it’s gone in a split second.
She hands Fia a pink fruity mocktail like nothing happened, and I grab my whiskey from the bartender.
“Cheers!” Fia lifts her glass, and we clink.
“Happy belated twenty-first Fia.” I nod, and she scrunches her nose.
“I hope no one judges me for being here.”
I lean down as the music gets louder. “Fuck ’em. You’re not doing anything wrong. You’re allowed to have a little fun drinking your Shirley Temple, kid.”
She laughs as I hug her, and Penny watches us over her shoulder.
She smiles softly at me, but her eyes say something else. Something I can’t decipher.
But before she can say anything, the doors swing open and a rush of cold air and voices pour in. A large group of women floods the area around us, loud and already tipsy. I recognize the tall brunette immediately.
Laura.
She spots me and cuts across the floor like I’m a magnet.
Penny and Fia step aside just in time for her to slam into me with a hug that’s way too touchy.
“You little liar!” she shouts, slapping my chest like we’ve got history. “You said you didn’t go out!” Her face is all smiles as she bats her eyes at me.
“I don’t,” I deadpan, gesturing toward the girls.
Fia smiles and sticks her hand out like the polite lady she was raised to be. “Hi, I’m Fia. We’re out celebrating my birthday. I’m Jesse’s sister.”
Warmth spreads through me at the way she naturally claims me as her brother. It feels pretty damn good to be wanted like that.
Penny’s face, on the other hand, is cold as ice, but then, like flipping a switch, she beams a smile so bright I know it’s fake.
God, she’s good.
“I’m Penny.” She offers no other labels.
But Laura doesn’t really care, turning all her attention back to me, still hanging on my arm, reeking like strawberry wine coolers. “Jesse’s been working with my rescue,” Laura says to Fia. “We’ve been trying to get him to come out for happy hour, but he’s been playing hard to get.”
I groan, but luckily the music drowns it out.
Laura’s hand doesn’t leave my chest, and Penny’s eyes haven’t left her hand. I never gave an inclination that I had any interest in this chick, and I have a very strict no mixing work and pleasure policy. She didn’t get the memo.
“You smell so good,” Laura adds, rubbing her nose into my chest, and Penny nearly chokes on her drink.
“Girls, look who I found!” Laura yells out, and the rest of the group swarms like bees.
Fia winks at me and grabs her sister’s hand, motioning toward the little stage in the corner. “We’re going to go check out the band.”
Penny flips her hair as she walks off, not giving me another second of attention.
Tonight’s going to be interesting.