Chapter 2
“It’s a hot one tonight,”Captain Peter Buttaglia, otherwise known simply as Cap by everyone in Northfield, said, looking around at the packed bar. Amber could almost see him counting heads for the fire code.
“I don’t mind. It makes people thirsty, which makes me more money.” Amber deftly slid a stack of ones off the bar.
“Everything okay, honey?” Cap asked. He studied her with sharp blue eyes. She let her smile spread from merely sexy into dazzling territory. “That doesn’t work on me, Miss,” Cap growled.
Amber toned it down to a softer, more genuine smile.
“You’ve been working too much lately,” he said gruffly.
“Me, work too hard? Never. Everything is perfect, Cap.” Aunt Sophia and Cap had dated for a few years now. He was a regular, welcome fixture at their Sunday family dinners with his keen observations about everything from local politics to what grew best in his gardens.
Cap snorted. “Keep telling yourself that.”
Sometimes he could see a little too much.
Amber pointed her finger at his beer. “That’s your last one for the night or I’m going to call Aunt Sophia to come and get you on her way home from Bingo.”
Captain studied her shrewdly before allowing himself to be distracted. Faux horror filled his face at his girlfriend’s name. “Let a guy live a little, would ya?” Aunt Sophia inspired that look from many people with her bossy ways, but Amber knew the captain was smitten all the same.
“See you at Sunday dinner.” She reached up to kiss his grizzled cheek.
“Amber, phone’s for you,” Miguel, her line cook and general pain in the ass, bellowed through the pass-through window. The slam of a stainless steel prep bowl let her know what he thought about phone calls during the middle of a Friday rush hour.
“Tell them I’m working,” Amber bellowed right back.
“You think I didn’t tell them that?” More pots and pans banged. With Killian gone for the night now, Amber was supposed to take any important calls. She headed toward the kitchen.
“Northfield Pub,” she said impatiently into the phone.
“Is this Amber Hart? This is Dana with Agency Debt Collections.” The perky voice threw her for a second.
Shit. Shit. Shit. “Ye—No. She doesn’t work here,” Amber blurted, and banged the phone back on the wall.
Miguel shook a sauté pan of mushrooms, looking at her over the steam knowingly. “When you don’t answer your phone, they get sneaky.”
She stared at the phone, biting her thumbnail. “It was the wrong number.”
“Yeah.” He snorted. “Better take the next one. They won’t stop.”
“Shh,” she hissed, looking around. Her family were regulars at the Pub along with everyone else in Northfield. If they found out she was being hounded by a debt collection agency, they would...well, they would want to help. She pushed the horrifying thought aside.
“There won’t be a next time. It wasn’t for me,” she said.
It was fine. Everything was fine.
She had hours left to make enough tips to cover her rent, plus put a little down on the loan she owed. She had been in some tight spots with money before, and she always got out of them. But they had never called her at work before, an unhelpful voice whispered.
The first beats of her favorite song thrummed through the air when she stepped back behind the bar, and the ball of stress and anxiety that had kept her wound so tightly quivered.
“Nope,” Cap grabbed her arm as she walked by. “Remember what happened last time.”
But it was too late.
The spring pulled taut. One last effort before it snapped, but it wasn’t a match for Def Leppard. Come on. Eighties hair metal got her every time. Karaoke was her kryptonite, and everyone knew this was her favorite song. Her boys were already calling her name to get on the bar.
A little voice of reason tugged at her, but she pushed it away. Blame it on the heat, or the phone call, or just plain bad decision making, but Amber allowed herself to be lifted onto the bar and then up to standing.
A mic appeared in one of her hands and a bottle of vodka in another, and Amber looked over to the band. Eden, the lead singer, winked and began singing in her sexy voice about being hot and sticky sweet.
She forgot about the stack of bills waiting for her at home. She forgot about car repairs. She forgot about the credit card that was maxed, and she let the music wash over her while she sang. She poured shots into open, willing mouths as she shimmied back and forth across the bar and let herself forget everything.
Until her foot slipped on a puddle. She let out a whoop and slid straight down on her bottom on the bar, the ice-cold vodka spilling over her chest. She laid there laughing, only to stop when two bossy hands clamped onto her shoulders and pulled her up to sitting.
A soft thud against a hard chest, and suddenly she was looking directly into Theo Clairmont’s unreadable blue eyes.
This close, she realized his eyes were not merely blue. They reminded her of deep water, lighter on the surface, and darker the deeper you went. A tendril of something liquid hot slid through her body, and she realized she wanted something from him. Something other than disinterest or, worse, amusement.
Raising her own eyebrows in a challenge, she tipped the mic until it rested on his lips. “Sing,” she said breathlessly.
Theo batted the mic away impatiently, and she was suddenly aware of her legs spread wide on either side of his torso, his body strong and firm and hot between her thighs. His expensive cologne filled her senses while an awareness throbbed through her, leaving an empty ache low in her stomach.
It was the closest she had been to having a man between her legs for as long as she could remember. Theo shrugged off his suit jacket and jerked it around her shoulders.
“I’m hot,” she said, trying to shrug off the jacket.
“You’re wet.” Theo’s cool eyes slid down her body and stopped. Amber followed his eyes down at the wide strip of fabric clinging to her skin, making the lacy pale pink bra she wore under almost transparent. Her nipples perked up right on cue, and a delicate shiver skimmed over her at the suggestive words.
The mayor’s icy disapproval wavered for a moment. It felt like a small victory, but she savored it.
Impulsively, she grabbed the nearest drink on the bar and tossed it at his chest. “Now we match,” she said. Her heart beat hard enough that she was sure he could hear it. Whether in fear or defiance, or maybe excitement, Amber held his eyes while an amber splotch spread over his chest, molding it to the hard plane of muscle there.
Theo’s hands tightened on the lapels until she was barely on the bar, leaning precariously on his chest. The mayor seemed to be familiar with both the gym and the golf course.
His body was a large, solid rock, and for the briefest moment, she allowed herself to rest flush against him. They paused like that for a long, electrified second while the music and the dancing faded around them.
“What the fuck is going on here?”
Eden’s voice cut off on a jarring note and the speaker gave feedback in a piercing screech. And then there was silence.
Killian was back.Amber”s eyes widened in panic and looked to Theo instinctively, for what, she didn”t know. There wasn’t anything life had thrown at her she couldn’t handle on her own. As soon as she realized what she was doing, she jerked her eyes away and leaned back.
Killian stood with his arms crossed over his chest, a look she’d never seen on his face. She swallowed hard and tried a dazzling smile. “Hey, boss,” she said. “I’m making you so much money right now.”
“Get off my bar and meet me in my office,” Killian snapped. “Last call,” he shouted on his way back.
She closed her eyes briefly. This was so not good. Her ears were still ringing from the last time he chewed her out for dancing on the bar. It was unfair, really. It was all in good fun, and the patrons loved it. Killian could be such a hardass.
When she opened her eyes, Theo was studying her. His gaze was cool again, enough so that she shivered.
She shrugged off the luxurious silk jacket that probably cost more than her rent.
“Keep it,” he said in that ridiculous, deep voice of his. Since when were small-town mayors allowed to talk like that? All husky and intimate. A delicate shiver skimmed over her, which, of course, made her even mouthier. “You’re not decent.”
She leaned in closer until her lips brushed his ear and murmured, “The fun ones never are.”
She hopped off the bar and didn’t look back.
Amber stoodin the doorway of Killian”s office. The faint scent of cigars lingered, reminding her of the many heart-to-hearts they’d had in this room. She braced herself, knowing she’d pushed Killian’s limits more tonight than at any other time. “Look, I know you said?—”
“Close the door, Amber,” Killian said quietly. He had never looked at her like that. She swallowed hard.
“Do you want to tell me why you”re dancing on my bar again?”
She tried to deflect with her usual charm. “Well, you see, we were down in sales coming into the last hour, so it was actually a smart business decision. You know you make twice as much later on in sales when we do karaoke. I was really looking out for your bottom line.”
“Stop.” Killian ran his hands through his hair, looking frustrated. “Don’t pile that bullshit on me. This isn’t about sales. Do you want to get us closed down? Would you like to jeopardize my liquor license? For fuck’s sake, the fire marshal was leaving when I walked in. You know he wouldn”t hesitate to slap a fine on me or worse. Is that what you want?
“It’s not that serious,” she started, but Killian cut her off.
“What you don”t understand is that life really is that serious.”
Ouch.That one hurt. She’d heard that her entire life, most especially from her mother: to get serious. As the tapping of Killian’s pencil lent an uncharacteristically tense air to the room, remorse filled her.
The pub was a special place for her. It had been her soft landing when she needed a place to come back to. No matter which job or idea didn’t work out the way she thought it would, Killian always had a spot for her behind the bar. He was more than a boss or her friend; he was the mentor she’d never asked for but desperately needed.
“Okay,” she said meekly. “I’m sorry.”
Killian sighed, his expression softening. “I know you”re trying to find your way, Amber, but I can”t keep overlooking these things. This place, these people, they rely on us.”
The room felt smaller, the weight of his words pressing down on her. “You’re right. I didn’t think about the others,” she admitted, the reality of her actions hitting her. “It won’t happen again.” The resignation on his face alarmed her.
“It won’t happen again because I’m letting you go.”
“What? You can’t mean that.” She stared at him in disbelief. “I need this job. You don”t understand. I have to pay—” she stopped abruptly. No way was she going to get into her money troubles with her boss, friend or not. Those were locked up tight and she planned to keep them that way.
She tried one more time with her best smile. “Killian, please. I”m begging you. You know me. I’m a hard worker and I always show up. Please give me another chance.”
“I”m sorry, love.” He shook his head. “I need you to understand that this is my livelihood. There are people who depend on me, and if this place is closed down, it affects more than just you having fun.”
“But...what will I do?” She flinched even as she said it, furious it had come out at all, but the reality of the situation was making her dizzy.
Working at the pub was the one constant in her life. All the dreams she’d had over the years had slipped through her fingers. Even college hadn’t worked out like she wanted it to. She had quit early, once more disappointing her family of smart, successful women and their expectations of her.
All her life it had felt like she was in limbo while the world moved forward. Sure, she had her body, which she used skillfully. She wasn’t ashamed of using what she had because she knew she was smart too. She had charm; she loved to make people laugh, and she had street smarts. Maybe not the kind of smarts that showed up on a school transcript, but she wasn’t without skills.
Suddenly, her list felt horrifyingly inadequate, and she wondered how much longer she could keep up the pretense of keeping it all together.
Working behind the bar was the one familiar anchor in the chaos that was her life. It was all too much in that moment and, to her horror, tears welled in her eyes. She blinked furiously to make them go away. She never cried. Never. She wouldn’t start now.
Killian came to the front of his desk. Dimly, she felt him reach for her hands. His blue eyes, usually filled with teasing good humor, were somber. “Start by thinking about what you want. You have so much potential. You”re smart. You”re a hard worker. Take some time to figure that out. If you need any help, financial or otherwise, you know I’m here,” he added gruffly.
It was the concern in his voice that finally shook her out of her stupor.
She jerked to her feet. “I don’t need help.” She let out a brittle laugh. “You know me. I always land on my feet.”
Killian nodded. “I know you do,” he said thoughtfully. “Maybe you need to figure out why you keep falling.”
And that was her cue to leave. If there was one thing she didn’t waste time on, it was thinking about her inadequacies. She tugged her hands away from his.
She paused at the door. “I’m truly sorry. I would never want to put your business in jeopardy.”
She snuck through the back door, thankful that no one was there to see her walk of shame. Johnny was leaning against his motorcycle when she stepped outside, one motorcycle boot crossed over another, his arms straining the sleeves of the old Northfield Fire Department T-shirt he wore. A wave of affection stole over her at the sight of him and she waved. Ever since they met, Johnny had been looking out for her.
They grew up together in Cedarwood Village, the low-income housing track on the outer edge of Northfield. When you grew up outside of the wealthy Northfield bubble, you stuck to others like you. It made it a lot less awkward when your friends wanted to come over and hang out.
One day over the summer, she had been walking around their complex, bored and looking for something to do, when a pack of boys she knew from school started chasing her, and not in a tag-you’re-it sort of way. Jeff Lloyd, an arrogant kid with a mean streak, was the leader.
Amber was like any other middle school girl, with teeth too big for her face and gangly arms and legs, but her chest made her stand out. She had developed earlier than anyone else in middle school, much to her embarrassment.
She knew Jeff had started a rumor that she had let him touch her boobs last school year, and the boys chasing her had wandered down from the village, bored and looking to try their own luck with her.
It was the first time Amber could remember being truly afraid.
She took off running as fast as she could, but Jeff grabbed her from behind. He had her wrapped up tight and was taunting her when Johnny came out of his mom’s apartment, fists flying.
At fifteen, Johnny had shown the promise of the imposing man he was now. Jeff had known he was in trouble as soon as he saw him. He’d dropped Amber on her butt by then, but Johnny charged, sucker-punching Jeff and following him to the ground. The other boys ran away, but Johnny wouldn’t let Jeff go until he’d apologized. Red in the face, snot running down his nose, Jeff had promised never to bother her again.
Johnny had been her protector ever since. A little more than that for a brief time, but they had quickly realized they were too similar to be anything other than friends.
She sighed. “You heard, huh?”
A flash of white teeth showed in his tanned face. “Causing trouble again, short stuff?”
“Don’t call me that,” she said automatically.
“What did you do now?” he asked, and a little frisson of irritation sparked. Why did everyone assume it was her that did something?
She poked his broad chest, but just as suddenly, the spark sputtered and died. “Karaoke on the bar.” Her shoulders slumped. “I can’t believe Killian fired me.”
The corners of Johnny”s mouth pulled down. “I’m sorry, babe. After that last time Killian reamed you out, I didn”t think you were gonna do it again.” He held out his arms and Amber leaned into his broad chest with a sigh.
“Why do I keep messing up?” she asked, her voice muffled in his shirt.
“I don”t know.” Johnny threaded his fingers through the hair at the back of her neck and rubbed. She sighed in relief. Everything hurt, probably from her fall on the bar, plus her tank top was sticky with vodka. She leaned back.
“Thanks for waiting for me.”
“You got it. Do you want to come back to my place for a drink?” he asked.
For a second, she considered it, but shook her head. “No, I have a terrible headache. I’m going to head home and take a bath.”
“Whose is this?” he asked, fingering the suit coat she still wore around her shoulders.
“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”
Johnny studied her, then leaned forward and kissed her softly on the forehead. “Do you need anything before I head out?” he asked.
The thing about Johnny was that he understood her too well. They had the same guarded approach to life and relationships because of their upbringing, and they both would rather hightail it out of town than feel vulnerable. But when the rubber hit the road, they were there for each other.
“No, I’m good. Thanks. Go find some cute girl to pick up who doesn’t smell like a liquor cabinet.”
“That’s the plan.” He smirked, already putting on his helmet.
“Thanks again for waiting.” She leaned in for a hug. Before she could step back, Johnny caught her jaw, tilted her head up, looking into her eyes.
He was handsome in that bad boy way mothers warned their daughters about, but when you grow up with someone, you see them through all stages of their life, from the adolescent boy with a chip on his shoulder to the man she knew today, a brave firefighter who would put his life at risk in a heartbeat to help. She had seen it all, and she loved him as if he were family.
He kissed her forehead. “Take some Advil and call me in the morning. We”ll go out for a big greasy breakfast.”
He opened her door and closed it behind her with a flourish. Amber started her car and was waving as he pulled out of the parking lot when her car sputtered and died.
She closed her eyes, leaned against the steering wheel, and let out a scream of pure, elemental frustration. Groaning at the way her back creaked at her, she got out and stood in front of the engine, willing it to start. It was times like these she wished she had had a dad to teach her about cars. As it was, she didn’t know the first thing about engines.
Frustration bubbled over and she let loose with a hard kick to the front bumper with her Converse, and promptly started swearing. “Ow, ow, shit, ow, fuck!”
She hopped around on one foot, swearing like a sailor. Finally, feeling marginally better from her tantrum, she straightened.
And screamed again because Theo Clairmont was leaning nonchalantly on his car watching her.
“Car trouble?” he asked with his eyebrow raised.
“Did your Ivy League education teach you to state the obvious?” she asked nastily.
“I guess you don”t need my help, then,” he said evenly, turning to leave.
“Wait.” She closed her eyes and attempted to gather her composure. It was amazing how she could manage to charm an entire bar full of men, yet this one could reduce her to feeling like a child throwing a tantrum.
An unwelcome memory of another late night with him coming to her rescue came to mind, and she instantly dismissed it. She’d come a long way from needing anyone’s help, especially someone like Theo Clairmont.
And yet...Amber looked back toward the pub and chewed her lip. If she went back in, she’d have to ask Killian for a ride. She considered calling Johnny, but she knew he wouldn’t be able to hear her over the engine of his motorcycle. Besides, he was probably on his way to another bar to pick up a lady friend. She could walk the few blocks home, but her body was already screaming at her.
“Wait,” she called out. He didn’t, even though she knew he heard her. Asshole. “Wait,” she called again, hopping over. Her toes better not be broken.
“Can you give me a ride? Please.”
Theo turned back around without a word and led her around the Mercedes. He brushed her hand aside when she went to get the door and held it himself.
She settled into the buttery leather seats, every overworked muscle in her body lovingly cupped in luxury. It was a beautiful car. It put her little ice skate-looking car to shame. She couldn”t hold back a deep sigh as she settled in.
“Oh, this is fancy, Mr. Mayor. Too bad you’re not driving your date hom—” Her words were cut off as he closed the door briskly. She smirked.
Theo slid his long legs under the steering wheel and started the car. She idly watched the streetlights cast his face in interesting shadows, giving the moment a dream-like quality. In what other reality was she sitting in the mayor’s car getting a ride home?
The combination of blessedly cool air conditioning, adrenaline dump, and the worry from the last few days caught up with her suddenly, and she sank deeper into the leather with a grateful sigh.
“Where to?”
She gave him the address of the historic Phoenix Hotel, which had been renovated into apartments, a few blocks away. “Thanks,” she said quietly, all joking aside.
His crisp white shirt glowed in the dark car except for a round splotch of amber. A twinge of shame pricked her conscience. Did she really throw a drink at the mayor? Not for the first time, Amber wondered why she did the things she did.
Theo glanced over at her. “Playing the damsel in distress doesn’t suit you.”
Amber stiffened. “Really? Because playing the arrogant, rich white guy suits you perfectly,” she shot back, her pride stung and shame gone.
The car hummed in silence before Theo spoke again. “Your boyfriend needs a lesson in manners. He should”ve stuck around and let you go first out of the parking lot.”
Amber rolled her head toward him, all of her irritation coming back in a rush. “Johnny has more chivalry in his pinky finger than you ever will.”
Before she could lay into him further, he turned into her parking lot and got out. Amber was already trying to get out of the car when he offered his hand. She brushed it aside. “I don”t need any help.” She glared up at his face before stomping up the steps of the three-story brick building.
She sensed Theo behind her and sped up until she reached the entrance. Of course he would walk her to the door. Theo was the epitome of a rule follower, but there was no way she would let him see her apartment.
The Phoenix was nice enough, but she knew where Theo lived, where he had grown up. The Clairmonts came from old money, and the mayor’s current house sat on one of the ritziest streets in Northfield.
There was no way she was going to let him in to judge her apartment or, worse, her life. He’d have to get in line for that. “Stop following me. I said I”m fine. Go home. I”m not sleeping with you,” she tossed at him just for the shock value.
Theo’s eyes widened the tiniest bit, and she wanted to high-five herself for getting a reaction. At least she wasn’t a ghost now.
“I’m walking you to your door. I realize you”re not used to this type of behavior, but that”s what gentlemen do.” He reached for her key, covering her hand with his big, warm palm before unlocking the door and pushing it open.
She slipped past him before he could see inside and closed it until she was peering out behind a crack. Theo stood just outside her doorway, tall, remote, and powerful in the dim hallway light.
Even without light, she knew his eyes were back to a cool, assessing blue. A shiver made its way up her spine. Her best defense was always a strong offense.
“Thanks for the ride, Mr. Mayor. I’d invite you in for a drink, but I don’t have any warm milk.”
“I’d rather not take a chance of it being thrown on me.” He looked pointedly down at the amber stain on his white shirt and turned to leave.
“I’m sure you have more exciting things to do, anyway, like organize your sock drawer,” she said to his back, faintly ashamed of the utterly limp trash talk. She could do so much better when she had her wits about her.
“More like alphabetizing my books,” Theo called back. It was terrible timing because he had already started down the stairs, his steps solid and confident, taking the last word with him.
Yeah, she would never, ever work for that asshole.