Chapter 2
chapter two
Dash Keller
The bar’s packed tonight with the Friday crowd, locals mixed with a few tourists who wandered in from the lake.
Music thumps from the jukebox in the corner, some classic rock bullshit that Finn insists keeps the atmosphere “authentic.” The air smells like fried food, beer, and perfume from the group of women at table six who’ve been eyeing me and Finn since they walked in an hour ago.
I don’t give a shit about any of them. My attention is locked on the woman weaving through the crowd with a tray balanced on one hand, her hips swaying as she navigates between tables.
Madelyn. Even her name tastes good in my mouth, something soft and feminine that doesn’t match the wariness in her eyes.
She’s wearing black jeans that hug every one of her goddamn curves.
She’s all thick thighs, full hips, an ass that makes my hands itch to grab and squeeze.
The Rusty Anchor t-shirt we gave her stretches across her chest, the fabric pulling tight every time she leans forward to set down drinks.
Her dark hair is pulled back in a ponytail, exposing the elegant line of her neck, and I can see the faint sheen of sweat on her skin from hustling all night.
She’s fucking beautiful. I’ve been watching her for three hours straight, and I still can’t look away.
“You’re staring,” Finn mutters beside me, wiping down the bar with a rag. His voice is low and amused, like he’s caught me doing something I shouldn’t.
“So are you,” I shoot back without taking my eyes off her.
He doesn’t deny it. We’ve been doing this dance all night, both of us tracking her movements, finding excuses to get close.
Thirty-five years of friendship and twenty years in the service means we don’t need to talk to know what the other’s thinking.
And right now, we’re both thinking the same thing, Mine. Except it’s not just mine. It’s ours.
Madelyn stops at the bar, setting down her empty tray.
Her cheeks are flushed, her breathing slightly elevated from the constant movement.
She tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear, and I catch the faint scent of her, something clean and warm that cuts through the smell of beer and grease. It goes straight to my cock.
“Two Buds, a whiskey neat, and a vodka cranberry,” she says, her voice a little breathless. She doesn’t quite meet my eyes.
I grab the beers from the cooler, my fingers brushing hers as I hand them over. The contact is brief, but I feel the jolt all the way up my arm. Her eyes flick to mine, wide and startled, and I catch the heat there before she quickly looks away. Yeah, she’s feeling this too.
“Busy night,” I say, my voice rougher than I intend.
“It’s good,” she replies, loading the drinks onto her tray. “Keeps me distracted.”
She’s got secrets, that’s for damn sure.
The way she flinched when I asked if she was in trouble, the careful way she answered our questions without giving away too much.
Every instinct I have, the ones honed from years of combat, from reading situations and people to stay alive, is screaming at me to protect her.
To find out who she’s running from and eliminate the threat.
But more than that, I want to claim her. I want to strip her down, spread her out, and make her forget whatever the hell she’s scared of. I want to hear her scream my name while I’m buried so deep inside her she doesn’t know where she ends and I begin.
Finn pours the whiskey and vodka cranberry, sliding them across the bar. “You’re doing great, Maddie,” he says, flashing that easy smile of his. The one that makes women melt. “You’re a natural.”
She smiles back, and fuck me, it lights up her whole face. “Thanks. I’ve done this before, so it’s not too hard to get back into the rhythm.”
“Well, we’re lucky to have you,” Finn says smoothly.
She nods, grabs her tray, and heads back into the crowd. I watch her go, my eyes dropping to the sway of her hips, the way her ass moves in those jeans. Christ. I adjust myself behind the bar, my cock already half-hard just from looking at her.
“We’re fucked,” Finn says quietly.
“Yeah,” I agree. “We are.”
Because this isn’t like the other times. The women we’ve shared over the years were fun and uncomplicated. A night or two of pleasure, then we all moved on. No strings, no feelings, no complications. But Madelyn? She’s different.
I’ve known her less than twenty-four hours, and I already want to keep her. Want to lock her away somewhere safe where no one can touch her, hurt her, scare her. Want to strip away whatever walls she’s built around herself and see the woman underneath.
And I know Finn feels the same way. I can see it in how he watches her, the way his jaw tightens when some drunk asshole at table three lets his hand linger too long on her arm as she delivers his beer.
I’m halfway around the bar before I even realize I’m moving.
“Easy,” Finn murmurs, catching my arm. “She handled it.”
I glance over and see Madelyn stepping back smoothly, putting distance between herself and the drunk. She says something with a polite smile, then turns and walks away.
“Next time he touches her, I’m breaking his fucking hand,” I mutter.
Finn doesn’t argue. “Agreed.”
An hour later, the crowd starts to thin. Madelyn’s still moving, but I can see the exhaustion setting in. She’s slowing down, her movements less fluid. When she comes back to the bar, she leans against it for a moment, her eyes closing briefly.
“You okay?” I ask.
Her eyes snap open. “Yeah, just tired.”
“Take a break,” I tell her. “Fifteen minutes. Sit down, eat something.”
She shakes her head. “I’m fine.”
“It wasn’t a suggestion, sweetheart.” I tell her. She needs to rest, and I’m not going to stand here and watch her run herself into the ground on her first night, even if she is trying to impress us to keep her job.
Her eyes narrow slightly, a spark of defiance flaring. “I don’t need you to tell me what to do.”
“Maybe not,” I say, stepping closer. Close enough that I can smell her again, that clean floral scent mixed with sweat and something uniquely her. “But I’m telling you anyway. Fifteen minutes. Sit your ass down and eat.”
For a second, I think she's going to argue. But then Finn appears with a plate of fries and a burger, setting it on the bar. "Dash is right," he says, his tone gentler than mine but just as firm. "You've been busting your ass all night. Take a break, we've got it covered."
She looks between us, and I can see the war playing out on her face, pride versus exhaustion. Finally, she sighs. "Fine. Fifteen minutes."
"Good girl," I murmur, and I don't miss the way her breath catches, the way her pupils dilate. Yeah, she likes that.
She takes the plate and heads to the back corner booth, sliding into the seat with a visible sigh of relief. I watch her take the first bite of the burger, her eyes closing in pleasure, and my cock twitches again. Fuck. I want to see that expression on her face for an entirely different reason.
"We need to talk about this," Finn says quietly.
"About what?" I ask, even though I know exactly what he means.
"About her. About what we're doing."
I turn to look at him. His expression is serious, his blue eyes sharp. "What are we doing?" I ask.
"You know damn well what we're doing," he says. "We're circling her like a couple of predators, and she's picking up on it.”
"Good," I say flatly. "Let her notice."
Finn's mouth quirks. "You want her."
"So do you."
He doesn't deny it. "This is different, Dash. She's not like the others."
"I know."
"She's running from something."
"I know that too."
"And you still want her?"
I meet his eyes. "Yeah I do. And so do you."
He's quiet for a moment, then nods slowly. "Yeah, I do."
"So what do we do?" Finn asks.
I glance over at Madelyn. She's halfway through her burger, her shoulders relaxed, some of the tension eased from her face.
She looks up and catches me staring. For a second, our eyes lock, and the heat between us is so intense I swear I can feel it across the room.
Then she looks away, a faint blush coloring her cheeks.
"We take our time," I say finally. "We don't rush her, but we make it clear what we want."
"And what do we want?"
I turn back to Finn. "Her. Both of us. Together."
He nods slowly. "You think she'll go for it?"
"I think she's scared," I say. "She's running from something, and she not going to trust easily. But I also think she feels this." I gesture between us and the booth where she's sitting. "The same way we do."
"And if she says no?"
The thought makes something dark and possessive twist in my gut. "Then we back off. But we don't give up. We prove to her that she's safe with us. That we'll protect her. And eventually, she'll come around."
Finn grins. "You sound pretty confident."
"I am." Because I've spent the last three hours watching her, reading her body language, cataloging every little reaction.
The way her breath hitches when I get close.
The way her eyes linger on me and Finn when she thinks we're not looking.
The way she blushes when Finn makes a dirty joke or when I call her sweetheart.
She wants us. She just doesn't know it yet.
Or maybe she does, and she's fighting it.
Either way, it doesn't matter. Finn and I are patient men.
We've waited out enemy combatants in the desert, sat in silence for hours waiting for the perfect shot.
We can wait for Madelyn Graves to realize she belongs with us.
The rest of the night passes in a blur of drink orders and stolen glances.
Every time Madelyn comes to the bar, I find an excuse to touch her, a hand on the small of her back as I move past her, fingers brushing hers when I hand her drinks, a palm pressed to her hip when I steady her as she reaches for a high shelf.
Each touch is brief, innocent enough that she can't call me on it. But I see the way her skin flushes, the way her breathing quickens. Finn's doing the same thing. He leans in close when he talks to her, his mouth near her ear, and I watch the shiver that runs through her.
We're pushing her boundaries, testing her limits, seeing how far we can go before she pushes back. But she doesn't push back.
By the time last call rolls around, the bar is nearly empty. Just a few stragglers nursing their drinks. Madelyn is wiping down tables.
I walk over and take the rag from her hand. "Go home, Maddie. We've got this."
She blinks up at me, surprised. "I can finish."
"You've done enough for tonight." My voice comes out firm. "You did good. Real good. But you're dead on your feet, and I'm not going to stand here and watch you collapse."
"I'm not going to collapse," she protests.
"Maybe not." I step closer, close enough that she has to tilt her head back to look at me. "But you're going to go upstairs, take a hot shower, and get some sleep.”
She looks between us, and I can see the exhaustion winning out over her stubbornness. "Fine." She mutters. "But I'm not some fragile thing that needs coddling."
"Never said you were." I hold her gaze. "But everyone needs rest, even tough girls like you."
For a second, I think she's going to argue, then Finn appears beside me. "He's right, Maddie. You've earned the rest. We'll see you tomorrow."
“Tomorrow? So I got the job?” She asks smiling wide.
Fuck me, her smile is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. “Yes, sweetheart, you got the job. Be back tomorrow at four. Can you handle that?”
Then she shocks me and does the cutest fucking dance I’ve ever seen, shimmying her body around and pumping her arms into the air as she squeals in excitement. “Thank you! You aren’t going to regret this, I swear!” Then she hugs me and Finn quickly and steps back.
"Goodnight, Dash and Finn."
"Goodnight, sweetheart," I murmur.
She heads toward the back stairs, and I watch her go, my eyes locked on the sway of her hips and the curve of her perfectly round ass. When she disappears from view, I let out a long breath. "Fuck," I mutter.
"Yeah," Finn agrees. "We're in deep."
"Deeper than I've ever been," I admit.
And it's true. I've never felt this way about a woman before. Never wanted to possess someone so completely, to protect them, to claim them as mine. It's primal and possessive and probably a little fucked up. But I don't care.
Because Madelyn Graves walked into my bar yesterday, and everything changed. She's ours now. She just doesn't know it yet. But she will soon.