TWELVE
Tequila
This man resembles the ones you read about in romance novels. Every aspect of him is near perfection. From the way he dresses. The sleek dress pants hugging his figure and button down with the rolled sleeves showing off his veiny arms. To his smile. The natural texture of his hair is thick and wavy.
He’s pretty. Beautiful. Not having a motorcycle or tattoos wasn't a problem. He is a complete gentleman. It's an uncommon occurrence. The men you meet at dance clubs rarely prove to be this incredible. Any woman would consider herself lucky to have him. Standing in line holding a sign: pick me, choose me.
“I own my company. Real estate.” He flashes his pearly white teeth, proud of his career.
He's in a good place financially. The man seated on the checkered blanket before me is handsome, striking, and attractive. If I chose to marry and have children, he would be my choice. Say goodbye to living in a rundown apartment building in a dangerous neighborhood with questionable neighbors. Working every day without the fear of unpaid gas bills or unexpected morning visits. While achieving my own success, it would be comforting to have a reliable partner by my side.
Once I replied, we started texting and soon after he requested we go out, and I could not refuse. I couldn't ignore this chance. I needed to find out firsthand what made this Caleb person so special.
Additionally, I had to discover a flaw. Something. Anything that screamed… run and never turn back. All I've found is a successful and generous man who has the potential for Hollywood success. Not to mention his idea of a first date was to bring me here for a charming picnic.
Yes, a picnic.
While drinking my wine, I contemplate if this is a figment of my imagination. I am considering leaning closer and giving his radiant cheeks a gentle pinch. Or not because that’s weird.
Today's weather is a stroke of luck. It’s warm, and the slight breeze eases the heat from the sun. Sitting on a picnic perfect blanket, sipping a very expensive wine, eating fancy cheese.
I love cheese.
What's the reason behind my strong wish for this to fail?
“Your own real estate company? That's quite impressive, I must say.”
“Thank you. It requires a significant amount of effort, but the result is worth it. And you said you’re a bartender. If you let me know where, I'll swing by for a drink.”
He replenishes my glass.
“It’s a somewhat exclusive bar. Not open to visitors,” I lie because I cannot imagine bringing Caleb to the Chains’ clubhouse. The place is not meant for everyone.
“Hmm.” He rubs his freshly shaved jaw. “It must be a fancy spot for it to be so closed off and private.”
My snort reverberates through the wine glass. “I suppose so.” Great, now I’m lying to him for the second time. On our first date.
The club isn’t trashy. It's nice, but my guess is Caleb has been to far better places.
As I set my drink on the grass, I lean back on my palms and enjoy the comforting heat of the sun. It wasn’t until I turn and glance at him that I realize he’s watching. His gaze piercing into me like a knife.
“You’re beautiful. You know that?” He tucks a piece of hair behind my ear, and I smile.
“Thank you. You’re not half bad either.” I smirk.
The hand that ran through my strands is now caressing my left cheek. He’s inviting and I swallow back nerves, knowing what’s going to happen. “I’m going to ask to kiss you. And I hope to God you say yes.” His voice is music. With the elegance of a classic melody, both gentle and assured.
All I can do is nod.
There's a definite sense of tenderness and compassion when our lips meet. I await the fireworks. The electricity. The Earth-shattering response, but nothing. The sparks aren’t there.
He retreats, placing his forehead against mine. “I hope to do that again.”
Will I let him? Possibly. Who determined the first kiss should be accompanied by butterflies? Perhaps the life-changing experience might occur on the second or third attempt.
“I may or may not. Your next date idea is going to be the deciding factor. Because…” I gesture toward the impressive cheese display on the charcuterie board. “You have to top this. Which could be difficult.”
He giggles. It's not a girly, childish giggle. A deep, manly guffaw. I said yes to another date. I mean, I had fun.
“We should go. Come on.” He stands, offering his hand and I accept, letting him pull me up. “Picnics could potentially become my new favorite pass time.”
Well, shit. It's possible that it’s mine too.
We gather our belongings and make our small journey back to our cars. I met him here to keep my living location hidden. How embarrassing would that be? Being picked up by a wealthy person in a silver Porsche. The car never making it out of there without getting stripped or stolen.
It's tiring to hide this secret from everyone. But I’ve been skilled at it this long. No way am I giving up now.
Caleb carries our lunch leftovers and places them in his trunk then approaches me, cradling my hands. It’s odd yet nice. Too chivalrous.
I'm complaining about him being polite and charming instead of being a pig. What is wrong with me?
“Hazel Delgado, you are remarkable. Drive safe.” He pulls my hand to his lips, kissing the back of it, and walks to his car. As he drives away, I watch in shock, wishing someone could give me that pinch.
“Who the fuck is Caleb?” Throttle asks, pausing with a beer.
Angel looks at me, then redirects her attention to Throttle, who, I must admit, appears quite flustered with that scowl on his face. I hadn't mentioned Caleb before, and I never intended to unless we became something. We had one date. We're not exactly mailing wedding invites.
“Oh, just some guy who is Mr. Perfect with a side of perfect,” Angel answers.
Throttle locks his gaze on me, and I retaliate by shooting a menacing glare at Angel.
I flick off the beer cap and send it sliding down the bar to Tank. “It’s not a big deal. We had one date, and I’m not even sure I’ll see him again.”
“What. Why? He made you a picnic in the park. Throw him a bone, at least. Give him a blow job. Flash him the tits. The guy tried his absolute best to impress you, and he nailed it.”
Throttle chokes on his drink.
“Uh, not doing that. I don’t put out.”
“I was kidding. You’re no fun. That’s third date material.” Angel laughs and Throttle pushes away from the bar.
“I’m out.” His tall frame stalks toward the pool tables and I watch as a woman throws her arms around his neck, and he lets her. It's always the large busty one. You’d assume it becomes less difficult to see him with other women. But it doesn’t. The sting is the same every time.
“So, are you seeing him again?” Angel leans forward, a smile on her face.
I sigh. “I accidentally told him yes.”
“Accidentally? I believe your lady parts screamed it.” I wish that were the case. “But jokes aside, he seems like a nice guy, T.”
He was—he is.
I find myself entranced by my best friend. Inked, mysterious, and risky. My longing for him has grown stronger. I want excitement, adventure, and he’s standing there, biting the neck of a blonde woman who wasn’t me.
As he moves down her back, his muscles flex and he grabs her butt. Each black and white tattoo that trails his arms is begging to be licked and admired.
I am in a deep situation.
Although Caleb was nice, I wasn't interested in niceness. I want Throttle. Kind, but also hard. And boy, was that foolish.
In the club, time flies as many guys are drunk during another late night. Tank and Throttle were known for always having girls on their laps, but their new prospect didn't mind getting cozy either. I think I saw him stumble upstairs with a hang-around in his arms.
We haven't spoken since I drowned my emotions in alcohol and straddled his lap. Regardless, he hasn't even given me a single glance. I made a bigger fool of myself than I realized.
I can't remember the last time I had sex. I should start using a calendar, but did I really need a reminder of my failures?
Probably not.
I decide to restock early with only an hour left in my shift. My goal was to finish everything as fast as possible and then leave. Witnessing Throttle bringing a woman upstairs was not something I wish to see. My heart can only take so much.
Making sure nobody needed anything, I strut off toward the back where the extra liquor is kept. I find the bottle I need and extend my arm to grab it. I’m not super short, but I’m not tall either. With one hand, I grip the middle shelf and stretch upward to the top.
Almost… got it.
Just as my fingers touch the bottle, a surge of warmth envelops my back, and a tall figure effortlessly takes hold of the liquor I've been struggling to reach.
Throttle.
I’m able to point him out blindfolded.
My V-neck shirt rides up, including the right sleeve. It's the same outfit I had on for my date with Caleb earlier. The one meant to cover up my dark bruises.
Unaware of Throttle's proximity, I yank it down and whirl around. The room is suffocating as I gaze into eyes that have turned from gentle brown to black and murderous.
He places the alcohol aside and grips my arm, not enough to hurt me, and examines the bruise, colored purple and black. “What the fuck is this?”
Well, it’s obvious. There's no doubt they’re finger marks. It's likely I can come up with a quick excuse. If I’m honest and tell him it was Jasper, I'd have to reveal who he is and disclose my address. Let's be honest, Throttle won't ever forget about this.
“Tequila. Answer me.” He takes another step closer, which I didn’t think was possible considering we were already inches from touching.
God, he smells good.
“You know how clumsy I am. I may have had a run-in with a door or something. I don’t remember.” I awkwardly laugh, trying to brush past him, but he mimics my movement and plasters my body to the shelving with his.
“Don’t fuck with me, my rose. A door doesn’t have fucking fingers. Was this that Caleb guy? Because I swear to Christ if it was, I’ll—”
“No! He didn’t touch me. It’s nothing. Excuse me, I need to return to my bar, and you should go back to your girlfriend. I’m sure her boobs are missing you.” That wasn’t supposed to sound jealous and bitter.
“I don’t give a fuck about her. I care about you. Are you planning on telling me why you have bruises on your arm? Or am I just going to find out myself?”
Good luck.
“Like I said, it’s nothing.”
Tension engulfs his body, his eyes resembling black holes, and his jaw twitching. But he steps back, letting me slip past him.
I quickly grab the bottle I came for and rush to the front, feeling a trickle of sweat down my spine.
He can’t find out.