Tangling Hearts (Hearts Series Book 3) Page 7

  “Hey.”

  She looks up and smiles. “Hey you.”

  I lean down and kiss her. The light changes, ignored. She slips her fingers into my hair and I hold onto the small of her back and open her mouth with mine, tasting her. “Chai Latte’s are sweet,” I say against her lips as they spread into a happy smile.

  She murmurs, “Mmhmm…”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Annie

  Gone: one problem.

  After a day of fun, we decide to go to Knockout, and as we arrive, Brendan asks, “Have you been here before?”

  I shake my head, looking around the bar.

  “B-man!” the bartender calls out..

  Brendan lets go of my lower back to shake the guy’s hand and introduce me. “Bobby, this is Annie. She owns the new bar up the street.”

  Bobby’s eyebrows fly up. “Oh yeah? The one with the police tape? What happened?”

  I smile ruefully, letting Brendan explain, “The last time I saw you? I went over to Annie’s bar, and we got robbed. I got shot.” Brendan pulls up his shirt and shows Bobby the bandage, but all I can see are his abs. Holy fuck.

  With his eyes wide, Bobby puts both hands flat on the bar and stares at the taped-up gauze. “No way! Pull it up!”

  Brendan laughs and shakes his head.

  Bobby leans on his elbows. “You know, some girls came in here with T-shirt decals and tried to get me to take ‘em, but it’s a conflict of interest, you know? Sorry,” he says to me.

  Brendan sits down on a bar stool and I follow suit, looking around the place. There’s a small stage with a local band playing loudly. It’s gritty. It’s small. All and all, I’d say this is a very laid-back, neighborhood, dive bar where things have the potential to get rowdy. I like it!

  Brendan’s argument pulls me quickly back to the conversation. I want to listen to his skill, see if he can do what he said he could. It’ll be very fun to watch. As he presents his case, Brendan leans back sometimes, forward others; animated, serious, louder, quieter, working off his audience of one all the while. It’s like he trained in the art of persuasion. The whole time Bobby is leaning in, sucking it all up like a baby bear drinking his mother’s milk. Do bears have milk?

  “Bobby. You’re making the classic, shortsighted mistake. You know when there are four gas stations on one corner? Why do they do that? Because that way, people know where the gas is! It’s a destination point. Look at The 5.”

  “The freeway?” Bobby asks.

  “Yeah. You ever drive it to Los Angeles?” Brendan jogs a thumb south through the air.

  Bobby nods and picks up a bar towel to have something to hold onto, a common thing amongst us bar-folk. “Yeah. My sister lives down there. I’ve driven down it a bunch of times.”

  “You know how when you’re coming up on one gas station, you wait for the next stop because you’d rather go where there are more? You know you’ll get a better choice in price, in convenience stores, coffee, more food places… all that stuff. That’s why the solo gas station charges more. They know you’re only stopping there because you’re about to run out of gas, and you have no other option. Given the option of more – people always choose more.”

  Bobby drops the towel and scratches his growing beard like someone who loves how long it’s getting. “Oh, I’m catchin’ what you’re throwin’ down.”

  Brendan sits back on his stool. “But this goes deeper. What I just said, well, that’s just smart capitalism. But get ready for this, Bobby. See, the way I’m thinking is… she’s the new kid on the block, and the new kid got bullied. If you come to the rescue, what does that make you?”

  Bobby puts his arms over his head. “Holy shit. The hero!”

  I grin from ear to ear and Brendan laughs. “Damn fuckin’ straight. You’ll be the hero. You and Knockout will have a shine that no one can tarnish. Excellent buzz for you, and more people coming down to Mission.”

  I chime in, “We’re stronger together than we ever were apart. People forget that because society teaches fear. Fuck fear.”

  Bobby shakes his head. “Fuck fear!! That’s fuckin’ right!” He turns and sweeps his arm through the air in front of the bottles. “What can I get for you guys? It’s on me.”

  Brendan starts to order an Oban, but then stops and changes it to a Jameson, neat. I ask for the same and Brendan looks at me with respect, as men always do when you order whiskey and you’re not an alcoholic. “I’m going to text Taryn and Laura, see if they can come down.”

  Brendan pulls out his phone, too. “I’ll see if Mark wants to come.”

  As I key in a group text to the girls, I smile down at my phone. “Oh man, it’s too bad Mark is taken because Taryn would looooooove him.”

  About forty-five minutes later, the only two people left to arrive are Laura and her husband. I texted Manny, too, and he arrived with his cousin, the two of them now sitting a few barstools down, watching the television with smiles on their faces over who knows what. And I was right; Taryn is talking to Mark with a look on her face like he’s Zeus and she’s thunder, waiting to do his bidding. I whisper into her ear, “He’s taken,” and she deflates.

  “Of course he is,” she mumbles back, rolling her eyes. “Lucky girl. Have you met her?”

  I shake my head no, as a really pretty woman with shorter dark-brown hair comes over to say hello. Brendan introduces us. “Teri, this is Annie and Taryn.” Then he takes my hand purposefully and I watch Teri’s eyes change as she shifts her weight, her head going back a little, signal received loud and clear. Which means I’m getting the signal even louder. How many of these women am I going to have to meet? But when he squeezes my hand,

  and Mark looks at him with amusement, I feel better.

  “Nice to meet you,” Teri says, mostly to me. She smacks Mark on the shoulder, holding her hand there like a friend. “I’m meeting some people to watch the band. I’ll catch you creeps later.” She smiles and walks off, with Brendan the only one not watching. He’s looking down at his lap.

  Mark’s eyes flit to my face and I raise my eyebrows at him, defiantly. He laughs, “I like you, Annie.”

  Everyone looks to the booming voice of the hot momma walking up, yelling, “Well, well! Hail to the wounded out in the real world!” Laura’s grin is lopsided and her husband Dan is right behind her, the perfect Allen to her Burns. He’s got longer hair since he’s a musician and that seems to be the requirement.

  I introduce them to Brendan and Mark. Manny and his cousin wave and turn back to the T.V. Taryn and I hug her and Bobby leaves a customer to come over, because he recognizes her immediately. Who wouldn’t?

  “Hey! I need a bunch of those decals.”

  She cocks her head to the side. “You said you didn’t!”

  Bobby puts his hands on the counter and leans well over the bar, moving his head around in a funny way. “I changed my mind!”

  Laura and Taryn try to high-five, but miss, which is fucking hilarious. Taryn cries out, as we’re all laughing, “Try it again!” They get it right and whoop like they just won The World Cup.

  “Oh!” I reach out and grab both of their arms. “I spoke to the contractor today! He’s going to install one of those security gates, you know, those iron ones that fold into the sides of a building?” They nod, everyone listening. I glance to Brendan. “And Brendan asked if he could do that first so we can open while they’re remodeling! We get to open this weekend! Probably not before Sunday, but that’s still the weekend and it’s better than being closed!”

  They both freak out and we start planning. I describe what the patio will look like, the cocktail ideas Brendan and I came up with. Everyone interjects ideas about new drinks, and Mark offers to send out an in-house email to the company where he works, which spurs offers from everyone to post on social networking sites and help. Manny, who must have been listening with those eagle-ears of his, calls over, “We’re sharing stupid shit from people we don’t know anyway. How hard is it to put up a pic
ture and spread the word for a friend?” He rolls his eyes and turns around, disgusted by the way society has become. We all stare at him for a second, then go back to talking.

  Dan asks, “What’s it like to be shot?”

  Brendan glances to me. “It wasn’t so bad.”

  I melt and lean over to kiss him. The girls in our party get all mushy-faced, but it’s Mark who’s the real surprise. He excuses himself to call Nicole, his love in New York, looking like he wishes he wasn’t here anymore.

  Taryn joke-offers to bartend one night topless, “if that’ll help. What?” She smiles, looking adorable, and everyone launches into offering their bodies up for display in the new patio window. As they’re laughing and suggesting costumes like loincloths and tassels, I look around the faces as though I’m drifting outside of my body and watching from above. It’s one of those moments like in the movies where individual voices go away, a musical score begins, and you can see all the things you have to be grateful for, and those ‘things’ are always friends and family.

  “What’re you thinking about?” Brendan asks, putting his hand on my leg.

  I look over and see his deep, thoughtful eyes waiting for an answer, and I smile. “How lucky I am.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Brendan

  Annie: So fucking beautiful, I can’t share her anymore. Besides: I just got half-hard.

  I stand up. “Excuse me, guys. We have to go.”

  Everyone reacts to the abruptness; some surprised, some not, depending on who you look at. “What? No!” “Oh, you’re probably tired.” “I was thinking of calling it a night, too.” “We were just getting started!” And Manny and his cousin look over.

  Annie and I stand up. “It’s not because I’m tired. I want to get this one alone.” I look to see her reaction and am gratified by a pink flush growing on her cheeks. Her girlfriends make funny noises and Mark walks back in, in time to hear me, and just smirks at me, the asshole. Dan grabs his wife to dip her in an impromptu kiss, making everyone whoop and holler, even Manny. His cousin just smiles. I don’t think he’s said one word since he got here. My kind of guy.

  I shake Dan’s hand. “Sweep her off her feet every chance you get, Dan.”

  Mark’s eyebrows go up. “Who the fuck are you?”

  “Shut it.” I hit his shoulder. “You don’t get a handshake, just for that.”

  “What about a hug?” His huge wingspan spreads out, but I take Annie’s hand and move around him, telling him he’s a dick, which as usual garners no argument from him.

  Bobbi calls after us, “You didn’t pay for the last round, B-man!”

  “Mark’ll get it for me.” I lock eyes with Mark over my shoulder. “Won’t you, Mark?”

  “You suck!”

  “You wish!” I make my way through the crowd with my hand out in front of my chest for protection against accidental bumps; Annie happily in tow. As soon as we step outside, she looks at the NOPE sign. “They should change that sign to ‘YEP.’”

  “Yeah, it’s great that he’s going to help you. Bobby knows a lot of people.”

  She stops walking and tugs on my hand. “He’s going to help me because of you. What have I done to deserve this?”

  She looks like she’s really asking, so I take her chin in my hand. “Other than save my life?”

  “I was only following your example. Now would you please do me a favor?”

  “What’s that, Freckles?”

  She smiles and receives a quick kiss, waiting to say, “Please stop being so fucking perfect.”

  “No can do.” I slip my left hand into her hair, just above her ear, and pull her to me for a longer, heated kiss, her hands resting on my pectoral muscles to keep a safe distance. I whisper against her lips, “I wish there didn’t have to be any distance between us. I want to feel your breasts crushed against me.”

  Her eyelashes are half-mast and her lips lightly touch mine as she speaks in a volume so quiet only I can hear it. “I want that, too. I can’t wait.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Tommy

  Walking up to Knockout. Eyes: locked on the kissing couple. NOPE is right.

  My footsteps are nice and slow, real casual, but I’m on full alert, every muscle in my body tense. Raking my glance down the length of the bitch who shot me, anger slithers into my bloodstream. My heart begins a dull and heavy pound. I can feel it in my head, in my toes, in my sack. My jaw clenches, and my teeth are painfully shut tight, but I won’t know that until tomorrow. Out of the corner of my eyes I wait for them to see me. Act like we’re friends. See if she acts like she doesn’t know who I am, didn’t go to college with us, has never talked about me behind my back to that slut friend of hers, Corinne, now that I know how she’s playing this.

  Did Rebecca tell him what she found out? I can’t be sure, but if she did, he sure doesn’t give a fuck, because ‘Brendan’ and ‘public displays of affection’ are never in the same sentence together unless the word ‘never’ is in it, too.

  I walk right behind him, so close I could reach out and punch Brendan in the back of the head. It would be so easy. Right there, so close to my fist as I walk slowly past. I can’t stop watching them. Can’t get my head to stop buzzing with ideas. White-hot fury jags through my veins and just as I get my hand on the doorknob of Knockout, they pull apart and start whispering to each other. I stop. Try to listen. The cars going by and the people smoking out in front of the bar, make it so I can’t hear.

  My heart beats faster as I wait.

  All they have to do is look over.

  But they don’t.

  He takes her hand and they head away, walking fast.

  I could let them go. I could just walk inside the bar and act like I’m not stewing in a whole pile of murderous anger. Being so close to them when they don’t know it, only makes it worse.

  I could let them go.

  But I won’t.

  I let go of the doorknob and start after them.

  “Hey, Tommy!” Mark’s voice turns me around. He’s standing outside, holding open the door.

  I stop, my head turned toward him, but my body not wanting to leave its intended course. “Hey, Mark.” I look over at Brendan and that bitch, but they didn’t hear Mark, and they’re farther away now. I’m staring at a crossroads, two paths leading to two very different futures, and I’m frozen between the appeal of both.

  “Come on in and have a drink with me. I want to tell you about what happened in New York.” Mark’s hand goes to open the door and he turns away from me like there isn’t a remote possibility I’ll refuse. Something about the way he does this, makes me follow him in. I feel the clap of his hand against my back and I cringe in pain. “Good to see ya!”

  “You too, Mark.” He motions to Bobby to open up the tab again and get us the usual. Bobby and I nod to each other, our years of familiarity needing nothing more. Mark and I mount a couple barstools and I begin to feel my heart calm the fuck down. I’ve got my tongue stuck into the side of my cheek, and my eyes are looking somewhere else, just not here. I’m thinking of a future where my meals would be dictated by guards, and my ass protected by my wits or not at all. A future I just escaped, with a friend’s unwitting help.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Annie

  Cropped Jacket: off. Red Blouse: off. White Lacey Bra: poof.

  Walking through Brendan’s living room with a swing in my hips, I hook my fingers into the belt of my skirt. “I wore this skirt for you.”

  He smirks, the stack of clothes I’ve just thrown at him, lying in his arms. “I know. I was there when you picked it out, remember?”

  Throwing him a flirtatiously skeptical look, I ask, “You were?”

  “Keep on the skirt. And head for the kitchen.”

  “Yes, sir!” I salute him and almost run headlong into the couch as I spin around. He cracks up behind me and moans as the laughter becomes pain. “Serves you right! You were going to let me run into that!”

  �
�It would have been hilarious.” He’s holding onto his ribs with one hand, tossing my clothing onto the couch with the other.

  “Just like the scene in that movie today,” I smile.

  “We didn’t see a movie. We fucked all afternoon.”

  Walking to the dining room table, I pick up an iron owl that’s stationed as a centerpiece. Turning it over to inspect it, I shrug. “Oh yeah! I forgot.”

  He grabs my hips and I drop the owl, yelping, “Wooo!”

  “Yes, that’s the sound the owl makes,” he smirks.

  Before I can come up with a witty comeback, Brendan pushes his hips against mine from behind and bends me over the table. The heat of his hard-on takes no time to warm me up. I look over my shoulder, long hair falling in front of my face. He gathers it into his left hand, the right one gripping my hip, his fingers tucked where my body bends. He tugs on my hair and I gasp and rub my ass into him, wishing this skirt was off, off, OFF. But he’s in charge, just like I want him to be. So deliciously in charge. He turns me around and latches his lips onto mine, plunging his tongue into my mouth like a promise of things to come. We suck on each other, taste each other, hurting for each other as the feeling builds and drives us. He tries to lower himself to kneeling, but his body objects and, frustrated, he growls and steps away. Panting, I watch and wait. This has happened a couple times today. Each time, I’ve learned this about him: He doesn’t like to be weakened by anything. He doesn’t like something in between him and what he wants. But he always finds a way.