Down to You (18 page)

I start shaking my head. “I’m not leaving you
to go to a—”

“Yes, you are. The game comes on tonight. I’d
like to watch it in peace while you have some laughs with your
friends. Is that too much for a wounded old man to ask of his
daughter?”

I snort. “Like I’m gonna say no after you put
it that way.”

Again, I know what he’s doing. And why. But
I’ll go along with this one, only because I know how much he loves
football and he genuinely probably wants to watch it by himself,
without me fussing about his blood pressure when he gets all worked
up and yells at the screen.

His smile is satisfied when he turns back to
the television a second time. This time, I leave him to go start
supper.

********

A series of whistles greet me as I walk
through the door at Tad’s, making me tug self-consciously at my
skirt. That’s the bad thing about not having time to pack a bag. It
leaves me stuck with the clothes in my closet at home, clothes I
outgrew a couple years ago.

My black skirt is shorter than I’d like and
the t-shirt I’m wearing with it is a bit more…form-fitting than it
needs to be, not to mention I don’t ever remember it showing so
much belly. If I weren’t an adult, Dad probably wouldn’t have let
me leave the house until I changed. Unfortunately, yoga pants or
cut-off jean shorts with paint on them were my only other options,
so short skirt and tight shirt it is.

It doesn’t take me long to settle into the
comfort of the familiar. Drinks flow freely and there’s more of a
party atmosphere than usual. It’s not long before my head is
spinning happily, warning me I need to slow down on the drinks.

I’m laughing with Ginger, who took the shift
off to sit on the other side of the bar with me tonight, when I see
the door open behind her. My heart squeezes painfully when I see my
ex, Gabe, walk in with his girlfriend, Tina, on his arm.

He looks the same as always—dangerously
handsome with his jet black hair, pale blue eyes and cocky,
to-die-for smile. He even has the same issues as before—a girl on
his arm and a wandering eye. He doesn’t even try to hide the fact
that he’s checking out other girls. And Tina, God love her, she
just pretends not to notice. Talk about dysfunction!

Ginger, having noticed my silent,
open-mouthed stare, turns to look. “Oh sweet heaven, who let that
bastard in?”

She turns and starts to slide off her stool
as if to rectify the situation. Reaching out, I put my hand on her
arm, stopping her from getting up. “Don’t. It’s not worth it.”

Actually, I’d love to see her kick his ass
out, but it would only make me look more pathetic, so I’d rather
just drink enough to drown him out of my consciousness.

I signal Tad, who is working a rare shift
behind the bar tonight to cover for Ginger’s absence, and ask him
to bring us another round of shots. That’s the fastest way to
oblivion as far as I’m concerned. And oblivion is looking very
appealing at the moment.

Ginger and I toast one another and down the
shots. I feel the burn of eighty proof all the way to my stomach
where it kindles a warm fire. She whoops excitedly and I laugh at
her, but my eyes can’t help but stray back out to the crowd in
search of Gabe.

When they find him, he’s sitting down at a
tall table. Despite the girl at his side, his eyes find me. In
them, there’s recognition. And hunger, just like there always was.
And I react instantly, just like I always did. Only now, the
reaction dies almost immediately, the flames doused by the cold
waters of reality and how he’s here tonight with Tina rather than
with me.

I’d listened to his lies for months, falling
more deeply in love with him by the day, when all the while, he’d
had a girlfriend he’d never had any intention of leaving. The worst
part was, they have a son together. They were basically a family.
And even though they’d never actually split, he’d made me feel like
a homewrecker. He’d made me feel like my mother. And for that, he
doesn’t deserve my forgiveness.

I try to enjoy the rest of the night, enjoy a
farewell gathering with my old friends and coworkers, but my mood
continues to darken. Every drink and every laugh seems tainted,
tainted by the presence of the umpteenth bad boy I’d fallen
for.

Ginger orders us another round of shots,
which I gladly accept even though I know I’m pushing my limit, and
we toss them back amid the cheers of our friends. The alcohol is
just starting to burn off my bitterness when someone at the door
catches my attention again.

This time, Cash strolls in.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR- Cash

I’m not surprised by anything I see when I
walk into the sports bar. It’s typical, with its dozen or so
televisions lining the walls and a collection of tables in the
center of the room facing them. The bar is to my right followed by
four pool tables, crouching under long Budweiser lights. Beyond
those is a small dance floor.

Within seconds, my eyes find Olivia. It’s
like they’re drawn to her. When I see her sitting at the bar with
her friends, I know two things are true. One, she’ll be drunk if
she doesn’t stop drinking soon. And two, I’ll have that skirt
pushed up around her waist before the night’s out.

When her eyes meet mine, I see resistance in
them. I’ve seen it before, but I thought we’d pretty much moved
past that. I can’t help but wonder what has happened since this
morning to set her back.

There’s an explicative resting on my tongue,
but I bite it back and keep my face neutral as I walk toward her.
When I stop beside her, I watch her straighten her spine and tip
her chin up. Yep, resistance. And she’s determined.

Even though it frustrates me, I find it
pretty freakin’ hot. It makes me want to
make
her want me
despite all the reasons she thinks she shouldn’t.

So I will.

Again.

“I would ask if I could buy you a drink, but
it looks like you’ve already had a few too many.”

“I already have one father. He’s at home
nursing a broken leg, thank you very much,” she says with a bit of
a slur.

“No offense intended. Just an observation.” I
signal the bartender, who is watching me with nothing less than
hostility. “Jack. Neat.” I’m in her territory now. She’s among her
friends and they’re obviously very protective. The strange thing is
that they’d feel the need to protect her from me, even though
they’ve never met me.

Damn, I guess she really does have a
weakness for a certain type. And all her friends must know about
it.

It irritates the shit out of me that she’s
pigeon-holed me, as have all her friends. There’s nothing I hate
worse than to be judged unfairly. Not one of these people knows the
first thing about me, Olivia included.

It would be interesting to see how she’d
react if she knew everything, knew the truth. In just a few short
sentences, I could give her every reason in the world to run away
from me as far and as fast as she can. But I won’t. Because I’m
feeling selfish. I don’t want her to run away yet. I need more from
her first.

A lot more.

When the bartender sets a glass in front of
me, I toss him a ten and down my drink in one gulp. I nod for
another and slide my empty glass back.

I make a point to ignore Olivia as I stand
awaiting my next drink. Finally, she speaks. I almost smile. I
wanted her to make the first move. And she did.

“What are you doing here?” she asks, scooting
off her stool to stand beside me. I wonder if it makes her feel
more in control, more in charge to be standing.

Or maybe it makes her feel safer, like she
can get away quickly. Run.

“I thought you might need some help. So I
came to help.”

I see her eyes flicker to her right for a
split second before returning to me.

“How did you find me?”

“My brother.”

“No, I mean how did you know I was here?”

“Your father.”

“You went to my
house?”

She’s obviously perturbed about that. “Yes.
Is that a problem? Are visitors not welcome at your secret
lair?”

I watch, fascinated, as anger stiffens her
muscles. She props her fists on her hips. Damn, she’s fiery. “Did
it ever occur to you that maybe you should wait until you’re
invited?”

“If I was invited, then I wouldn’t be
volunteering, now would I?”

Even in her agitation, I see her glance for
the second time to a table at her right. I follow her gaze to a guy
sitting there with a mousy-looking girl. The way he’s watching
Olivia leaves me in no doubt that they know each other. And very
well by the looks of it.

I take a step closer to Olivia and lean down
to ask quietly, “Is that the guy?”

She jerks her head toward me, guiltily.
Angrily. “What guy? What are you talking about?”

“Oh come on. Admit it. That’s the last bad
boy, isn’t it?” I look back at the douche who is inadvertently
making my life more difficult. “Looks like he recovered from the
wood chipper pretty well. Want me to kick his ass?”

I look back to Olivia. A range of emotions
flit across her face, beginning with confusion and ending in
something close to humor, to a smile.

“No, I don’t want you to kick his ass.”

“You sure? Because I specialize in
deassholization.”

This time she smiles. “Deassholization?”

“Yeah. Just think of me as the Orkin man of
assholes—putting assholes in their place.”

“Well, I appreciate the offer, but he’s not
worth it.”

I reach forward to tuck a stray lock of raven
hair behind her ear. “If he hurt you, he’s worth it.”

I really don’t think Olivia knows how
expressive her face is. I can plainly see that she’s affected by
me, that she likes me and probably wouldn’t argue if stripped her
down and licked her from head to toe, even though letting me would
be against her better judgment. But I can also see that she doesn’t
want
to feel those things. She wants to be ambivalent,
unaffected. She wants to be impervious to me. Only she’s not. And,
if I can help it, she
won’t be
either.

I recognize the lively song that comes on.
Ho Hey
would never be played at my club, mainly because it
is
a club, but I like it nonetheless. The words have me
feeling a little sentimental toward the confused and gun-shy
Olivia.

“Come on then,” I say, taking Olivia by the
hand. “Let’s go rub it in.”

I reach for her friend’s hand, too, the lady
who’s been watching me since I walked in, like I’m a potential
snack. “I’m Cash, Olivia’s boss. Come dance with us.”

“Ginger,” she declares with a broad smile.
She wraps her fingers around mine, giving me zero resistance.

As I tow the girls across the bar toward the
dance floor, Ginger is drumming up attention, which is perfect for
what I have in mind. “Come on, y’all. Let’s give Liv a farewell
dance she’ll never forget.”

Within seconds, there are two dozen of
Olivia’s biggest fans surrounding us on the dance floor, singing
along and showering her with smiles and hugs and attention. I can
see her face light up, her demeanor relax.

She only looks back at that other guy one
time, and even then, it’s almost an absent-minded kind of thing.
For the most part, her focus is concentrated on the people around
her. And on me.

I can see the ice melting each time her eyes
meet mine. When I smile, she smiles in return. When I reach for her
hand, she laces her fingers through mine. And when she turns to me,
it’s looks as though, at least for the time-being, she’s stopped
lumping me in with the d-bag who she wishes had fallen into a wood
chipper.

Her eyes are sparkling and happy, and she
appears to be genuinely pleased. “Thank you for this. You’re a very
talented agent of deassholization.”

“Oh, this isn’t my method of choice. Trust
me. But if it makes you happy then I’m okay with it.”

She looks away shyly, but her eyes come back
to mine, unable to resist the magnetism that’s between us. “Well,
it makes me very happy.”

“Then let’s finish him off, shall we?”

She quirks one eyebrow and smiles. I see the
daring girl rise to the surface. She’s feeling like she can take on
the world, conquer anything including an ex-boyfriend.

She’s ready to jump. And I’m ready to catch
her.

“What did you have in mind?” she asks coyly,
licking her lips.

I look around and locate the signage for the
bathrooms. I smile down at her, taking both her hands in mine and
backing out of the crowd, toward the restrooms. I don’t take my
eyes off her.

Her cheeks are flushed and her eyes are wide
with excitement. She doesn’t know what I have in mind, but I think
she thinks
it’s risqué. And she seems okay with that, which
makes me even bolder.

Not once does she glance at that guy’s table
as we pass, but I see him from the corner of my eye. He says
something to the girl he’s with and he gets up to leave. He looks
angry, which makes me smirk.

When we reach the short hallway outside the
bathrooms, I pull Olivia to me and kiss her. She’s warm and pliant,
and within seconds, she’s working her fingers into my hair and
pressing her chest against mine.

I was only planning to kiss her where that
asshole could see us, but Olivia isn’t thinking about him
anymore.

Now neither am I.

The music fades around us when she bends her
knee and rubs her leg against mine. I reach down and run my fingers
up the smooth skin of her calf. She reaches down and puts her hand
on top of mine, guiding it to her hip. Happy to oblige, I cup her
perfect ass in my hand and squeeze.

Her moan tickles along my tongue and vibrates
to my lower half to stiffen everything from my waist down. When the
kiss that was supposed to be more a tease than anything else turns
rough with passion, I stop thinking about everything but the girl
in my arms.