Pulled Within (10 page)

“Cool. Thanks.” I went back in my room to grab what I needed.

With a change of clothes and my makeup bag in hand, I peeked
into the bathroom. For someone who made fun of Caleb’s bush,
Jeremy
wasn’t any cleaner. The inside of the toilet was black. There was a
layer
of slime on the shower floor. The garbage can overflowed, and
musty-smelling towels covered the linoleum.

I wasn’t a neat freak, by any means. Living with guys since I’d been sixteen years old, I’d learned how to deal with messiness and
even was a bit of that myself. But that house wasn’t just a little messy. It was a health hazard.

I added a second bottle of bleach to my mental list and reminded myself to shower at work as much as I could.

Starting right then.

I LOOKED AT
the chip Hart placed on my tray after I’d set his beer
down. “A twenty-five-dollar tip is a little much, don’t you think?”
He was already on his third drink, and he’d given me just as much for the last two rounds.

“You’re not just serving me beer.” He folded his hand by
throwing his cards out for the dealer to grab.

“I’m not?”

He shifted a little in his chair, turning toward me. His shirt was deep gray, almost charcoal. It darkened his eyes by several shades. “You’re providing entertainment.”

I glanced down at what I was wearing. The uniform hadn’t
changed,
but it looked like it had gotten tighter somehow. It couldn’t have
been
because I’d gained weight; I hadn’t eaten anything since the day
before. “You mean, my
outfit
is providing entertainment.”

“No…I mean, your
smile
is.” He crooked his finger to motion me
closer. “Although that doesn’t mean I’m ignoring your outfit. That
would be impossible.”

The encounters we’d had as teenagers were as sweet as they were sensual, and they’d bonded me to him. It was why I’d been so twisted up when he’d left. Still, I couldn’t stop my mind from
wondering how
he looked underneath his clothes now. The thought made my skin break out in a sweat, even with the room as cold as it was. The
freezing air made my nipples strain against Christy’s bra. I hoped he couldn’t see them through the padding.

I didn’t trust what would come out of my mouth, so I kept it
closed. But I widened my lips and smiled even more as I handed out the rest
of the beers on my tray. Once it was empty, I returned to the back
room to fill up again.

“That’s the guy you were talking to last night, isn’t it?” Christy asked, joining me at the bar. “The one at table eight.”

I knew she’d told Kevin I’d done a good job; when I had arrived for my shift, a copy of the rest of November’s schedule was in my newly-assigned mailbox, with a key for a locker. I’d be working five
nights a week, all closing shifts in the poker room. They’d given me the best shift, and Christy’s favorite section to work. I was grateful for that, and for her friendly interest, even if I didn’t want to talk
about him.

“Same guy,” I said.

“What’s his name?”

“Hart,” I answered reluctantly. “His name is Hart. I’ve known him for a long time.”

“So you guys are friends?”

I shook my head. “Maybe a long time ago. Not anymore.”

“Well, friends or not, if he was looking at me the way he’s looking at you, I’d wait until we were both walking out to the
parking lot, push his fine ass against the side of his car and tell him how amazing I am
when there isn’t a pair of panties separating us. But I’m not
you…and cock really isn’t my thing.”

My neck swooped to the side, meeting her wide hazel eyes. “You have no idea what you’re talking about. He’s definitely not looking
at me that way.” I was more interested in her piece of advice than
her being a lesbian. It didn’t bother me at all; I just hadn’t pegged her for someone who liked girls.

“Oh yes, he is…and so are you. If you don’t go for him quickly some other chick will.”

“Good, I hope
—
”

“Hear me out, Rae. You’re right: I don’t know a thing about you two. Hell, I hardly know anything about
you
. But I’ve watched you two lock eyes all night, and there’s obviously something going on.”
She was a little pushier than I liked. “I’m not saying you should fuck him right away; just show him why his eyes should stay on you, why your eyes are only on him and make him work for the rest.
Chase it,
you know?” She paused, glancing from side to side. There was no
one around us except the bartender. She pulled me a few feet away so he
couldn’t hear us. “There’s a blackjack dealer that works in pit two,
the
one right across from the buffet. She’s been after me for weeks.
Typical
girly stuff, you know, sending me texts, flirting with her eyes and
her
tits. She hasn’t let me touch her yet
—
we’ve kissed and shit like that,
but nothing else, really.”

I recalled the woman Christy had winked at when we’d passed
by her table yesterday…the one with pink streaks in her hair.
“What’s your point?”

“That girl’s got me crazy about her because she’s playing hard to
get,” she said. “It’ll work for you, too. It’s obvious he wants
you…and of course he does; you’re fucking hot.”

She didn’t know about my difficult connection to Hart. She
thought she was helping me out, but she was only making me angry. “You’re
reading this all wrong
—
there’s nothing to chase. He’s not trying to
get
with me, and I’m
definitely
not pursuing him. We have a history.
That’s
it.” I stepped back to the bar and grabbed the bottles that had been placed there for me, twisting off the caps before setting them on my tray.

Christy’s eyes widened. “Wow. I pushed too hard…I’m sorry,” she said softly. “And you’re right: I must have read you both all wrong.”

I lifted the tray and held it above my shoulder. The tone of my
voice had been snappy. She hadn’t deserved that, and I didn’t want
to
make her feel bad for sharing her opinion. With Hart, things just
weren’t simple. “I’m sorry, too.”

She gave me a warm, sultry smile and a wink. “Forgiven. Now
get back to work.”

Back in the main room, I passed out each of the bottles that were on my tray and took orders for several more. Just like it had last night, the front of my apron was filling with bills and chips. It
seemed like the
faster I moved, the more I earned. Knowing the amount I would
probably
make didn’t stop my feet from hurting in the high heels, or my nipples from aching in that bra. It just made the pain more tolerable.
It also helped energize me, which I needed since I really hadn’t gotten more than a few hours of sleep.

Heading back to refill, I dropped the tray to my side and stepped away from the table. A hand stopped me from moving any farther. A
hand that came from behind me and rested flat against my navel.
Fingers
that were full of strength and power…and lust. “I forgot to ask for
your number this morning,” Hart said.

The heat from his breath trickled to my neck and down the back
of my tank top. I tried to calm the fluttering inside my throat. “I
wouldn’t have given it to you.”

His hand tightened against me. “How can I get you to change your mind?”

“You can start by telling me why you think you need it.”

His lips dipped to the base of my ear. “So I can call you
whenever I’m thinking about you.” The pad of his thumb grazed over the little
ball that sat at the top of my belly button. It was connected to a curved rod and a small purple star that hung at the base of the hole.
He knew
the piercing was there…he was the one who’d paid for it. “Despite what
you think, I’m actually a good guy.” His other hand moved to my
apron where I saw him drop something in. Then his fingers left my body, and I spun around.

A sudden coldness filled me, and I met his silvery eyes and half smile. “What did you just put in there?”

“I had a feeling you wouldn’t give me yours,” he said, his stare dipping toward my waist. “So I gave you mine instead.”

Maybe he was a good guy and had just made some bad
decisions when he was young. Or maybe he was an asshole. All I knew was I couldn’t get hurt again, especially not by him.

“I’m not going to need it,” I said.

“You never know…you might change your mind. In fact, I hope
you use it tonight, to call me on your way home to let me know
you’re safe and that your car is acting all right.”

My fingers drifted inside my apron, holding the small piece of
paper with his number written on it. “Good-bye, Hart.”

“Call anytime—doesn’t matter how late,” he said from behind me as I walked away.

I didn’t believe my safety was the real reason he wanted me to call.
If he really wanted to be friends again, he was coming on strong,
especially because he knew how I felt about him. The only other
reason was…sex. Of course.

That wasn’t going to happen. None of it was.

I’d tried so hard to keep my past behind me. Hart was a major part of that past.

As far as I was concerned, that’s where he’d be staying.

***

Christy and I walked out to the parking lot together. I was relieved to be wearing my own boots—ones that didn’t pinch my
toes—and going without a bra. As I’d thought earlier, the pain had been worth
it. I’d made even more than last night, largely due to the hundred
dollars Hart had tipped me before he left. Several hours had passed since he’d taken off.

I could still feel his fingers.

I hated that.

“Are you going to keep driving back and forth to Bar Harbor?”
she asked, pulling a hat down over her dark locks. “I’m a Bangor
girl…you know I have an apartment not too far from here.”

I finished buttoning the top of my jacket, tucked my scarf inside,
and shifted my messenger bag. It was heavy; I wasn’t used to
carrying
a bag in addition to my purse, but now that I was having to shower at work, I had to bring so many extra things with me. “Yeah, I’m
commuting.” I answered. “I mean, I’ve never lived anywhere else. I’m comfortable being in a place I know so well.”

“Makes sense,” she said. “I usually don’t stick around here for very long. Just enough time to save a little cash before I head out of
town
again. ” Maine had a look, and Christy wasn’t it. She should have been
singing in some hip studio in Manhattan or painting in some Los
Angeles loft. She seemed to be more than just
this
. “I’ve lived all over,” she
continued, “but always end up coming back home.”

Home
.

Brady and Shane had given me the closest thing I had to one of those. Still, nothing had felt right since I’d gotten my scar. That
wasn’t Bar
Harbor’s fault; that was my fucked-up past, though as long as Brady and Shane were still living there, I couldn’t imagine being anywhere
else.

“You think you’ll stay a while this time?” I asked her.

So far, my conversations with Christy were usually pointed at me—the topics and the questions, the slow release of information that I was hesitant to give. I didn’t like it. My scar looked even worse
when the spotlight was on me. It was time to change that. It also helped keep my mind off Hart.

She turned toward me with a grin spread over her heavily
glossed lips. They twinkled under the moon. It didn’t sound like a nervous
laugh. Christy was all confidence. “Doubt it. Rosie
—
pink
streaks
—
wants out of Maine. Love…it’s such a fucker, isn’t it?”

“Love? Yes, it definitely is.” It had been a while since I’d felt something that resembled anything even close to love. I still remembered it, though: the way it made me ache and quiver and feel
so much
comfort in the same breath; the way it felt even stronger when the sun was shining on my skin. Mostly, I remembered the hole it had created in its wake when it was torn away from me without
warning.

It hadn’t been filled since.

If I were going to that place again, I’d have to be honest with
whoever
it was—not just about my feelings, but about my past, too. There were things I’d have to admit out loud that I wasn’t ready to say. I’d spoken those words once, to Brady and Shane. I didn’t know if I
could do it again.

“Sounds like you know exactly what I mean,” she said.

I glanced at my feet, the heavy, clunky buckles much more my style than the spikes I’d worn earlier. “I do.”

“And it was with Hart, wasn’t it? That’s why you got so upset
when I pushed you.”

I glanced up, noticing the way she stared at me. She already
knew the answer; nothing I said would change that. My silence would only tell her more. Rather than give her the word she already knew was coming, I just nodded.

Her hand found its way into the palm of my mitten. She gave it a squeeze. “It’s okay. I get it.” It was the first time she had touched me
for more than a few seconds. Even though I couldn’t feel her skin
through the thick fabric, the contact still made me jump.

She was a girl, I reminded myself.

Her hands weren’t the same as
his.