Sweet Ride (6 page)

The first few hours of
my shift drag out. It usually does when you work the early one. The
bar doesn’t usually pick up until after ten at the earliest. I’ve
spent most of my time so far prepping the place.

It’s a little after
eight when I notice Dag Sanchez walk in. He’s one of the many
notches in my bedpost and probably one of the hotter ones, too. He’s
so fine looking he’d probably give a nun hot flashes with his thick
black hair and rich chocolate brown eyes. It’s been about a month
since I saw him last, mainly because I don’t go searching for a man
after I’ve slept with him. I guess I’m like a guy in that sense.
Wham. Bam. Thank you, man. Well, that, and he started seeing his baby
mama again. That’s not the kind of drama I like to get myself into.

I make eye contact with
him as he saunters toward the bar in my direction and rewards me with
his trademark sexified grin. This man knows how to work it. Dag’s
not a frequenter of Pulse. He’s only been here one other time that
I can recall. We actually met at another bar on one of my binges. The
fact that he’s here now means he wants something. And by the
tell-tale bedroom eyes he’s flashing my way, I’d say that
something’s me. Hmm. This could work in my favor. Maybe I can make
him work for a piece of this ass.
A little tit for tat, perhaps?
What’s the worst that can happen?
And I probably just jinxed
the whole thing! But really, we’d both be getting what we want. If
he’s here, then he and baby mama must be on the outs.

“Hey there, sexy,”
Dag says to me, his voice holding a slight Spanish accent.

“Hey stranger,” I
tease.

“Now, now, Mamacita.
You know I would’ve come sooner if you’d just asked.” Ah, I
see, two can apparently play this game.

“I’d prefer not to
get bitch slapped by a woman. Speaking of which, she’s not going to
send her brothers after me, is she?” I banter.

“Ah, babe, I got sick
of her ways. Came looking for a good time—make me forget my
worries.” Always the charmer.

“Sorry, Dag. I don’t
have time to make repeat performances.”

“Ah, but this wasn’t
just any performance. You and I were a masterpiece.”

“A once in a lifetime
deal, buddy,” I remind him.

“Anything as good as
what we were, is worth trying again,” Dag says in the sultry voice
that got him in my pants the first time. He’s definitely pulling
out all the stops.

“Tell you what, Dag.
If you want this so bad, you have to do something for me. I’m
breaking one of my main rules if I do this.”

“See, that’s the
problem with you women, you always have these rules. Always have to
have some control over everything. Live a little, life might surprise
you.”

“I’ve had enough
surprises in my lifetime.”
None of them good,
I think to
myself.

“Okay, I’ll humor
you. As long as I’m picking you up from your shift tonight, and
you’re shaking that fine ass in my face,” he concedes.

“You get me tonight,
no holds barred, if, and only if, you pretend to be my man for the
next couple of weeks.” I know this will intrigue him.

“And that’s a favor
for you?” he laughs. “Chica, you still have much to learn. We
have a deal. Can I ask why a fine woman like you needs someone to
pretend?” he asks with humor.

“It’s a long story.
The only thing you need to know is that this is
pretend
.
You’ll be getting more than what you want, and I’ll be getting
what I want out of it. It ends when I say it does, and we need to
look like the real deal. Nothing real’s going to come of this, so
don’t even think this is some ploy for me to be the next baby
mama.” I have to make sure he gets the whole picture.

“I think I can handle
that, and I can more than handle you, hot mama. You better be ready
at two o’clock. I’m picking you up, and it’s going to be a long
night,” he whispers in my ear while trailing his finger down the
front of my shirt. Dag gives me a wink and struts out the bar just as
fast as he appeared.

That seemed a little
too easy. At least my liver won’t be suffering tomorrow morning. I
need something to try to take my mind off Jack. Though for some
reason, I think I’m going to regret this decision.

It’s about ten
minutes after two, when I come out of the change room in a hoodie,
yoga pants and flip-flops. Hey, don’t judge me. I just spent the
last eight hours sweating it out in a hot, steamy dance club wearing
sexy fuck me shoes that are far from being comfortable. Who cares
that there’s going to be a very attractive Hispanic man waiting for
me when I get off of work, and all I have to offer him is me in my
workout clothes. If he has anything to say about it, I won’t be
wearing anything for very much longer anyway.

Dag’s leaning against
my car in the parking lot when I walk outside. Shit! I forgot about
my baby. I can’t leave her parked here overnight. What if someone
does something to her, or worse, tries to steal her? This isn’t
going to work for me. I make my way over to him at the same time I
hear the rumble of a motorcycle in the distance. As I reach him, Dag
grabs me by the hand and hauls me into his hard body, crushing his
lips against mine.
You can do this, Payton,
I think to myself,
trying to forget about the tongue exploring the inside of my mouth.
He’s a good kisser, but he’s no Jack. That guy must’ve gotten a
Master’s Degree in kissing because he’s seriously skilled.
Jesus,
can’t I stop thinking about him for two fucking seconds!
The
reason for my thoughts of Jack is because that rumbling sound’s
getting a whole lot closer, distracting me.

As I pull away from
him, Dag licks his lips and gives me a look so animalistic that it
sends shivers down my spine and not in a good way. When I take a
quick look over my shoulder, I see Jack decked out in dark wash
low-rise jeans, a white Henley t-shirt and well-worn black leather
jacket. The only way I can describe the look he’s now shooting our
way is lethal. Like the old saying goes, ‘If looks could kill, Dag
would be one dead son of a bitch.’ Well, that’s not exactly how
the saying goes, but you get the picture. His eyes soften a little as
he locks his gaze on me, but he quickly revs the engine on his bike
and takes off without saying a word. I watch the taillight of his
motorcycle disappear at the end of the street.

“Let’s take your
car, babe. I actually got one of my associates to drop me off. Hope
you don’t mind,” he says.

“Actually, that’s
awesome. I didn’t want to leave my baby here over night,” I say,
rubbing the hood of my car.

“Yeah, she’s a
pretty sweet ride. Can’t say I blame you there. Want me to drive,
chica?”

“That she is, Dag. As
for you driving her, let me think about it. Umm, thought about it,
and the answer’s no. Nobody drives my car, but me,” I tell him in
a joking manner, but really I’m telling it like it is. I don’t
trust anyone driving my car, not even Ella, and I love that bitch.

“Okay, babe, you
drive. Makes it easier for my hands to explore,” he says, wiggling
his fingers. Fuck, I never thought about that. Dag’s a little
hands-on, if you know what I mean.

We both get into the
car, and when I start the engine, the song, “Feels So Real” by
Eden’s Edge is just starting to play on the radio. The lyrics stir
up memories of Jack and me, and that’s not what I want to be
thinking about when I’m with Dag, so I turn that shit off pronto.
He gives me directions to his place, and as I drive there, I’m
thinking about all of the things that I have to do on my next day
off: grocery shopping, bathroom cleaning, bill paying, bikini waxing,
etc. My mental list distracts me from all the groping Dag’s doing.

When we get to his
place, Dag doesn’t even take the time to give me the grand tour.
Hell no, the man drags me directly to his bedroom—where he thinks
he gives me the best time of my life. Oh boy, if he only fucking knew
about my Oscar winning performances, and I think tonight I won two
awards.

After our romp in the
sack, Dag’s obviously tired and immediately falls asleep. Taking
advantage of his unconsciousness, I get up out of the bed, retrieve
my clothes, and re-dress. I leave his apartment and start my car, but
before I back out of the driveway, I sit there for a minute and think
of the situation I’ve gotten myself into.
Can I really make this
work to my advantage?
I don’t know, but I’m sure willing to
give it a try.

I back out of the
driveway and look both ways before pulling out onto the street. Coast
is clear. About a minute later, I see a single headlight in my
rearview mirror. My stomach does an excited little flutter.
Is it
Jack?
I wonder. Surely, it’s a coincidence, and it’s some
other biker. Why would someone who just wants me as a fuck-buddy be
trailing me after I left the bed of another man? The motorcycle
continues to follow me the whole drive to my house, but keeps going
when I pull into my driveway. I release a breath, but I don’t know
if it’s due to relief or disappointment. I get out of my car and
lock the doors. Once inside the house, I take my usual
scrub-the-skin-off-of-me shower, get ready for bed, and seriously
crash hard.

* * *

It’s been a week
since making the deal with Dag, and I’ve made sure that we’ve
been constantly spotted in PDA. I’m working a day shift today,
which I hate to do because it’s dead customer-wise and horrible
tip-wise. Today I’m wearing a black loose fitting Pulse t-shirt
that I’ve tied in a knot at my waist showing my belly again, and I
cut the neck out of it so it’s hanging off one of my shoulders:
think
Flashdance
. I’m wearing it with my faded and ripped,
low-rise, hip-hugging jeans, and well-worn black cowboy boots.

I have my back to the
club as I restock some of the bottles at the main bar, when suddenly
the hairs on my neck stand on end. Goddamn it! Only one person on
Earth gets that reaction from me. He’s back. I turn around to face
Jack, looking even more gorgeous, if that’s possible.

He’s standing with
his jean-clad hip leaning against the front of the bar, wearing a
gray t-shirt that fits snugly, showing off all of his toned
muscles. I take a look down at his arms and feel a flash of heat go
through my body as I study the sexy tattoos, wishing I could see the
ones on his chest, ribs, and back, too. Mmm. Jack shirtless. The
sound of him clearing his throat makes me look back up at his
handsome face.

“Payton,” he
greets, giving me a slight nod and an I-know-you-were-checking-me-out
grin.

“Jack,” I return.
“Can I get you something?” I ask.

His grin pulls wider.
“Only thing I want is you,” he drawls, leaning in toward me. The
sound of his deep, seductive voice sends welcomed tingles to my
southern regions, making me want to climb over the bar and mount him.

“Jack we’re not
doing this. I have a boyfriend, remember?” I remind him.

“Didn’t seem like
you had a boyfriend last week, when I was making you come on my
tongue and fingers.” Oh hell no, he didn’t just say that! “Do
you even know anything about this fuckwad you’re involved with?”
he asks.

Jack renders me
speechless for a minute, which is highly unusual. I finally get my
wits about me again, but before I can say anything, Dag makes an
appearance and takes a seat at the bar. Jack just glares at him,
turns, and walks away without saying another word. And God help me, I
can’t help but notice how fantastic his ass looks in his faded
jeans.
Snap out of it, Payton. You have to convince him that Dag’s
your boyfriend, remember?

“Hey baby,” I purr,
knowing Jack’s still within hearing distance. “I missed you.” I
grab Dag by the collar of his button up shirt and pull him over the
bar, slamming my mouth against his. His hand cups the back of my
head, pressing our mouths closer together. As our tongues explore
each other’s mouths, I feel Jack’s eyes on us. Not breaking the
kiss, I open my eyes and look in the direction in which Jack just
walked away. He’s sitting at a table in the corner, while a server
takes his drink order. The whole time he’s interacting with her,
his eyes are on Dag and me. One of his hands lays tightly coiled on
the table, and I notice a tick in his jaw.

Dag pulls back,
breaking the kiss and sits back on his barstool. “Who the fuck’s
that?” he asks, looking a little pissed.

“Nobody, just a
customer.”

“Don’t know if I
like the way he’s eyeballing you.”

“Dag, seriously, lots
of guys look at me that way. I work at a dance club, and I’m hot.
Of course, guys are going to look at me.”

“Not like this guy.
There’s something different about him. He isn’t just eye-fucking
you like the rest of the guys here. Don’t like it. I should go over
and kick his fucking ass,” he says, looking back at Jack.
As if
you could try.

“Let it go. He’s
nobody,” I say, trying to convince him and myself at the same time.

Juan comes around the
back of the bar, and I introduce Dag as my boyfriend, in hopes that
Jack’s overhearing it. Juan gives a clipped, “Nice to meet you,”
and leaves again.
What the hell’s that about?
He seemed very
much on edge around Dag.

“Do you know Juan?”
I enquire.

“I’ve seen him
around town, but I don’t know him. Why?”

“I don’t know. He
seemed nervous around you for some reason.”

Dag shrugs my concerns
off and orders a Coors. I get Dag his beer, and he continues to hang
around for a couple of hours, which honestly started to annoy the
fuck out of me after about ten minutes. Jack only hung around long
enough to finish his drink, but the whole time he was here his eyes
never left me.

Over the next two
weeks, Dag and I spend a lot of time together in and out of his bed.
He gets what he wants from me in the bedroom, and I get what I want
from him outside of the bedroom. I’ve seen Jack often, as he’s
becoming a fixture at the bar since that first night we reconnected.
He hasn’t approached me since the night at the bar with Dag, but
I’m all too aware of his presence. I make sure I take those
opportunities and really play up my relationship with Dag. Seriously,
how long will it take for him to get the hint that I’m not
interested in him anymore? Yeah, right. I can’t even convince
myself.