Wrapped in Lace (2 page)

She laughed and walked over, her blue eyes coming into view. “No, but I can pour a beer.”

“Can you make a Leg Spreader?” I asked.

“Tequila, vodka, gin, and rum,” she said and cocked the cutest smile. This girl knew her drinks. “Sure thing.”

She poured equal amounts into a glass and slid it in front of me. I pushed the glass back towards her. “For you.”

She pushed it back to me. “I don’t spread my legs for just any man.”

I almost fell on the floor laughing. She wasn’t just adorable, she had a smart mouth. I always did have a weakness for a woman with a smart mouth. “What drink can I buy you?” She responded by pouring some sloe gin, Southern Comfort, and orange juice in a glass, then downed it. She’d made a drink called
Sloe Comfortable Screw
, and she knew exactly what she was doing. I watched the drink slide down her throat, her tongue licking the corner of her lips as she placed her glass down on the bar. I suddenly was very thirsty, wanting to taste her lips, her mouth.

She leaned forward on the bar. “You aren’t from here. The men in this town only know beer and whiskey.”

“Actually, I. . . .”

She held up her hand. “People don’t come to Hank’s for truth-telling and heart-to-hearts. They come here to forget, or avoid something. What do you say we just be anyone we want to be?”

“Who do you want to be?”

“Oh, you decide,” she said. “And you’ll be the hot, brooding, mysterious guy passing through town.”

That sounded almost accurate. I could play that part, especially since she called me hot. “Ok, you can be the town bad girl.” I smiled at her and pulled out the stool next to me. “Another Sloe Comfortable Screw?” She raised her eyebrows. “What? You’re the one who asked for multiple orgasms!”

*

PIPER

Now, this was
most definitely an
Aha!
moment, looking at his ass in those jeans as he leaned over the pool table to take his shot. I hadn’t seen a booty like his in forever. I hated it when guys’ jeans sagged down, but his hung just right from his hips. And I had a perfect view. Aha!

One game of pool, two games of darts, and countless drinks later, Hank yelled out, “Last call.” I can’t remember the last time I closed down a bar. Even at twenty-four, I’m too old for nights like this. We walked out of the bar, his hand at the small of my back, directing me towards his red pickup truck. He lowered the tailgate, and his jacket lifted up just enough for me to catch a glimpse of the skin at his waist. I started to feel dizzy, and I wasn’t sure if it was him, or the many drinks I’d consumed. I’m actually a lightweight when it comes to drinking. One drink usually did the trick, but pretending to be the “bad girl” had been too much fun. I gave Hank a little wave that I was good as he locked up the bar and headed out, neither me nor hot ass guy ready to go home.

He turned back to me and flashed me a smile that was suitable for a male model. It should be illegal for a man to have a smile like that. Before I knew it, he had me by the waist and was helping me up onto the tailgate of his truck. We were finally on the same level, and I took the opportunity to look into his eyes, the moonlight revealing their deep blue color. I reached up and gently touched his thick brown hair. I knew I was playing with fire. I knew nothing about this guy, but what could a little innocent flirting hurt? And after the dating disasters I’d endured, I needed it.

He slid in beside me, his leg rubbing against mine. “Want to tell me your name now?” he asked. “Can’t really be Firefly?”

“Only Hank calls me that.” I wasn’t quite sure why I didn’t tell him my name. Maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe the sense of mystery was too much fun. Either way, I was enjoying teasing this hunk, and he didn’t seem to mind.

A cold wind blew and in one smooth motion, he took off his leather jacket and wrapped it around my shoulders. Hottie actually had manners, too. He was too good to be true. He reached around, pulling my hair out from under his jacket, his fingers barely grazing my neck. I suddenly wasn’t bothered by the cold any longer, my body heating at his touch. He wound his finger through a piece of my hair, and I felt myself leaning into his hand, my breath growing heavy and ragged. I needed to stop this before he got the wrong idea. I wasn’t the type of girl to hop in bed with a guy on the first date, especially one whose name I didn’t know. I reached up to tuck the strand of hair behind my ear, and he gently took my hand. His skin was rough. It was obvious he worked with his hands, but there was a gentle strength in his touch.

He slid me across the tailgate and into his body, and I swear I stopped breathing. His arms were so strong, his hard chest pressed against my body. The blur of the alcohol lifted just long enough for me to realize I was alone in the dark with a stranger, but I wasn’t afraid. Something about him was comforting, strong, protective. His mouth was so close that I could feel the warmth of his breath tingling my lips—taunting me, daring me.

I needed some distance. I put my hand on his chest, feeling his heart beating through his shirt, which was strong and steady like he was in complete control—a stark contrast to the uncontrollable thumping in my chest. “You’re not married, are you?”

He flashed me a schoolboy smile then moved my hand to his hip, leaning back into my lips. “No.”

“Girlfriend?”

“No girlfriend, either,” he whispered as he pulled down my scarf, exposing the bare skin of my neck.

I shivered, and his cocky smile let me know that he was fully aware he was getting to me. “Serial killer?”

He chuckled and lowered his head to my shoulder. It felt intimate and sweet. “Nope, but I think I know what you are?” He adjusted my scarf back, making sure I’d stay warm. “A good girl.”

The game was over. He’d figured me out. “Yeah, but I really want to be a bad girl.”

He tilted up my chin, moving his lips closer. “How bad?”

“Bad,” I whispered, closing my eyes and parting my lips. I had to know how this man kissed—tasted. If I had some mistletoe, I’d have held it above our heads.

He ran his hand up my leg, lifting my dress slightly, his fingers gently stroking the bare flesh of my thigh. “This bad?”

“Eh, huh.”

“Bad enough to let me. . . .”

I felt my stomach lurch and pushed his arm aside. Some bad girl I was. I couldn’t even hold my liquor. His fingers grazed my neck as he held my hair away from my face. I wanted to thank him, but I doubled over as more came up. His other arm slid around my waist like he was expecting me to fall off the truck next. I just looked at the ground, unsure about the state of my stomach, but also out of complete and utter embarrassment. I had just blown the only shot I’d had with a decent guy in over a year. “I’m so sorry.” I tried to hop down, but he wouldn’t let me. Instead, he pulled me down into the bed of his truck. I lifted my hand to my head. “Everything is spinning. The stars all look like disco lights.”

He laid my head on his chest, gently stroking my hair. “Close your eyes and take deep breaths. I’ve got you.”

DECEMBER 22

DREW

I squeezed my
eyes closed as the morning sun peeked through the leaves that winter hadn’t yet taken. I groaned, feeling like I’d slept on cement, and realizing the bed of my old truck wasn’t much better. Reaching out, I hoped to find someone soft to curl into, but I only felt the crunching of some dried leaves in my fingertips. Did I dream the whole damn thing?

I slapped my forehead and sat up—being back in my hometown was seriously messing with my head. But then the stench hit me, the unmistakable smell of vomit. My nose wrinkled up, but I knew I had a huge grin. The crazy, beautiful, wannabe bad girl was real. The only problem was, I had no idea who she was or where she’d gone.

I hopped out of the back of my pickup, suddenly feeling limber, and slammed the tailgate. I looked back at the bar, hoping she’d come back tonight, because I’d be waiting. I had to find her. Climbing into my truck, I felt for the first time like maybe this trip home wasn’t a total mistake. Maybe something good could come of it. But the moment was fleeting.

I rolled down the window as my truck crawled through town. Part of me missed McAdenville, and it hadn’t changed much since I left. I never dreamed I’d live anywhere else, until that last time I’d come home—Christmas of my freshman year in college. That trip home had changed everything—my whole life.

I felt my throat closing up as I passed the old pizza parlor that used to be my hangout. My family’s bar was just up the street. It seemed like yesterday when I wanted nothing more than to run the bar, buy a little house, and raise a family. She’d taken it all away—all my good memories, all my dreams, my hometown. She’d taken it all, and I’d never gotten it back, just like my class ring and letterman jacket. The only thing I had left from that time in my life was this old pickup.

I passed the dirt road that I’d driven more times than I cared to remember. I’d go park my truck, and we’d steam up the windows before she stopped me—the little tease. I couldn’t help but flash to the girl from last night. Her teasing was entirely welcomed, the feel of her breath against my lips. I needed to find her if I had any hope of making it through the week.

I turned down the street to my grandmother’s house, passing my parents’ house along the way. That’s the way McAdenville is. Family lives within blocks of each other. I’d agreed to come back home for my grandmother, so I was staying with her. It would be easier that way. Slowing my truck, I stopped in front of her two-story Acadian house, its white siding adorned with lights and every window holding a wreath. It’s been decorated the same way since I was a little boy; even the mailbox was covered in holly. And Nana still had the coolest car of any grandmother ever—a red 1962 FERRARI 250 GTE that she and Pop bought and fixed up together before he passed away. I couldn’t believe she was still cruising around town in that car.

I stared at the house as I got out of my truck. It was like time had stood still here. The front door flew open, and I took a deep breath, thinking it might be the last relaxing one I’d have for a while. My mother’s blue eyes landed on my face, and I could see the tears flowing down her cheeks already. She ran down the porch, her hand over her mouth. She cried every time she visited me in Raleigh, but this was different. These tears were for the return of the prodigal son. Before I could form a single word, she was pinching my cheek.

She threw her arms around me. “My baby!”

“Hi, Mom. Missed you, too.”

“We expected you last night.”

She was a tiny woman, but she was squeezing me like a lumberjack. I couldn’t help but smile down into her brown hair. No matter how long I’d been gone, she always was home to me. “Got a late start. Pulled over and slept in my truck.”

“Gwennie, let the boy breathe.” My dad came down the front steps rubbing his bald head. He and my mom had gotten married right after high school. If anyone else in the free world had called her Gwennie, she’d rip them a new one. She was Gwyneth to everyone else.

“You let me have a minute with my baby, Carl.”

She squeezed me again, and I swear I felt a rib crack. My dad got the other side of me, and they sandwiched me in their hug. I wasn’t going to deny them this moment. They’d waited a long time for it. Besides, I’d missed them, too.

“It’s good to have you home,” my dad said, wiping a tear from his cheek.

I hated seeing my parents cry, especially my dad. It didn’t happen often, thank God, and I wanted it to stop now. “How’s retirement?”

He rolled his eyes. “Someone needs to remind your brother I’m retired. He calls me in to cover so much, I’m working now more than I ever did.”

I forced out a smile. As far as I was concerned, I didn’t have a brother anymore. “So, the bar is doing well? Business is good?”

“Nothing compared to my little brother’s.”

I looked up, seeing my brother, Rob, on the porch, nervously stroking the stubble on his face. I could tell he wasn’t sure if I was going to pummel him right then and there. The years I’d been gone hadn’t changed him much. Being two years older, he was always taller, stronger, and broader, but it seemed running the bar had added a few pounds to his stomach. He wasn’t as fit as he used to be, and at only twenty-seven, his brown hair was already thinning. My hair was just as thick as it always was. It was a small victory, but I’d take it. I didn’t have anything to say to Rob. In fact, I’d planned on not uttering a word to him for the entire trip home.

I turned back to my mom. “Where’s Nana?” Nana is what we all called our grandmother, and grandfather had been Pop. He passed away a few years ago. I needed to distract myself and focus on the people that really mattered, my older brother not being one of them.

“She’s inside. Let’s have a nice holiday,” my mother said, gently rubbing my arm.

“Sure thing.” The whole reason I made the trip was because Nana asked, so I wasn’t going to make her wait a second longer. I climbed the few steps up the porch and tried to step around my tree trunk-sized brother.

“Come on, Drew,” Rob said.

“Move, Rob,” I snapped. Two minutes into the trip, and I’d already gone off plan.