His merriment at my situation is written all over his face. I hope confidence masks the fear on mine. No matter how I get to the end result, this is going to hurt.
No, this is going to be hell.
I make my way over the cement floors. A man wearing a sleeve of tattoos and an undeniable invitation tickling his lips passes me. He turns around and whistles as he walks backward to the door.
This helps.
My confidence slightly bolstered, I look back at the bar.
This doesn’t help.
My feet shuffle, nearly tripping over an invisible boulder in my way as Machlan’s lips form a thin, hard line. His arms cross his thick chest.
Even with the cool reception, my cheeks still heat.
Machlan sure knows how to make hell feel like home.
Two
Machlan
“I was wrong.”
Nora slides the cash register drawer closed. “What about?”
My teeth grind together, flexing my jaw all the way to my ear. “About what I said earlier about the day not able to get worse. It could.”
“What’s happening—oh …” Her voice trails off as she steps next to me. Her hand clamps on my shoulder and gives it a gentle squeeze. “I’ll be in the back if you need me.”
“Chicken,” Peck calls after her.
Nora’s retort and Peck’s heckles fall to the wayside as Hadley gets closer.
Freckles splash across her face like they always do at the end of summer. Pieces of her hair are bleached by the sun, and her body is curvier than I remember and hot. As. Hell.
The day may look worse, but she’s never looked better.
My fingers dig into the wooden bar as her muscled, tanned legs carry her my way. The white blouse almost hides the tops of her breasts, and it takes every fucking bit of self-restraint I have not to hop over the bar, pick her up, and carry her right out of here. When her brows raise in a “Got a problem?” kind of way, I hear Peck cackle. And as my hand falls to the crotch of my pants to adjust myself, I realize I don’t have one problem. I most definitely have two.
One
Hadley
“This is the best idea I’ve ever had,” I say to myself. “Or it might be the worst.”
I park my car along the curb a few spaces down from Crave. The bar sits in front of me with its crooked ‘a’ hanging sideways on the sign. Some of the red tube lights used to form the letters are bright, while others are dim, and I wonder if I should just re-start my car and go back home.
“No,” I say aloud. “You have to do this.”