Authors: A.J. Downey
A dance floor was raised and in the center of all the tables and chairs and music played loudly over large speakers against the back wall with the mural. There was a stage in front of it for live performances and I noted the pool table was on locked casters so it could be wheeled away if need be.
“What do you think?” Dray asked and he was smiling with pride.
“It’s comfortable.” I said and smiled.
“Come on, I wanted to introduce you to Trigger and his Old Lady Ashton, Reaver’s over there too.” He took me by the elbow and we threaded our way through the tables to a larger one near the dance floor which had a couple of enterprising girls my age already getting down on it.
The first thing I noticed was a big behemoth of a man sitting at it. He was taller than Dray but they were about equal in muscle mass. He had long blonde hair and the only thing missing to make him absolutely scream ‘Viking’ was the braided beard. He was clean shaven with silvery blue eyes and had a pretty, small woman perched in his lap.
She had long, long auburn hair that hung loose around her shoulders and flowed down her back. Her eyes were a bright golden color and I’d never seen their like. She had freckles scattered across her nose and wore minimal make up. She didn’t really need any, she had that natural beauty most women would kill for. The looks of love and adoration that she and the Viking were trading were unmistakable and I wondered how long they’d been married.
“Dray! Is this your stray!?” a man in his mid-to-late-twenties asked Dray.
He was more slender than either Dray or the Viking and had rich milk-chocolate brown hair that was shorter on the sides and a bit longer in the middle which he had smoothed to a point between his eyes. I think they called the style a faux-hawk. His bright blue eyes sparkled with mischief and laughter, crinkling good naturedly at the corners. He had a dark blue teardrop tattoo at the corner of his left eye and very nearly vibrated with barely contained energy and enthusiasm. He was the kind of guy you meet and instantly take a liking to. His smile was infectious and I smiled back while Dray made introductions.
“Everett, that’s Reaver.” Dray said indicating the man with the sparkling blue eyes and happy disposition.
“That’s Trigger and his woman Ashton, but everyone calls her Sunshine on account of her eyes.” Dray pulled out a seat at the table and I shrugged out of my sweater and hung it on the back before slipping into the seat.
“It’s nice to meet you all.” I said and turned to Reaver, “I’m Dray’s what?” I asked and he laughed.
“His stray. That’s what happened isn’t it? He took you in like some stray cat.” I blinked and blushed.
“Uh, yeah, I guess it is,” I said flustered.
“Don’t worry.” The woman on Trigger’s lap murmured, “I’m sure it isn’t so bad. Ethan found me on the side of the road.” She cuddled back into Trigger and looked content to be there. I raised my eyebrows.
The side of the road?
I thought to myself, but made no judgment or comment.
“It’s true, her husband left her out there and I come along and the rest was history.” I blinked. That wasn’t what I had pictured at all and I felt properly chagrined, maybe I
had
been judgmental. When she said the side of the road I’d thought prostitute which was really unfair considering she was dressed classier than me by a long mile. She wore black leather pants and riding boots with a tight fitting baby doll tee shirt bearing the MC’s logo on the breast. If anyone looked like a hooker it was me, by comparison.
“So spill, how’d you and Dray meet?” Reaver asked. He hung his arms on the back of the chair he was straddling and rested his chin on them. His piercing blue eyes searching my face. There was something cold and calculating below his happy clowning around exterior and I swallowed, mouth suddenly gone dry. He had the look of one of my childhood ‘uncles’. A man I had overheard speaking to my father one very late night about killing another man for ‘the cause’. It was strange how seeing that look on this man Reaver’s face brought me back to my childhood. To a time where I felt the most safe.
“Worst day of my life ever.” I said truthfully, though admittedly I wasn’t counting the day my Da’ died. Nothing compared to that pain.
“Then you need a drink before you start to tell this story.” Trigger said. Reaver jumped up.
“What’s your poison?” He asked me.
“Irish whiskey, neat.” I answered and he looked surprised. Dray was looking at me with that expression he sometimes got, the one that said I had mysteriously somehow earned points with him or something. Like his respect had gone up a notch. Reaver looked at Dray.
“It’s a scotch night.” He answered.
“Comin’ right up.” Reaver went off to the bar.
“So where are you from?” Trigger asked in an attempt to make some small talk. I smiled.
“I was born in Everett, it’s a small city north of Seattle. My mom died, and my da’ he moved us out here shortly after. Been around here ever since.” I answered.
“I’m sorry about your mother.” Ashton said and I could barely hear her over the music I shrugged.
“I never knew her. My da’ made sure I was looked after, did all right I suppose.” I smiled fondly.
“Where’s your dad live?” Trigger asked and I felt my smile flee.
“Died last year. Heart attack.” I said.
“Oh no!” Ashton’s face crumbled into deep sympathy.
“It’s okay, he’s with me ma; he never even tried to date after her. Her dying broke him as a man. I’m pretty sure he carried on just for me and when he knew I’d be okay, when I left the nest, it was like it was okay for him to go home, to be with her.” I shrugged gently. Dray didn’t know it but I had his ashes at his house. I didn’t want to weird him out. I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that my da’ had died of a broken heart. He was as fit as ever there were a man to be seen so heart attack simply didn’t fit the bill.
“Here we go.” Reaver set down glasses in front of me and Dray. I picked up the amber liquid and breathed the aroma and smiled at the familiar smoky sweet scent.
“Sláinte!” I said, raised my glass and took a sip.
“What’s that mean?” Dray asked, brow furrowed.
“I means ‘to your health’” I smiled and Trigger, Ashton and Reaver raised their glasses.
“To your health.” They chorused and I laughed.
“So you’re named after the city you were born in? How did that happen?” Ashton asked and my smile widened.
“Caught that did you?” I asked and she smiled happily and nodded.
“A fine story if ever there was one.” I said and let out a gusty sigh. I sipped my whiskey and let a smile curve my lips even if it was just a little bit sad. I slipped into my father’s accent with the telling… I couldn’t help being just a little theatrical, it was how my da’ had been and his blood coursed through my veins sure as anything.
“So there was my da’, his wife had just died and a new nurse is placing me in his arms. She asks him, ‘what are you going to name her?’ but my da’ he’s looking at my poor mother and somehow he thinks that she’s asking him those questions. You know the ones, ‘sir do you know where you are? Do you know what day it is?’
those
questions. And me da’ he doesn’t hear her, so he asks ‘what?’ and she asks him ‘do you know what her name is?’ and in his grief he hears, ‘do you know where you are?’ so he says ‘Everett’ and he’s staring at his wife…” I pause, just as my da’ had done a thousand times before in the retelling of the story of how I got my name. I used to love hearing the story when I was a child, and I still did. Telling it the way he would made me feel closer to him so I pressed on.
“Now the nurse just takes him at his word and writes down ‘Everett’ and then she asks him my middle name and he looks at her and says, ‘I want to name her after my wife Mary…’ so she writes that down and before you know it, there I am a wee babe in my father’s arms ‘Everett Mary Moran.’ Which it’s not a bad name really.” I polished off my whiskey the four faces around me thoughtful and somber. Silence stretched between the lot of us.
“So! How’d you meet our boy Dray?” Reaver smiled and levity returned with it. I looked a little sadly at my empty glass and launched into that story. My Irish accent disappearing.
“Well it all started when I got up late for work on Thursday…” I told them everything, sparing no detail, right up until Dray took me the hell out of the apartment I shared with Jerry the first time.
Reaver reeled back in his seat.
“Please tell me you punched this little cock bite in the mouth!” He said to Dray.
“Yesterday.” Dray held up his fist which was still sporting the Band-Aid I’d put on it. Reaver raised his fist and they bumped them together. I laughed.
“Good.” Trigger grunted and Ashton nodded happily, which surprised me.
“So did you divorce your husband?” I asked Ashton, and Dray and Reaver went very still, exchanging a look. I was surprised to see the same cold darkness my ‘uncle’ had born in his gaze, and that I had caught in Reaver’s, slide behind Dray’s dark eyes.
“I didn’t have to. He committed suicide.” Ashton said, but her chilly smile belied her words. Trigger looked grim his silvery eyes going positively glacial. I smiled.
“I’m sure he did.” I said simply and looked at my glass for more alcohol. I settled back into my seat and watched the four of them trade spooked looks. Dray was looking at me with worry in his eyes. I mouthed ‘IRA’ at him and shrugged. He seemed to relax marginally but his look grew to one of considering. Reaver cleared his throat and got up.
“Another drink?” he asked.
“Absolutely.” I smiled and nodded and he picked up my empty glass and meandered through the tables and crowd to the bar. Everyone at the table was rather subdued and quiet. Dray was looking me over as if he were trying to decide something. I smiled at him and gave a luxurious stretch.
“Dance with me.” I said in an effort to dispel the tension gathering over our little group like a dark cloud. He looked me over.
“Not me, I suck at it.” He said and I could tell he was slightly intimidated by the prospect after having seen me that morning.
“Oh please,” I rolled my eyes, “Traditional Irish step does nothing for me when it comes to contemporary dance. It’s like expecting a classically trained ballet dancer to know hip hop.” I stood up and he stood up with me smiling.
“Hey! Haven’t you ever seen that Julia Stiles movie where she’s the ballerina and moves to the inner city and learns hip hop from that one dude after her mom dies in a car accident?” Reaver asked, setting the drinks on the table and joining the conversation late. Dray raked him with one of his burning dark looks.
“Dude.” He said simply, his tone laced with disgust.
“What?” Reaver asked.
“Pussy.” Trigger said, trying to keep a straight face and failing. Ashton was even staring up at him agape.
“What!? Chicks love a dude in touch with his feminine side.” Reaver bounced his eyebrows up and down at me and smoothed a hand down the front of his white tee shirt.
“You just showed off a little bit too much of your man-gina for my tastes.” I said flatly and drank my whiskey in one swallow. I was just this side of pleasantly buzzed and feeling a little braver than normal. I captured Dray’s hand and pulled him onto the dance floor without so much as a backward glance at Reaver who had this mock-wounded look plastered to his face. Trigger was laughing uproariously at him and even Ashton was giggling from behind her hand.
Dray had that gorgeous boyish grin on his face complete with dimples and I smiled a small victory that I’d put it there. It quickly disappeared when we stepped up onto the floor, I drew close to him and swayed to the beat. He looked me over and the unmistakable lust in his eyes left my skin tingling wherever his gaze landed. His arm went around my lower back, the leather of his coat sleeve cool and slick against my skin and he pulled me tightly up against the front of his body, one of his powerful thighs sliding between my own. I gripped his well defined shoulders and we moved to the beat, in a dance that wasn’t even bordering on indecent, it was miles past the line. I breathed deep his spicy masculine scent and lost myself in the music and his presence, our bodies pressed tight. He was smiling, I was almost his exact height in the heels and our eyes were locked, his lips a bare inch from mine.
“I know I shouldn’t but I want to kiss you Everett,” he said and his breath tickled across my skin, the peaty warmth of the scotch he’d drunk teasing my nose.
“I know I shouldn’t, but I really want you to kiss me Dray.” I said back and he closed his eyes, the war clear on his face. He opened them and my heart gave a painful squeeze in my chest.
“Just a kiss,” he said, “Doesn’t have to go anywhere, doesn’t have to mean anything…” his lips drew closer.
“Right,” I said and my voice was breathy, “Doesn’t have to…” I said and his lips touched mine. Our bodies stilled as our lips took over and heat raced across my skin. He stole the breath from my lungs and the world narrowed to the press of his lips, tight against mine. My hands came up, trembling to cup his face as he deepened the kiss, his tongue flicking lightly against mine. Sparks leapt between us and I finally understood what it meant when people declared a kiss to be electric. I must have kissed Jerry a thousand times and more and never,
never
had he ever kissed me like this.
Dray’s mouth was warm and succulent against my own. His hands drifting up from my ass to slide along the naked skin of my back, kneading as he went. I melted against him and kissed him back with a wild urgency. Some whistles and appreciative shouts went up around the room and I smiled against Dray’s insistent lips. I felt his hand leave my back and go up, he waved it around the room in the direction of those whistles and calls and I caught that he was flipping the spectators off.
I laughed and he swallowed the sound, his tongue plunging past my lips, demanding, conquering and it was so incredibly hot my knees felt weak. My hands drifted into his hair and I held his mouth tight to my own and felt the vibration of his moan through our tightly pressed bodies. The kiss didn’t have to go anywhere, it didn’t have to mean anything… but we both knew that it would and it did.