Evolve Series Box Set (86 page)

My mouth is open, “now why in the fuck would I—” on the tip of my tongue when a flash of brilliance snags me. Mariah is friends with Emmett.

“Your birthday, huh?” I say. “You having a big blowout with all your friends?”

“Of course!” Her lashes bat feverishly, body leaning closer. “It’ll be so much fun. Will you please come?”

No, but I will attend, for the chance to see Emmett. Or is that a bad idea? Will she think I’m there for Blowjob Betty? I could explain I’m not… Jesus, I am so bad at this. I have no idea what to do or not to do—my only known territory is nut and bolt. I’ll feel my way through it to spend some time with Emmett, though. She’s worth it.

Could I sound more like Evan “Romeo” Allen? Fuck.

“Yeah, I could probably swing by. I’ve got a friend I could bring too.” I concentrate on the rag in my hand, wiping the bar aloofly. “What about your friend from the race? She gonna be there? He’d probably like her.”

“Emmett?” She laughs viciously. “Probably, I invited her. But they’ll be plenty of other girls there for him to choose from. Fun girls.”

Sad, really; she can’t possibly buy that—that it’s more fun to fuck a stranger and be forgotten than to be the one girl who’s sought out for so much more than what any girl could give.

I gotta write that shit down! My mind never thinks that profoundly and might never do so again.

“Yeah, okay.” I slide her a napkin and dig around under the bar for a pen. “Write down the address and I’ll see what I can do. But then I have to get back to work.”

As in amscray, oozieflay.

***

Music is blaring, drunks are all over the yard and in the street, and this house is packed sardine tight. No way a neighbor’s not gonna call the cops soon. I’m figuring I’ve got an hour, tops, before this shit show gets busted. I’ve got to find Emmett fast.

I scramble through the droves of bodies, only pausing on dark heads of hair to scan the faces attached. No luck in the front, so I find the kitchen and stand in the farthest corner of it. This spot offers me a straight view of the only two doors into this place: front and sliding glass to the backyard. If she walks in, I’ll see her.

One glimpse, a single, “hey, funny seeing you here,” is all I need to tide me over until Sunday. I can taste my anxiousness.

Thirty minutes later, that stank flavor in my mouth is disappointment, turning rapidly into the hint of vomit as the birthday girl spots me. Awesome.

“Why is your fine ass hiding in the corner?” she slurs, blowing vodka breath in my face as she pretends to lose her balance and falls into my chest.

“Easy there.” I grip her shoulders loosely and place her upright and off me, immediately removing my hands. I really do hate to lie flat out, so I stare at the floor as I force out the necessary bullshit. “I’m watching for my friend, we’re gonna have to go soon. I was hoping he could meet your girl, Emily was it? She here?”

“Emm-ett,” she annunciates. “No, she couldn’t come. But where is he?” She looks around, drunker than I thought or simply missing the fact that she has no clue who she’d be looking for, even if he was actually with me. “I could hook him up with any other girl here, then you and I could—”

I latch on to her wrist, stopping her hand’s progression up my chest. I’ve heard all I need to—Emmett’s not here and she’s not coming. There’s 47 minutes of my life I’m never getting back. “You know what? Everybody’s here to see you. Why don’t you go be the birthday girl and I’ll go look for him. K?” I end on the low “talk to them like they’re a child” voice that works every time.

Such as right now.

“M-kay.” She grins, twisting her hips back and forth. “But come find me later. You can spend the night with me.”

“Go on.” I turn her, giving her a gentle push forward. “It’s your party, have some fun.”

She’s made it all of five steps before I’ve slid out the back door and jogged to my bike.

Make that 54 minutes down the fucking drain.

CHAPTER 5

There’s Something about Emmett

***Sawyer***

“Where are my keys? Fuck!” Four never-ending days, the longest of which was that dumbass, waste of time party where she didn’t show, I’d waited, and I oversleep? You have got to be kidding me!

My head jerks at the sound of keys jingling, and I see Laney dangling them from the end of her finger. With her other hand, she offers me a thermos. “Drink this coffee on the way or you’ll be grumpy.”

I snag both items, frozen in shock that Laney is both awake and efficient this early in the morning. “And chew this gum after, smelling coffee breath sucks.” She shivers. “I don’t know how you people drink that crap. She leans in and kisses my cheek. “Just be yourself, Sawyer. That’s more than enough.”

“If Dane didn’t adore you,” I wrap her in a hug, “I’d—”

“Get your ass kicked?” Dane rumbles, appearing around the corner. “Go train your girl and let go of mine.”

“Yeah, okay, I’ll see you guys later.”

She’s standing out front when I pull up, the slight breeze blowing her dark hair up to tease her face, giving me a cheerful wave.

Hurriedly parking the bike, I jog up to her. “I’m sorry I’m late. You been waiting long?”

“No, not long at all. Good morning.”

“Good morning, Emmett.” Is it ever. “Shall we?” I ask, unlocking and holding open the door for her. When she passes, I inhale my dose of Red and then turn to lock the door behind us. “I doubt you’ll ever open, but just in case, the lights are here.” I begin flipping the switches one by one, bringing The K to life. “Let me show you the break room. We can get you a locker and you can put away your bag.”

She walks beside me, her eyes taking in every nuance of the club. “I really like the layout and décor. Such a modern, trendy feel. How long have you worked here?”

“Since the day it opened. I moved here with Dane from Connecticut. Here we go,” I open one of the unclaimed lockers, “you can put your stuff in here for now. I’ll grab you a new padlock when we go upstairs.”

“Thank you.” She takes her purse off her shoulder and sets it inside. “Do you mind if I use the ladies’ room before we get started?”

“Of course not, let me show you where it is. We have separate ones for patrons and employees. You can use either, and we keep them super clean, but I’d suggest the employee one all the same.”

There’s her giggle again, a soft and dainty sound that I already adore. “Thanks for the tip.”

“Speaking of tips, we don’t share here. What you make is yours.”

“And the fifteen an hour?” She bites her lip, eyes tearing up.

“Yeah.”

She pounces into me like a puma, hugging the breath from me. “Oh my God, thank you! That’s just…amazing!”

I rub her back, soaking up the clean, crisp scent of her hair. “I’m glad you’re happy, Emmett.” And I am. Glad isn’t even the right word. For some reason, making this sweet angel’s day has instantly become my priority.

“I really need the ladies’ room now,” she says with a laugh. “I’m so happy I could tinkle!”

I laugh, really laugh, at that. “Well, we wouldn’t want that. Come on.” I usher her through the hall with a hand to her back.

Once she’s tinkled, we head up to Dane’s office to do her paperwork and I can’t help but ask, “So, how’ve you been these last few days? Do anything fun?” Cause you missed a certain birthday party.

“No, nothing fun. Read a book or two, wrote a paper. You know.” She shrugs.

I don’t know…and I don’t know where you were that night and I want to. But for once, I bite my tongue before blurting out the complete truth. Something tells me mentioning being at that girl’s party is not a good idea.

Her voice pulls me from my haze and I focus back on her across the desk where’s she’s been filling out forms, her little tongue peeking out in concentration. “Oh, I guess you need my cards. They’re in my purse.” She sets down her pen and starts to stand.

“I’ll go get it.” I jump up, trying to be a gentleman. “You can keep working on the rest of the stack.”

She studies me, twisting her lip. “That’s awfully nice of you?” she almost asks, as though surprised.

Why would it surprise her that I’m a nice guy? Ah, back to the BJ—she thinks I’m a dog.

“Emmett,” I hitch myself up on the corner of the desk, “I am a nice guy. I’m single and she offered. Have you ever done anything you regret? A chance was there so I took it kind of thing?”

A glance to the left, right, finally back to me. “Yes, I have.”

“Okay, so you understand. I’m not depraved, Emmett, I’m young and unattached. First impressions aren’t always the right ones. At least not all-telling anyway.”

For instance, you don’t seem like a stripper.

“As a matter of fact,” I continue, “you seemed so sure and cocky then, but the sweet, shy violet I see now seems more like who you really are?” I raise my brows in question, challenging her.

“Sometimes you have to own the situation or it will own you,” she replies. “Never let ‘em see you sweat, right? I didn’t want to go to a rowdy race, or walk up on typical Mariah, but I did,” she shrugs, “so I went with it.”

So did I, I think to myself, but decide not to say it. “I’ll be right back.” I hear her start to say something as I leave the room, but she must think better and stops herself.  I want so badly to turn around and rush to her, to pull her out of that chair and make her forget everything but right now. Instead…I go get her purse.

She doesn’t bring it up again when I return and the rest of the morning goes smoothly, me rambling out boring instructions, her soaking it all in with enthusiastic questions and answers. I have no doubt, from her exuberance over HR bullshit, that she’ll do a fantastic job.

Here and there, through the natural flow of conversation, I find out a few new facts about her and offer some of my own in return. She’s so easy to be around, with an ease to her voice that seeps through your pores and soothes your soul. I’m enraptured, inundating her with information just to hear her laugh or whisper a small gasp across her lips, both so intoxicating that I don’t even care that she now knows I take blatant advantage of free sample stands and am not above wearing mismatched socks with my boots. She thought both those facts were funny, not weird, and shared that she refuses to write in red ink (something about everything written in red is bad news) and still has all her sticker albums from when she was a kid.

At one, I ask her if she’s ready to call it a day. Her coloring has changed to a pasty white and the speed of her gait has slowed significantly.

“Are you feeling okay?”

She sighs and drops in the nearest chair. “I haven’t eaten in while is all. Can we take a quick break for lunch?”

Well shit, I’ve been so selfishly basking in her little noises that I’ve starved her! “Emmett, you should have said something. I’m sorry. I’ll go grab us something. What do you want?”

“No, no, I have something in my bag. Let me—”

I saw her tiny purse; she’d be lucky to get a fucking cracker pack in there. “Then what am I gonna eat?” I smile at her. “I’m going anyway. Please let me get you something. My treat.”

“A salad would be great, thank you.”

“Salad it is.” I tap the end of her nose instinctively and regret it when she flinches. “I’m sorry, I didn’t think before—”

“I’m just hungry,” her smile is placating, “you don’t have to apologize. In fact,” her eyes scrutinize me cooly, “you’ve already said sorry to me more times than anyone ever has. Are you always this polite?”

“I don’t know.” My head bows and I rub the back of my neck, peering back up at her. “Maybe I’m overdoing it a bit. Kinda like you thanking me.” I pop my brows, questioning her with a cocky smile.

A brilliant idea of how to get to know this girl even more without begging on my hands and knees for any information she’ll spare forms in my head. “I’ll make a deal with you,” I say. “Every time you say thank you, you have to tell me something about yourself.”

Her mouth twists as she considers it. “Fine, but same goes for you every time you apologize.”

Then there’s that comfortable silence where her deep green eyes widen in sincerity and search mine for the same. She’d make a great interrogator; no one could hide from that look or that face.

“All right,” I agree with a nod and pull out my keys. “I’ll be right back. You fine to stay here for a minute?”

She looks around hesitantly. “Oh, um, sure.”

“I’ll lock the door behind me. Unless you want to come with me?”

“On your motorcycle?”

“Yeah.” I give her a knowing grin. Chicks can’t resist a bike.

She shakes her head rapidly. “No, thank you. I’ll stay here.”

What? I try to hide the shocked disappointment in my voice. “Okay, I’ll be right back then.”

“I snore.”

“Huh?”

“I said no, thank you, so I owe you a fact. I snore,” she shrugs. “Not like lumberjack snore or anything, more like a teeny tiny,” she holds up her thumb and finger in measure, “sound other than breathing.”

Most adorable thing I’ve ever heard in my life. It takes strength I didn’t know I possessed to only chuckle and keep walking. “Good to know. Be right back.”

***Emmett***

A break, finally. New, fresh, focused. My chance to really make a dent. Thank you, aligned stars; thank you, ray of light shining down upon me. Take it, scared girl. Take the chance to do great things. Pave your path and walk it, head high.

“What’s that?”

“Oh!” I shriek, startled and frankly, scared. “My God, I didn’t hear you come in.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” His kind face now wears a frown of remorse.

“It’s my journal. I like to free write; sometimes I get lost in it and forget the world around me.” I quickly tuck the small spiral notepad in my back pocket. “You owe me a fact.”

He chuckles, a deep, mesmerizing sound, and rubs his chin. “I guess I do. Okay, let’s see…” he ponders, “I have seven tattoos.”