Getting Hot (Jail Bait Book 3) (10 page)

When Cameron and Melissa start getting loud, Jon stands and pulls me up by the hand. “Let’s take a walk.”

I brush my ass off. “I should probably head home. I’ve got a midnight curfew.”

He holds my hand and we move slowly back down the path toward where we parked, but when we get there, Tyler’s doing Amy on the hood of his car.

Jon takes a deep breath and opens his car door for me. “Sorry about them.”

“It’s cool,” I say, dropping into his passenger seat.

He climbs in the driver’s side and looks at me, a spark in his eye.

“For them,” I qualify. “Don’t get any ideas or I’ll have to bust out the Kung Fu.”

“You know Kung Fu?” he says, his eyes going even wider.

I shake my head at him. “You don’t want to find out.”

He starts the car and we wind back down the mountain, past the high school toward town.

“So, where did you come from?” he asks.

“San Francisco.”

He glances sideways at me. “Sort of a big change, huh?”

“Yeah. My sister thought this would be better for us. It’s cheaper to live here and all.”

He slows where he turned back to the high school this afternoon. “You’ll need to navigate me from here.”

I point straight ahead. “I’m in the first block, on top of the gun shop.”

He coasts down the hill and rolls to a stop in front of the gun shop. “Look, Lilah, I know this was kind of lame, but maybe we can see a movie or something sometime.”

I step out of the car and close the door, then rest my arms on the door when he rolls down the window. “Maybe.”

He unbuckles and leans across, waiting for a good night kiss. I lean in and press one to his lips. He grins like the fool he is as I draw away.

“You need to learn the finer points of kissing,” I say. “You’re really bad at it.”

“You’re going to teach me?” he asks eagerly.

“Good night, Jon,” I say, but he just keeps grinning.

I stand and cross the sidewalk to the apartment door. Once I have it open, I give Jon a wave. As he pulls away, he passes an old black car that shines under the streetlight just up the block. There’s a man leaning against the fender, his arms crossed tightly over his chest.

A jolt of adrenaline sends me backpedaling through the doorway…until I realize who it is.

Bran.

A shiver runs up my spine and my nipples harden. I tell myself it’s the late-night November chill, but I know that’s a lie.

I drop my guitar and storm out my door and across the street. He doesn’t move until I’m right on top of him, and then it’s only to push off the car and stand in front of me.

“What the hell are you doing here?” I demand.

His eyes scan me head to toe. “I wanted to know you were safe.”

I shove him back against his car. “So you’re
stalking
me? That doesn’t make me feel safe. It makes me feel like worms are crawling under my skin. It’s fucking creepy.”

He nods slowly. “You’re probably right.”

I sigh deeply. “You’re going to have to trust that I can take care of myself, Bran.”

He glances up the street in both directions. “I care about you, and that pervert is out here somewhere.”

I ignore the dizzying rush in my chest from his declaration and fist my hands on my hips. “So this has nothing to do with my date?”

His jaw grinds tight, and that’s all the answer I get.

I lift my hand slowly, cup his cheek and run the pad of my thumb under his black eye. “Thank you for caring, Bran. I appreciate your concern. But this can’t happen. You know that.”

You know that
.

I say it, but I know he doesn’t “know that.” And the reason he doesn’t is because a huge part of me doesn’t either. I don’t mean it and he can sense that.

He lays his hand over mine, holding my palm against his warm skin.

I lift my other hand and hold his face in my hands. He watches me, letting me decide what happens next. I feel like my heart’s being pulled up my throat. It’s beating so hard for him.

I lean in, needing to feel what I felt when he kissed me. Needing to feel that spark lighting my dark soul. But just before our lips touch, I lower my gaze.

He rests his chin on the crown of my head and sighs deeply into my hair. “You smell like whiskey.”

I let his face go and back away. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Bran.”

He nods and watches me cross the abandoned street.

When I walk through the door and the lights are on, I have a moment of panic that Destiny was watching for me to get home from my date and maybe she saw me with Bran just now. But she’s nowhere near the windows. Instead, she’s hunched on the couch, her face in her hand, talking on the phone.

“I don’t know, it just got all jerky and then the engine died and it wouldn’t start again,” she says to whoever’s on the other end. There’s a pause while they reply, then she says, “That sounds bad. How much do you think it will cost to fix?” Another pause, then a dejected, “Shit” at whatever the answer is.

She cringes up at me as I lower myself onto the couch next to her. I wait through the rest of the conversation and surmise that she was talking to Tiffany’s boyfriend when she asks him to put Tiffany back on. She swears a few more times, then says her goodbyes.

“The car?” I ask when she disconnects.

She sets the phone down. “He thinks it could cost up to a thousand to fix. We’re barely scraping the rent together as it is.”

“I’ll find a job after school. There has to be something.” I give her shoulder a mock punch. “I bet no one’s got the corner on underground gambling at the high school yet.”

Her head snaps up and panic skates over her features.

“Joking.” I twist the ends of my hair around my finger. “Mostly.”

“You are
totally
joking. No gambling here, Li.”

“It was good money,” I mutter.

She rolls her eyes. “You’re impossible.”

“Thank you.”

She gets up and pours herself a glass of water. “How was your date?”

I decide to skip the part about his friends being oversexed drunks, because it doesn’t really seem to apply to Jon. “It was nice.”

“Define nice,” she says warily.

“We just went to the dance and hung out with some of his friends. Sort of boring, but okay.”

She moves through the living room to the hallway. “I’m wiped out. See you in the morning.”

I follow her up the hall when she’s done in the bathroom, then crawl into bed. And the kiss I replay in my dreams, the one that has my breathing ragged and my heart erratic, isn’t Jon’s.

It’s Bran’s.

Chapter 13

Bran

I thought I was fine with Lilah fucking anyone she wanted…until I saw her leave with that asshole. I’ve never held a woman to any standard. No such thing as sluts or whores in my book. A woman likes to have a good time, more power to her. If she wants to have a good time with me, even better.

But watching Lilah drive off with that guy tore something inside me loose. I felt the hole, just like when I lost brothers overseas. It was that same deep ache that won’t go away. But I can’t even begin to explain why I’m feeling it for a girl I’ve only known for a few weeks.

All I know is, every time she walks through the door, it takes me a sec to get my bearings. Her own private gravitational field yanks at my compass and fucks me all to hell. And when she opens that pristine mouth and fucks me with her voice, there’s nothing I can do to stop my body from reacting.

But the next few weeks pass and I keep my hands off. It helps that it’s the brink of December and the weather’s getting cooler, so she’s starting to wear more clothes. It also helps that I’ve discovered three feet is my breaking point. If I keep her at arm’s length, I can’t smell her. Because just as much as she sounds like sex, her warm vanilla scent smells like it too. I don’t text or call. There’s been no sign of Poser and the dick in the white Mustang has been picking her up after work. I haven’t gotten a look at him, but he seems to treat her okay, so I haven’t needed to stalk her or walk her home.

In her eyes I’m probably as pathetic as Destiny is in mine. I told Destiny this wasn’t happening and I couldn’t understand why she didn’t believe me…until I realized I was doing exactly the same thing to Lilah. She told me no, but I haven’t let up believing it would happen.

It’s finally sunk through my thick head, though. It’s not like Lilah and I had a thing. It was a kiss. As mind-blowing as it might have been, it wasn’t like I thought it was heading for anything serious.

So it’s time to saddle up and move on.

When Lilah comes in tonight, it’s the same as every other Friday and Saturday night since our kiss three weeks ago. I mix her drink, set out her tip jar, and leave her alone. She sings and makes me hard for her, just like every night, but unlike all the others, tonight I decide to do something with all that wood.

In the corner is a table of five college girls out trolling on a Saturday night. Two of them have been checking me out since they walked in. I make sure they see me checking them out in return, and when they’re due for a second round, I mosey over. I lay my hand on the blonde’s bare back and squeeze the brunette’s shoulder. “Anything I can get you girls?”

The brunette licks her shiny lips and looks at her friends. “Are we staying for another round?”

They all nod and she lays her hand over mine and looks up at me. “I’m not driving tonight. Switch me to a Long Island Iced Tea?”

“Sure thing, doll,” I say, giving her shoulder another squeeze.

“It’s my twenty first,” the blonde says, batting her long black lashes up at me. “I want something that tastes good with lots of liquor.”

Her friends giggle and start throwing out suggestions like Sex on the Beach and Fuzzy Navel.

“I’ve got just the thing,” I tell her with my cockiest smile.

She smiles back. “I trust you implicitly.”

I arch an eyebrow at her. “You might want to reconsider that, doll. Trusting me could lead you down a very questionable path.”

Her lips part and she just stares at me for a long second before saying, “I’ll totally follow.”

And just like that, I know who I’m taking home tonight.

I go back to the bar and mix their drinks, and when I let Lilah’s voice filter into my consciousness, she’s nearly ripping the strings off her grandmother’s guitar. I take a second to settle the adrenaline she always stirs in me before looking up at her. She’s watching me with narrow eyes and a glare as hard as the steel of her eyes.

I pull my gaze away, unwilling to let her derail my plan. She’s out fucking White Mustang, so I’m not going to let her make me feel guilty about taking what I need too.

Instead of leaving the tray for Carol, I bring the drinks to the girls’ table. I dole them out and hand the blonde hers. “Let me know what you think.”

“What is it?” she asks, taking a cautious sip.

“Just something I came up with.”

“So we should just call it Hot Bartender?” the brunette says, brushing her fingertip over my arm.

The girls all laugh and the brunette winks at me.

So, now I’m thinking threesome, and I’m also thinking this might not be able to wait until I can get them home.

“This is really good,” the blonde says, and everyone decides they need to have one too.

I go back to the bar and start mixing. Lilah finishes her set and lays her guitar aside. When my eyes find hers, there’s anger and frustration, and something else I can’t read.

“You may as well just fuck them right on their table,” she spits.

I pour gin into the shaker and start shaking. “I’m thinking about it.”

“And what about Destiny?”

I slam the shaker on the counter and pierce her with my gaze. “What about her?”

When she glances around the bar, I realize several people are watching us, including the college girls. She comes around to my side of the bar, grabs my elbow, and tows me through the swinging doors into the kitchen.

“She’s in love with you,” she says, throwing a hand at me. “How can you do this to her?”

Jeff’s giving me a shit-eating grin from the grill and I roll my eyes. I turn for Mom’s office and Lilah follows me.

“She’s not that stupid, Lilah. I don’t know what’s going on inside her head, but love isn’t anywhere in the equation. Just like you told me this wasn’t happening,” I say, waving a hand between us, “I told her. It just took us both a while to get it.”

The muscles in her jaw flex. “You’re a total shit, you know that?”

I press my lips together and nod. “Yep.”

She hangs her head. “Why do I even care?”

I sit on the desk. “That’s what I’m trying to figure out. You’re off fucking White Mustang, so why does it make any difference who I fuck. And don’t give me some bullshit about Destiny.”

She lifts her head and looks at me, and her expression is totally indecipherable. There’s a storm in those darkening eyes that makes me think she’s on the edge of blowing her top, but her face is pale and her lips are parted as though anticipating something.

She slams into me before I even know she’s coming, and she starts clawing at my neck and back, as if trying to climb right into me. It takes a second for her mouth to find mine, but when it does, her kiss sucks every ounce of air from my lungs and leaves me desperate for my next breath.

Which is her.

My next
everything
is her.

We devour each other, hands, mouths, bodies clashing together in a hurricane of desire and need, devastating everything in its path.

In some back recess of my brain, I’m vaguely aware that someone is saying my name, but it’s lost in the cyclone of the feel and taste and smell of Lilah. The sound of her moans.

A steel hand grabs my arm and yanks. “Bran!”

Lilah gasps and pulls away, and my vision focuses on Carol’s red face.

“What?”

“My water broke. I need a ride to the hospital.”

I look down and her leggings are dripping onto the floor. “Jesus!”

“Vicky said she’s getting dressed and she’ll be here in fifteen to cover the bar. We need to go.”

“What about Wyatt?” I ask, finally gaining my wits.

“He took Isaac up to his parents’ for the weekend to give me a break. It’ll take him over an hour to get back.”

I turn to Lilah, who’s still staring at me, stunned speechless. “Can you keep an eye on the bar until Mom gets here?”

She nods.

I push through the office door and Jeff’s prepping a tray of nachos. “Lilah’s watching the front,” I say, whisking Carol through. “Mom will be here in a sec.”

“We got it covered,” Jeff says with a nod at Lilah. He’s fifty and married, but I feel a stab of jealousy at his gesture and realize just how screwed I am.

But thankfully, I’ve got a crisis to keep me from delving too deeply into exactly what Lilah means to me. I’m trying not to hyperventilate at the image of having to deliver this baby in the backseat of the Torino.

When Carol and I reach the sidewalk, Mom is just climbing out of her car. She’s in her PJs with her hair up in rollers.

“Let me take her,” she says, opening the passenger door for Carol. “It makes more sense for you to stay here.”

“You don’t have to ask me twice.” I guide Carol to her passenger door.

“I thought you were changing,” Carol says as I lower her into Mom’s car.

Mom pokes at her curlers. “Decided my grandniece was more important than my image.” She waves before she drops into the driver’s seat. “I’ll keep you posted.”

I watch them roll away from the curb. One bullet dodged.

But there’s another waiting at the bar to take me down.

I take a deep breath. The night air is cold and helps ground me. Because, despite everything that just happened with Carol, it’s that kiss that’s left me spinning.

Inside, Lilah is standing at the end of the bar, looking every inch as stunned as I feel. She just stares at me a long second before climbing onto her stool. “You didn’t make her drive herself, did you?”

I smile. “Mom just got here and took her.”

I pick up the drink shaker with the girls’ concoction and pour it into glasses, then bring them to the table. They all thank me and the blonde slips a napkin into my hand. When I look, I see it’s got her number scrawled on it. But I can’t find it in me to follow through with what I started.

Lilah’s playing when I get back to the bar. She doesn’t look at me and I’m not sure what that means. And at eleven thirty, same as every other night, she packs up.

“’Night, Bran. Hope everything’s okay with Carol.”

I nod and she leaves. And out the window, a white Mustang passes by.