Three Broken Promises (2 page)

It doesn’t matter. Danny isn’t around, and Colin and I are never going to happen. No matter how badly I want us to, he doesn’t. Not really. He likes having me around. He likes counting on me being there as a sort of crutch for him when his emotions, his demons, get out of hand.

But he doesn’t want me. Not in the way that matters most. Not in the way that I want him to.

So forget it. Forget us.

Tonight, I’m giving a month’s notice to Colin. More than enough time for him to find a replacement waitress. That’s also more than enough time for me to find a new apartment, a new job, and a new life in a new city. I know exactly where I’m going, so it’s not like I’m flying by the seat of my pants and changing my life on a whim.

Well, sort of. I’ve always been an impulsive person. That’s gotten me in trouble in the past. Hopefully it won’t get me in trouble now.

Colin’s going to be angry that I’m leaving, but maybe, just maybe, the tattoo will give me strength. Will remind me that what I’m doing is the right thing. I need to go. I need to really learn how to live my life on my own, not this childish running-away shit and living out of my car like I did last time. I’m older now. Smarter. Wiser.

I need to fly and be free.

Colin

The restaurant is hopping. It’s late August and the students are back in earnest, which means The District is back in business. The bar is packed, my staff is hustling, and the kitchen is a steamy pit of never-ending appetizers, giant plates being taken out again and again, since it seems none of the customers want a full meal tonight.

They all want to get their drink on. Celebrating being back at school, or drowning their misery in alcohol because they’re . . . back at school.

I don’t care which it is. As long as they keep buying drinks and leaving hefty tips for the hardworking staff, I’m satisfied.

“Hey, you’re the owner, right?”

Glancing up, I see a pretty girl standing in front of me, a hopeful smile on her face. She probably wants a job. I just hired a new hostess late last week, so at the moment I’m not looking, but I always give out applications. You never know when you’re going to lose someone, and good help is hard to find. “I am,” I answer, returning her smile, my gaze dropping to take her all in. Check her out.

She’s attractive. Not makes-my-heart-feel-like-it’s-seizing-in-my-chest gorgeous, but not put-a-paper-over-her-face-while-I-bang-her, either. I like the way she looks at me.

So I look at her back.

“I thought so.” She takes a step closer, leaning her forearms against the hostess station counter, plumping up her breasts, which threaten to spill out of her skimpy top. She’s stacked. I have a thing for big breasts but I keep my gaze fixed on her face for as long as I can, tomorrow’s printed-out schedule clutched in my hand forgotten. It’s already near eleven and the kitchen’s just closed, which means I can get the hell out of here if I want to.

But I don’t. Jen’s scheduled till midnight, so I’ll wait for her and give her a ride home. Like I always do. Anything to spend as much time with her as possible.

“Are you looking for a job? We don’t have any positions available at the moment.” Finally, I give in and let my gaze drop, blatantly studying her cleavage. It’s been a while. Hell, I seriously can’t remember the last time I got laid. And with where I work, with the endless stream of women that come in on a daily basis, I’m not being an asshole when I say I could get laid anytime I want.

Not being an arrogant prick, just stating fact.

She still hasn’t answered me. “Let me grab you an application.” Leaning down, I’m reaching for the stack of blank applications on the shelf when the girl laughs and shakes her head.

“I’m not interested in a job. I’m interested in
you,
” she says point-blank.

Blinking, I stand up straight, studying her. The smile curving her glossy peach-colored lips is coy, the look in her eyes hot. As in, she’s definitely interested in what she sees.

Women rarely leave me at a loss for words, but lately I haven’t been myself. Despite my hangups, despite my not wanting to disappoint the one woman who means the world to me, I like what I see standing in front of me, too.

I’ve fucked plenty of women, and this one looks ripe for the picking. She smells good, looks good, and the gleam in her eye tempts. Invites.

I’m no saint. Some might even call me a man whore, though that’s more in my past. What can I say? I like women and they usually like me. I’m not stupid. This pretty face of mine has gotten me into trouble. Both the good and the bad kind.

Only one woman is off limits. I might be an asshole, but I at least have a small amount of scruples left within me. Besides, there has to be something untouchable and holy in my world, right? She’s it. The sweet little girl I knew when we were kids. The pretty teenager who I tried my best not to look at for fear she’d know I was lusting after her.

The woman I deny myself from ever having. We’re friends, and that’s all it can be. I’m scared I’ll ruin our relationship if I take it further. I need her friendship more than I want her body.

Well. Just barely.

Thinking of her makes my heart and libido sink, and my interest in this woman in front of me withers up and blows away like a dead, dried-up leaf.

That’s all it takes. Think of Jen and I’m done for.

“Uh, I’m flattered, but . . .” I run a hand through my hair, wondering how I’m going to let her down easy. I’ve never had to do this before. When a woman’s interested, I usually let it happen. I let her in. Not all the way, but just enough so we both get what we want.

I let no one in all the way. Jen’s the only one who’s ever gotten close. I still keep her at arm’s length, though, for the most part. Except for those quiet, intimate moments in the dark, when the despair threatens to overwhelm me and she sneaks into my room to offer me comfort.

Those moments I keep to myself. We’ve never talked about them. They’re like our dirty little secret.

“So I guess you have a girlfriend?” The woman laughs, cocking her head. She has dark blond hair, with perfect curls that tumble past her shoulders. Her makeup is subtle, her outfit tempting. A few months ago, she would have been my type. I would have had her naked and been buried deep inside her within an hour of this meeting, if not sooner.

But anonymous sex doesn’t appeal to me anymore. And the woman I want, I can’t really have. Correction: I don’t let myself have her. So instead of having
her
naked and me buried deep inside her like I desperately want, I suffer. Like a true martyr.

Or try more like a true asshole.

Clearing my throat, I decide to be honest. “I—”

“He does.” Jen appears beside me as if I conjured her up like a magical spell, made of smoke and mirrors and so much beauty it hurts to look at her. She curls a slender arm around mine, her fingers settling on my biceps, and my skin burns where she touches me. Nestling in close, that sexy lean body of hers is plastered to mine, making me sweat, making my skin tighten. She’s wearing a mysterious smile and a defiant glare in her dark brown eyes that would deter even the most aggressive female on the planet.

The look clearly says,
Back the fuck off, he’s mine.

Hell, I wish.

“Sorry.” The girl doesn’t sound sorry at all as she pushes away from the counter and walks off, shaking her head. “Didn’t mean to step on any toes.”

“Keep walking. Nothing to see here,” Jen calls after her as the girl disappears back into the bar. Then she releases her hold on me immediately, stepping away, and I feel the loss keenly. “God. Don’t you ever get sick of that?”

“Sick of what? Women hitting on me?” I once lived for that shit every single night. Flirting, drinking, being surrounded by beautiful women—they all helped me forget what I’d done. How I disappointed an entire family. How I abandoned my best friend and he ended up dead. How I let this girl in front of me down most of all.

My fault. All of it.

“Yes.” She sounds irritated, but she looks hot. The simple black dress she wears accentuates her curves, stops about mid-thigh, and showcases those endless legs of hers. Legs I’d like to have naked. I imagine gripping her slender thighs and wrapping them around my hips. “She’s been circling you for the last twenty minutes like she’s a shark and you’re blood in the water.”

I hadn’t noticed. Am I a dick for liking that Jen had? This hint of a jealous streak is new. I wish I knew what spurred it on. “I would’ve taken care of her.”

“By what? Inviting her back to the house?”

Glancing around, I’m thankful no one’s left in the restaurant. The remaining customers have moved on into the bar. I don’t need anyone witnessing this exchange, especially my employees. The rumor mill at The District is bad enough. Jen and I don’t need to add fuel to the fire. They already talk about us. Wondering what the heck we’re doing, if we’re together, if we’re not. The constant speculation is exhausting.

“I don’t do that. Not when you’re there,” I finally say, my gaze meeting hers once more. “Since when do you care, anyway?”

Wrong thing to say. She looks ready to blow up—all over me. “So you would’ve brought her back to the house if I wasn’t there? Is that what you’re saying? God, you’re such an ass,” she mutters as she stalks off.

I follow her, my gaze zeroing in on the back of her head. Her long brown hair is down tonight, but when she tosses her head I see the edge of a white bandage peeking out between the thick, silky strands. “What happened to you?”

She glances over her shoulder with a withering stare. “What are you talking about?”

“The bandage.” I grab hold of her arm and stop her in her tracks. She almost stumbles, what with the high heels she’s wearing, and I grip her tighter to keep her upright. “Did you hurt yourself?”

She reaches for her neck with her free hand, rubbing the back of it self-consciously, a little frown wrinkling her brows. “I, uh . . . it’s nothing.”

Crossing my arms in front of my chest, I block her from ditching me. I know that look. She’s ready to run. Something she’s real good at. “You’re hiding something from me.”

“I really don’t want to do this here.” She blows out a harsh breath, and I wonder what the hell she’s talking about. “Can’t we talk about this when we get home?”

“Talk about what?” I’m confused. Where is she going with this?

Jen yanks out of my hold and throws her arms up in the air, frustration written all over her beautiful face. “Fine. Let’s do this. I need to give my notice, Colin. I’m quitting.”

Chapter 2

Colin

“Quitting? What the fuck are you talking about?” I’m yelling. I notice her wince and I clamp my lips shut, feeling like a jackass. But her words send me reeling, and I’m trying my best to rein myself in.

Jen can’t quit. She’s worked here almost a year. She’s one of my best waitresses. This place, specifically the bar, runs more smoothly when she’s here.

But that’s not why I don’t want her to leave.

“I can’t stay here anymore.” Jen glances around the empty restaurant, her fingers curling around the back of her neck, playing with the edge of the mysterious bandage. “Consider this my generous four-week notice. That should give you plenty of time to replace me.”

Doesn’t she know she’s irreplaceable? “Did you find another job?” It’s the only explanation. And if she hated working here that much, I wish she would have told me. I could have done something to make it better for her here.

But what? What more can I do?

Slowly she shakes her head. “I’m leaving.”

What the hell?
“Going back home, then?” I find it hard to believe, but maybe she’s finally ready to see her mom and dad after everything that’s happened, after she ran away. She’s never gone back and I know they miss her. Her mom has called me more than once asking about her. I know they’ve talked but it’s rare, and that’s on Jen’s part. Maybe she’s had a change of heart.

There’s really no other explanation for her leaving. At least in my mind.

“No.” She spits the word out as if it were poison and drops her hand from her neck, straightening her shoulders. “I refuse to go back home. I’m moving to Sacramento.”

“Sacramento? Are you kidding me? Why?” I’m at a loss. I can’t figure out her motive, why she wants to leave, and what the hell Sacramento has to offer that’s so much goddamn better than what I can give her.

“I need a change of pace, okay? I’m tired of the small-town thing. I run into the same people again and again. Most of them I don’t want to see anyway.” She starts to walk past me. “We so shouldn’t be having this conversation here.”

I grab her again, stopping her progress. Curling my fingers tight around her upper arm, I pull her in close, invading her space. Her scent fills my head, like an exotic bloom that permeates the air, fragrant and heavy. Intoxicating. My gaze drops to her mouth, and I’m momentarily transfixed as she sinks her teeth into her plump lower lip.

Fuck
. This is pure torture. Having her close. Arguing with her where anyone could see us. Acting like lovers in the middle of a heated discussion . . .

We pretend we don’t really matter to each other, but it’s time for me to be honest with myself. She’s so immersed in my world, I can’t imagine her out of it.

I don’t
want
to imagine her out of it.

“Where else do you suggest we have this conversation, then?” I ask, keeping my voice low and as even as possible. While deep inside, I want to rage and yell and throw shit.

Jen can’t leave me. What she’s saying, I can’t even begin to comprehend.

“Your house?” She rolls her eyes and actually laughs. “Not that we ever really talk there, though, do we? We never really talk anywhere.”

Letting her go, I step away from her, needing the distance. She’s right. Our situation is . . . weird. I take care of her because of my own twisted sense of guilt, and she stays with me because where else is she going to go? I know she appreciates all I’ve done for her. We keep our linked past a secret from the other employees at the restaurant with the exception of Fable. Jen confessed our long connection months ago.