ZEKE (3 page)

Rayna got some wheels, a golf cart decked out with pink Christmas lights, and we drove it over to Jay’s only to discover that the bar’s name is really JZS. To top it all off, the infamous Declan brothers− Jax, Zeke, and Slate− own the place. Go figure. An MMA fighting ring is located in the back of the bar, and I did get to see my first live fight. Jax Declan proved to be an outstanding boxer. When the fight ended, and with a little push from Rayna, Emmie chased after the unmarried Declan brother. So Rayna and I headed back to the front bar for a drink.

After a quick scan of the room, Rayna glances at me. “What do you want?”

“I really would like a glass of wine, but they probably have the kind that comes in those little plastic bottles, and you know that stuff gives me heartburn and a headache-”

Rayna’s eyes roll. “A beer then.” Her smile thins, as she makes no effort to conceal her annoyance. That’s Rayna, though. She doesn’t hide her feelings. Her eyes fly open wide. “Ow! Ow! Ow!” She smacks me on the arm, eyes focused behind me. “Zeke is here.”

“Where?” I turn around.

“Right there. See the group of girls?”

“Yes.”

“See that guy with the faded black tee, jeans, and tatted arms,” she says as I spot the prominent, stimulating male figure across the room. “That’s Zeke Declan.”

“How can you tell? He’s not even facing us.”

“First of all, there’s a flock of girls around him, and second of all, I recognize a Declan ass when I see one, and then there’s,” she pauses as we watch the guy pull the girl hanging on his arm closer to his body, the movement slow, deliberate, and easy. Yes, this Zeke Declan appears relaxed having a woman pressed against his body. “Oh-ho, yeah, that’s him all right. Hey.” Rayna nudges me with her elbow. “You want me to introduce you?”

“No!” I flip around to find Rayan’s sneaky little grin. “Just go get the drinks.”

“You sure?” She wiggles her brows.

“Yes. Go.”

“Okay, but don’t forget, he’s your mission.”

“Go!”

She laughs before heading to the bar for our beers. I tug on the short skirt Emmie made me squeeze into and then try to straighten out the even tighter rumpled shirt she yanked over my head while getting me ready to go out tonight. I don’t see why I couldn’t wear my striped boatneck top and leggings. I’m comfortable in them.

I peek over my shoulder. Zeke Declan’s front has now turned my way; head nestled in the nook of the woman’s neck with his hand practically groping her ass. How did I let Rayna talk me into this?

Clothes straightened, I twist around and watch the man I’m supposed to break this summer—him and his imprudent rules. Dammit. I look around the bar, wishing I could run into the guy from the park today. There’s no way he’d be here in a bar with an MMA fighting ring. Okay, maybe that’s a bit presumptuous. Still, I pictured him more as a stay-at-home guy, reading or maybe even writing the next best American novel. He was witty, smart, physically fit, and from what I could see beneath that baseball cap, good-looking. He cares about his health. He’s not some guy who recklessly screws around with anything in a tight skirt like Zeke Declan. And those eyes, I can’t get them out of my ... just as the image of those brilliant eyes cross my mind, I flash to Zeke. His head slowly lifts from the woman’s neck and ... Oh! My! God! Those eyes! No! No! No! It can’t be ... I try to look away as those beautiful gold-speckled eyes beam at me from across the room, but that overwhelming sensation engulfs me just as it had earlier on the bench. Shit! There’s no doubt about it, he’s the man from the park minus the hat. His light brown hair, messy in a Brad Pitt kind of way, complements those amber eyes.

Holy shit! It hits me again. Zeke Declan is the guy from the park. Zeke Declan with his repulsive rules is the man who fluttered my heart and made me go all girly-giggle on his perfectly fine ass. This can’t be happening.

Shit. I haven’t taken a breath in a few seconds. I suck in some air and my body shakes with its release. He smiles at me and my insides turn to mush, the Play-Doh kind. God, I’d love to be Play-Doh in his hands. Stop it! Remember his rules. He’s an egotistical, male chauvinist ass.

I gather my most notable smile and maintain it as he starts to walk over in my direction. My muscles draw tight. He continues to saunter toward me in that faded tight muscle-revealing black tee, those perfect fitting jeans, and all those one-colored tattoos. He is gorgeous; even the air around him seems to want to cling closer to his impressive body. He oozes sex−hot, long, hard, unadulterated sex. Christ, it’s no wonder the man gets away with those preposterous rules. Any girl in heat would probably jump at the chance to have sex with this guy. But I’m not in heat. You’d have to know what the ‘heat’ feels like to be in it, and I’m a virgin. So I keep my inner thermostat constantly set on cool.

But damn, the closer he gets, the hotter I am.

His eyes casually move over my body from my naked legs up to my gently thrusting hips and end at my licking lips. I suck my tongue back into my mouth. “Picasso,” he says in that sexy masculine tone, his smiling eyes finally making their way to mine. “How are you enjoying my beautiful town?”

“To be honest,” I lift my chin, “I never thought that I’d find God’s gift here. Yet,” I thrust a hand out, “here he stands.” It came out condescending, but I can’t help myself. I liked him. I enjoyed that guy from the park, and he’s Zeke Declan—how did Rayna put it—
the player of all plays.
Dammit. Why does this man have to be Zeke Declan? I had a plan when it came to this philandering Declan, how I was going to break him, but that was before I met the man of my dreams today at the park. Dammit. Dammit. Dammit.

“Babe,” he says, his smile twisting into a crafty grin. “You got it all wrong. I don’t consider myself God’s gift to woman.”

“No.” I scoff, loathing him and that adorable dimple situated perfectly at the height of his crooked grin.

“No. On the contrary,” he calmly glances around the bar, “I believe all women to be the ultimate gift from God.” His eyes land back on me. “But I guess that I could be your gift, and if you did find yourself wanting to play with me, I do make for a very nice toy.”

“Really, and just what do you run on, breaking hearts and making false promises?”

“No.” He chuckles while gazing down at me through hooded eyes. “However, I do come with explicit instructions, and before you can play with me, you must understand them.”

“Oh-ho, I know all about your absurd rules, Zeke Declan,” I say catching a quick uplift of his heavy eyelids. “But I must say your reputation undermines you. The guy I met at the park today, he doesn’t really fit into this whole bad-boy persona you got going on here.”

“Ah …” He chuckles again and that adorable dimple in the corner of his cheek dances with the sexy sound. “You’re referring to my knowledge of Picasso and the great Oscar Wilde.”

“Yes.” I squint up at him. “You don’t fool me.”

He hitches a thumb into the front pocket of his jeans. “Maybe I just got lucky.” He leans down an inch closer to me. The tiny hairs on the back of my neck spike from his nearness, even my follicles know to be on alert when it comes to this man. “Or, perhaps, those are the only two quotes this bad boy knows.”

“Perhaps.” I veer back from him. “But if they are not,” I lift my chin higher, “then one must wonder, why you’re trying to hide your literary intellect.”

“You’re right,” his eyes drop to my mouth for a moment, “one would wonder. After all, that wouldn’t be the intelligent thing to do.” He looks back up at me with a raised brow.

I’m not sure how to respond. Is he challenging me? Is he playing with me? In some twisted way, is he trying to get into my pants? I vote for the latter and let the experience of having five older brothers take over. “I find that most men don’t usually do the intelligent thing. They allow the appendage between their legs to do all the thinking for them.”

“Well …” He releases two short chuckles. “I can’t argue with you there. It does have a mind of its own, and it can be very persuasive.”

I open my mouth and this inappropriate puffing sound expels from it. His grin grows. He is unbelievable. The man’s straight-up arrogant without any excuses. Does he really think that he’s gaining anything with me by being an egotistical ass? Does this normally work for him?

“So what do you say, Picasso,” he glances at my heaving chest, “would you be interested in me showing you my beautiful town tonight?”

I snap my mouth shut and tilt my head, studying him. Did he just ... well, if he did then I plan to use it to my advantage. I smile. “Why, Zeke Declan, are you asking me out on a date?”

“Sorry, no.” His smile flattens. “I don’t date. Don’t want ya fallin’ in love with me, sweetheart.” He winks. Oh, come on. Really? Is that another one of his lines? This guy is incredible. Who falls for this shit? “Now, me, on the other hand, I got no problem loving a woman. And if you did want to offer your sweet, hot, tight body to me for the night, I’d be sure to love it real good.”

“I’m not going to offer you anything, and I can assure you that I will not be falling for you either. But if you wanted to show me your beautiful town, then I’d be most appreciative.” Hey, can’t blame a girl for trying. After all, he’s my project for the summer, and I need to start somewhere.

“How can you be so sure?”

“About?”

“That you won’t fall for me?”

“Easy, you’re not my type.”

“Sweetheart, I’m every woman’s type.”

“That might be true in this little town, but remember, I’m not from around here. My standards are a little different. I prefer a gentleman. And when a man is awarded the opportunity to touch this sweet, hot, tight body, he sure as hell isn’t the type of man who would do it in front of a roomful of drunks as you just did to that poor woman over there.”

“I didn’t hear her complaining,” he says with a lopsided grin. “Okay, all right.” He glances around the bar, as if he’s looking for his next prey. “I’ll tell ya what, give me your number and maybe I’ll call you for some sightseeing.”

“I don’t give my number to strangers,” I inform him. Besides, in order to break rule number one, I need to get his number.

“Stranger,” he says, with another sexy eyebrow lift. “It appears you know who I am. You did, after all, know my name when I approached you.”

“Yes.” I nod. “I know of you.”

“Hmm, interesting.” His lids lower. “Well, it appears we’ve come to an impasse here. ‘Cause, sweetheart, I don’t give my number out either. Not to anyone.”

“That’s fine.” I smile. “We actually came to that impasse the moment you walked up to me. Have a nice evening, Zeke Declan.” I smile at the cocky jerk.

“Oh, now …” He takes my hand, lifts it, and drops a light, gentlemanly kiss upon my skin. “Don't cry because it's over. Smile because it happened,” he says with a mastered wink, slowly releasing my hand.

I stand watching him saunter back over to the group of waiting girls and let out a laugh. Oh, my God! Did he really just quote Dr. Seuss?

“Here.” Rayna thrusts a beer in front of me. “I see you met Zeke?”

“Yeah …” I linger on the word as I twist around and take the beer. “He’s ...” I pause, trying to come up with the right description.

“Not like anyone you’ve ever met?”

“Yeah.” I nod. “Something like that.”

“You like him, though, don’t you?”

“Rayna, he’s an egotistical asshole!”

“Yes, but he’s a sexy, charming, adorable, smart, egotistical asshole. Give him some time, he’ll grow on you.” She grins, tipping her beer back for a drink.

CHAPTER FIVE

Back pressed against the wall, I can’t breathe. I’m trying, but the air isn’t getting in. I’m drenched with sweat, damp with cold fear. My limbs shake and my teeth chatter. I can hear them. The monster must too. I need to get out of here. I’m so scared. I can’t let him get any closer. I don’t know what he plans on doing to me if he does. I only know in some sick way that he means to hurt me. I see it in his eyes. I never noticed it before, but they’re bad eyes. His enormous hand reaches out for me. I jerk to the left and his knuckles scrape across my naked chest. Like a cut, I feel the air seep into my burning flesh. I look down to be sure my skin isn’t on fire or bleeding. Then I look back up into those crazy eyes. He takes a deep, loud breath. His chest rises and falls. Man, he’s huge!

His black eyes slant. He growls and takes another swipe at me. I can’t let him touch me. I arch back and deviate to the right. My side slams against the wall. He doesn’t make contact. He lunges for me again. I spin around unable to catch myself. I fall to the floor onto my back. He leans over me. I try to scoot away. My socks skid against the linoleum. He grabs me. Strong fingers dig into my bony shoulder ...

I sit up straight in bed. I can’t breathe. I’m soaked. My body trembles all over. I hit my chest with a closed fist and gasp when the air stabs my dry throat. I cough. My stomach muscles tighten. I reach for the cool sheets. I clench them. “I’m safe.” I cough again, clenching tighter to the sheets. “I’m where I belong.” I take a deep breath, reciting Addy’s soothing words. “It’s just a dream.” I exhale as my heart races, begging for more air. I open my eyes to silent darkness. “I’m home.” I shake my head. He’s gone. He’s not here. He can’t hurt me. “I have come back again to where I belong; not an enchanted place.” I look around as my dresser, TV, and bedroom door take their collective shapes through the darkness. “But the walls are strong.” I draw more air into my burning lungs. “The walls are strong.” I expel my breath. My heartbeat slows. I swipe a sheet-dried palm over my clammy face.