Pulled Under Page 4

  “I take back the princess comment,” I called out to her. The bar was crowded tonight. I had other customers, but they were just going to have to wait.

  Her eyes narrowed with confusion. “What?”

  “Before…I called you princess,” I explained. “That’s my thing, working this bar, it’s hard to remember names so I give people nicknames instead. And I tend to recycle them. ‘Princess’ is too generic and overused for you. I take it back.”

  “Okay…” she pondered. Her eyes darted to the exit and for a split second I thought she was going to make a run for it. But instead of bolting, she moved closer to the bar, dropped her bag on the floor, and asked, “So if princess is no good…what nickname would you give me?”

  “Let me think.”

  I blew out a breath and made a slow show of moving my eyes over her body. I knew on the outside I looked cocky and smug as I did this, a typical guy checking out a fine female, but on the inside my heart raced about a million miles an hour.

  She’d changed from the girl I met briefly two years ago. Still a beautiful face, still stunning green eyes, but her hair was dyed lighter, her freckles covered with makeup, her glasses gone, and her lips were deep red. The scariest thing in the world to me was going to bed with a beautiful woman and waking up to someone completely different the next morning. I guess that meant I had a thing for natural beauty, for uniqueness—something I had yet to find. I hated carbon copies. That was why when I first saw her a moment ago, I hadn’t actually seen her.

  I saw her now.

  “I got nothing,” I admitted, feeling a shiver run through me. Not a single nickname seemed good enough on the spot here without knowing her better, and for once the game I played with all other women seemed juvenile. “How about you tell me your name instead? I’d rather call you that.”

  She smiled. “Nope. Not happening. Not after that horrible Piña Colada insult. I’m not sure you deserve to know now.”

  “Okay, we can play that game,” I teased. “But I promise I will get it out of you by the end of the night.”

  I hadn’t meant for my words to sound sexual. But fuck if she didn’t take them that way. I knew it too, because color crept up her neck and touched her cheeks. I also knew without a doubt, even though she’d been exuding nothing but confidence, sexiness, and lack of fear while joking around with me, she was still that innocent girl I’d met beside the dumpsters. And holy shit if that didn’t turn me on. It shouldn’t have, since I was the exact opposite of innocent, but it did.

  “Do you want to know my name?” I asked, in an effort to change the subject and to keep our conversation light. Luce, my friend and the other bartender working tonight, had called my name three times. I was vaguely aware that she needed my help at the moment, but nothing could distract me away from this girl.

  “I already know it,” she said. “Rhett Morgan. And don’t you have other people you need to serve? I don’t want to monopolize all your time.” She gestured to someone behind me, but all I could think about was the fact that she already knew my name, and if she knew my name, what else did she know about me? Because, in all honesty, there was very little good that went along with my name.

  “Dammit, Rhett,” Luce suddenly shouted in my ear. Coming up behind me, she pinched my side and kept bitching. “Help a girl out, would you? Flirt while you work. You’re usually really good at that.” She scolded me and then hurried off to help one of my customers. I didn’t listen to her. I stayed put with my eyes still locked on the only customer I cared about.

  “What time do you get off?” this girl suddenly wanted to know.

  “Soon,” I lied. “Why?”

  “Well, I was wondering…would you—” She took a breath midsentence, maybe thinking over her words or probably being careful not to let that innocence she was working so carefully to hide show. “Would you like to do something after you get off?”

  “As in tonight?” I asked.

  “Yes, as in tonight.”

  It was only a little past nine. The bar didn’t close until two in the morning. I was supposed to close tonight but with an offer like that suddenly on the table, getting out of here early was all I could think about. “Yes,” I answered quickly, too quickly. I didn’t want to sound like the over-eager jackass.

  “Okay. Cool. I’m here with a friend. Come find me when you’re ready to leave.”

  I nodded, stunned by how easy that was. My green-eyed girl grabbed her purse and disappeared into the crowd before I had a chance to say another word. Picking up girls came naturally to me, I was an expert at it, but I was pretty damn sure she’d just picked me up.

  * * *

  Four phone calls and three more threatening jabs to the ribs from Luce later, and I finally found someone to come in and cover my shift. My boss, Chris Chancy. The man who owned this bar. As a last resort I’d called him and was shocked off my ass when he agreed to come in.

  “You’re actually going to come cover for me?” I shouted into the phone. “For real?”

  “Yes,” he grumbled. The man came into the bar as little as possible. I couldn’t believe he was about to do this for me. “Rhett, you’ve never asked this from me before. Plus, it’s my bar. I’m gonna come. Just don’t leave before I get there.”

  “But I’m leaving for a girl. You got that part, right? I’m not sick. It’s for a girl.”

  “Can you just shut the fuck up and get back to work? I don’t care what your reason is. Obviously she must be important so I’m on my way. Like I said, in all the years you’ve worked for me you’ve never asked something like this before. I’m hanging up now. Goodbye, Rhett.”

  The phone line went dead, and I hooked it back on the wall. In a bit of a daze, I stood still for a moment. I knew Chris Chancy liked me, but I was kind of touched by his willingness to come help me out—especially on a Saturday night. He was a good dude to work for, and I suddenly appreciated that a whole lot more. With that thought, I snapped back to life and started slinging drinks, helping Luce catch up as efficiently as I possibly could.

  I’m not sure why, but bartending came very naturally to me. Maybe I had the memory for it. I couldn’t remember names, but I could remember what a person ordered from a week ago. Take for example the cougar at three o’clock. Before my green-eyed blast-from-the-past had entered the picture, I figured I’d be taking her home tonight. Blue Motorcycle. Before that, Lemon Drop. Before that, Screaming Multiple Orgasm on the Beach. Those drink orders were burned onto my cortex, not because I had planned on giving her an actual orgasm on the beach later, but because my mind seemed to store up that information like a computer storing up data.

  To add to the memory thing, I was personable when people wanted it, but I also knew when to leave people alone. I could up-sell anyone. I moved fast. My hands moved faster. And I genuinely liked working here. So all in all, this was a good job. It would probably be my job for life, and I was perfectly fine with that.

  Time flew. Before I knew it, Chris had arrived and was back behind the bar with Luce and me. I was getting him up to speed on everything that had been going on.

  “So who is she?” he wanted to know, whispering so Luce wouldn’t overhear. Luce and I used to mess around, so I appreciated his hushed tone.

  “She’s at table forty. The blonde.”

  I’d been keeping tabs on her this whole time. She hadn’t left yet, which I took as a positive sign.

  “She’s hot,” Chris said. “I hope she’s worth it. You’re using your only ‘get out of jail free’ card. Don’t fuck it up.”

  “Thanks, man, I appreciate this.”

  “I know. Now get out of here.”

  Not about to wait for him to change his mind or anything, I headed back into the kitchen and towards the office. I had a change of clothes in my locker that I never used. I guess tonight, for the first time ever, I felt the need to use them. My work shirts always smelled like fried food whenever I left this place, so it was the least I could do.

 
With a fresh t-shirt on, I took a deep breath, left the office, and headed through the packed restaurant towards table forty. Not waiting for an invitation, I sat down in the empty chair next to my mystery girl. Whatever conversation she’d been having with her friend immediately died as I sat.

  “Hey,” she uttered, turning a little shy in comparison to before. “That didn’t take you long.”

  “Nope,” I answered, strumming my hands on the table. Her shyness seemed to have a direct effect on my own, and I tried my best to ignore it, as I wasn’t a shy person, and carried on with the conversation. She had a half-eaten sandwich in front of her, so I figured I was interrupting. But she didn’t seem to mind. Neither did the friend. Actually, I knew her friend. I went to high school with her. “Kimberly Whittle,” I said aloud.

  “Hi, Rhett,” she said. “How’s it going?”

  “Going great. I heard you and Cody Melbourne were dating. Small world, huh?”

  “We are,” Kimberly confirmed. “Been about five months now. We’re just finishing up here,” she gestured to the table and their food. “I’m going to go hit the ladies room and then Cody should be here to pick me up soon. If you see our server, could you get her to bring the check?”

  “Sure thing,” I said.

  Kimberly, kind of stumbling in the process, stood up from the table. Then, with a face full of determination, she marched off across the room in the direction of the bathrooms. She’d clearly had a couple drinks tonight, and I wasn’t sure if she’d make it on her own. She might fall in the toilet or something.

  “Aren’t you going to follow her?” I asked my girl. “Don’t girls normally have to go to the bathroom in pairs?”

  “Not all girls. I’m sure she’ll survive.”

  “I’m not so sure.”

  “She’s fine.” She gave me a small smile. “I hope.”

  I hardly knew what else to say. I was too freaking nervous. I knew nothing about this girl, and still, I had the most profound desire to try to learn absolutely everything I could about her. One kiss two years ago was not supposed to do that to a person. I knew what I wanted—her—but didn’t know where to start or how much of myself I should let show. My personality was what some people would call ‘strong.’ My mouth didn’t know when to quit, and sometimes that rubbed people the wrong way. With most women, the better option was usually to try to keep things simple. Flirting, foreplay, and getting to the physical stuff were all much easier for me. But, perhaps for the first time ever, I wanted to have a real conversation instead of something that led to getting naked. Now…if only I knew how to do that.

  “Are you okay?” she wanted to know.

  I guess my nervousness was showing

  “Um.” I cleared my throat. My palms were sweaty and my body felt like it was jacked up on adrenaline. Get your shit together, Rhett. “I’m fine. I was just thinking about the second half of your sandwich,” I lied. “I think it has my name on it.”

  Oh Lord help me, I suck.

  That hadn’t been what I was thinking at all, but the words just sort of popped out. I should have been starving, as I hadn’t eaten anything in hours, but food wasn’t a concern at the moment.

  “It’s all yours,” she said, pushing her plate over.

  So with her watching, and thinking God knows what, I forced myself to take a bite. Yeah…I needed to relax or I was probably going to choke, both literally and figuratively. Reminding myself that she’d been the one to approach me earlier, I chewed, swallowed, and tried to regain my composure.

  “You still want to do something with me tonight?” I asked between bites. “Or are you changing your mind right this very second?”

  She smiled. “No, I haven’t changed my mind.”

  Instantly, I relaxed. “Good.”

  A second later, Kimberly returned. “Cody is here,” she announced. She was giggly and excited, and whether it was for herself or for my girl, she was ready to leave—now. The bill was settled with the server and then the three of us headed out into the parking lot where Cody was waiting. Kimberly hopped immediately into his car. This led me to assume that my green-eyed girl was definitely planning on staying behind with me, no questions asked, no bullshit games. Which was fine with me. I wanted her all to myself.

  “Alright,” Kimberly chirped, “You better be nothing less than a gentleman with my friend. You hear me, Rhett? I’ll come chop off your balls if I hear anything bad. I mean it.”

  “Got it,” I promised.

  A second later, after a few whispered words between the girls, Cody peeled out of the parking lot with Kimberly, leaving me and Green Eyes all alone. Now that it was just the two of us, we lingered by the front doors of the restaurant. Awkwardly, I might add. One of the street lights was out and it was abnormally dark. The soft sound of the ocean and the muffled noise from the bar played in the background. Neither of us said anything for a few long moments.

  “So,” I finally said.

  “So,” she repeated. She kicked at a bottle cap on the ground, her soft hair blowing in the breezy humid air. “There’s something I need to tell you.” She stopped kicking and looked up at me.

  “Okay.” Hopefully your name.

  A sigh left her lips.

  Or not...

  She rubbed her hands over her forearms and then crossed her arms over her chest like it was cold outside. It wasn’t cold. The temperature pushed ninety degrees. “Something bad happened,” she admitted, her voice a little wobbly. “Something I’m having trouble getting over. You made me feel better once before and that’s why I came back. I need that feeling again. I need you to help me again.”

  My stomach dropped, like I literally felt like I could vomit right here on the pavement. My head played out the worst scenarios, scenarios I did not want to imagine her in. Seriously, I was ready to kill and I didn’t even know exactly what had happened. “Someone hurt you,” I grunted, the heat in me rising. “Motherfucker. I’ll—”

  “No—no! God no, not like that. Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you think that. Someone died.”

  “Oh,” I breathed in relief. I still ached for her and for her loss, but I was thankful she hadn’t been hurt in the way I’d been thinking. “Sorry for my language, sweetheart, I didn’t mean to swear like that in front of you. And I’m sorry for your loss too. Was it recent?”

  “A few months ago.”

  These big, kind of adorable, tears formed in her eyes. She wiped them away, making them disappear just as fast as they’d appeared. The kiss we’d shared in the past had resonated with me, obviously, but I learned then that it must have had a pretty strong effect on her as well. She wouldn’t have sought me out as the person to make her feel better if it hadn’t. So I did what I was known for, and gave her the exact thing she’d come to me for—the physical stuff.

  I’d spent my late teens perfecting this sort of shit. It always starts with a simple touch and a compliment. So reaching up, I carefully fingered the end of her blonde hair. It felt like silk against my skin, which did nothing for my nerves. “Your hair is lighter than I remember,” I whispered, moving in a little closer

  “I know.” She didn’t pull away.

  “It’s beautiful now, but I think I liked your natural color even better.”

  “Really?” Her eyes narrowed in disbelief. “You’re bullshitting me.”

  “No, I’m being honest.” My hand, still kind of tangled in her hair, moved to touch her face. Her eyes were locked on mine, and I stroked my thumb across her chin then over her lips. The red stuff on them didn’t even smudge with my touch. I sure as hell hoped that shit wasn’t permanent. “I don’t like this at all.”

  “My lipstick?” she questioned. “But it’s Tom Ford.”

  “Yeah, I don’t have a damn clue what that means. All I know is that you don’t need it.”

  “Your backward compliments are kind of aggravating.” Her cheeks flushed pink and she placed her hand against my chest, almost as if she wanted to push me away, but she d
idn’t push me anywhere. “But in some weird way, at the same time, they’re also kind of sweet.”

  “I can keep going.” The blood in my veins started to rage through my body. We’d just crossed some sort of line. I could feel it.

  “Keep going,” she uttered, her voice a little throaty now. Her hand hadn’t moved from me, and I’m sure she could feel the increasing rise and fall of my chest. That didn’t matter. I wanted her to know how into this moment I was, because she had me so hard that I could barely think straight.

  “You’re wearing too much makeup,” I told her, being nothing but blunt now. “You have freckles here—” I ran my thumb along her skin, just under one of her eyes, moving closer so that I could speak against her temple. “And here.” I touched the skin under her other eye. “You shouldn’t cover them. I happen to like freckles.”

  “That’s a lot to remember for one five-minute conversation a couple years ago.”

  “Oh, I remember everything from that day.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes,” I admitted. “You made an impression.”

  Our bodies were touching now. Her plump, fine breasts were resting against me, with her hand still trapped between us, and the heat of the night causing us both to sweat. I rested my hands on the wall behind her head. Pressing the tiniest of kisses along her hairline, going from her temple down to her neck, I inhaled the scent of her. She smelled like fresh laundry and lilac and a hint of sweet sweat. In my entire life, I’d never wanted anyone more. Judging by the way she next wrapped her arms around my waist, her body practically begging for more, I was pretty damn positive she felt the same as I did.

  Desire on a woman had never been so fucking beautiful.

  “Rhett,” she moaned.

  That was it. I’d had enough foreplay. “You want to go to my place?”