“But I can’t stop thinking about you.” He drops his hand to his side as if it pains him to have so much distance between us. The same way it pains me. “Let me take you out on a real date. I promise we won’t be seen, and your brother will never know about it, but I want you to give us a real shot before you make any decisions. Do you think you can do that?”
A lump of emotions gets lodged in my throat as I take in his sincerity. Then I nod.
“Good girl.” He steps around me and walks over to my brother’s booth in the back of the bar while I’m left checking out his butt in his jeans as his praise runs through my mind over and over again.
I’m in trouble.
With a wistful sigh, I shake myself out of the lust-induced haze that seems to cripple me anytime River’s around and get back to work when a very uncomfortable Dove catches my attention. Her face is pale, and she seems frozen in place as a large figure towers over her and whispers something in her ear.
Cautious, I close the distance between us. She doesn’t even look at me. She’s too shaken.
“Hey, Dove!” I greet her, my tone extra chipper. “Everything okay here?”
She gulps, then glances up at the mystery man who can’t be more than five years older than me and screams, pretty boy with a dark past.
“No problem,” the stranger answers for her. “Right, Dove?” He emphasizes her name. “I was just leaving.”
He steps around her but uses his menacing frame to make her feel small and insignificant. Just like how Ian used to do to me. My upper lip curls in disgust. I follow his every movement with my gaze, my muscles and lungs poised and ready for action if he doesn’t leave peacefully right now. It’s funny how much easier it is to stand up for someone else than it is myself. Thankfully, he heads out the exit without causing a scene but gifts Dove one more knowing look before he walks out the door.
I breathe out all the oxygen I’d been holding hostage, then turn to Dove. “You okay?”
She pauses and licks her lips, blinking slowly as if she’s just woken from a strange dream. “Uh, yes. Yes, I’m fine.”
“What was that about?”
“Nothing.”
“You sure?”
With a jerky nod, she wrings the rag that’s used to wipe down tables between her hands. “Yes. Yes, I’m fine.”
“You don’t look fine. What happened, Dove? Who was that?”
“I-I don’t know. He was looking for Fender.”
“And?”
“And I told him that I didn’t know where he was.”
“Okay? Is that it?” I ask carefully.
It isn’t exactly out of the ordinary for people to ask about where Fender is. He’s the face of a huge up-and-coming band. It doesn’t make sense that Dove would look like she’s seen a ghost if a simple question like that is what brought it on.
She shakes her head. “No. Then he started asking me how long I’d worked here and if I’d be interested in…”––she clears her throat––“in hooking up later.”
I grimace but stay silent.
“I lied and told him I had a boyfriend, thinking maybe that would get him to back off.”
“That’s a good idea, actually––”
“It didn’t work. So, I told him that Gibson was my boyfriend and that he’d be back any minute and wouldn’t appreciate him talking to me. I know it’s the furthest thing from the truth and that Gibson hates me, but it just popped into my head, and––”
“Seriously, Dove.” I grab her wrist to keep it from shaking. “I think that was a brilliant idea.”
Again, she shakes her head. “He knows him. Gibson. Supposedly, anyway.”
“Oh.”
She smiles tightly, but it looks forced. “Yeah. That’s not the weird part, though.”
“What do you mean?”
She hesitates as if replaying the conversation in her head before voicing aloud, “He said that if Gibson and I were a thing, then I must be having…relations with his friend Milo too.”
“Oh.” My lips purse. “Yeah…I heard they’re into sharing.”
“That’s a thing?”
With an awkward laugh, I shrug. “Supposedly. Is that why you’re spooked? With your history and all, I’d get it. That probably sounds terrible. For two guys to––”
“That wasn’t it,” she clarifies, stopping me from making a fool of myself as I attempt to explain the birds and the bees to a girl who’s still a sheltered virgin. “I mean, it sounded weird, but who am I to judge? No. He…” She hesitates and glances toward the bar where a very oblivious Gibson is mixing drinks. “H-he warned me about something.”
“Huh?” I ask, confused. This conversation doesn’t make any sense.
“He just said that if I was smart, I’d stay away from Gibbs. And Milo.”
“Why?” I press.
“Because their last girlfriend disappeared after they broke up, and it would be a shame if the same thing happened to me.”
“He said what?”
“I know,” she rushes out. “It sounds crazy, right?”
“Definitely crazy. I know Gibson, Dove. And I know Milo. Whatever bullshit that guy was spewing, it was exactly that. Bullshit.”
“You’re right. You’re right,” she repeats, though she still looks spooked. “It was just the way he said it, ya know? Like he knew something. But you’re right. He was probably just being a jerk.”
“I’m sure that’s exactly what he was being––”
“Do you know anyone named Em? Emma? Emily? Something like that?”
I search my memory, then shake my head. “Sorry. I don’t. But if it’ll make you feel better, you could always ask Gibbs.”
With a dry laugh, she rolls her eyes and tucks her hair behind her ear. “No, thank you. That would be…weird. He hates me, remember? But you’re right. It doesn’t matter. We aren’t even dating. He’s my coworker. I just made that up to get the guy to leave me alone. It’s fine. Everything’s fine.”
“You sure?” I ask.
She nods. “Yes. Definitely.”
“Okay. We still on for tomorrow night?”
“Yes. Definitely,” she repeats. “Let’s get back to work before we get yelled at again. And thanks for saving me.”
“Anytime.”
30
Reese
“Shit,” I mutter under my breath in the otherwise silent kitchen. “Why isn’t this working?” The acrid smell of burnt sugar stings my nostrils as I assess the damage.
“Need any help?” a deep voice offers from the hall.
I glance behind me, then glare at River. “From the house’s worst cook? I think not.”
He lifts his chin toward the burnt goo that was supposed to be a good distraction from him before I got lost on my head and ruined it.
“If you keep this up, you might steal the title from me, Floozy. What are you making?”
The pot hisses as I put it in the sink and fill it with tap water. “I’m trying to make caramel popcorn.”