Prologue
Ari
I shouldn’t be here.
I shouldn’t be here.
I shouldn’t be here.
The thought repeated in my mind like the drumbeat of the rock music I wasn’t allowed to listen to. Still, instead of running back out the door, climbing into the rusty old truck I’d been entrusted with to make the weekly supply run, and hightailing it back to our weird camp outside of town, I crept further into the dimly lit bar.
It was mostly empty, probably since it was just past lunch time, but there was a group of men with plates of food clustered around several tables that had been pushed together. A group of very large, muscular, and boisterous men.
A strange sensation came rushing over me, settling in the deepest part of my stomach with a throbbing ache. It was the same unsettling sensation I’d found myself fighting off repeatedly in recent months and it seemed to happen every time I came in contact with large, commanding men like those at the back of the room. At first, I’d thought it was a fear response. After all, even after my last growth spurt before my eighteenth birthday, I was still on the smaller side for an adult man. But now? I wasn’t really sure it was fear at all.
“You okay, sweetheart?”
I startled when an older woman with ample curves and a friendly smile called out to me on her way past, a small round tray of empty glassware balanced on her upturned hand.
“Um, yes, ma’am. Just thirsty.” I forced the words out, hoping they were loud enough for her to hear.
They were.
It seemed that they were also loud enough for the group of men across the room to hear, seeing as they all fell silent and turned their heads in my direction. I immediately froze under their scrutiny.
The waitress tilted her head toward the bar and smiled kindly. “Well, you’re in the perfect spot to take care of that,” she said cheerfully. “Lemme jest set these on down and I’ll be right over.”
Nodding, I dropped my eyes and inched closer to the bar, exhaling softly when the men lost interest and turned back to their lunch.
All but one, that was.
The man at the end of the grouping of tables went back to the food in front of him, tearing a large bite from the cheeseburger in his hand but his eyes never left me. I could feel his gaze like a physical touch on my back as I settled onto one of the empty barstools.
“What can I getcha, hon?”
“Um, a drink, please.”
“What kind?” She was still smiling but her brows had pulled together a bit, like maybe I’d confused her.
Oh. We didn’t really get luxeries like that at home, of course. I’d heard people order them in some of the television shows I used to sneak in the middle of the night, so I knew there were different ones, but danged if I could remember what any of them were called as I stared at the highly polished wood of the bar top.
“I..maybe I should just get going, instead,” I mumbled, cursing myself for my impulsive defiance of pulling into the parking lot in the first place.
“Don’t rush off,” a deep, velvety voice came from behind me and I knew it washimwithout having to look. “Marge, how about a Seven-Up with a shot of grenadine?”
He placed a light hand on my shoulder, a shiver ran down my spine and the throbbing in my belly got worse.
“Thank you, sir,” I mumbled.
The big hand squeezed gently. “Such good manners,” he murmured in my ear before raising his voice to address the waitress again. “Better throw a few cherries in there, Marge,” he suggested, running the hand down from my shoulder to rest on my hip. “And add it to my tab, would you?”
The waitress responded but her words were nothing more than static in my ear as the heat from the large body behind me soaked into my skin. When she placed the tall glass of sparkling pink liquid in front of me, the man leaned in close one more time, lightly squeezing my hip and his lips brushing my ear as he spoke.
“Enjoy it, sweetheart.”
Then the heat was gone, and I was left flustered and staring into my drink, the sound of his footsteps fading back across the room as he returned to his friends.
I sipped my drink, not as slowly as I would have liked, but I had to make it back to camp before anyone noticed my trip had taken longer than usual. Pushing the empty glass away, I decided to make a trip to the restroom before I left and looked around, finding an understated sign on the back wall. It pointed the way down a short hall next to the grouping of tables. They were covered in empty plates with the majority of the men having already left or settling their bills in preparation to leave.
