I’ll be there, baby.
Why did I feel so ridiculously happy?I felt like a junky trying to decide if she was going to give in and take a hit.Once the decision was made, the course of action set in motion, a kind of euphoria stole over me.The high before the high.A conditioned response.
A half hour later, I pulled up outsideOutlaw’s Rest.On my Harley this time instead of that beat up Pinto I’d taken to driving.Thing looked like shit, but I loved her.I might also have a sadistic streak when it came to challenging the garage crew of Bound in Blood to keep her running for me.
The bar hadn’t changed since the Valentine’s Ball.Red and pink streamers drooped from the ceiling, a few paper hearts still stuck to the mirrored back wall behind the liquor bottles.Someone, probably one of the old ladies, had swapped out the vases of fake roses for actual wildflowers, which were already brown and shedding petals onto the sticky tabletops.I wondered if anyone had the balls to tell the old ladies their decorations made the place look like a funeral parlor in a strip mall.Normally the decorations only lasted until the party was over.But, I’d heard the owner had a new old lady.I’d also heard he was more than slightly afraid of her.
Rocky was already there, hunched over a whiskey at the far end of the bar.I spotted him instantly.Even seated, he looked like the guy you’d pick to lead a prison riot.Except, then he caught my reflection in the mirror, and for a second his expression lit up like I was the one person in his world he wanted to see the most.Then he smoothed it out, went back to stoic.I liked that I could get a reaction out of him even after playing the world’s shittiest hard-to-get.
I took a slow walk to the bar, tracing my fingertips along the edge of a high-top on the way.Two of the regulars gave me a once-over.One of them, a guy whose entire wardrobe was camo and not ironically, said, “Hey, Wren.”I flipped him the bird and kept moving.Guy sagged in disappointment.Not the first time we’d repeated the scene.Probably wouldn’t be the last.
I slid onto the stool next to Rocky, close enough to smell the whiskey on his breath.He wore a black T-shirt under the jacket with no visible patches.
“Told you I’d see you again,” Rocky said, his voice a husky growl.
“Sorry I took so long,” I said, trying to keep it casual.“Got caught up in some things.”
He didn’t press.“You drinking?”
I nodded.“Whiskey, rocks.”
“You got a ride home?”He raised one eyebrow in question.
“Back off, sunshine.”I grinned at him to take the sting out of my words.“You ain’t my daddy.I know how to get home when I drink.I also know to quit at least an hour before I plan on leaving, and to eat during that hour, even if I have already.Besides, Honey’s got my back.If I get too blitzed, she’ll come get me.”
He flagged down the bartender and ordered two.“Relax, honey.I’m not judging or trying to control you.Besides, I know you’ll be safe tonight because I’m with you.”When the drinks came, he handed me mine and tapped his glass to it.His arrogance knew no bounds, apparently.
We both drank.He’d gotten me a double shot of Crown so, though it was still bitter, the alcohol didn’t burn going down.My favorite.
“Miss me?”he asked, that smile a devastating weapon.With his beard, I wouldn’t have thought his smile would have as much impact as it did.
I snorted.“Don’t flatter yourself.I was bored.”
He cocked his head, pretending to consider.“Fair.You seem like the type to get bored easily.”
He wasn’t wrong.But I wasn’t about to give him the satisfaction.“What about you?You stalking my favorite bars now?”
He shrugged.“Maybe.I hoped I’d run into you.Or maybe I just like this place.”He glanced around at the sad streamers and the decaying flowers.“Has a certain...atmosphere.”
I drained half my glass.“Yeah, it’s real homey.”He smiled, genuine this time, and I felt a warmth bloom in my chest that had nothing to do with whiskey.
“Gotta admit,” Rocky said, “I thought you’d written me off.Wasn’t sure I’d hear from you again.”
I toyed with the rim of my glass, spinning it in slow circles.“You don’t seem the type to get your feelings hurt.”
“I don’t.”He leaned in, voice dropping low.“But I don’t like not knowing where I stand.I also don’t believe in letting something I want get away without a fight.”
My skin prickled.Every nerve ending in my body tuned itself to Rocky’s frequency.His words really shouldn’t make me hot, but I thought I might melt into a puddle of goo.
I tried to steer the conversation, to find an angle or a slip that would give away what he really wanted with me, but he gave nothing away.We talked bikes, music, the time he rebuilt a classic Mustang out of parts he’d scavenged from a junkyard.For every question I asked, he answered just enough to keep me interested but not enough to reveal anything real.I respected the hustle.I also wanted to smack him for being so fucking good at it.Even knowing he was expertly avoiding anything meaningful, I still found myself sucked into the tales he spun, simply happy to be having a light conversation with him.
By the end of the first round of shots, my guard was half down.By the end of the second, I’d stopped pretending I wasn’t staring at his mouth.Because, I wanted that mouth all over my body.All night long.
“So what is this, Rocky?”I asked.“What are we doing?”
He shrugged, a slow, lazy movement.“Just two people having a drink.”His eyes dropped to my lips, then flicked back to my face.“Unless you want to do something else.”
There it was again, that push-pull.I wanted to laugh it off, or maybe challenge him, but instead I heard myself say, “Depends on what you’re offering.”
