“Did Keets talk to you?” she asks, twisting the hem of her t-shirt worriedly.
“Don’t worry,” I assure her. “He didn’t tell me anything personal, just that you don’t like nicknames.” I move over to the far wall and pick up the broom.
“It’s not that I don’t like nicknames,” she says, following me across the room, watching as I manoeuver the broom around the chairs. “I just don’t like being called kitten.”
“Well, why not?” I ask, not looking at her. “It’s not as though I called you a bitch or anything.”
“I know,” she says quietly, her voice barely above a whisper. “But it’s what my ex called me.”
I pause and glance up at Shannon. Her face is pale, her voice trembling. “Ah, hell,” I curse, letting the broom slip from my fingers as I grab her wrist and pull her to me, wrapping my large arms around her awkwardly. What is it about crying women in this town? They seem to converge around me in droves. First Ruth, now Shannon? “What’s going on?” I ask against her hair.
Shannon sniffs and leans her head back, giving me a tremulous smile. Her tits press against my chest and I feel my cock harden. She must feel it too, her eyes grow large and round as she takes a step back. I already miss her being in my arms. “I’m sorry,” she apologizes, quickly wiping her eyes.
I have an almost overwhelming urge to hold her again, but she turns away before I can. “Shannon,” I say, causing her to pause and slowly turn back to face me. “I know you don’t know me all that well,” I continue, my voice sounding gruff in my own ears. “But if you ever need to talk, I’m here for you.”
Shannon stares up at me thoughtfully. “You are, aren’t you?” she muses.
I don’t get the chance to question her further, as Ruth comes back into the room to open the bar.
For the rest of the afternoon, Shannon makes herself scarce as Ruth and I serve the few customers who come into the bar. I briefly consider asking Ruth what’s going on with Shannon, but quickly veto that idea. She’s clearly close to Shannon, so I doubt she’d do anything to violate that trust.
“Hey.” Ruth nudges me with a grin. “You okay?”
“Hmm?” I ask distractedly, glancing down at her as I dry a glass. “Sorry.” I flash her a quick smile. “I guess my mind’s on other things.”
“You mean Shannon?” Ruth asks slyly.
I almost drop the glass in shock. Quickly placing it on the bar, I grab another, refusing to look at her. “What do you mean?” I ask nonchalantly.
Ruth lets out a light laugh, and I know the jig is up. “I’m young, Stone.” She smiles at me. “But I’m not stupid.”
I sigh and turn to face her. “I just don’t understand her,” I admit.
“I don’t think anyone does,” Ruth says.
“But why won’t she let anyone in? What’d her ex do to her that was so terrible?” I ask. “Did he hit her or something?”
Ruth visibly flinches and realization dawns on me. “Son of a bitch,” I curse under my breath. My blood boils when I think of anyone laying a hand on Shannon. No wonder she’s so distrusting.
“Look, Stone, you can’t tell her I told you,” Ruth says, licking her lips nervously.
I look down at her then glance around the room at the customers who sit at various tables.
“Stone,” Ruth repeats.
“I won’t say a word,” I promise. “But you’re going to tell me everything.”
Friendship be damned.
I sag against the bar and run a hand through my tangled curls. It’s almost closing time and, as usual, I’m exhausted. Smiling weakly at the last couple as they exit, the sound of laughter draws my attention to the other side of the room.
I watch as Stone flicks a stray piece of popcorn at Ruth, feeling my gut twist as the young girl brushes her hair away from her face, revealing perfectly straight, white teeth as she laughs. Well, why shouldn’t he like her? She’s gorgeous. I hate being jealous of my friend, but even more than that, I hate the reason behind my jealousy. I have to face the facts: I’m attracted to Stone.
“Shannon,” he calls out, waving me over.
I wipe my hands on my jeans and walk over to them, taking a seat at one of the tables.
“Stone was just telling me about his time in the Army,” Ruth says, gazing up at him adoringly.
I feel like throwing up. “How nice,” I reply with a weak smile. “It’s getting late, though. Aren’t you tired?”
“Not at all.” Ruth beams. “We were just talking about driving into town to find a club.”
I stare at Stone, who raises a questioning eyebrow at me as one side of his lips cock up into a smirk. Jackass. I ignore the quiver of longing that shoots into my center and makes my clit pulse with desire. “Oh,” I say, trying to sound disinterested. “It’s been a while since I was in town; it is an hour’s drive away, after all.”
“You should come with us,” Stone invites, that smirk blossoming into a grin.
“No,” I respond, shaking my head. “I have too much work to do. You guys go ahead.” I can’t go back to town. I swore when I left there the first time that I’d never go back. Not after everything that happened . . .
“Oh, come on, Shan,” Ruth pleads, grabbing my hand across the table. “You never do anything fun.”
I can’t help but laugh at Ruth’s pretty pout. “Okay, okay,” I say, my eyes crinkling as I smile, even though I feel dead inside. “I’ll catch up with you guys shortly.”
“Great!” Ruth squeals, jumping up and down as she claps her hands excitedly.
Stone narrows his eyes at me. “You sure you’re okay?” Shit. Does he notice how pale I am? Maybe I can pretend to be sick and just go home.
“Yeah.” I nod. “I’ll just close up the bar and get changed. I’ll meet you guys back here in an hour.”
“Come on,” Ruth says impatiently, tugging on Stone’s arm as she leads him out of the bar.
“I’ll catch up with you soon,” he promises, watching as Ruth leaves. I keep my eyes trained on him as he walks over to the door and locks it closed behind her before turning back to face me. Why is he still here? My breath is audible in the quiet room, as are his slow, methodical steps. My pulse races as every click of his boots on the hard wood floor sends a jolt of awareness straight to my center. He stops directly in front of me and I tilt my head up to gaze into his dark eyes that are fixated on my suddenly dry mouth. My tongue darts out to lick my lips and I hear something akin to a groan escape his throat. “What are you doing?” I ask in a strangled whisper. He’s so close I can feel the heat from his skin against my chest.
“Do you have any idea what you fucking do to me?” he asks in a low voice, his fingertip tracing a slow path down my arm. I shiver involuntarily and I’m unable to tear my gaze away from his.
“No,” I whisper, the word sticking in my throat as his finger trails lazily to the top of my t-shirt, dipping lightly between my small breasts. Stone grabs my hand and brings it down to the front of his jeans, pressing it against himself. “I’ve been like this since I first walked in and saw your ass sticking up in the air, waiting for me,” he growls. Heat pools between my thighs and my eyes almost roll back in my head as I press my hand firmly against his hard cock. He feels much too large for one hand, and I slowly begin to stroke him through his jeans. Stone lets out a loud groan and throws his head back as I increase the pace. I know anyone could walk past the bar at any time, and that knowledge both excites and terrifies me. My hand slips into the space at the top of his jeans, feeling desperately for the bare skin beneath, but a growl rips from his chest as he forcibly grabs my hand and pulls it away. His other hand fists in my hair and drags my head back as his mouth covers mine. I part my lips in surprise and his tongue darts inside, wrestling with my own. I feel hot . . . so fucking hot. We’re both wearing too many clothes.