Foreplay: The Ivy Chronicles (5 page)

He swept in then, planting his lips on mine. I
froze in shock. His sour tongue pushed between my lips and I gagged. I didn’t
know if he was just too into the kiss and didn’t realize I wasn’t or he didn’t
care. Or he was too drunk. Or maybe he thought I was going to have a change of
heart after another minute of this and start returning his fervor. Whatever the
case, his lips stayed firmly glued to mine, messier and sloppier than my last
kiss. Damn it. You would think things would have improved since tenth grade.

I squeezed a hand out from between us. Curling my
fingers into a fist, I beat him on the shoulder. He didn’t budge, and that’s
when I felt the first thread of panic. Even as it worked its way through me, I
told myself to stay calm. We were in a public place. What could happen that I
didn’t want to happen? Well, besides a terrible kiss that tasted of sour beer
and didn’t appear to be ending anytime soon.

I hit his shoulder harder with my free hand. He
held me so tightly I couldn’t get my other arm out from between us.

Then he was gone. Just like that.

I sagged against the wall, dimly registering that
the corner of a particularly jagged license plate scratched my neck. Funny I
hadn’t noticed that before. I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand as if I
could rid myself of the unwanted kiss and stepped away from the wall, focusing
on the scene before me.

Scott was on the floor, and someone stood over him,
gripping him by the front of his shirt. It took me a second to recognize the
back of my bartender—to understand that
he
was here,
whaling on Scott, helping me. Rescuing me yet again.

I moved, my feet covering the short distance.
Peering over his shoulder, I gasped at the sight of Scott’s face. He was
bleeding, mostly from the mouth. You couldn’t even distinguish the whiteness of
his teeth amid the wash of blood. I latched onto the bartender’s arm just as it
was pulled back, ready to deliver another punch.

“No! Stop!”

He looked down at me, his expression feral, nothing
like its usual blankness. Tension lined his jaw. A muscle ticked in his cheek. I
didn’t know how long he stared down at me with glittering eyes. It felt like
forever before he spoke, before I felt his voice, low and deep, pulse through
me. “Are you all right?”

I nodded. “Fine.” I nodded toward Scott. “You can
let him go.”

Scott was blubbering now. I couldn’t decipher his
speech. It was more sobs than words.

Tightly bunched muscles eased beneath my fingers
and I realized I was still clinging to the bartender’s bicep. And yet I didn’t
release him. Not right away. I looked down at that arm as if I had to see for
myself where our flesh connected. Where his tan skin met my pale fingers. My
hand curled over part of his tattoo, and I imagined the inked skin felt warmer
there. Unthinkingly, I brushed at the dark edge of the wing and something inside
me squeezed and twisted. I dropped my hand.

He tore his gaze off me and looked down at Scott
again. He lifted his other hand and Scott flinched like he expected another
punch. Instead he pointed down the narrow hall. “Get out of my bar.”

Scott nodded fiercely, his face a mess. I winced.
It hurt just looking at him. He scrambled to his feet, mumbling, “I’ll just get
my friend.”

Scott was almost out of the hall when the bartender
called after him, indifferent to the customers who glanced curiously in our
direction. “I don’t want to see you in here again.”

Nodding, he scurried off.

Alone with my rescuer, I inhaled into lungs that
suddenly felt impossibly tight, too small for air. “Thank you.”

He faced me. “I saw him follow you into the
hall.”

I cocked my head. “You were watching me?”

“I saw you pass by.”

So yes. He was watching me.

Silence filled the air. I rubbed my hands along my
thighs. “Well. Thanks again. I hope you don’t get in trouble with your boss for
any of this. If you need me to vouch for you—”

“I’ll be all right.”

Nodding, I stepped past him, took three strides and
stopped. Turning, I pushed the wayward fall of hair back from my face and asked,
“What’s your name?”

It just seemed absurd to keep thinking of him as
The Bartender. I didn’t want to go back to my dorm tonight, lie in bed, and
stare into the dark thinking about him—because I knew I would—and not know his
name.

“Reece.” He stared at me,
through
me, his expression impassive, unsmiling.

“Hi.” I moistened my lips and added, “I’m
Pepper.”

“I know.”

I nodded lamely. The napkin. Of course. With a
shaky smile, I stepped out into the main room.

I was halfway to the pool table when Emerson was
there, her eyes enormous in her round face. “What happened to that guy’s face?
It looked like a truck hit him, and he practically ran out of here.”

I linked arms with her and steered her toward the
exit. “The bartender happened.”

“What?” Her cheeks flushed. “Like he got jealous
and . . . hit him?”

I winced. “More like Scott tried to suck my face
off against my protests and Reece intervened.”

“Reece?” she echoed.

“Yeah. He has a name.”

Shaking her head, she looked at me in awe as we
stepped outside. “I think you’ve gotten more than his attention, Pep.”

I snorted. “He was just doing his job—”

She shot me a look. “He’s a bartender. How is
kicking some guy’s ass for getting fresh in his job description?”

“He’s not about to let a customer get accosted
outside the bathroom.”

She looked skeptical as we weaved our way out into
the parking lot. “You just don’t see it. You don’t know
how
to see it. Trust me. He’s going to call you.”

I wasn’t as naïve as Emerson claimed. He could have
kept me longer in that hall, said something more to fill that awkward stretch of
silence. For being such a player, he didn’t make any moves on me. He didn’t even
smile.

No. He wouldn’t call. This wasn’t me being
negative. I just knew.

Chapter 6

H
e didn’t call the next day, and despite convincing myself that he wouldn’t, I had hoped that just maybe Emerson was right.

Naturally, I blamed her. Em’s words niggled their way inside me and fed hope where there normally wouldn’t be. I couldn’t stop glaring at her as she stood in the center of my room, distracting me from reviewing my Abnormal Psych notes.

“Well, you know we gotta go back again tonight, right?”

“Uh. No, we don’t.”

She dropped down on the bed with me, landing on her stomach. “C’mon. You can’t vow to do this and then not give it a hundred percent.”

“I’m not training for a marathon here—”

“You are. That’s exactly what you’re doing.” She nodded, the light catching on the many sparkly clips she’d arranged at different angles through her short dark hair. “You’re training for Hunter. Look at him as your 5K.”

Biting on the inside of my cheek, I considered her words.

She must have seen me wavering because she pushed on. “C’mon. You’ve made an impression on him. Two nights in a row.” She waggled two fingers in front of my face. “We’ve got to go there tonight, too. We’ll round up some others to go with us this time. Georgia is going to that concert with Harris, so I’ll get Suzanne and Amy from down the hall. They’re always up for some fun.” Her gaze drilled into me. “Say yes, Pepper.”

With a sigh, I closed my notebook. “Fine. Yes.”

She clapped and jumped off the bed. “I’ll go get the others rounded up. You hit the shower. But don’t pick out your clothes yet.” She pointed a finger at me. “I’m supervising in that department.”

“Of course you are,” I called after her as she slammed out of my room. If she had her way, I’d leave here in fishnets.

Rising, I grabbed my shower caddy, robe, and towel, my stomach doing strange things. Butterflies, I guessed. Although I didn’t know why. I had barely spoken to Reece. He might have helped me out last night (and when my car broke down), but that was part of his job. Keeping order at Mulvaney’s. There hadn’t been anything personal in his actions.

Still, the memory of those pale blue eyes settling on me amid the dozens of others vying for his attention made my skin tingle. And they weren’t vying for his attention just because he was the guy serving up drinks. In addition to being sexy as hell, he had that strong, silent thing going for him. It was such a cliché and it shouldn’t work on me. But it did. I was a sucker for it. Like every other girl to stroll inside Mulvaney’s.

And this made me frown. I didn’t want to be like the rest of them. Interchangeable.

He might be accustomed to making out with countless women whose names and faces he couldn’t recall the next week, but I wanted to be different. Someone not like my mother.

Someone he remembered.

E
merson rounded up not only Suzanne and Amy, but a couple other girls from our floor. We totaled six, so we needed two cars. Someone decided Suzanne and I would drive—likely because we weren’t big drinkers. Fine by me. I liked being in control of my own transportation.

When we got to Mulvaney’s we walked in through the back door, past the food counter. My stomach growled and I remembered I hadn’t eaten since lunch. Emerson pulled me along when I hesitated, looking longingly at a basket of cheese-coated French fries someone had just ordered.

“C’mon. You can eat later. I’ll buy you the biggest burger on our way out.”

It was jam-packed tonight again, but I spotted Reece right away in his usual spot at the bar. Was he a student, too? What else did he do? Besides half the girls that trolled through here—if rumors were to be believed. He had to have something else going for him. Disappointment curled through me to think that there might be nothing more for him than this. No goals outside of tending bar.

Hunter was just one goal for me. One piece of the pie. If everything went as planned, I’d soon have a degree and a future working with children. That’s what I wanted. Something to enrich me, to make me feel better about the things in my life that I could never change.

“Here you go.” Emerson slapped some money into my hand. Suzanne and the others were already looking for a table. “We’ll start with two pitchers. I’ll be right behind you to help you carry them.” She shoved me in the direction of the bar.

I inched up to the bar, as close as I could get to him, already hating this moment that was starting to feel so redundant. He hadn’t spotted me yet and I wanted to run, certain he would know that I was here because of him—certain he would look right at me and call me the idiot that I felt like. Or worse. He could look at me and point and say:
Hey, it’s my stalker girl!

My mother flashed across my mind. She was in a faded blue dress, strung out, her eyes glazed over as she sat on a man’s lap and toyed with his hair, desperate to win him over so she could score some money for her next fix. She was always desperate. A creature without pride. The memory left a sour taste in my mouth.

Digging in my heels, I looked back at her. “I don’t want to do this.”

“What? Why—”

I stepped closer and spoke into her ear so she could hear me over the din. “It’s just not my MO to chase after a guy. I’m sure he gets that I’m interested by now. If he’s such a player, why am I doing all the chasing?”

Emerson turned her mouth to my ear. “He just hasn’t had an opportunity yet. He’s been stuck behind that bar. With guys it’s all about opportunity. So give him an opportunity.”

Shaking my head, I resisted telling her that if a guy really likes a girl he creates an opportunity. But then what did I know? Apparently nothing. Why else would I be here on a mission to learn foreplay from a hot stranger?

I slapped the money back into her hand. “You do it. I’ll stand behind you so he can see me, but I’m not standing in front of him for a third night. I might as well have a sign around my neck. I think he gets the hint.” I flashed her a warning look. “And do
not
embarrass me again.”

Rolling her eyes, she took the money. “Fine.” She pushed to the front, getting there faster than I ever could. I couldn’t help noticing how much she used her elbows. I’m sure she never dropped a pitcher.

I hung back as Emerson leaned against the bar, holding up her money, the universal sign that she needed service. A few moments passed before he turned his attention her way.

When he saw it was her, his gaze skipped around, like he was looking for someone. My breath locked in my windpipe as his gaze landed on me. It was a split second, just enough to register my presence. Nothing more. No sign that he even remembered me.

He looked back at Emerson, inclining his head, communicating for her to go ahead and order. She waved her hands, obviously talking. She always talked with her hands.

Nodding, he turned to fetch the beer. I waited for his return, my breathing irregular. He handed her the pitchers, took her money, and returned her change. All without looking at me.

Disappointment flashed through me. I’d thought I’d get another glance, and then . . .

I exhaled. I didn’t know what then. I dragged a hand through my hair. My fingers caught in the thick mass, and I gave up, pulling my fingers free.

I didn’t know what I was doing here. Trying to be something I wasn’t so I could catch Hunter’s notice? I was kidding myself. If he hadn’t noticed me in all these years, why would that change now?

By the time Emerson reached me, I was feeling more foolish than ever before. And she must have seen some of what I was feeling on my face.

“What’s wrong?” she demanded.

I shook my head. “This is just crazy. I really don’t want to be here. Not again. I’m gonna head back—”

“Aw, Pepper, c’mon.” She stomped her foot, her pert features screwing tight in frustration. “Don’t go.”

“You stay. Ride back with Suzanne.” I edged backward in the crowd. A curse rang in my ear as I stepped on someone’s foot.

“Wait. I’ll go with you.” She looked around, searching for somewhere to leave the pitchers she held.

“No. It’s okay, really. I have a statistics exam on Monday anyway. I should go, and don’t give me that look. This is more than I’ve gone out in like . . . ever.”

She blew out a breath, nodding. “Yeah. Okay. I’ll see you later.”

I fluttered my fingers in a little wave and turned, pushing my way through the squeeze of bodies until I was outside. I lifted my face to the crisp fall air and sucked in a breath like I’d just emerged from a deep icy pool.

Walking through the parking lot, the soles of my boots crunched over the loose gravel. I almost turned back around when I remembered the burger I had wanted. Instead, I continued walking, thinking which drive-through I wanted to hit on the way back to the dorm. I was contemplating chicken strips and Tater Tots when a hand fell on my shoulder.

With a shriek, I whirled around, my fist instinctively flying, lashing out, making contact. My knuckles grazed off a shoulder.

“Whoa. Easy there.” Reece stood there, holding one hand up in the air while his other hand rubbed at the top of his shoulder where I’d struck him.

I covered my mouth with both hands. My words escaped muffled. “OhmyGod! I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I should have called out. Good reflexes. But you should work on your aim.”

My hands fell from my face slowly.

I stared at him, still trying to comprehend that he was here. In front of me. It was strange seeing him out of his element. Other than that first time, I’d only ever seen him inside Mulvaney’s. Here, outside, he seemed bigger, larger than life.

My head cocked to the side. “Are you”—I waved a finger between him and me —“following me?”

“I saw you leave.”

“So. That’s a yes.”

He was watching me? He noticed me. I wasn’t invisible after all.

He continued, “Look, you shouldn’t be out here alone at night. Guys get a few drinks in them, see a pretty girl walking by herself . . .” His voice faded away, his implication clear.

I only heard one thing.
Pretty
.

“I’ll walk you to your car,” he finished.

“Thanks.” I turned in the direction of my car. He fell in step beside me.

I slid him a long look. Without the distance of the bar top between us, I was fully aware of his height. I was no tiny thing like Emerson, and the top of my head barely reached his chin. He had to be a few inches over six feet. It was a new experience—feeling delicate and petite.

“I hope you don’t get in trouble for leaving the bar. Are you on a break?”

“It’ll be fine.”

I was conscious of his arm, so close to mine as we walked. He slid one hand into his front jeans pocket.

“You’re leaving early,” he noted.

“Yeah.” Silence fell. Feeling a need to fill it, I added, “Not feeling it tonight.” At least I wasn’t before. Now I was feeling it. I was feeling everything. His body beside mine radiated heat. My every nerve vibrated like a plucked wire, achingly aware of him. We weren’t even touching, but it was like I felt him everywhere. It was a shock I could even talk in a steady voice.

“Not feeling it tonight,” he echoed, his voice low. There was amusement in his voice even though he didn’t come right out and laugh. He dropped his head back and looked up at the stars. A slow smiled curved his mouth.

“What’s so funny?”

“Just thinking about that.”

“What?”

He looked back down. “I can’t count the nights I’m not ‘feeling it,’ but I still have to be there.”

Have to
. Interesting choice of words. “You don’t like your job?”

He shrugged. “Sometimes I do.”

“Are you a student, too?”

“Nope.”

“Did you graduate already?”

“Just high school.”

So working the bar was all there was for him. Again, there was that stab of disappointment. Which was not only judgmental of me but absurd. I wasn’t considering this guy for a boyfriend or lifelong partner material. I shouldn’t feel anything at his lack of ambition.

He continued. “You in college?”

I nodded.

“Let me guess. Dartford?” There were three universities in the area, but Dartford had the most prestigious reputation.

“Yes.”

“Thought so. You’ve got ‘Ivy’ written all over you.”

“What do you mean?”

“You look sweet and nice. Smart.” We were almost to my car when he added, “And you’re not a regular, but you’ve been here three nights in a row.” Not a question. Just a statement.

Again, that he was aware of me made me go all warm and fuzzy inside. “My friend, Emerson, comes here a lot. You’ve probably seen her before. She’s hard to miss.” He neither confirmed nor denied this. “She invited me along. I don’t do the bar scene all that much.”

“So you’ve decided to start living the college experience in full then. Is that it? Last night didn’t scare you off?”

I frowned. “Oh, you mean that guy by the bathroom. Should I have let that scare me?”

He didn’t say anything, and I thought back to his comment on Thursday night about nice girls getting eaten up in places like Mulvaney’s. “Oh. That’s right. Nice girls like me should stay home.”

“I didn’t say that.”

We stopped at my car.

The low rumble of his voice continued. “Getting mauled outside the bathroom might have turned some girls off from coming back again the next night though.”

“I’m not most girls.” He had no idea. I might look naïve and innocent, but my scars ran deep. It took a lot to spook me.

I fumbled for my keys, the slow burn of my temper making my hands shake.

“I might look like some nerd college girl and not one of the sexpots tripping through the bar every night, but—”

His voice cut in smooth and deep, no hint of the temper I was feeling. “I didn’t say that, either.”

“You’re thinking it.”

“You’re right. You’re nothing like the other girls I see every night.”

“Oh, that’s nice,” I muttered.

My fingers closed around the hard steel of my keys. Unlocking the door and pulling it open, I looked up, ready to tell him off, but then I lost myself in those pale blue eyes until I wasn’t sure what I was mad about anymore. Those eyes made everything inside me go hot and weak all at once.