Infatuated

INFATUATED

You can't hide from love...even when you want to.

When I took a job as a bartender at Hanson’s to help pay for my classes, the last thing I expected to find was Kale Wilder. He’s sexy, smart, and he makes me smile and laugh faster than anyone ever has. More importantly, he makes me believe in Mr. Right.

But Kale came to the wrong place at the wrong time, because someone else has his eyes on me. Someone who watches my every move.

Kale’s the only one I want, but the more I feel for him, the more I fear for my safety. Because the other guy is getting closer and doesn't want to share. He’s made it clear if he can’t have me, no one can.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

To the people who feel alone in the world: Keep holding on, keep doing what you're doing, and never lose sight of what's important in life: YOU.

A big, heart-felt shout out to all the wonderful people who beta read Infatuated for me. You guys are awesome, not only for reading for me, but for reading in general. <3

To Belinda Boring, who I'm blaming for this book. You're evil, but I do <3 you so. Thanks for nagging me!

To Lisa Markson, who is the best. Without her undying support to all authors, readers would only have instruction manuals instead of books. ;) (Hey, if you don't like this, it's your own fault. You told me what to say. *big grin*)

CHAPTER 1

T
he skin on the back of my neck crawled.

He was back. He always came back.

My eyes locked with his from across the room, through the crowd and smoke, and I fought a shudder.

“Can I get a beer, baby?”

I looked up to a blond guy standing in front of me, smiling broadly. I forced my own smile, trying to at least appear friendlier than I felt. “Sure, that’ll be five bucks.”

Blondie, a weekend regular, slapped a five on the beat up counter as I slid a glass of beer in front of him. His brown eyes were nearly bloodshot. “Thanks, sugar,” he said. “I’ll buy you one, too.”

“Sorry—no drinking allowed on the job, you know that.”
Too bad about that rule, too, cause I’d seriously consider it.
“Thanks for the offer, though.”

He muttered something under his breath—something that sounded eerily like ‘stuck up bitch’. I just nodded and kept my smile in place as he yanked the glass away, sloshing beer over his hands and the counter. Instinctively, I grabbed a washcloth from behind the bar and wiped up the mess, all the while trying not to look at
him
.

Earl Gallen.

The guy came in every night I worked, sat in the same booth at the far corner of the room, and just stared at me. He never said a word to me, and in fact, he’d get someone else to serve him, just to avoid speaking to me. I’d never even heard his voice—not directly, anyway. He had no problem staring at me with that creepy gaze—like now—but he couldn’t be bothered saying a thing?
Creep.

The light above his table was out. Between that and my own dislike, it made him seem even more menacing. Like in a horror movie where they kept the killer in shadows so you didn’t see his face clearly. I fought another shudder.
And I don’t want to see his.

“Your boyfriend watching you again?” a southern voice drawled.

I jumped and spun around to find Laura Wilkes, my co-worker, watching me. Everyone thought we were sisters, because our faces were similar. We both had hazel eyes, though hers were darker. Where I had long, straight blond hair, hers was cut short and curly. She was pixie-sized and I was more curvy.

And if I didn’t love her like a sister, I would have hit her.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” I snapped. Laura raised her eyebrows and I rolled my shoulders. “Sorry.” I kept wiping the counter down to keep my hands occupied. “But you know I hate it when you say that crap.”

Leaning against the bar, she smiled at me. “Come on, Ally. He’s at least twice your age. You probably remind him of his daughter or something.” She paused. “I think it’s actually kind of sweet.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I glanced at Earl quickly. Yup. He was staring at me still. “You say it’s sweet because it’s not
you
he spends an hour a night staring at—and that’s if I’m lucky.” On most nights, he got to the bar a few minutes before or after me, and then spent the rest of the night nursing a few beers while he watched me.

Laura shrugged. “He’s been coming around for about a year.”

“And how often did he come in before I started working here?”

“Ah, you know.” She looked away. “Occasionally. He comes in more sometimes, less others.”

“How often, Laura?”

She twisted back. “Once a week, on the weekends. Sometimes twice.”

I crossed my arms over my chest. “And when did he start coming in more often?”

“That’s a coincidence, that’s all.”

It was my turn to raise an eyebrow. “Really?”

“Okay, so it’s a big coincidence.”

I’d noticed him on my first night here. He worked up to coming in more, night by night, until he was here almost every shift I worked. One of the waitresses—Tonya—had quit a few weeks before I’d gotten the job, and silently, I wondered if he was the cause. From what Laura said, the other girl had quit without notice and left town. If she’d had to put up with Earl’s stares like I did, I couldn’t say I blamed her.

“At least he doesn’t know my name,” I muttered.

Laura’s face went red.

“Laura! Tell me you didn’t tell him my name!”

“I didn’t mean to! It’s Newgrove, small town USA. Granted, it’s a tourist trap, but still! I kinda figured he already knew. He made a comment a few weeks back about the new girl not sounding like she was from Rhode Island, and I just said something like, ‘Oh, Ally Sawyer? Yeah, she’s from Ohio’ without even thinking.”

“Son of a…” I shook my head. “Laura, I might strangle you.”

“I’m from the South. We’re chatty!” She turned away from me. “He’s just a regular,” she repeated, her accent getting thicker with her frustration. “We all get ‘em. I know you’ve known Dave since you were a kid and all, but you’ve only been working at Hanson’s for a few months. You’ll get some regulars who come in—”

“And stare at you, yet refuse to speak to you?”

“—who are particular,” she continued on, “about what they want, when they want it, and how they want it. That’s Earl. He’s particular…and maybe a little peculiar.”

He’s a creep, that’s what he is
. I thought the words but didn’t say them aloud. Bad-mouthing paying customers when they hadn’t done anything wrong was frowned upon—especially when they were old friends of your bosses. And honestly, nothing I’d said about him had changed Laura’s mind so far, so I doubted anything I said now would. She’d been defending him since I first commented about the staring last month.

Instead, I forced another smile, even as my stomach clenched. “You’re probably right.”

Laura eyed the small crowd inside the bar. “Your shift’s over in a few minutes, so why don’t you head out early? It’s only twenty minutes before Derek comes in to help me close. I don’t mind taking the helm for that long.”

“You want to get out early next weekend, don’t you?” I asked after a minute, abandoning the rag on the counter. Laura’s idea of not minding ‘taking the helm’ usually meant she wanted a favor in return. But tonight, I didn’t mind. Tonight, I’d been stared at one hour too many.

Her smile was quick. “I’m not averse to you repaying the favor someday in the near future. Say, this Saturday when I have a date with Ted.”

“Thanks, Laura. I think I’ll take you up on the offer, even if it is misguided.”

She gave me a quick hug and released me as Blondie came back to the counter for another round. I ducked into the back room as she took his order, grabbed my bag, and then headed for the door. I felt Earl’s eyes on me and resisted the urge to turn around. Part of me wanted to see if I was right—to see if he was still staring—but the other part of me already knew. He was.
Don’t worry about him. Keep moving.
It was like being unable to
not
look at something when someone told you not to. You were sure you wouldn’t like what you saw, but curiosity got the best of you.

It got the best of me as I pulled the door open.

Son of a bitch. I’m an idiot!

I hurried out the door, and when it shut behind me, took a deep breath, filling my lungs with fresh air. Air that didn’t smell like smoke, beer, or over-used cologne or perfume. Air that I didn’t have to share with Earl.

The door opened again, so I moved to the side to give the exiting trio room to pass. A guy and a girl supported another guy between them. Middle guy twisted around in their arms and looked over his shoulder. He waved, nearly whacking the poor girl in the head. “Thanks for the drinks!” he shouted.

“Hey, you paid for them,” I said, smiling, “but you’re welcome anyway.”

“Oh yeah.” A sheepish expression crossed his face. “Next time I’ll buy you one!”

The girl shot me an apologetic what-can-you-do? smile as she and the other friend dragged him away. All of them were walking awkwardly, but I knew the girl at least was sober. The middle guy…he was another story. Beer after beer, shot after shot, he drank until he was nearly green. When he’d come in earlier, he’d said it was his twenty-first birthday and he wanted to celebrate it right by getting hammered. Considering the amount of shots he’d had, I had to say he’d succeeded.