Pistol (5 page)

Steph grunted her submission, and followed Iva
n as he walked back to the party. Her eyes roamed across the outer wall of the house, and fell on the window of Derek’s office. The light was still on. Her heart skipped a beat at the thought the bartender—Pete—was that close. His scent still lingered in her nostrils, and she absently brought her hand to her face to trap it there.

Who would have thought that bourbon and cigarettes could smell so damn erotic?

Steph ran out of small talk somewhere about the time her bottle ran dry. There was nothing inherently wrong with the company her parents kept, but politics and sports were two of her least favourite subjects. Even more
tiresome when she literally didn’t know what people talked about half the time.

Ivan left the BBQ
with her brother after dinner was served to attend another function, and as much as he offered for her to join them, Steph declined. She would have given her left tit to leave the house with a valid excuse, but the fiery blister on her right heel said ‘go home’.

It’s going to be flip-flops for the next week with
that one.

The clock ticked past nine as she sat on a two-seater with her father—who had also run out of alcohol fuelled interest. He leant over and whispered in her ear. “Ten bucks says your mother has me here until everyone else has left first.”

Steph chuckled. “You know she can’t help herself when it comes to one-upping people,” she whispered back.

He nodded, a broad grin on his tired, and weathered face. Her father had made his fortune in a niche market. He had seen an opportunity, a gap in suppl
y, and simply been that guy who was in the right place at the right time. She’d always respected him for the hard work, and effort he put into his passion—he always ensured that the family was looked after before his own needs. The way he was now—relaxed in an early retirement—made all the long days worth it in her opinion.

“New Years Eve tomorrow, huh?”
He eyed her with a mischievous grin. “Any plans?”

“Not sure.”

“Dave up to much?”

“I broke up with him, Dad.”

A smile flickered on his lips. “Good. He was an ass.”

She slapped his arm playfully.
“Dad.”

“It’s the truth.” He tipped his head, and shrugged.

“Don’t tell Mum, okay?”

“You should know by now you don’t need to worry about that.”

Steph wrapped her arms about his neck, and gave him a squeeze. “I think I might head off, you big knuckle-head.”

He pulled back and nodded. “Go. Be free. Just don’t forget about those you leave behind on the battlefield.”

She giggled, and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. “See you later, Dad.” Her mother eyed her as she rose, and crossed the room to her bag. Steph squatted as strategically as possible in a tight skirt, and reached under the table to retrieve her leather bag.

“Are you going already?”

Her head connected with the edge of the table as she straightened. “Could you not wait until I had stood?”

“I didn’t realise your co-ordination required such concentration.”

Steph sighed, and waved her mother off. “Anyway, it’s not soon. I’ve been here for four hours.”

“An early night by your standards.”
Her mother crossed her arms, and toyed with the long necklace she wore.

“Love you too, Mum.
” She scowled. “See you later.”

Steph bit down on her lip, and stifled the words she
longed to scream at the woman. Why did her Mum have to be so darn critical all the time? What did she do to deserve such disdain from her own parent? She swept out of the room, and toward the front entrance, eager for the salvation that lay in the empty streets between the Peterson’s house, and home.

Her heels clopped down the front
steps, and along the concrete path as she flicked the top buttons of her blouse open with one hand. The calm, night air seemed to amplify the sound of her shoes as it sent each click echoing back at her from the four corners of the front yard. She tugged her bag over her shoulder, thankful for the band-aid she’d managed to get from Ivan, and swung around the front gate. Her heart leapt into her throat, and her feet stalled.

“You’re in a hurry.”

Hand to her neck, she growled at Pete, and continued to walk. He pushed off the light pole he had leant against, and hop-skipped to catch up.

“What’s the matter,
Love?”

“Aside from the fact you just about
made me crap myself?”

He chuckled.
“Yeah, aside from that.”

“
My mother. Why does she have to be such a pain in my ass?” She couldn’t explain why she opened up so easily to a relative stranger, one who’d she had been warned against by a trusted friend. But the conversation fell from her lips so easily.

“
Count yer lucky stars that ya have one who cares enough
to
be.”

Steph looked across to Pete as he walked beside her. He hunched his shoulders to hide his face. “I hit a nerve, huh?”

“Aye. Just a wee one.”

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be.”

They carried on in silence for a
block before she asked the obvious. “Why did you wait outside their house? I didn’t see you at the party.”

He smirked,
and glanced her way from the corner of his eye. “Wasn’t invited. Plus, I couldn’t chance meetin’ ya again, and not stickin’ around to find out where ya lived.”

“So you openly stalk
me,” she teased.

“If
puttin’ it like that gets ya off, sure.”

She smiled at his toying of her. “Wouldn’t you love to know
that
.”

A hand withdrew from his pocket, and he reached over to knit his fingers through hers. Steph prickled with awareness at the contact, certain he could feel he
r palm burn in his grasp. “What excites ya is one of the things I want to learn about ya, sure,” he said.

She struggled with
the cramp in her lungs as a weight settled on her chest. They still walked hand-in-hand. His intentions were so blatant, and it should scare her at least a little. But it didn’t.

It turned her on.

She swallowed away the lump in her throat. “What else do you want to know?”

He growled, low and husky in the back of his throat.
“Lots.”

“That’s hardly an answer.”

“Let me in for coffee when we reach yer place, and I’ll answer yer question.”

Blackmail, and yet the junction in her thighs grew warmer.
“Deal.”

Single-handed, he took a pack of cigarettes from his back pocket, and held the box up. “
Ya want one?”

“I don’t smoke.” She shook her head.

He tipped his chin, and shook out a stick, which he then took between his lips as he re-pocketed the pack. “I shouldn’t either.”

Steph watched the slim cigarette bob up and down as he spoke. She traced the lines of his lips, sighing inside at the luscious fullness of the bottom one, and the way it gave him a permanent pout.
Kissable.
He tried to light the smoke, yet the flame flickered with the breeze created by their movement. She relaxed her grip so he could shield with his other hand, but he tightened his, and ducked his head to his chest. The end flared, and he drew a long pull as he pocketed the lighter. Smoke tendrils flowed from his nostrils and wisped past his eyes, and over his ears.

Smoking in itself was never a quality she had ever thought of as attractive. Steph had done it, quit, and knew what an addiction it could be. Yet when Pete drew the orange ember down the stick, then lazily let the grey plumes flow from his nose and mouth, something about it made his renegade appeal double.

“Do you have any plans for the New Year?” she asked, in hopes she could divert her mind from the sexual tension.

“Ask
in’ me on a date, Cutie?”

Her thoughts plunged into the bed sheets.
“Uh, no. Simply making conversation.”

“I’m crushed,” he
mocked, free hand to his heart. The orange tip of his smoke drew lines through the darkness.

“No mocking, remember?”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“Well?” He wasn’t
about to avoid this one as easily as his name.
His name, yeah.
“Any plans, Pete?”

His head snapped about, and
he stared at her as they walked.

She tapped the side of her nose.
“Connections.”

He shook his head slowly, lips set in a line. “I better give these connections a speak
in’ to.”

She raised a brow to remind him he still hadn’t answered.

“All right, Jesus.” He sucked another draw of the stick, and let the smoke furl about his face as he walked. “At this stage I’ll be knockin’ off me shift at eleven-thirty. Hardly any time to make it to any celebrations.”

“That sucks. How did you draw the short straw?”

He sneered briefly. “There weren’t any straws to draw. The only other person workin’ the bar couldn’t be trusted to do it on her own.”

“That girl you were having a go at last night?”

He glanced down at her, and for a moment he seemed amused that she admitted she had watched him. “I wasn’t ‘
having a go
’—simply remindin’ her why she needs to keep her shit in line.”

“Are you the Manager?”

He laughed, then drew a final drag before he flicked the stub into the road. “I should be, but no.”

Steph cringed at the familiar fence
-line of her neighbours. Conversation had flowed easily, and she had enjoyed it immensely. She wasn’t ready to stop yet, so thank God she’d agreed to coffee. “This is me,” she said as they approached the neatly rowed letterboxes for the units.

“
Do I get a brew, then?”

She dropped her head to the side, and smiled.
“Of course.”

He
let go to rub his hands, and gestured with his chin. “Come on then. Show me the way.”

His boots echoed her heels in perfect unison as they ascended the narrow staircase to the second floor units.
God, I hope he doesn’t stare at my ass.
She pulled her keys from her bag, and got the right one ready in her grasp.
Why the hurry? Are you that desperate?
Not desperate, eager. Eager sounded better.

“How long
ya been here?” he asked over her shoulder. His breath tickled the sensitive skin behind her ear.

“A couple of years.”

He hummed as she turned the lock, and pushed the door open. Pete strode past her, not waiting for Steph to free the key, and made himself at home in her small residence. She shut the front door, and tossed her bag on the kitchen counter.

“Where’s the bedroom?” he asked as he
nosed in each door.

Steph didn’t have to answer. He figured it out himself, and disappeared into her room. “What are you
up to?” she asked.

“Plann
in’.”

“Planning what?”
Could she honestly say she didn’t know? The warmth which spread through her privates said she did. She followed him into her room.

“Where I’ll have
ya first.” He spun on his heel and faced her, his chin dipped, and a wicked gleam to his eye.

Steph took a step backward, sure she should run from this potential rapist, but found
she shut the bedroom door instead.

“Expect
in’ company?” He smirked and gestured to the closed exit.

She shook her head. “
I didn’t want you to disappear.”

He laughed. “Why would I?”

“Because a guy like you can’t be much more than a figment of my imagination.”

“A guy like me?”

Steph drew her lip between her teeth, and dropped her head. “Someone like me.”

“Oh,
Love.” He chuckled. “I’m nothin’ like ya.” His hands bunched in his shirt, and tugged it off over his head to leave her open-mouthed.