Untamed (12 page)

Who
is
that?
His sharp perturbed voice popped into her head unexpectedly, and she shot him a sideways look.
An
ex-boyfriend but mostly a friend.
She noticed a shift in his energy waves, a stumble almost, and it was a moment or two before he responded.
Yes, well, I suppose the operative word in that description is ex.
Layla shook her head and made her way through the thickening crowd.
Can
we
not
add
jealous
jerk
to
the
list
please?
William stayed directly behind her.
I’m not jealous. I’m merely curious
.

When Raife flagged them down from the bar, she practically ran and plowed through the people in her way. If she ever needed a drink to steady her nerves, now was the time. Raife cleared away a couple of empty glasses and gestured to the two recently vacated stools on the far left side of the bar.

He gave a cursory glance to William, but immediately turned his attentions on her. Much to her surprise, this annoyed her. She was having enough trouble figuring things out with William, and her brother causing more problems would be less than helpful.

“Hey, I was wondering if you two were going to show up here tonight,” Raife said evenly.

Layla handed her purse and jacket to him. “Keep these behind the bar, will you?”

Raife shook his head, took the items, and stowed them underneath the bar. “Why do you even bring this stuff out with you? You never use them.”

However, the smile faded from his lips once he noticed the faint mark above her eye. Layla’s hand instinctively went to the almost healed wound. Dammit. She should’ve put more makeup over it.

Raife’s eyes narrowed. “What happened to your eye?” His stern gaze landed on William. “Jesus, she’s with you for less than a week, and she’s already gotten hurt.”

William remained unfazed and sat on the stool next to Layla without taking his eyes off Raife. “She’s fine,” he said calmly. “Instead of getting annoyed with me, perhaps you should ask your sister directly.”

Layla placed one hand on Raife’s forearm. “Hey, it’s okay.”

Raife looked at Layla with his trademark brotherly concern. “What happened?”

“We went out for a ride today, and I got thrown off Freckles. William didn’t hurt me. He helped me,” she said firmly. “So, why don’t you stop being an overprotective big brother and get us a drink?”

Arms folded over his chest, he let out a slow breath and looked back and forth between Layla and William. “Thrown off a horse? Off Freckles?” He shook his head and let out a short laugh. “I can’t remember the last time you got thrown like that.” His features softened. “You sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine,” she said with a wave. “No big deal. I mean look.” She pulled her curly hair back and leaned forward so he could get a better view. “It’s practically gone. By tomorrow, it’ll be a faint scar.”

Raife nodded and pursed his lips. “We always did heal quickly, but that’s really damn fast.” He looked at William warily. “Is that because of you?”

“Yes,” he said with a glance to Layla. “More to the point, it’s because we’ve found each other, and this is only the beginning. There are many other things that will… develop.” Before Layla could pepper him with questions and ask him exactly what the hell that meant, Raife jumped in and changed the subject. Typical.

“What can I get you?” He was clearly not interested in hearing about this at the bar.

“I’ll have raspberry Stoli and seltzer with lime,” she said without taking her eyes off William.

Raife made quick work of Layla’s drink, and like any good bartender, continued his conversation. “Hey, don’t feel too badly about getting thrown off Freckles. You know what they say.”

“If you get thrown off, you have to get right back on,” William finished for him, with a knowing look to Layla.

Her face turned bright red, because she knew that William wasn’t talking about Freckles. She grabbed the drink Raife put in front of her and took an enormous swig.

“So, how about you?” Raife said to William. “What’ll it be? A glass of ginger ale, perhaps? Or a Shirley Temple?”

Layla watched the two of them stare at each other in silence and tried not to squirm on her stool. Their energy waves remained calm, but she wondered how long they’d be able to maintain their civility with each other. Would William take the bait, or take the high road and ignore Raife’s immature attempts to insult his masculinity?

William’s eyes narrowed. “Well, as tempting as those beverages sound, I’ll have Grey Goose on the rocks,” he said smoothly.

Okay, he earns back another point for taking the high road
.
Layla studied his profile as she took a sip of her drink. He sat on the stool with his hands folded in front of him on the beat up mahogany bar and looked like he owned the place.

Power.

The man radiated pure, animalistic power, and it probably frightened most people, but all it did was manage to turn her on.

Layla plucked the lime off the edge of her glass and plopped it into the drink as she examined him and took another swig. Her gaze wandered over him from head to toe, and when she finally made it back to his face, he was staring right at her with a knowing smile.

Busted.
His baritone voice slipped easily into her mind and made her wet.

“Why am I not surprised?” Raife said as he grabbed the Grey Goose off the shelf and pulled a long pour from the bottle.

“What are you talking about?” she asked innocently.

“Your boy here.” He nodded toward William. “Top shelf all the way,” he said without looking up. To her relief, he passed the drink to William and went to the other end of the bar to tend customers, but she knew he was still keeping tabs on them.

Layla sat a bit straighter in her seat and noticed William’s gaze as it flicked down to her cleavage. She smiled.
Busted
, she whispered back. His gaze meandered back to her face, and he raised his drink to her. The man had no shame, and it didn’t faze him in the least to be caught staring at her boobs.

What was his deal? One minute he’s putting the brakes on a steamy make-out session, and the next he’s ogling her.

“Why did you stay?” Her eyes narrowed as she leaned one arm on the bar to face him. “I mean today, after our
incident
in the woods,” she said quietly, not wanting Raife to hear them. “I would’ve thought I made it clear that you and I are
not
going to become a
we
? You had your chance to bang me, and you passed.”

The words weren’t even off her lips for more than a second before she knew how untrue and hollow they sounded.

The cocky smile that had been lingering on his lips faltered, and his brow furrowed, carving a deep line between his eyes. “It bothers me that you think that’s all I want with you,” he said quietly. “And that is unacceptable.” He placed his drink on the bar and leaned in closer, so his lips hovered tantalizingly close to her ear. “I’m not leaving before I make you understand that,” he whispered.

Layla’s heart fluttered in her chest as the warmth of his breath puffed past her ear. His knee brushed hers as he rose from his stool and sent a zap of electricity up her leg. Shaking and feeling like she’d just gone through a spin cycle in a dryer, Layla watched him walk toward the men’s room and wondered just what on earth she’d gotten herself into.

She swiveled on her stool and braced her elbows on the bar, held the cool drink against her forehead, and focused on keeping her eyes from shifting. Playing with her body was one thing, but playing with her heart? No way. That wasn’t a game that she was going to play.

“Hey there, darling!” Joyce’s familiar singsong voice pulled Layla from her thoughts. Joyce had been tending bar and waiting tables here since God was a boy, or at least that’s what she always told people. “You okay? You look like you’re plum wore out,” she said, peering over her cat-eye glasses.

“Hey, Joyce.” Layla smiled weakly. “Yeah, just a long day, I guess.”

“Well, it’s good to have you back.” She pulled a pencil from behind her ear and grabbed a notepad from her apron. “What can I get you to eat?”

“Oh, nothing.” Layla waved. “I’ll just nurse this for a while.”

“You got it, darlin’.” She winked and smoothed her bouffant gray hair. “Say, who was that handsome fella I saw you come in with?” Joyce wiggled her eyebrows and snapped her gum loudly. “He looks like one of those fellas from the magazines.” She shuddered and made a yummy noise. “All muscle and bone.”

“Oh, that’s William.” She sipped her drink in an effort to quell the flames that sparked at the mere mention of his name. “He’s just a friend.”

Joyce made a tsking noise and peered at Layla over her glasses. “Honey, that man is made for more than friendship, and if I were about twenty years younger, I’d prove it.” She winked. “Gotta tend to some of these tables.” She shimmied out from behind the bar at the top of the horseshoe. “Tyler’s band may take up a lot of space, but they sure do bring in the customers,” she hollered above the music.

Layla watched Joyce as she navigated the crowd with the ease of experience. Her thoughts went back to William, and just when she thought things couldn’t get any worse, an unsettling energy signature wormed its way through the bar.

Sylvia Clark had arrived.

Layla swiveled on the stool and avoided looking at the door. She concentrated on her drink in a vain attempt to avoid Sylvia and whatever crap she planned on pulling. She glanced over at Raife to see if he’d noticed her presence, but if he had, he was ignoring her and remaining focused on customers on the opposite side of the bar.

Eyes squeezed shut, Layla drained the remnants of her drink.

God, she really wanted another one. She scanned the bar, but only Raife was around, and Joyce was still attempting to manage the overflowing tables. She was about to cave in and get Raife’s attention when that fingernails-on-a-chalkboard voice sliced through the din of the bar, giving her an instant headache.
Crap.

“Well, well, well.” Sylvia sighed. “Look what the cat dragged in.”

Layla cursed under her breath and placed her empty glass on the bar. “Hello, Sylvia,” she said with a quick sideways glance. Not a moment too soon, Raife saw what she needed before she even had to ask, and was by her side making quick work of a fresh drink, ignoring Sylvia.

“Thanks, Raife,” she said with a tight smile.

“Anything for my little sister.” He smiled, but his pleasant demeanor faded as soon as Sylvia slithered her way up on to William’s seat at the bar.

Sylvia hitched her skirt up and crossed her long but undeniably great legs, all the while keeping her ice-cold gaze on Layla.

“Someone’s sitting there,” Raife said without looking up.

She shrugged off her wrap, revealing a skintight red dress that left little to the imagination. She draped the shawl carelessly over the back of her seat, while keeping her chilly blue eyes on Layla. “Are you a bartender or a census taker?” she snapped before flicking her sharp gaze back to Layla. “Always nice to see you, Layla,” she said all too sweetly.

There was nothing sweet about this woman, and Layla still couldn’t figure out why she was trying so hard to hang out with her. Their relationship had always hung by a thread, and once Sylvia crushed Raife’s heart, and Layla had to watch him suffer—the thread snapped, and nothing but disdain remained.

So what was her endgame with this “nice to see you” crap?

“Where’s that big hunk of man you were with yesterday?” She tossed her long blond hair over one shoulder and gave a casual look around the bar. “I don’t see him anywhere. I was hoping he could spare me a dance tonight.”

Layla’s fist balled up tightly on the bar, and her jaw clenched at the very idea of Sylvia dancing with William.
Don’t take the bait.
Raife’s calm voice touched her mind
.
Layla glanced at him, but he kept his eyes on the drink he was making.
She
wants
you
to
lose
your
cool.

Raife was right—Sylvia was just trying to needle her.

Layla sat up a little taller in her chair and crossed her legs while keeping her eyes on Sylvia. She knew it was ridiculous to be jealous over some guy she’d just met, and even though none of it made any damn sense, she couldn’t help how she felt. She may not be ready to run off with William and make shapeshifter babies, but she also knew she wasn’t prepared to give him up to the likes of Sylvia Clark.

“He’s in the men’s room, if you must know,” Layla said evenly. “And you are sitting in his seat, so don’t get too comfortable.”

“See, that’s the difference between you and me.” She sighed. “Unlike you, I’m always comfortable, but given your unsavory childhood, it’s understandable.” Before Layla could respond and tell her where she could go, Sylvia threw a coquettish look over her shoulder at the band. “Tyler and his boys are really on fire tonight.”

Raife placed the drink in front of Layla and shot a less than friendly look at Sylvia. “What can I get you?” he asked, as if he really didn’t give a shit what she wanted, and Layla had to suppress a grin.

“I’ll have a vodka stinger,” she said dismissively, and then waved him off without so much as looking at him.

Raife mumbled something inaudible and likely insulting, but it seemed to have escaped Sylvia’s attention. He made the drink in record time, slid it in front of her, and closed out her tab. “If you need anything,
Layla
, you just give me a shout,” he said before moving to the other side of the bar.

Sylvia picked up her drink and sipped it as if she was the damn Queen of England. God, she wanted to punch her lights out. What was she up to anyway? Looking at the tight dress that stressed her big boobs, it was glaringly obvious that she came dressed to kill. With all of the divorces under her belt, she reminded Layla of a black widow spider. She may not have killed the poor bastards she’d been with, but she sure did bleed their bank accounts dry and sap their spirits.