Bait: The Wake Series, Book One by M. Mabie
Friday, May 23, 2008
IT RAINED BUCKETS the whole day. There wasn't much that could make me feel more disgusting than a plane ride coupled with that wet and dry moistness you get from being in and out of the rain. Moist. That word alone made me want to take a shower.
I'd flown into San Francisco to attend my dear friend, Micah's, graduation. We met when we were both attending culinary school at The Art Institute of California in San Francisco, when I was in my second year and she in her first. The ceremony wasn't until the next day, but I'd flown in early so I could go out with her and our friends.
After I graduated the previous May, I moved back home to Seattle. Most of my family lived there, so they appreciated my closer proximity. I loved being close to them, too. My mom and dad had been married forever. For someone my age, it was odd to have married parents who still liked each other. All around, we were a close family. I was the youngest of three and the only girl.
For a year, I'd been dating my boyfriend, Grant, and if my blabber-mouth parents were correct, he was soon to be my fiancé. Grant and I didn't live together. His choice, not mine. I lived in my mediocre apartment and he lived in his, four blocks apart. Even thinking about it drove me mad. But Grant was a great guy and insisted on not living together until we were married. I could only presume he'd insist on that sooner than later. That was the traditional thing to do.
He was traditional. A classic. The all-American guy.
But I didn't think of myself as the classic, all-American girl.
Opposites attract. Apparently.
We got along great and rarely fought. Well, until that morning, when we fought about him bailing on the trip last minute. That was the kind of day I’d had.
I finally made it—damp and all—to the Hook, Line and Sinker, or HLS if you were local, and my first beer was on its way. I should’ve probably ordered two. That first beer wouldn't last long.
Oh, yeah. The airport lost my luggage, too. Thankfully, I had my toiletries with me. It was almost a silver lining. Almost.
“Blake!” I heard Micah shout my name when she blew into the bar. I twisted in my stool to face the door where I saw her bouncing up to me. She looked the same as she had a year before. Micah had a messy, blonde pixie cut. She looked like a little fairy.
As soon as I stood, her short, petite body hugged me and I hugged her back in earnest.
“I've missed you so much,” she said into my hair and squeezed me hard. She was a mighty little thing and her hold on me was more than I'd anticipated. As she pulled away I saw the two guys she came in with order beers.
I knew she had a boyfriend. I’d seen pictures of them together and she'd said that I met him before I left. I really couldn't tell you which one he was. I assumed the one closest to her.
Then I noticed they were the same damn dude. Well, two versions of the same dude anyway. I swore they were twins. They had to be.
Micah stepped closer to the one of them and introduced, “Blake, this is my handsome boyfriend, Cory Moore. Cory, this is my talented friend, Blake Warren.” He offered me his hand and was happy to shake it.
He looked thoughtfully at her and asked, “What are you drinking, baby?” I already liked him. He seemed very sweet on her by the way his hand affectionately rubbed her side.
“I'll take a pint of whatever Bay they now have on tap.” She crooked her head and smiled brightly at the replica of her boyfriend. He swiftly looked at her with a cool, knowing grin. “What are you drinking, Blake?” Micah lifted up on her toes to look around me on the bar where I had my glass. “She'll take one, too!” I never ordered the second one, so I didn't object.
Cory motioned to his brother, who’d taken a seat behind them at the bar, and said, “This is my brother, Casey.” Casey didn't bother to look up. Instead, he fiddled with his phone, not paying any attention. Cory kicked him for being rude or maybe just to get a response.
I could unquestionably tell they were twins by then, but they weren't carbon copies, at least not anymore. Cory's hair was cut very short on the sides, a little longer on the top and neatly combed to one side. Casey's was full-on loose curls everywhere. Cory wore a crisp pair of gray tweed trousers, a white shirt and tie, complete with suspenders. Casey had on dark jeans, and a loose fitting, black V-neck T-shirt.
Cory was attractive and Casey was perfect. Simple as that. I could have stood there comparing the two all night. They were identical twin bodies, transformed into totally different men by their styles and personalities alone.
Casey finally looked up with a blank expression. Standing stock still, he said hello then went right back to his phone.
“Don't mind him.” Cory smiled and then our drinks arrived. Only when I took a swig of my beer did Casey look my way again.
I smiled at him and mouthed “mmm, good.”
I wondered what his problem was. He looked like an easy-going guy. He wore flip-flops with jeans for crying out loud. I decided that maybe he, too, had had a shitty day.
It wasn’t too long before all of the old gang filled HLS. We chatted and played catch-up. It was fantastic seeing everyone. The cocktails flowed, my drowned appearance and lack of garments quickly forgotten.
Cory and Micah danced in the other room. They made a great couple. Since I needed another beer, I decided to belly up to the bar next to Casey, where he'd been most of the time. All night I'd wanted to walk over and talk to him and needing another drink was reason enough.
Leaning toward him a little to get his attention, I said, “What are you drinking? It's Casey, right?” I was, obviously, really smooth. It was evident he’d been drinking the same draught beer I had. Okay, so I didn't know what to say to him, but I really wanted him to talk to me.
“Right.” He was tight-lipped. I didn't feel like being a pest, so I waited patiently for the bartender. I bounced and bobbed to the song playing that filtered in from the large, banquet-style room on the other side of the bar.
“And...” I coaxed.
Finally, he spoke more than just two words in a row, “I'm drinking a new Bay brew. It's pretty good.” But he still refused to look at me straight in the eye.
“I think I'm drinking a Bay beer, too. It must be local.”
“They're local,” he said. “I'm a brewer. That's what I do.” It finally seemed like he might be interested in small talk with me. I was relieved.
“That's cool. I'm a chef. A sous chef now, but I'll be head day chef soon. So...” I trailed off, and faked my impatience waiting for another pint.
“That's how you and Micah know each other then? You’re friends from school? I think she mentioned that.” I liked his voice. It sounded raspy and fallow. I definitely didn't want him to stop talking.
His eyes finally met mine and then he seemed to survey me from head to toe. It made me self-conscious, like my face had something on it, but I pretended to be unaffected. He was blatantly taking inventory of me, which worked in my favor because I wanted to do the same.
“Yeah, we lived together for a few years. Micah’s amazing and she looks really happy with your brother.”
He nodded his agreement. “I know. They make me nauseous sometimes, but yeah, they're good for each other.” Casey finished his beer and motioned to the bartender to bring two instead of just mine. “If you cook as well as her, I bet you're pretty damn good.” There was almost a grin hiding behind the beginnings of a beard he had going on.
“Thanks, I'm sure your beer is pretty damn good, too,” I said in return. He was finally being friendly. I could be, too. He gave the bartender money for both our beers.
“Thank you.” He turned in the stool facing me. I had his full attention. His eyes didn't look like they had when he walked in. He looked more at ease. More comfortable.
“Oh, you'd like my brew,” he said and nodded confidently, with the first real smile he'd gifted me.
It was worth the wait. I felt like I’d truly earned it.
“How do you know that? I have a very particular palate.” Cleary flirting, I arched an eyebrow.
It was true. My mouth had an uncanny ability to detect things. It worked well for me in my occupation. Chances were, if I liked a dish I could guess the ingredients from taste alone. It hadn’t ever failed me.
“Because you've already had four of them. Going on five.” His fresh smile broke clean through, teeth and all. He was charming me and he had me dangling on a line. I laughed in jest at the trap that I’d played right into. If it kept that look on his face, he could have tricked me all night.
When Casey smiled, his whole face was involved. His eyes, his cheeks, his mouth, those teeth, his chest puffed out, and his head tipped back. He looked pretty damn proud. His delight was contagious.
He had the most perfect set of teeth I had ever seen.
I needed to leave him alone.
That was probably why I felt the need to deflate his ever-growing ego. So, I told him, “I've had better.”
“I doubt that.”
I feigned offense. “That's awfully cocky. You're the cocky twin then?” I retorted in an attempt to knock his peg down a rung. I failed. Miserably.
“If you mean I have the better cock, then yeah. I'm the cock one.”
“I said cocky.” My mouth went dry and even though it played right into his hands, I took a long drink of my beer.
Casey leaned in and said, “See? You already can't get enough.”
“You're trouble.”
“Yeah, I am trouble. And you should go dance with your friends before you find out what kind.” The mischievous gleam in his hazel eyes promised he could back up the threat.
That called for another long drink. Did I want trouble? I typically wasn't a trouble seeker. So why didn't I want to walk away? God, I probably looked like a fool standing there with my beer glass that hovered in front of my mouth while I stared at him. All I could think about was that mouth and those teeth all over me.
I broke my blatant stare and, instead, watched his lips move in the mirror behind the bar as he said, “I can tell you right now, that isn't a good idea.”
“What? You don't know what I'm thinking.” I blushed. Did he? No. But what had he assumed I'd thought?
I stole a glance at the dance floor and then my eyes went right back to him. Standing there flirting probably would get me in trouble.
I had a boyfriend.
I had an almost fiancé.
But he stayed in Seattle. He made his choice. A voice inside me said, this might be a good time to sow some oats. Surely, it had to be better to cheat on a boyfriend than a fiancé. I'd never once cheated before. It wasn't how I rolled. But Casey was too good to pass up.
What would one night hurt? I was drunk, right? This happened to people all the time. They made poor decisions after drinking too much. I hadn't drunk enough to completely sever myself from my better judgment, but I had drunk enough to pretend I had.
I was going to hate myself in the morning, but I did, in fact, want his trouble. I was too curious.
“Compromise?” I asked.
Casey's dark eyebrows shot up at my challenge. I’d caught him off-guard.
“I'll leave your trouble over here, like you advise. If you follow my trouble over there.” The bass was thumping and it sounded like everyone was about to get their sexy back and that included me.
Acting so wanton was out of character; it must have been the beer.
Best-case scenario, we’d have a great time dancing and I’d make a new friend. Best worst-case scenario, I'd finally get those dirty clothes off.
He was clever man. I could tell. He asked no questions and simply picked up his beer, grabbed my free hand and started us in the direction of the dance floor. He turned around and walked backward with the sexiest sway to his shoulders. Then, he stopped short of the dance floor.
“I've already warned you. You won't be able to get enough. Now, here's your chance to stop this, while you still have the willpower.” He was both menacing and tempting.
My warm cheeks tightened and I couldn't help but cackle out loud with a resounding, “Ha!” I pointed my finger straight at his face and bent over. He was kidding and flirting, but also I knew he spoke some truth. It didn't matter though, because I still followed that cocky man.
Playful and shamefaced, he admitted, “My moves are potent. You've been warned, honeybee.” His hips began swaying in time to the beat. He danced right where he stood. He was joking, but as soon as his body touched mine I knew it wouldn't be enough.
Honeybee? Could he be any more swoon-worthy?
“What’s with the honeybee thing? You have an insect fetish?” I asked. Praying to God that I was wrong. I mean, it was likely that I was way off base, but you never knew. People were weird.
“I don’t know. Your eyes kind of look like honey and your name starts with a B. Plus, you sort of have this buzz about you.” His eyebrows bunched together and he waited to see if I bought it, then added, “Maybe I do have a thing for bugs.”
We both tried not to laugh, mouths puckered.
He said, “I don’t know why I picked it, I just did. I can stop.”
“No. Don’t. I like it.”
We made our way onto the dance floor in time for the end of the song and for another one to begin. There was that awkward silence in between songs. We looked at each other expectantly. That was about the time when I realized I was f*cked. I knew the next song when it began. Casey's eyes lit up like he would have picked it himself. And then there was that smile again.
He took the beer from my hand and placed it on the nearby ledge and asked, “Okay, honeybee. You in?” I wasn't sure what he was asking me, but my answer was yes. He only waited for the start of my smile before he had his hands on my hips, pulling me into him.
He held me tight. His right hand circled all the way around my lower half and his left ran straight up the center of my back. My chest was pressed beneath his and I could feel how hard his pecs were.
Instinctively, I brought my hands around his neck and clasped them together. I felt shy and possibly guilty.
I had a boyfriend.
I had an almost fiancé.
I was a ho.
I was about to stop the whole charade; my arms began to slip from our embrace. But before I could retreat, he put his nose against my cheek and breathed into my ear. “Hold on to me, Blake.”
Willingly, I tightened my hold on him. And then he moved us. His hips swayed our bodies side-to-side and back-and-forth and Led Zeppelin begged the girl, “Don't go.”
Casey sang along immodestly the whole time. With every “Oh” and “Ay” I felt him vibrate. There was no turning back. I shouldn't have, but I wanted him. I should have stopped, but I also knew that I wouldn't. I couldn't. It felt too right.
The stubble on his cheek scratched against my forehead. Our bodies created friction everywhere. My hands were hot and had clenched fists full of Casey's shirt. I could not get close enough. I didn't know this man. He didn't know me, but hell if the two people dancing on that dance floor didn't fit in the most fundamental of ways.
The hand he had possessively resting on my spine trailed its way into my hair. His long fingers fanned across my skull which created a tingly sensation down to my toes. He clutched the hair at the nape of my neck and pulled my head away from his.
I smelled the delicious beer on his lips as he confessed, “I like your trouble.”
My words failed. I didn't know if it was the beer, the music, or the man attached to me, but I felt pliant.
Anything could happen.
Anything at all.
Looking back, it was the first night of so many that I thought those exact words. Anything I could get from Casey Moore was better than nothing at all. I would take any scrap of this man I was offered. That's the night my heart split into two equal and separate pieces. That's the night I gave one to a perfect stranger, and the remaining piece felt fuller even being left in half.
We danced forever. Our bodies moved easily to the rhythms of songs, both fast and slow. I forgot where I was and who I was with. I especially forgot about who I wasn't with and, I should have paid so much more attention to that.
“Here come the lovebirds,” Casey said looking over my shoulder. Weren't they dancing, too? I looked around and the bar was almost empty and we were the only couple on the floor.
“Blake, I think we are going to head out. I have a big day tomorrow with the family and everything. I'll see you at graduation?” Micah looked tired and she swayed. She'd had a belly full of beer, too.
“Sure, I bet you have a lot to do. I'm staying across the street. I'm fine. I'll go get my things from the bar.” I separated myself from Casey, but I didn't miss the look Cory shot him.
“Do you want to share a cab?” Cory asked his brother, staring at him pointedly.
“No, I think I might meet some friends downtown,” he answered looking at his watch. “I'll see you later. Call me if you need anything tomorrow.” They did a one-handed, back-pat type of hug and Casey leaned in to kiss Micah on the cheek. “Congratulations and thanks for inviting me out tonight, Mic. You guys get some sleep.” He winked and wagged suggestive eyebrows in their direction.
“Be good, Casey.” She scolded and smacked his arm.
Cory gave me a hug and I accepted it. He told me it was a pleasure to meet me, but he needed to get Micah home since she had to be up bright and early.
Casey and I walked to the bar where my things, thankfully, were still intact. How f*cking dumb was I to walk off and leave the only belongings I still had?
“Night cap?” Casey asked eying me up. His smile alone could get me drunk.
“Sure, what time is it?” I looked for my phone in my over-sized travel bag and found that not only had I missed calls from both my mother and Grant, but also there were texts to accompany them.
The bartender looked busy, like he was tidying up. I noted the time at one-thirty and asked him, “What time do you close?”
“We close at two. You guys want last call?” The big barman came to stand in front of us and we shared a questioning glance between ourselves.
Casey ordered, “Yeah, we'll have two Remy Martins. Neat.”
I choked. “Whoa, that's a serious nightcap. You're going out after this?” The drink would most likely put me, thoroughly, on my ass for the night.
“That depends.” He hunched over the bar, putting his head in his hand, and looked at me with a devilish grin. His fingers ran through his thick curls, almost boyishly. “I'm going to be honest with you. I saw you when we walked in and I tried to ignore you. I have a girlfriend. At least tonight I do.” Then he looked away and clarified, “I won't by tomorrow night. I was breaking things off with her tonight and my plans got a bit...hijacked.” Casey’s hazel eyes studied me, trying to read what I thought of his statement.
“Okay.” I wasn't sure where he was going with that, but I'd been having such a good time with him. I sort of hoped that he’d ask me to continue the night with him, and go somewhere else like he’d told Cory he might. I tried not to let my budding disappointment show.
The bartender placed both our cognacs on napkins and left us to them.
“I want you to know that I'm not some jerk or a*shole that sleeps around on his girl. I know we'll see each other tomorrow after I've talked to Aly, and you are bound to hear Cory or Micah ask about it.” He was very serious and didn't break eye contact with me.
“We were just dancing. It really isn't that big of a deal,” I said making light of our night. Sure, we were a wash of blurred lines on the dance floor, but after getting some distance it seemed like we were mutually fine. At least I hoped I looked like I was collected.
I had a boyfriend.
Why didn't I just say it? Even he didn't want to seem like some manwhore, so maybe he would have respected me if I told him about Grant.
Casey swiped both his hands through his brown mess and pulled it away from his face.
The bar stool rumbled across the wood floor as he turned sharply to face me. He grabbed the seat I was in and pulled it closer. My crossed legs were situated in between his and he handed me my tumbler while taking his own.
“Go ahead, Blake. Take a sip.”
I hesitated and looked into his bright eyes. He nodded, telling me to do what I was told. So, I did. It was very warm and it slid like molasses down my throat. I felt the fire when it topped my stomach. Then he removed the glass from my hand and put it back on the shiny bar-top.
Casey leaned into my space and we were face to face. I watched as his blue-ish, green-ish, brown-ish, grey eyes circled my mouth. Then they went south, down my neck and returned to me directly.
“I want you tonight. You've got something I need. I don't know what it is. I'm probably crazy. Humor me though,” he sighed, then said, “be with me.” The warmth from the nightcap spread throughout my belly and his words heated everywhere else. I wanted him, too, but no one had ever just flat-out presented themselves like that to me. It was so daring.
It was also the sexiest, most confident request I'd ever heard. I felt desired in a new and foreign way.
“I don't, exactly, know what to say. I don't even know you. I don't live here. I have to leave on Sunday.” I have a soon-to-be fiancé. I'd left out the only good reason there was. The only valid reason I had.
“Blake, I don't normally do this, and I don't know where all of this is coming from. But I just can't not tell you. I can't not try. I think if I did, then I might always wonder what you'd be like. What we'd be like, together. I know I don't know you. You don't know me, but shit!” The slap of his hand on the bar snapped at my ears and I straightened. Then he continued, the sensual timbre of his voice back to normal. “I want you.”
I didn’t know where it came from, but it felt instinctive. My hands went to his cheeks and pulled him to my mouth. I had to. The choice was made for me. My lips were thankful.
Casey reached for me and pulled me to him. I stood in between his legs, with my hands still framing his beautiful face.
I parted my lips and it was enough of an invitation for him to accept. Before I knew it, our mouths were swimming with each other, cognac and desire like I'd never tasted before.
But I had a boyfriend.
With that thought I begin to pull away.
“Stop it,” Casey whispered around the kiss and smile on his busy lips. “We'll sort it all out tomorrow. Be with me tonight. Please?” Then he held me tighter and lifted his eyes to mine and repeated his plea, “Blake, please?”
I wasn’t sure why he had such a strong pull, but I couldn’t imagine he’d ever had to plead with a woman before. He had captivated me from the moment I set eyes on him. I knew he was dangerous, that he was trouble, but I lost myself there for a few long moments. The depth of yearning in his eyes coerced me.
God, what was I doing?