“Come on. It’ll be fun. You can get back on the horse. Or the Cody. Whatever.”
I laughed, but my insides knotted up at the thought of riding anybody but Bodie. “Okay. Let’s do it.”
She smiled and booped my nose. “Atta girl. It’s gonna be okay, Pen,” she said so softly and sincerely that I actually believed her.
* * *
My liner was winged, my heels were high, my shorts were short, and my mood was about as sturdy as piecrust — a thin, golden buttery fa?ade over the gooey, messy, blood-red cherry filling. But I found myself strutting into that bar on a mission that felt awfully real even if it was bullshit.
Diesel was packed wall-to-wall with people. Everything in the bar was metal and brick and leather, dark and inky. The light fixtures were made of machine parts with naked bulbs and glowing filaments, and the bar itself was black brushed metal and my destination from the second we walked in the door.
We wormed our way up to the bar with smiles and arm touches, parting the crowd like Moses. Veronica pushed me in front, and I squeezed in between a couple of guys to lean on the bar, rack on display.
I spotted Cody at the other end of the bar, and he glanced at me and away before looking back to me with a whip of his head that was so fast, he might have sprained something. A slow smile spread across his face, and he jerked his chin at me in greeting.
Cody was one of those gritty, dirty tattooed types with the irreverent beard and hair a little too long, pushed back from his face with ruts from his fingers. The gauges in his ears were just big enough to be big without being obscene, and he not only had his nostril and septum pierced, but he also had snakebites — two rings on his bottom lip where, if he were a rattlesnake, his fangs would rest.
I’d had a boner for Cody since the first time I ever laid eyes on him, but he’d always had a girlfriend. I might love me some dick, but I’d never knowingly hook up with a guy with a girlfriend, so we’d kept it to flirting, but he was the number one reason why we used to come to Diesel. And when he made his way over, my insides went ballistic because:
1. He was gorgeous.
2. His eyes pinned me to the spot.
3. He wasn’t Bodie, and him even looking at me like he was made me feel nineteen ways to wrong.
Cody leaned on the bar right across from me, ignoring everyone around me who’d been waiting.
“Damn, it’s good to see you, Penny. Where the hell have you been?”
The guy next to me huffed and slapped a hand on the bar. “What the fuck, man? We’ve all been waiting longer than her.”
Cody’s eyes went hard as he glared at the guy. “You don’t let a girl like this stand at the bar without giving her your full attention. And if you want a drink the rest of the night, I suggest you shut the fuck up and wait until I address you.”
The guy pointed at Cody. “This is fucked up. Fuck this place!” And with that eloquent goodbye, he turned around and left.
Cody turned back to me, his gaze smoldering again. “Double Patrón, chilled?”
I smiled as discomfort twisted around in my stomach like snakes. “You remembered.”
“Psh. You’re impossible to forget, Pen,” he said with a smirk, leaning a little closer. “Lean over.”
I did, against my better judgment, and when I was half-bent over the bar, he leaned in close, his lips brushing my ear.
“Alley-oop,” he said softly as he grabbed me by the waist and pulled.
I took the cue and lifted myself as he helped me onto the bar. I spun around on my butt until my legs were on his side of the counter and my feet dangled just outside the shelves of liquor and glasses tucked under the bar top.
My heart thundered its warning as I hung onto the edge and crossed my legs, locking my elbows and straightening my back. I felt like a pinup girl, and was pretty sure every eyeball in the bar was on me. A month ago, I would have been in hog heaven. In that moment, I’d rather be in a pig pen.
Cody kept on smirking, pouring well more than two shots of Patrón into a shaker. “How’ve you been? It’s been too long since you’ve been in.”
“Oh, I’ve been good. Just surviving.” Surviving Bodie was the rest of that sentence, but, color me crazy, it seemed like the wrong thing to say in the moment. “How about you?”
He shook up my drink with his eyes dragging a path from my heels to the hem of my shorts, which were regrettably short. Sitting on a bar might sound sexy and brash and cavalier, but the truth was that it was sticky as fuck. I just hoped there was no grenadine. All I needed was a cherry stain on my ass to end the week on a high note.
“I’ve been waiting for you to come in. Sheila and I broke up.”
My mouth popped open, and I blinked, noticing that he was shaking that shaker at his waist like he was pumping his dick.
“You’re kidding.” I had no idea what else to say.
He shook his head, not looking sad in the slightest, probably because he had me sitting on the bar like a trophy. “It’s been over for a long time. Plus, I’ve had my sights set somewhere else.”
Cody popped the top of the shaker and poured my drink, hooking a lime on the edge of the glass before handing it over. I took a sip, hands on my drink as he bracketed my crossed legs with his arms.
I’d been waiting for this moment for months, and here it was. The filthy, hot, tattooed, pierced bartender of my dreams had literally picked me up and set me on the bar to tell me he wanted to bang me. A month ago, I would have climbed him like a jungle gym. But when he ran his hand down the curve of my calf, I laughed awkwardly and chased his hand with my own, redirecting it.
“Straight to the point, huh, Cody?” I said, hoping I sounded cool. And then I swiveled around on the bar and hopped down, praying for that millisecond I wasn’t going to break my ankle. I didn’t, thankfully. “I’ll see you later,” I said over my shoulder with a smile.
“I sure hope so,” he called after me as the crowd swallowed me.
My smile fell faster than a GTO hits sixty, and I stomped my way around the bar, scanning for Veronica.
I found her at a table. She was on her phone, texting so intently that she didn’t even see me stalk up.
“Well, this is a fucking disaster,” I shot and took a heavy pull of tequila. Too heavy. My face pinched up, and I shook my head to set it back to rights.
“What happened?” She eyed me.
“He fucking hit on me, that’s what happened.”
Her eyes narrowed. “And that’s … bad?”
“Yes! I mean, no, but, yes! He and his girlfriend broke up, and he picked me up and set me on the bar and touched my leg and — ugh!”
That stupid look in her eye was back, the one that said she had me right where she wanted me. “You had the white whale in your clutches, and you didn’t snag him?”
I took another drink, this time more moderate. “Yep. I had Moby Fucking Dick in my harpoon sights, and not only am I uninterested, but I’m … what is this feeling?” My face fell. “Is this what it feels like to feel offended?”