It was nothing but pure panic, just me saying anything to kill the silence and not feel so overwhelmed in his presence.
Smith slowly spins back to face me, takes a couple of steps forward until there’s just an inch or two between our bodies. My heart slams against my ribcage and my skin vibrates with the need for him to touch me. God, I’d give anything for him to reach his hands up and caress my skin. To feel his fingers on me again, the way he did on Friday, when he stroked my back.
Smith levels his gaze on me, and there’s a distinct challenge in his eyes. The look penetrates me to the bone, rips open my soul and bares me to him beyond my control. He can see me, deep inside, see exactly how I feel for him, how badly I want him. And his responding look is so hot and intense it makes me melt. “I look forward to it.”
With that, he walks out of my kitchen, the front door quietly snicking closed behind him.
I stand where I am, body pulsing with need, throat closed, lungs tight, heart racing. It takes me several minutes to steady myself. To pretend that Smith isn’t totally changing everything in my world. That he hasn’t flipped my plans upside down. I wasn’t going to go to Outlaws tonight. But suddenly I can’t wait to see him again.
Smith
“Asher, I need you to see if we have another keg of Barstones,” I bark to the back room as I release the tap. Fucking foam—someone should have replaced this keg by now. Why does it seem like I’m always the one to notice this shit? “Get on it—we have a customer waiting.”
I hear Asher sigh from the office behind me. “Fine, fine,” he mumbles. I wonder if he’s regretting coming home for summer vacation from college to help out at the bar. I tried to get him to stay on campus, find a local job, stay away from here, but he insisted on coming home. He’s a Beckett—stubborn to the core.
But Asher is going to be the one to escape this shit soon enough. To live his own destiny. Get his degree and forge his own path outside of the family business, the one that was dumped on our shoulders when Dad died a few years ago.
I don’t begrudge what I had to do. I made my choices, and I’m okay with it. And I knew before I even said anything about keeping the business afloat, that Jax would stay by my side. He’s an arrogant asshole most of the time, but he’s loyal as fuck. Not one to leave my side and make me handle Dad’s bar on my own.
Besides, Jax isn’t cut out for anything but this little world we inhabit.
Asher’s different.
Asher is our golden child, the one who excels in school and football, who’s going on to bigger and better things. Move out of our shitty town and be someone. Make our name proud. And here he is, not quite twenty-one, stuck in Shitsville with the rest of us losers because he’s too stubborn to take my advice.
Asher gets the fresh keg hooked up to the tap. When he’s done, he brushes his hands and looks at me. I know he’s seeking my approval, for me to not be irritated about him coming home. “Done,” he says.
I give him a brief nod. “Next time, don’t wait until it’s fucking tapped. Keep an eye on it. If you’re going to be here, at least do your job.”
He sighs and rolls his eyes at me, walking away. In the end, I just want the best for him. He may not like it, but so be it. I can’t worry about his frustration right now. I have bigger things on my plate. Like how the fuck we’re going to pay all our bills when we’re not making enough money. I’m barely paying the three of us as it is.
I peer around the Monday night crowd. It’s thin, too thin. A couple of people by the pool table. A few scattered around the bar, drinking cheap beer. How do I get more customers to bring their asses in here, spend their money? What should we do? The pressure of keeping Dad’s business alive is squarely on my shoulders. We’re barely floating by each month.
Fuck, I can’t even afford to hire anyone else outside of our family. Yeah, I’m pissed that Asher came back this summer, but it did relieve our stress a bit, giving us a cheap helping hand.
The main door opens, and in walks Aubrey, wearing the tightest fucking jeans I’ve ever seen and a black T-shirt that looks painted on her skin. The outfit is simple but effective. Fuck me, she looks so good I want to jump over the bar and eat her alive.
My whole body is thrumming upon seeing her, and my cock pulses, pressing against the fly of my jeans. Shit. I will myself to lose my instant engorgement. I’m not going to entertain this attraction I have for her. I can’t. Not only am I wrong for her, she’s wrong for me. She’s innocent and na?ve, not my type. I like my women experienced. Hardened, distant, even cynical.
I can take them to bed and we have some fun, but it never goes past that, and the kind of women I’m used to understand that. They enjoy it.