Brutally Beautiful(43)

Fuuuck, I’m twisted.

The thoughts about my behavior were even creepy to me. By this time, my truck was idling in the parking lot of the bar and I decided just to go home. My infatuation with her was completely one-sided, unhealthy, and without a doubt, would end ugly.

Before I could pull out, Fran’s car turned into the lot.

I blinked as his red taillights flickered through the darkness, and the parking brake light reflected against the bark of the trees surrounding the lot. Slithering down in my seat, I could hear that wanker’s voice laughing loudly as he slammed the car door shut. Straining my ears, I couldn’t hear anything from Lainey. I just watched as she quickly walked toward the bar, probably trying to get out of the frigid night air. When she reached the door, she glanced questioningly towards my truck, then smiled, and slipped into the warmth of the bar.

She smiled?

For twenty-minutes, I listened to the heater fan as it warmed the air in my cab, sitting and contemplating what to do. There was no talking myself out of going in.

She smiled at my truck. So in I went. Seemed like good logic at the time.

I slowly made my way over to my back table. It was almost five, and there was a small crowd for a Thursday night, but my table was empty. My table was always empty, even when I occupied it.

Lainey was behind the bar pouring a beer, when her eyes collided with mine. They stayed on mine for so long that the beer overflowed the cup and spilled thick white foam over the edges and her fingers. It made my body pulse with arousal. Twisted, yeah?

Placing my case on the table, I slid out my laptop and opened it up. My goal was to watch her and get some research down for my next book. Keying in the Wi-Fi password, I checked my email and opened one from my editor.

Kade,

These were impressive; I wouldn’t dream of changing a thing. Just scan through my notes and make any necessary corrections.

Gary

There were only three corrections for both books? Usually Gary had more to say. I quickly typed him a short email, explaining that I wanted to keep the manuscripts out of the publishing house, and self-publish. I did this with my books every so often, especially if I wrote a book that wasn’t scheduled for publication, which these weren’t. My publisher hated me for doing it, but I told them they could find another me if they wanted to place rules on the things I did. Being somebody’s bitch was not in my nature; it went completely against my DNA makeup.

A soft clink of glass against the wood tabletop caused me to look up from my screen. Delicate fingers slid a drink closer to me and a smooth voice asked, “How’s the hand?” My lungs found trouble with the task of inhaling.

All my senses were heightened as soon as I looked up. I tried to ignore the overwhelming emotions, but it was of no use. Spiced apples and cinnamons twirled in the air around me. Five shades of green danced in her eyes as my focused gaze caught hers and my chest just surged. What the hell was that about? As I laced my fingers around the brandy, her fingers brushed gently against mine with the slightest touch of almost infinitesimal tremors. “Just a little scratch,” I answered her hoarsely.

She slid her hands away from mine and pushed them deeply into the pockets of her apron. Her cheeks started to flare with a deep blush. I tried, but couldn’t stop the slow smile it brought to my lips. “I’m surprised you still want to be friends, after such an arsehole I’ve been towards you.”

“Friends?” She asked, composed, unsmiling.

“Yes.”

“Yep. Just wait. Our friendship bracelets are in the mail,” she said sarcastically. “Please don’t mistake my being a naturally caring person for wanting to be friends. Is there anything else I can get for you?”