The Bars Between Us Page 6

  I chuckle. “Favorite color?”

  She narrows her eyes and taps her manicured fingernail against her lips. “Red. You?”

  “Green.”

  “Damn,” she mumbles. “Favorite hobby?”

  “Reading,” I admit, somewhat sheepishly.

  It’s something I started as a child when my mom was too drunk to pay me any attention. I’d get lost in the worlds I read about, pretending I was a medieval king or a dragon slayer. The habit had stuck with me, although the material I liked changed as I got older.

  Her eyes light up. “Really? I love to read. What’s your favorite genre?”

  “Horror.”

  Her face falls slightly. “Damn! You ever tried romance?”

  “Like Fabio?” I quirk an eyebrow and give her my best smoldering cover model impression.

  She giggles. “Yeah, like Fabio. You know, longhaired, muscular men on the cover. Talk of quivering members on the inside? It’s my guilty pleasure.”

  “What the hell is a quivering member?” Shaking my head, I hold up my hand. “Never mind, I don’t want to know.”

  She laughs, the sound warming me, and throws a napkin in my direction. The waitress approaches to take our order.

  Her head tilted to one side, a playful grin painted on her face, Grace asks, “So, are we going to do this?”

  I catch her meaning, and against my better judgement, which has never been very good anyway, I nod. I stick my hand out across the table, palm up, and raise a brow. She smiles even wider and places her soft hand in mine. The moment her fingers lace with mine the earlier trepidation melts away, replaced by a surge of excitement.

  With a wink, I tell her, “Hell yeah we are.”

  “A girl could get used to this.” I sigh, putting my chocolate covered fork on my plate.

  Bronn wipes his mouth with a napkin and then tosses it on the table. “Fried fish and chocolate cake?”

  “Mmhmm.” I nod. “That’s the stuff dreams are made of.”

  He shakes his head. “If you say so. You ready to get out of here?”

  Not really.

  “Sure.”

  It may have started off rocky, but our date had ended on a high note. The food was simple but amazing. Despite what Bronn had assumed, I didn’t need, or even want a fancy restaurant. All I needed was good food and good company. And he had delivered on both.

  And while it had stung, Bronn assuming he had me figured out, it was good that we had gotten it out in the open and cleared the air.

  Even though I had been raised to be a proper southern lady, that wasn’t who I was.

  Inside, I was still just the poor little girl that wanted nothing more than to enjoy the smell of the salt air and feel the sun on my face.

  “I’d say we could go get a drink, but…” Bronn’s voice cuts into my thoughts, and I turn my attention back to the man in front of me.

  I lift a shoulder. “It’s okay. I’ve gotta get some stuff done early tomorrow morning before my first shift at the hospital, so I should probably get going anyway.”

  He nods and stands, and I do the same, pushing away from the table and grabbing my purse.

  As we walk to the door, he asks, “You got a reason you don’t drink?”

  “Yeah,” I tell him over my shoulder. “It’s just a sad story though. I’ll tell you about it sometime.”

  I stop in front of my car and catch him studying me, but he doesn’t press and I breathe a sigh of relief. Parked beside my car is a truck that’s got to be twice as old as I am and looks like it should have been buried long ago.

  Bronn hooks a thumb in the rust bucket’s direction and tells me, “Bessie’s seen better days, but I just can’t bring myself to put her out to pasture.”

  I pull my door open and toss my purse inside before turning to face Bronn. “Bessie, huh?”

  He props a hip on her front fender. “Belonged to my dad. When he died, Dani’s mom kept her. Gave her to me.”

  His face is relaxed, but the pain of his loss is still in his eyes, and I’ve come to notice that it’s a look that’s always there. Even when he’s laughing, it doesn’t erase the perpetual sadness that he carries with him. It’s a sadness that I carry with me as well.

  “When I was a kid, my dad took me to the beach once.”

  Bronn’s brows knit and I hurry to continue my story. “It was cold that morning, early spring, the breeze causing goose bumps to take up permanent residence on my arms. I remember Daddy taking his sweatshirt off and putting it on me. The thing swamped me.” I pause and laugh, remembering how the arms of the hoodie had drug the ground and how Daddy had belly laughed at the sight before rolling them up. “Anyway, we searched for sharks’ teeth that morning. It was too cold to swim, too cold to play in the sand. But I’d had a fascination with the predators of the sea, a newfound one, and Daddy had been determined that we were going to find a great white’s full jaw, I think.” I’d been staring up at the sky, but I glance at Bronn to see his face rapt with attention, his expression intense. “We looked and looked until my eyes went cross. But, we didn’t have any luck.”

  I can’t tear my gaze away from Bronn’s, even though the way he’s studying me is unnerving.

  “We found all kinds of amazing shells, rocks that were smooth from being tumbled by the waves, crab shells that must have been eaten by gulls. But nothing that came from Jaws’s mouth.” I shrug and smile. Bronn smiles back. His face finally relaxes, but his eyes are still full of emotion.

  “I remember Daddy was so disappointed. But I wasn’t. I’d spent the morning with my favorite person in the world. I may have been freezing the whole time, my face chapped from wind and sand whipping in it, my hair a tangled mess that took Mama an hour to brush, but it was the best day.”

  The half-smile that I’d been sporting while lost in the memory fades. “That was my last happy memory with him. He died not long after that.” I swallow hard, determined not to cry.

  The memory is bittersweet, but it’s still sweet. That’s the thing about memories. The same exact memory can be happy or sad, depending on how you choose to remember it. And I choose to remember the sheer joy I’d felt that day, not the crushing sadness that it was the last time I’d felt that happy.

  I clear the emotion from my throat. “Anyway, I don’t know why I shared that. Just maybe to tell you that I understand holding onto something because it has sentimental value.” I nod at his truck. “Bessie may not be worth any money, but she’s worth her weight in gold if she makes you happy.”

  My lips quiver as I offer a smile. Bronn may think that we come from different worlds, and maybe we do. Nana would have killed me dead if I had ever come home from a date in a truck like his. But there’s sadness and loss everywhere, no matter how much money you have. And that common thread binds us together, whether Bronn realizes it or not.

  From nowhere, my desire to kiss this broken man overwhelms me. My stomach somersaulting, I take a step forward and cross the small distance between us.

  Raising up to my toes, I run one hand along the side of Bronn’s thick neck and wrap it around the back of his head, feeling his hair between my fingers. It’s thick and soft and everything I imagined it would be. And I’d done plenty of daydreaming about his hair in the last two days. Plenty of daydreaming about his everything.

  With no time to talk myself out of it, I press my lips to his. His mouth is firm, his stubble tickling my face. For a split second, Bronn does nothing and I fear that I’ve made an embarrassing mistake. Just as I move to pull away, his strong arms wrap around my waist, anchoring me in place.

  His lips part, his tongue licking against my own, and I waste no time opening for him. He tastes of chocolate, the richness of our dessert still lingering on his mouth. I moan softly and press my body against his, wanting to get impossibly closer. Every inch of my skin tingles at the contact, the buzzing spreading throughout my body.

  Bronn deepens the kiss, his tongue gliding gloriously against my own, and I’m
thankful that his arms are holding me in place when he spins us, pinning me against his truck.

  With one arm still holding my hips flush with his, his free hand sifts through my hair before he grabs a fistful and holds my head firmly in place.

  I’m lost in the sensations of his kiss, the way his tongue plunges in my mouth, taking exactly what it wants, not allowing me a moment to catch my breath as it continues its delicious assault on my mouth.

  Our hips pressed together, I can feel his arousal growing against me and it causes an ache in the pit of my belly. I’m desperate to feel more of him, to rip his clothes from his body and run my hands over every inch of what is sure to be a work of art.

  But, all too soon, he pulls away, breaking our seal and leaving me breathless and panting. He rests his forehead against mine, his ragged breathing matching my own.

  My eyes closed, I’m still trying to catch my breath when his warm breath tickles my face.

  His voice gravelly and low, he asks, “You sure you have to go home?”

  I want to tell him no, that I don’t have to go anywhere except to bed with him. But it’s too soon for that, so I press my lips together and nod.

  Bronn steps away, giving me the space that I don’t want, and pulls my car door open for me. I slowly trudge to the car, not ready to say goodnight, and slide inside. He shuts the door once I’m fully inside and bends at the waist, leaning into the window that I’ve just rolled down.

  “Good luck tomorrow.”

  His simple well wishes warm me. “Thanks. The first day in a new place is always nerve-wracking.”

  He nods, his soft eyes roaming my face. “I’m sure everyone will love you.”

  For a man that’s rough around the edges, he can be surprisingly tender.

  I nod, my heart melting, and he leans into the car, his large torso barely fitting, and kisses me softly on the lips.

  “Call me when your shift’s over?” he asks, his face still directly in front of mine, the smell of him filling my car.

  “It’ll be seven a.m.”

  “I’ll answer,” he assures me.

  “’Kay.”

  I watch as he stands and saunters to his truck. The door creaks loudly, sounding like a dying cat, and he climbs inside, slamming it behind him. When he notices me still sitting here, he motions for me to go, so I put the car in reverse and back out, my eyes still glued to him.

  As I drive home, I replay our kiss, committing every sensation to memory, and try to convince myself that I’m not already in too deep.

  Pulling Bessie in behind where Grace’s BMW is parked on the curb outside of her house, I laugh at the contrast between the two vehicles as I cut the engine. After pushing the door open, I hop out and, bending at the waist, tie the tennis shoes I’d just shoved onto my feet.

  The sun’s just beginning to peek over the horizon as I make my way up the sidewalk to Grace’s house. She’s opening the front door just as I begin to climb her stairs, and the surprise on her face causes me to chuckle.

  “Bronn! What are you doing here?” she chirps, a broad smile reaching all the way to her eyes. She closes the door behind her, careful to not slam it, and then bounces down the stairs, her ponytail swinging high on her head. In the early morning light, I can see red highlights in her hair. I wonder if it’s natural or if she pays obscene amounts to make it look that way.

  Dressed in a loose tank top and tight shorts, she looks incredible. Her face is scrubbed clean of makeup, a sight that I’ve never seen before, and the smattering of freckles on her nose gives her a more youthful appearance.

  She stands awkwardly in front of me, shifting her weight from foot to foot, waiting on my response, but I can’t stop looking at her long enough to answer.

  I want to kiss her, to take her face in my hands and pull her body against mine, kissing her long and hard until she’s begging me to forget the run and take her to her room. I’m dying to show her with my mouth how into her I am, how I can’t stop thinking about her, no matter how busy I am or how many beers I’ve had.

  And I’ve tried.

  Fuck, but I’ve tried to get her out of my head, to rid myself of the feeling of her body pressed against mine, the way she tasted, how soft her lips were. I’d tried my damndest to get the constant loop of that kiss out of my head.

  But I can’t.

  It’s been three days of Grace non-stop in my head.

  But it isn’t just the chemistry we have that I can’t stop thinking about.

  The look on her face when she’d told me the story of her dad and the sharks’ teeth had caused my gut to twist.

  I’d felt things since meeting Grace Monroe that I hadn’t felt in a long time, or ever, if I were being honest. Never once had I wanted to fix someone else’s problems, I had enough of my own. Not one time that I could recall had I ever wished I could take someone else’s pain away. No one had been there to take my pain away.

  But, in that moment, I’d wanted to be able to go back in time, help her and her dad find those fucking fossils, so that the entire memory could be a good one.

  I couldn’t change the past though, a shitty fact I knew all too well. But that didn’t mean I couldn’t help her create new memories. Good ones. Memories that are all her own. Our own.

  My hands out to the sides, I tell her, “Thought I’d join you for your run this morning.”

  Her face brightens even more, her smile growing impossibly wider. “You run?”

  I nod, lying through my teeth. “Love it. Really helps to clear my mind.”

  I’d never run a day in my life. I much preferred to lift weights, spending my time in the gym as opposed to in the oppressive heat of the south.

  She nods, her enthusiasm contagious as she agrees with me. “I’ve always said the same thing! There’s just something freeing about being alone with your thoughts. I don’t even like to listen to music most of the time. What about you?” She eyes me and I shake my head.

  “Nope. Wouldn’t want to spoil the serenity with over-rated pop music.”

  She bends, touching her toes to stretch, her eyes closed. I follow her lead but keep my eyes open. Her face is relaxed, and watching her puts me at ease as well.

  Grace continues to bend and twist and rock back and forth, getting limber for her run, and I pretend to do the same. I’m not sure why we need to take this long to warm up, but I don’t complain. After all, I’m enjoying the view of the gorgeous woman in front of me.

  After what seems like it should have been the entire workout and not just the warm up, she straightens and claps her hands together. “You warm?” I nod in agreement. “Okay then, let’s get going. I like to run down to The Sands; does that work for you?”

  Perfect.

  “You’re in the driver’s seat, I’m just along for the ride…or the run as it is.”

  She laughs and then takes off, her pace not too fast, but not as slow as I would have liked. We run in silence, Grace a few paces ahead of me. I begin to find myself agreeing with her.

  There is something freeing about running with nothing but your thoughts.

  Well, that and a view of a sexy woman’s perfect ass to spur me on.

  The turn off to the beachy part of the neighborhood looms ahead, and Grace begins to slow. The stitch that’s formed in my side says a silent prayer of thanks that we’ve stopped the grueling pace, and as I come up to her side I do my best to slow my breathing. Grace’s face is shiny with perspiration, but she isn’t breathing nearly as hard as I am. I fight to regulate my breathing even more, not wanting to embarrass myself in front of her. Or worse, let her in on my little white lie.

  When we reach the water’s edge, she stops and begins to stretch, all the while her shrewd eyes watching as I force myself to stand upright.

  She arches an eyebrow. “You sure you love running?”

  Fuck.

  “Uh, yeah,” I tell her, still panting like a dog. “It’s the best.”

  When she crosses her arms over her chest, I
hold my hands up in surrender. “Okay, it’s been a while since I went for a run.”

  “Oh, yeah?” she quips. “How long exactly? Twenty years?” Her gaze drops to my tennis shoes. I shuffle my feet, but not fast enough. Her head snaps up, her eyes wide. “Those are new shoes! Oh my God, Bronnson!”

  Busted.

  “What? These old things? I’ve had these for ages,” I protest, finally able to breathe again. She’s eyeing me, a smirk on her face. I kick the sand, unearthing something black and shiny.

  I squat, my thighs protesting the sudden movement, and pick up the object that’s caught my eye. “Hey, what’s this?” I ask dumbly, standing back up and trying not to wince as my legs scream in pain.

  Grace is right, my feet are screwed. Along with my quads and calves. But spending the morning with her has been worth it.

  Still smirking, she struts over and I hold my hand out, palm up, revealing the large black shark’s tooth that I’d just picked up.

  Grace lets out a squeal and grabs my hand, bringing it closer to her face for inspection. “Ohmygod! Did you just find that?”

  Her head tilts back and her eyes, full of amazement, meet mine. My breath catches with the brilliance of her smile, and my chest swells at the knowledge that I’m the cause for her elation. Her reaction is everything I hoped it would be.

  I force myself to play it cool, then nod and shrug. “Yeah, it was right here by my foot.”

  “Wow.” She breathes. “A real life shark’s tooth.”

  She turns the tooth over in my palm, studying the serrated edges carefully, as if she’s going to have a quiz on it later and needs to memorize every detail.

  I hand it to her, and while she’s examining the artifact I shuffle over and bend at the waist, scooping another tooth up. “Look, another one!”

  Her jaw drops and she races over to where I stand. “Holy crap!”

  As soon as she sees the tooth in my hand, her head drops and she begins scrutinizing the ground, searching to find her very own tooth. After just a few seconds, she drops to her knees and brushes the sand aside.