Watching her lips twitch into a reluctant smile before she turns and walks away, always makes my heart beat just a little faster.
And I never know how she’s going to look when I get here each night. She changes her style more than most people change underwear, and she looks amazing every time. Whether she looks classic or edgy, or anywhere in between, it’s always a surprise.
The best damn surprise I’ve had in years.
Now the place is quiet. The staff is wrapping things up for the night as I fiddle with my guitar, adjusting the tuning.
If I’m honest, the guitar was already perfectly tuned. I just want to watch Addie move about the room.
And that’s fucking pathetic. She doesn’t want to have anything to do with me. She’s made it clear, which pisses me off and amuses me at the same time.
I’ve never been good at taking no for an answer.
And I can’t help but wonder if that’s what this attraction is all about: the challenge.
“Can we discuss my schedule?” Ashley asks. “I have a family dinner for my dad’s birthday next weekend. I’d like to switch with someone, if that’s okay.”
“Sure,” Addie replies, then frowns in thought. “Shit, I left my iPad in the car. I’ll be right back.”
“I’ll meet you in the bar,” Ashley says.
Good idea.
I don’t drink much, not anymore, but I could use one now.
“Great set tonight, Jake,” Kat says from behind the bar. Her lips are deep red, almost matching her hair. She’s in a ripped AC/DC tank top tonight and tight jeans, showing off her ink.
“Thanks,” I reply with a smile.
“What can I get you? Your usual?”
“I have a usual?” I ask with a raised brow, keeping an eye on the back door that leads to the alley. Where is she? It seems to be taking her too long to grab her iPad, but then again, I’m probably being ridiculous.
“Coke.” Kat chuckles. “I’m a bartender, Jake. That’s my job.”
“You’re more than that,” I reply seriously. “You run this place very well.”
“I know.” Her smile is confident, inspiring more respect from me. These women are all fucking amazing. “I have a thing for booze.”
“You sound like a wino,” Mia says as she comes out of the kitchen and takes a stool next to me. “She’s not really.”
“Being good at alcohol doesn’t make anyone an alcoholic,” I reply, starting to worry about Addie. “It’s an art form.”
“I like you,” Kat says and blows me a kiss.
“Where’s Addie?” Mia asks. “Did you send her screaming into the night?”
“That’s not how women usually react to me, no.” Kat slides a drink over to me and I sip it.
“She ran out to her car to grab her iPad,” Ashley says as she scrolls through her phone.
“It’s been a while. I’m going to go check on her.”
“I really like him,” Kat says as I walk through the kitchen and out the back door. I stop and listen, not sure where Addie parked.
“You are a worthless piece of shit,” someone yells, and I immediately run in that direction. I turn a corner and see red.
A man, not much taller than Addie, has her back pinned against her car, and his hand is wrapped around her thin neck. Her eyes are wide with fear as she pushes on his chest, but she can’t budge him.
He pulls his other hand back, fist clenched, when I reach them and yank him off her.
“What the fuck?” he yells, then doesn’t say anything when my fist connects with his jaw.
“Jake!” Addie’s voice is rough, and I barely feel her hand on my arm as I stand over the piece of shit that had his hands on her. “Jake, stop.”
“Stay behind me.”
“Who is this asshole?” the fucker yells from the ground, wiping blood from the corner of his mouth. “Are you fucking him too?”
“Shut the fuck up.” My voice is steel. “I suggest you leave, right now, before I call the cops.”
“What for? We were just talking.” He staggers to his feet and looks up at me. He’s clearly drunk. Probably high.
“You were assaulting her.”
“This is none of your business.”
“Just leave, Jeremy,” Addie says from behind me. Her voice is firm, but she’s still holding on to my arm, and her hand is shaking, pissing me off more.
Something tells me that it takes a lot to scare this woman.
“You heard her.”
Jeremy glares at me, then spits and turns away, stumbling out of the alley. When he’s gone, I spin and pull her into my arms, holding her tight against me. She’s trembling, but she’s not crying.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.”
“Who was that asshole?”
“An ex,” she mutters. “No one important.”
Important enough to come looking for her. But I keep that thought to myself. “Do you want me to call the cops?”
“No. He didn’t hit me.”
“I’m going to hold you for a minute.”
“Good plan.” She’s clinging to me, her fingertips gripping my back, her face pressed to my chest. She fits. There’s no other way to describe it. I wrap my arms around her firmly and lean my face down and bury my nose in her hair, breathing her in. She smells like peaches. She’s beautiful tonight in a black blouse that falls off one shoulder and a tight, red skirt.