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The large, cavernous building was nearly at its limit with the threat of a line forming outside once they were forced to close the doors against additional customers. Once customers arrived at the Broken Bar, they seemed to stay until last call. Which made it hard for any additional customers arriving unless the owner, Ethan Cooper, used the one-hour limit he was often forced to set.
The band, positioned along the wall at the center of the room on the opposite side of the building, was belting out another of those sensual slow tunes they were inclined to play. Broken hearts, broken loves, and beer-drinkin’ nights. He was damned sick of hearing about it. Every wailing note did nothing but remind him of Sheila and the fact that he’d been waiting on her all day and half the night. He reminded himself of a lovesick teenager.
The door swung open again, but the couple that entered weren’t Sheila. She should have been here by now. It was her job to pick up the information the team had acquired over the past week. Instead, he was still here waiting on her. It felt like he had been waiting on her all his life.
He glanced at his watch before his gaze lifted to the door once more. Yep, that was him: lovesick teenager.
Sheila knew he didn’t work tonight. Son of a bitch, she always showed up on Tuesday nights. Tuesday nights were theirs. Slow loving and her sensual cries as they drove each other crazy with every kiss, caress, and stroke they could bestow on each other.
Casey tapped his fingers against the wood again, his teeth clenching as a surge of hunger and anger struck at his gut. She wasn’t going to show up. He could feel it. She was avoiding the bar and she was avoiding him and he was damned if he was going to let her get away with it.
His jaw bunched in irritation.
If Sheila was going to cut him off like this, the least she could have done was give him a reason why she was breaking off what they had. He didn’t even know what the hell was going on, what he had done, or why she had ended the relationship the other morning as she left.
Hell, he had no idea what had happened, and it wasn’t as though he could talk to her about it. He couldn’t even catch up with her long enough. And now, she was late arriving to pick up the files it was her job to transport to her father.
He had asked her what he had done, something he had never asked another woman and wouldn’t have bothered to even care about with anyone else.
Her reply had been “nothing.”
There had been an odd tone to her voice, though. One he hadn’t wanted to delve into at the time. Something about the sound of her answer had immediately had his stomach clenching. Not in dread, but in an impending … something that still didn’t make sense. What did make sense? He was dying for her.
And he had no idea how to fix any of it.
“Hey, Casey, you look down.” Sarah Fox Cooper, God love her heart, his boss’s wife. Trust her to get right to the point and thankfully to keep her voice down while doing so.
A charming, shy little thing, he’d once believed. Until she came out of her shell, stole Cooper’s heart, and became a regular at one of the most dangerous watering holes in the state. She was like a breath of fresh air in a trash dump. Pretty as a picture she was, and from the look on her face, determined to get an answer to her question. Determined and firm, she moved through the crowd as though it were a family reunion.
Cooper was never far behind her, either. And if not Cooper, then at least two of his most trusted bouncers were planted on her ass. Cooper never, at any time, took his wife’s safety for granted.
Tonight, as on most nights, it was Cooper following his wife. With an indulgent smile on his face, he kept a steady eye on the woman who had stolen his heart the summer before.
“I’m tired, Sarah,” he answered. “Your husband is a slave driver.”
He was tired of waiting and watching for a woman who hadn’t arrived. She had five more minutes, then he was going after her. Five minutes, that was it.
“Yeah, but such a damned sexy one,” Sarah replied, her smile infectious and filled with warmth as she cast her husband a flirty look over her shoulder.
“I guess it takes a feminine eye to see the sexy part,” Casey snorted as he glanced toward the entrance again and caught himself glaring at it.
“Hmm, that could be possible.” Sarah shrugged as she lifted herself onto the bar stool beside him, drawing his gaze from the door. “But that doesn’t tell me why you’re looking such a grump this early in the week. I thought you reserved the bad moods for the weekend?”
Not lately he hadn’t. Weekends had meant Sheila, too. It had meant wild, hot, explicit sex, earthy feminine moans, and sharp little nails clawing at his back.
Fuck, he was hard. His dick pulsed and throbbed in his jeans.
That fast. His erection was all but pushing past the zipper of his jeans and drawing his balls tight against the base of the shaft. It felt as though it had been years rather than days since he had fucked her.
Damn.
He glanced at his watch again. Two minutes and he was going after her.
He couldn’t handle this. He wanted her to the point his back teeth ached with it.
For three nights in a row, he’d existed in a state of miserable arousal and confused anger. There was nothing worse than caring that he’d fucked up and being unable to figure out how.
“I’m fine, Sarah,” he promised as he realized she was watching him expectantly.
