Prologue
“Compliments of the gentleman at the bar.”
Teresa “Reese” Graham glanced over her shoulder and instantly spotted a large man wearing a blue plaid shirt and a wide grin. She swallowed hard and jerked her head back to face forward. Whatever that guy wanted from her, she wasn’t interested. “No thanks,” she said to the young bartender holding some fruity cocktail, and held out a twenty-dollar bill. “I’m ready to close out my tab.”
“Of course,” the red-haired girl said with a chipper voice. “Be right back.”
Reese ran a hand through her disheveled hair, wishing she’d brought a scrunchie with her. Ten hours of cleaning toilets and washing floors didn’t exactly leave a woman feeling fresh and sparkly.
“Ouch,” a male voice said. The first thing she noticed were his boots. Brown worn leather with small tears around the seams. His dark jeans had faded spots at the knees but hugged his thighs like they’d been made for him. The lack of a beer belly was appealing, only in the sense that almost every asshole who’d put his hands on her at Desert Cove Psychiatric Hospital had one and used it to his advantage whenever she tried to fight them off. Fuckers. Her skin still crawled every time she let her mind wander back to that place. It had already been six months since the FBI raided it. Convincing them she wasn’t crazy hadn’tbeen easy, so when they finally let her go, she’d run as fast and as far as she could. Unfortunately, her bank account had been drained, and with only the clothes on her back, going as far as she could meant getting stranded less than two hundred miles away from where her step brother tried to have her committed. She probably needed to talk to someone about it, but fuck that shit. Going to the police wouldn’t help. Hewasthe police. And talking to a shrink? Who had time for that?
Everything she’d worked for since turning eighteen had been stolen right out from under her. The only thing she needed to feel better was to get it all back. She just had no clue how. Getting a shitty apartment on the wrong side of town and a job that paid less than she used to make at the local coffee shop back in high school was a start. But Reese would need a hell of a lot more than that if she planned on getting back what was rightfully hers.
Her gaze lifted to the man’s face, but she was careful not to look him in the eye. Maybe the awkwardness would be enough to send him packing. “You want something?” His face split into a grin that she could almost call sexy. “Not interested,” she added, in case sending the drink back that he now held wasn’t a clear enough message.
“It’s only one drink and you look like you could use it.” There was a hint of empathy, or something like it in his tone.
“I’ve already had one. That’s my limit.”
“All right. I’ll drink it. You can watch. May I?” He gestured to the chair next to hers.
The place was all but empty. Tuesday nights were always dead at the Crooked Pony. “There’s like half a dozen free tables for you to choose from,” she retorted. “I’m sure their chairs are just as good.”
“But they don’t have you sitting at them,” he said.
She almost smiled.Almost. This guy’s pick-up lines were old and stupid, but there was something about the attention and his persistence that felt oddly good. Unlike the jerks at the hospital, he wasn’t shoving anything down her throat or putting his hands on her like she was some freak or common criminal. He was just asking to have a drink with her.
“I’m leaving in five minutes,” she warned, not wanting him to get too excited or comfortable. “Alone.”
“Roger that.” He took a seat, placing the drink in front of him. “I take it you had a long day?”
Reese glared at him. “Why would you say that?”
A corner of his mouth lifted just slightly. “Well, this place isn’t known for its booze and you don’t look like a lost tourist.”
That time she did smile. How long had it been since she’d genuinely smiled. “Long day at a job I hate in a place I don’t really want to be.”
He nodded. “I know the feeling. I get stuck cleaning up other people’s messes all the time. But I guess sometimes we just have to go where the money is to pay the bills.”
Reese sighed. Was this guy some male version of her? “Who are you?” She asked, suddenly feeling a little on edge and exposed by this complete stranger.
“Tony Odrich,” he said, extending his hand to her.
“Reese,” she said, not ready to give him a last name. But she shook his hand, and he definitely earned points when he didn’t squeeze it like most men did to assert dominance.
“Like Madonna?” He quipped.
Reese was sure it was meant as a joke, but something about his tone irked her the wrong way. “Like I don’t know who the fuck you are, and I don’t go around telling people my last name,” she bit out.
He raised both hands in front of him in surrender. “My apologies. I’ve had a long day, too. I wasn’t thinking.”
The sincerity in his tone had her sitting back in her chair. She’d been a total bitch for no good reason. Sure, she carried a lot of anger and resentment for her stepbrother, and the whole world really, but this guy was just an innocent bystander who didn’t deserve to have his head bit off for being a little too friendly.
He didn’t exactly scream axe murderer in his blue flannel long sleeve shirt and Detroit Tigers baseball hat. He looked like the kind of guy she’d want to curl up next to while watching a movie and eating too much pizza. The thought alone actually startled her. When had she started thinking about men like that again?
“It’s okay,” she said in lieu of an apology. “Here,” she reached for the drink in front of him that he hadn’t touched yet. “I shouldn’t have snapped at you like that. Let’s taste this concoction you ordered for me. What’s it called?” She plucked the maraschino cherry out of the glass and popped it in her mouth.
Tony smiled. “Sex on the beach.”
