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CHAPTERONE
Fuck,fuck, fuck.
I hit the steering wheel until my palm hurts. Pushing the gas pedal down, the distance between my Jeep and the Harley rapidly increases. I need to get out of here.
Checking the dash, I realize I'm going almost eighty—twenty over the speed limit allowed for this stretch of road leading out of town. Great. The last thing I need today is to get pulled over.
"Argh!" A growl bursts out of me, and my hands grip the wheel so hard the skin over my knuckles turns white. Goddamn it, why did I do that? I glance in the rearview mirror once more. He's still standing in the middle of 19th, straddling his bike and making no indication to move on. Despite his visor being blacked out, I can sense his stare on my car. On me. A wave of goose bumps runs down my spine, and I shiver.
Weston Sheats, this is not how we were supposed to meet.
The road turns, and I chance one last look. He's still there.
My little stuntturns into a twenty-five-minute detour. I could've done a U-ey and saved myself the headache of being late for work, but at the slim chance of running into Wes again, my stomach revolts like when Rae had dared me to eat the dead cockroach we found in the kitchen when I was eight. Of course, I had followed through. I never shied away from a dare—especially not from my big sister—but as soon as I had swallowed the disgusting thing, I barfed everything back up. Needless to say, there is not much that unsettles me or makes me nervous these days—not after everything I've gone through in my twenty-two years—but at the mere thought of seeing him again…him seeing me…my snack of a protein shake and leftover Chinese threatens to make a reappearance.
I slow the car and grab my phone from the passenger seat. Swiping up, my last message is still on the screen. I quickly type out a text to Mags before placing the device in the cup holder.
Running late. Cover 4 me plz!
My phone buzzes almost instantly, and I'm not surprised. I should've been at the bar by now. After all, it's only a few blocks from The Moose's Head.
My best friend, Mags, had asked me to pick up the booze for tomorrow's party, which was how I ended up at TMH before my shift. I was about to let her know that I had gotten everything she ordered for her little sister's twenty-first birthday whenhepulled into the lot. I almost choked on my saliva and had to pound my chest multiple times. What was he doing there? He had practice today. He should have been home.
Yes, I know his schedule. Am I a stalker? Nope. I simply like to be informed. And that includes where Weston Sheats is at any given time, so I can avoid him. Well, avoid in the sense of me watching him without him knowing I am there. Okay, fine. I do totally stalk him—except for tonight.
I had held my breath as Wes climbed off his bike. Thank God the Jeep was tinted as fuck. He suddenly stopped and tilted his helmet-clad head slightly to the side as if he was listening to something, his shoulders going rigid. He ripped the helmet off with so much force that I jumped in my seat. Wha—? I spotted his EarPods, and understanding set in. He must've gotten a call or message he didn't like.
I should have left. I even started the car but then turned it back off. I rarely got to watch him openly, but in the security of my Jeep, I was safe.
Wes walked out of the double doors less than ten minutes later, his backpack looking like it was going to burst out of its seams. How much alcohol did he need? He drank, but nothing like his roommate. Kai must've gone on a bender again. That was it. I snapped my finger at my deductive skills. God, this was messed up. My knowledge of Weston Sheats bordered on obsessive, and I knew it. He was my distraction. My daydream. A dream that would never come true, which is why I indulged in it whenever I could.
And that obsession was the reason I had followed him and pushed his buttons by speeding up to his bike, wanting to get a reaction out of him. He's developed a temper over the year I've been hiding in the shadows, and I wanted to see what he would do. Would he engage? Deep down, I craved for him to notice me.
What a stupid fucking thing to do.
Everything is going to change. I can feel it.
The restof the night turns into a complete shit show. I'm lucky Mags was working, or I would've had to look for a new job by morning. I serve half my customers the wrong drinks, and my friend eyes me suspiciously. I don't make mistakes like that. I know that. She knows that. Hell, most of our patrons know it. Customers come to this place because of my bartending skills. I'm the best at my job—no point in being modest. It was one of the side habits I picked up at my previous place of occupation. It wasn't my main gig, but hanging out at the bar during breaks has now paid off.
Mags stays back after she's technically done for the night, and I'm fully aware that she'll grill me later. I am good at pretending—great, actually—but my BFF is not only intuitive; she also studied psychology and human behavior. And I'm her favorite subject to analyze.
I mether during my second week in town. I didn't mean to stay more than a month, two tops. I knew the drill. Don't put down roots. Don't get attached. All that went to shit in a couple of days. I was walking the MPU campus, looking for easy prey. There was always a dude (or dudette—who am I to discriminate?) who wanted to spot a meal for a pretty girl. I learned early on in life how to use my genetically blessed appearance to my advantage.
Apparently, Mags had been watching me since the minute I showed up on campus. I had just set my sights on a preppy-looking guy in a red-and-black jersey when she intercepted me—stepped right in my path. When I attempted to walk around her, she blocked me. I let my gaze travel up and down her body, giving her my best don't-mess-with-me glare.Who the fuck was this bitch? How dare she stand between me and my meal of the day.I wasn't opposed to using physical force, since the burrito yesterday's victim bought me had long since left my system. I washangry. But instead of being intimidated, Mags cocked an eyebrow at me. "Let's go!"
Huh?
When I stared at her in disbelief, she grabbed my hand and dragged me in the opposite direction—away from my meal ticket. "What the fuck? Let go!" I dug in my heels. I couldn't remember the last time someone had gotten the best of me inthatway. I didn't let anyone touch me. Ever. And this chick was not just able to surprise me, but also manhandled me away from any bystander without a problem.
"Stop fighting me. You're hungry, and I have the solution," she barked. But despite it being a command, there was kindness in her tone. Understanding. So, I let her.
That was a year ago and how I ended up atThe Grizz Pub—literally.
She had brought me to a dingy-looking place off Main Street. The only reason I went inside was that I had no doubt I could take her. Granted, a whole gang bang of mountain men could've been waiting for me in there, but I always carried at least one of my two knives with me. And today, I had both. Being ambidextrous gave me a slight (insert sarcasm) advantage when I had to fend off unwantedcontact. I was going to be okay.
In the end, it was an empty bar. Surprisingly clean and…shocker: inviting. A mix between Montana rustic and mid-century-modern college bar. Not what I would have expected based on the exterior of the building. The place was all dark-tone wood everywhere, with MPU memorabilia displayed along the walls and on shelves. All the lamps held these fancy Edison light bulbs that cost ten bucks a pop. Who the fuck pays ten dollars for one light bulb when you could get eight regular ones for the same price? Glancing around, there were at least a hundred in this place. The owner must have made good money to afford this. We certainly didn't have this ambiance at—nope, that was in the past. I wasn't going there. I scanned more of the room. The actual bar was massive, with mirrored glass shelves all the way to the ceiling. Absolutely nothing I would have expected to find in a Montana college town. I liked it.
After depositing me on one of the stools lining the counter, Mags disappeared through a door that I assumed led to the kitchen. When she didn't come back out for several minutes, unease started to build in my belly. What was I doing? I didn't walk into an unknown space without thorough recon. I knew better. Biting the inside of my cheek, I contemplated my options. I was outta here. Plus, I needed food. Between the prickly sensation on the back of my neck and my growling stomach, it was time to leave. I was bordering on the verge of nausea from hunger, and if this was some sort of trap… I slid off the stool.
