A Stone in the Sea(8)

I shrugged. “It was nothing.”

She studied me for a second, like she was trying to figure me out, before she softened. “Thank you.”

It was honest and sincere and took me completely by surprise. Wasn’t used to people thanking me for anything. I was used to them expecting something.

A lump grew in my throat, and that strange feeling was back in full force, a weight I couldn’t decipher.

She looked away like she was trying to gather herself. A fake smile was plastered on her face when she returned her attention to me. She’d used it on me last night. A defense, like she wanted to hide. I had the overwhelming urge to reach out and smear it from her mouth with my thumb, smudge out all the counterfeit so she’d again watch me with the blatant curiosity I was watching her with now.

Because when she looked at me like that, I felt real.

“So what can I get for you tonight?”

You.

“Same as last night.”

Her feigned smile faltered, replaced with a twitch of something genuine and amused. “Charlie’s going to want to come shake your hand. Said he finally had a guy in here with good taste.” That genuine smile spread, this time with a flash of white, straight teeth. “Really, I think it’s just because he likes guys like you who can run up the bar tab.”

She winked, and I squirmed.

God, this girl was something else.

“Charlie?”

“The owner…my uncle.” She jerked her head toward the bar to the ratty, bearded guy slinging a drink while he talked to a couple of women tossing them back at the bar. “He’s owned this place forever. Feels like I’ve worked for him for just as long.”

“Huh,” I said by way of acknowledgment, but really I was taking note of the guy who was Anthony’s friend, wondering how much he knew.

Awkwardly, she stepped back and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear like she’d sensed my sudden unease. “Let me run and grab that for you. I’ll be right back.”

“Thanks.”

It took her all of two minutes before she returned, sliding the drink my direction. I reached out to meet the action, brushing her hand as the glass came to a stop on the table in front of me.

Dark.

Light.

More.

Confused eyes darted to mine, and her body went rigid.

What the hell are you doing?

I heard her question without her asking it.

Truth was, I didn’t fucking know why I was doing what I was doing. All I knew was I couldn’t stop. All I knew was the curiosity that had brought me back here had turned to straight up want.

I swallowed hard, tipped the glass her direction. “Thank you.”

I could feel her hand shaking as she slowly pulled away. “You’re welcome.”

She left me there to sip at my drink, the liquid burning as it slid down my throat and pooled like fire in my stomach.

Loved that feeling.

The way it soothed and hurt at the same time.

But tonight I wasn’t entirely sure if it was the alcohol or this girl causing the effect, the way my limbs felt a little fumbly and my mouth felt dry. I watched her as she made her way around her tables, laughing lightly. Friendly. Real.

Fucking gorgeous.

Innocent.

Unaware.

Finally she made her way back to me. But she moved differently in my space, all that ease she floated around the room on ripped from beneath her feet, replaced with caution and concern, like she knew exactly what was on my mind and she wasn’t sure if she trusted herself to be around me.

Wasn’t sure I trusted myself either.

But here I was.

Curious.

Curious.

Curious.

“How are you doing over here?” she asked.

Eyeing her over the top of the glass, I took another sip. My tongue darted out to gather the moisture, the girl watching like she wanted to dip down and get a taste of the tequila coating my tongue.

Every ounce of blood in my body rushed and surged, my cock all too aware of the look on her face.

“Just fine.”

She dropped a dishcloth to the table and began wiping it down.

Stalling.

Stalling.

Stalling.

“Long day?” she asked, peeking up at me with warm caramel eyes.

“Too long.”

Another long fucking day. Worse than yesterday. Reality was finally setting in.

Caving in, really.

The entire day had been spent fretting about Austin, attempting to engage him in conversation like a normal family would, knowing we weren’t anything close to normal. Hating what he’d overheard between Anthony and me. Worried he’d slip. All the while I’d worried about the guys who had to adjust to one more piece being knocked out of this busted-up band.

A world tour was huge and having it canceled was a blow none of us knew how to handle. All day, Ash had acted like a pussy bitch, moping and knocking shit around like a disgruntled teenager, while Lyrik stayed locked up in his room, strains of his guitar filtering through the enormous house. Only Zachary remained upbeat, because that was just his style, always trying to lift everyone up when he really should have been the one who was at their lowest.