But Starla had love life problems of her own and she loved to dump them on him, for some reason. Or anyone else who would lend an ear. She’d wanted to come here because she was hoping to find a distraction, but if he had anything to do with it, it damn sure wouldn’t be him. She was pretty enough, with white-blond hair shot through with pink and purple and lips that could give Angelina Jolie a run for her money. Three years ago, there wouldn’t have been a problem. Not now. Not when she worked for him. And not when there was Candace smoldering in his thoughts.
“I’m probably cramping your style,” he informed Starla, amidst howls of excitement when the Astros hit a homer on the flat screens mounted around the bar. It was getting close to midnight, and the game was on so late because of extra innings and the two-hour time difference between here and San Francisco, where they were playing.
For probably the first time, he was thankful for the smoking ban, so he didn’t have to sit and watch in misery as people lit up all around him. Otherwise tonight might have been the night he fell off the wagon. Starla craned her neck to look around the establishment. “Oh well, it’s a dog fest in here anyway.”
He laughed and gestured toward her AMF. “A few more of those will help the situation, I’m sure.”
“I figured that asshole would be here, but I don’t see him. I see one of his scummy friends, though. I should go throw a drink in his face.”
“Just don’t get me arrested.”
“Thanks for bringing me. You’re an awesome boss. You can take off, if you want. I just hate walking into one of these things by myself.”
“I hear you. But you’ll need a ride back to your car.”
She waved her hand dismissively, still twisting around on her barstool to assess the situation. She wasn’t paying much attention to him, anyway. “Nah, I got it. I’ll either hook up with someone or find the asshole if he shows up or get a cab. No biggie.”
“Are you sure?”
Cherrie Lynn
“Yep.”
“Cool. But while I’m here, I think I need a few more of these.” He signaled the bartender and ordered a beer.
With a sigh, Starla turned around and faced him, toying with her drink glass with black-tipped fingers.
“So what’s got you down, Bri? I noticed you were in full-on funk mode all night.”
“Was I?” he grumbled, hating that he was such an easy read. “More than usual?”
“Yeah, way more. Who is she?”
He grinned before taking a swig of the beer the bartender set in front of him. “Has to be about a girl, huh?”
“Unless you swing the other way.”
And the drink he’d taken nearly ended up sprayed all over her. He cringed and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Uh, no. That wasn’t what I meant.”
“Just making sure what I was dealing with, here. So, who is she?”
“Someone I’m sure you don’t know.”
“Has she ever come in Dermamania?”
He shifted uncomfortably. “She’s been there. You were off that night. But she’s not a regular or anything.”
“You don’t want to talk about her. Dude, I wish I could be like that. I dump my drama all over anyone who’ll listen whether I think they care or not.” She laughed. “But I like to listen to others. And I do give great advice. I’m renowned for it.”
“She’s a sheltered virgin princess.”
“You are so on your own right now.”
“I figured.” He leaned forward on his arms and heaved a great sigh. She stared at him for several seconds, seeming to read something in his face, then leaned toward him conspiratorially. “Okay. Let’s break this down. Which bothers you most, the sheltered virgin part or the princess part?”
“They both pretty much suck equally.”
“Well, the virgin part can be easily taken care of. Then you won’t have that hanging over your head anymore, because the deed’ll be done. Unless she’s not willing to give it up, in which case I’d have to say you really are on your own with that one.”
He shrugged.
“But I sense she’s more than willing?”
“She probably was.”
“Then give the poor girl credit for knowing her own mind and take it, Brian. What is it about the fact that a girl hasn’t been handing her cooter out all over town that skeeves you guys out so much? I realize 88
Rock Me
you feel pressured to make it good for her and all, but most likely? It’s gonna suck for her, it’s gonna hurt, but she doesn’t have anything to compare it to anyway, so you’re in the clear.” She rolled her eyes, taking a long drink before going on. “My first fucking time was in the backseat of his mom’s Ford Taurus in the parking lot at a high school football game. A cop busted us. At the time, I was glad he did. I aimed high, didn’t I?”
He nursed his beer again, thinking back to his own. “If you can remember the guy’s name—or if you even knew it at all—then you’re one up on me.” He’d been fifteen and drunk. It hadn’t been with anyone he loved, or even had lukewarm feelings for. Just a random girl at the party who’d been willing to give it up to a horny teenager. He’d aimed pretty damn high himself.
Starla was going on. “See, I wish I’d held on to it for a while like your girl. Some people have no regrets, but I do. So, props to her, Brian. I’ve never met her, but I think you’re really lucky, if she has her shit together like that.”
“Well, you don’t know the whole story. She doesn’t have it completely together yet. But she is pretty incredible.”
“She has you turned out, obviously, if you’re this worked up about it. Even if you guys don’t work out, you’ll at least leave her with fond memories. It’s more than a lot of us get.”
“Problem is, I doubt it’ll ever happen. That’s where the princess part comes in. When I say her parents make Hitler look like Mother Theresa, I’m only being somewhat hyperbolic.”
“Oh. Ohhh. That’s not good. She still lives with them?”
“No. She’s got her own place, but she’s still under their thumb. She’s finishing up her junior year of college.”
“So hang in there. Before long, she can graduate and get a good job and be able to pay her own way and tell her parents to fuck off.”
“Yeah. If she would.” He wondered at that moment if Candace had never had sex before because deep in her mind, she worried that her parents would somehow find out. Maybe they’d struck such fear in her they were an omnipresent force in her life, like the Eye of Sauron or something. And that pissed him the hell off. He would call it outright abuse. It had probably done some psychological damage. He’d have lost his fucking mind, if he were her.
He was probably catastrophizing. She had been more than willing last night. It had probably taken so much courage for her to allow it to happen, in opposition of everything she knew…and he’d shot her down. Images of her in her baseball caps and T-shirts, looking like anybody’s sweet kid sister, swam through his thoughts. She’d never had a man to tell her how beautiful and sexy and desirable she was, and when she’d finally found one, he’d said all the words but hadn’t followed through. Not only that, but he deserved the Asshole of the Year award for the way he’d treated her when he left. He hadn’t known how dire the situation was.
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That melting sensation was back in his chest. Either it was worse or the alcohol exacerbated it, because he felt as if his whole damn heart was about to spill out on the floor. He had to get out of here.
“Starla, I need to jet,” he said, fishing his wallet out of his back pocket. He threw down enough cash to cover their drinks and a hefty tip.
“Going to see her?”
“Thinking about it.”
She gave him a sly wink. “Well, I hope you two have a wonderful evening.”
He returned her grin and stood from the barstool, only to sit his ass right back down when he saw who was in the booth nearest the door. “Holy shit. She’s here.”
Starla gasped, sitting straight up. At least she didn’t whirl around to look. “Oh, no, I hope she doesn’t get the wrong idea. Did she see you?”
“She wasn’t looking at me. Looks like she’s with someone.”
“Well, go invite her over or something! So she knows this isn’t anything shady.”
“Nah, it’s cool.” He really wasn’t worried about her getting the wrong idea about him. Who in the fuck was that guy sitting next to her?
“This isn’t funny at all,” Michael fretted at Candace’s side. “You’re going to get my ass kicked, Candace.”
“Oh, please. It won’t come to that, I promise.”
Sam giggled from her seat across from them. “Hey, we’re three buddies out for a drink. Besides, he can’t say anything since he’s here with some other chick.” She threw a surreptitious glance over her shoulder. “Although I have to say that looks pretty platonic from where I’m sitting. You could fit a bulldozer between them. Still, it won’t hurt for him to get a teensy bit rattled.”