Untamed Hearts(17)

We don’t want you.

“Bad news?” Garrett’s voice makes me jump. I turn to find him in the doorway, watching me with a concerned look on his face.

I swallow back the sting of disappointment. “It’s nothing,” I tell him.

“You sure?” Garrett’s eyes are soft, “Because—”

“I said, I’m fine!” I snap. “At least, I would be if you could stop being such a broken man-whore and keep a damn waitress in this place!”

I storm past him, but not so fast that I don’t see the flicker of hurt on his face. It’s too late to take it back, so I just add the guilt to the whole mess of emotions I’m carrying, heavy and sharp like a steel knife blade in my gut.

My phone buzzes in my back pocket, and I pull it out, glad for the distraction.





hey sexy. c u later?





It’s from Trey, a guy I’ve been hooking up with these past couple of weeks. We met in a bar a couple of towns over. One drink led to another until we closed out the night in the backseat of his beat-up old Chevy. It’s turned into a regular late night thing, my one good distraction to take my mind off another long night of nothing here at the bar.

And tonight, I sure as hell need distracting.

sure, I text back, and a moment later, his reply flashes up.





already hard 4 u.





Real romantic.

I tuck my phone away with a small grin. Trey and his dirty talk have done the trick; now my latest rejection letter is just another in the stack, one more thing to forget about and move on from.

I take a deep breath, and remind myself: I’m the one in control. All those fancy fashion lines may not want me, but I can get Trey panting with nothing but a wink and a flash of red lace from under my tank top. Out there in the world, I may be nothing, but put me in a room full of guys with one thing on their minds, and they’ll want me.

They’re always going to want me for that.

I sweep aside my disappointment and head back out to the bar, adding a swing to my hips and some strut to my stride in my chunky lace-up boots. Garrett gives me another look of concern so I just flash him a fake smile and keep moving, loading up my tray with waters and going to bus some empty tables in back.

You’ve got this, Brit. You’ll be just fine.

I see a new group enter the bar: an older couple, and their daughter, a pretty blonde about my age. I grab a stack of menus, about to go over to welcome them, when the door swings open again.

Trey.

Despite myself, I smile. I guess he couldn’t wait until I finished my shift. He’s dressed up, I notice: a button-down shirt, good jeans, cleanly shaven. The last few times we met, it was a late-night thing: sweaty and disheveled after a long day at work. We both know I’m a sure thing either way, but it’s nice he made the effort for me. Guys never do.

“Hey you,” I call out, but he doesn’t hear me. He doesn’t even look in my direction. Instead, he walks straight over to the far table, and the family who just walked in. He slides in next to the blonde girl and drapes an arm around her shoulder.

I freeze.

The girl smiles up at Trey, and he leans to drop a kiss on her lips. She reaches up to touch his cheek, and that’s when I see it: the ring on her engagement finger, bright and sparkling, and full of betrayal.

My blood runs cold.

Trey still hasn’t seen me. He’s smiling, easy, joking with the girl’s parents. They’re all having a ball of a time, as if ten hours ago he wasn’t grunting in my ear, cursing under his breath as he groped at every inch of flesh on my body.

Funny, he forgot to mention his fiancée.

Rage comes, hot in my veins. I shouldn’t be surprised anymore, how this goes. How it always goes. But after that letter from the design company, this is like a ton of salt dumped on the wound. All my rejection comes boiling up again, sharp and bitter with regret.

I guess I’m only good enough to fuck.

I stalk over there before I have a chance to reconsider. “Hi y’all, welcome to Jimmy’s.” I say flatly. I look to Trey for some kind of reaction: shock maybe, or fear. But instead, he has the nerve to smile at me and wink, like we’re in this together.

“We’ve got some specials here tonight,” I continue, my voice sharp and metallic.

“Sure,” Trey grins, lounging back in the booth. “Let’s hear ‘em.”

I narrow my eyes. Without the tequila blurring my vision – and good judgment – I can see he’s just a beefed up jock with a bad goatee. Jesus, why did I even waste my time on him?

Because there was nothing better to do. The voice in my head answers for me. Because he helped you forget, just for a little while, what a dead-end your life has become.