Emma Chase (11 page)

I shrug and get back to my customers.

After that, I make it my mission to avoid any physical contact with Braden.  Over the past few weeks, I have noticed that it has been increasingly harder to push my feelings for this man down.  The more time I spend with him, the more those old feelings kept flooding back.  Even though I have avoided him over the past week that hasn't stopped them.

“Yo, homebitch!” Olivia calls at me.

“Sup, homebitch!” 

“Juice and I are gonna stick around until you get off.  Help clean up the joint and then its rally in the alley!” She claps
before she is gone.

I look over to Murphy. “What’s rally in the alley?”

He smiles his wide, gorgeous douchebag smile.

Braden’s hand come
s around my waist.  “Every Thursday night, after the bars and restaurants on the strip close down, we all meet up in the back and have a rally in the alley.  Everyone brings a case of beer and we just hang out.”

I move from his grip.  “I should really get home.  It’s been a long week.”

“You don’t have to work until later tomorrow.  You can stay for a few beers and good company.  Besides, it’s always good to get to know the others in the biz.  We all have to look out for each other.”

I arch an eyebrow. “Partying with the competition?”

A low chuckle rolls off his chest.  “None of us are competition.  We are a sports bar. There’s El Chili Rojo, which is Mexican, and Side Street, which is the best damn pizza that will ever touch your lips.  Everyone’s cool and we always direct business to each other.”

“Well, they won’t like us much when I’m done overhauling our menu,“ I smirk.

“Well, baby, if we reel in enough business to put them all out of commission, we’ll give them all jobs.”

Hmmm—I could live with that.  I guess I do have to meet these people if they are going to be potential employees.

Murphy fires up the mic and rings the boxing bell over the liquor lined up against the back wall. “Last call.  Pay your tabs and tip your servers and bartenders well.”

I look to a man who is leaning against the bar to hand me his tab and money.  “I don’t wanna go home yet.”

“You ain’t gotta go home, but you got to get the hell outta here,” Murphy
returns over my shoulder.

I shrug at the man and ring up his tab.

*****

“Rally in the alley!!” Olivia yells as we file suit down the stairs and out behind the bar.

I look around the small alley parking lot to see about twenty, maybe even thirty people standing around and cheering between conversations.  The headlights of cars light up the area and a huge truck has its windows down, country music blaring from its speakers.

There is a pyramid of beer cans and I watch them crash down when one of the waiters I recognize from El Chili Rojo knocks them down with another beer can.  He throws his hands in the air triumphantly, slapping high-fives to his spectators.  I look back at Braden with a quirk of a brow.

“Beer bowling,” he explains, answering my silent question and shrugging his shoulder.

Of course.

There are three girls setting up a folding table and cups.  I recognize them as the servers over at Side Street Pizza.

Beer pong.

Another group of guys I recognized from El Chili Rojo are wheeling a keg over to the foot of the stairs.  Juice gets to work tapping it.

It is like the drunken Olympics out here.

We walk over to where Olivia, Tristan, and Murphy are congregated.

“So this is rally in the alley?  A bunch of delinquents hanging around after hours, throwing a party behind a building” I look at the group and go on. “Tristan, no surprise seeing you out here.”

“Hell yeah, girl!  It’s the only time that all of us can hang out together when we’re off,” Olivia answers with more excitement than was probably necessary.

“Beer pong!” someone holler
s.  Within seconds, the teams are formed and they are on their way to Rally in the Alley Beer Pong Championships.

The same guy who was playing drunken beer bowling approaches me.  He introduces himself as Hugo.  I learn that he is the bartender/nightshift manager at El Chili Rojo.

Hugo is a big dude.  He has the body of a mini sumo wrestler, the head of a pit bull minus a neck, and the sweetest eyes you have ever seen. 

Over cheap, cold beer, we sit down on the ground and he tells me about his wife and two small daughters, who are at home but understand the importance of rally in the alley nights.  It is his only chance to hang out since he works six nights a week to make sure there is food on the table and the bills are paid so that his beautiful Juanita can stay home with the children and not have to work.

I adore this man. 

Olivia get
s in on the beer bowling, and Braden, Tristan, and Juice are all battling it out for the gold over at the beer pong table. I find myself looking for Murphy, who is pinning a hot little waitress from Side Street up against a car with his tongue in her mouth.

Shocker!

“Keg stands!” Tony, one of my bar backs/security guard hollers.  Tony is a big guy.  Over six feet tall, dark skin, short buzz cut, and built like a linebacker.   I saw it necessary to hire a bar back when business started picking up, and when I met Tony, considering the fights that had broken out on my first day, I figured we could use a security guard too.  Lucky for us, Tony was very gung-ho to take on both jobs.

He pulls me to my feet.  “You first, boss lady.”

I haven’t done a keg stand in years.  I brush my hands down the front of my pants and notice that everyone is now waiting for me. I extend my hand around, pulling all of my hair over one shoulder, and brace the keg with both hands.

Tony stands on one side and Tristan approaches and stands on the other side of me.

“One, two, three,” Tony roars and I am up.

Both of my legs are hoisted back and above me by these two big guys, and Tony pops the tap in my mouth.

The girls started cheering, and the guys chanting, “Chug, chug, chug, chug!”

I chug.

I chug about half a beer’s worth before
it begins to make its march into my nasal cavity.  Beer in the nose is not good. I move my head away from the tap, and my audience roars and claps.

Braden approaches me and hooks an arm around my neck, putting me into a mini headlock, bringing me in close to his chest.

“I think you have successfully been initiated into our club.  Rally in the alley style.” He winks and releases me, but only long enough for him to grab his beer before he is right back with his arm around me. 

He walks us over to the steps, where we sit, drink our beer, and talk while watching the festivities take place around us.

“You done avoiding me, beautiful?”

Damn!

I look at Braden as he takes a sip of his beer.  I think about how he and I used to do this wrapped in each other’s arms for hours.  Drinking beer, or in my case wine, and enjoying each other’s company.  I look down to my feet because I don’t want to get caught staring.  I start to get the pang in my stomach.  That pang I get whenever there is loss or disappointment. I realize in that moment just how much I miss times like this with him.

My brain is foggy from the few beers I’ve had and the keg stand.  My inhibitions are also low.

Braden looks at me out of the corner of his eye, lowers his cup, and leans his shoulder towards me.

“Em?  You all right?”

Am I all right?  No, I’m not all right.  I haven’t been all right in a long time.  I’m tired of pretending that I don’t want to be with him.  I’m tired of pushing him away when I don’t want to.  I don’t have that kind of strength in me anymore.  The harder I push, the harder he keeps coming back.  He has warned me that he isn’t going to let me push him away again.  He wasn’t lying.

Braden has given me time and space to get through my issues with the rape.  He knew I needed it even though he didn’t want to give it to me.  He has shown so much kindness and understanding, and at the same time, his support and loyalty never wavered even when I would shove as hard as I could.  Not too many men would stick around for a girl like me, especially after what I’ve been through. 

It’s time to stop holding Braden at arm's length.

I clear my throat, put my cup on the ground, and take his, placing it next to mine.

“Em? What are you doing?” he chokes out.

I move quickly, crouching down in front of him on the step below, my hands on his knees.

His eyes widen and his brows pull together.

I look down to avoid his gaze, take a deep breath, and decide its go time.  I lift myself up until I am eye level with him.  My eyes drop to his mouth.

“Baby,” Braden whispers.  My eyes shift back to his.  “Don’t look at my mouth like that unless you’re planning on using it.”

That sparks a fire in me.  It is so intense that I couldn’t stop myself if I wanted to.  I lean in closer, kissing the tip of his nose.  He closes his eyes, his lips parting.

I lick them. Then I kiss them before I lightly bite his bottom lip.  He sucks in a sharp breath.  His arms wrap around me, bringing me closer as I lick and suck and kiss his wonderful mouth.

“Braden,” I whisper against his mouth.

His head lifts and whispers back, “Damn, baby.”

His hand glides up my back, finding its way to my neck.  His fingers sift into my hair to my scalp, cupping my head, holding me still against his mouth.

I put my fingers to his chest.  My fingers curl into his shirt.  At that point he dominates the kiss as he always does.  It gets deeper and rougher and wetter.  His tongue feels so good, tastes so good.  God, I’ve missed this. I always love being kissed by Braden.

He is an amazing kisser.  My hands slide up his chest to wrap my arms around his neck.  I lift up to my feet and straddle his lap.  My body presses against his front and my stomach plummets. 
There is a heat in my belly and a tingle between my legs. 

This goes on for a few minutes before the whistles and cheers
begin behind me.  We both smile against our connected lips.

Looking
over my shoulder, I ask our audience, “Who wants a crack at him next?” 

Braden chuckles, pulling my attention back to him. He lightly kisses my lips.  “What was that all about?”

I shrug my shoulders.  “Wanted to do that for a while now.”

He shakes his head and flashes his little confident smirk.  I want to lick him again, but I hold back.  I am already entering rough waters.  I need to be smart and take this slow.

“I’m taking you out tomorrow night.”

“What?” I ask, trying to clear my head.

“I’m taking you out on a date tomorrow night.  You, me, dinner.  I’ll make the reservations.  All you have to do is wear something pretty and walk on my arm.”

“Braden, I don’t know.  Let me think about this first.”

“No more thinking.  Thinking always gets you into trouble.  I’m taking you out for a nice dinner and maybe a walk along the river.  No is not an option.”

Shit!
  When he gets this bossy, he means business. What was I thinking?  Do I ever think when Braden’s involved?

“Bossy!” I murmur. 

He smiles. “I get what I want Em.  You out of everyone should know this about me by now.”

“And what is it exactly that you want?” I lean back and cross my arms over my chest.

“I want dinner.” 

Chapter Eleven

It
is six o’clock on the dot when there is a knock at the door.  He was always punctual. 

I am checking myself in the mirror, giving the final assessment of my outfit, hair and makeup for this dinner. 

And right about now is when the butterflies attack my stomach.  They always make their appearance whenever I see Braden.  After all this time, he still affects me this way.  Stupid butterflies.

I
run out of the bathroom only to turn around and do one last check.

I am dressed in a simple electric blue sweater dress with black leggings and my black knee-high boots.  I kept my hair down and allowed it to flow past my shoulders.  I perfected the smoky-eye look and applied gloss for the extra shine.  Braden always loves this look on me.

I panic when I realize that I want him to love the way I look tonight, but what if he doesn’t?  What if he is expecting something a little more dressy or sexy?  I mean, this is our first date in a long time and I have absolutely no idea where he is taking me.

I slowly
make my way to the door, smoothing the front of my dress down. I open the door and—damn. 

He always look
s good no matter what he wears, but right now?  My heart is trying to pound its way through my chest.

Braden is in dark jeans, a black long-sleeved shirt, awesome black boots, and no hat.  His dark hair has been freshly trimmed—always close to his head—and he had a good two days’ worth of stubble on his jaw. 

He smiles at me and gets in my space.  I take a couple of steps back. 
He
takes a couple of steps forward.  I take another few steps back. 
He
takes another few steps forward.  Clearly, he wants to stay in my space.

I
tilt my head back, looking into Braden’s eyes. 

“Hi,” I greet and wave. 
My God, I just freaking waved to him.  Great.

“Hi
, baby,” he whispers as his hands come up to palm my face. He gives me a sweet kiss on the lips.

I just gone weak in the knees.

“Hi,” I whisper.  Apparently, I have lost my ability to speak words and breathe and now my knees are in a full-on tremble.  I will be lucky if I don’t face-plant on our way out to the car.

Braden tilt
s his head, hands still on my face.  He gazes at me and searches my face as if he were now looking at me for the first time.  His eyes make it to my mouth.  So hot!

They come back to mine and it looks like they are dancing.  This is the first time in months that I’ve seen this look.  This is the look of a happy man.  I know it well. He used to award me with this look whenever we were together. 

He just keeps staring at me.

“You ready?”

“Yeah,” is all I can muster.  God, speak
—
please. 

It’s a
s if every function my body is capable of handling had gone AWOL as soon as he came around.

I seriously have to get it together.

“Let me just get my purse.”  I spin on my heels, walk over to table, and tag my purse before slinging it over my shoulder, throwing my shoulders back, and turning, only to run right into Braden’s hard chest. 

He
is a giant wall of a man compared to me.

He wrap
s his arms around my waist, brings one hand up to my jaw, and sifts it into my hair, placing another sweet kiss to my lips.

I’m doomed.

“Let’s go. I’m fucking starved,” he whispers.

He takes my hand in his and walks us to the door.  He closes it behind us and asks for my keys.  I fumble through my purse and hand them over. He locks the door, puts my keys in his pocket, and takes my hand, kissing it. We walk out to his car, which is parked at the curb. 

He still has the black ’98 Mustang Cobra.  I love that car.  It is the muscle cars of all muscle cars in my opinion, but I don't know shit about cars.  It has leather bucket seats, and when you fire this baby up, she is loud. The vibrations she sends through your body are off-the-charts awesome.  This car makes your body sing.

I always knew when Braden was close to my apartment because I could hear his car coming from a mile away. 

He kisse
s my hand again and releases it to open the door and put his hand on the small of my back to guide me into the passenger’s seat. 

I lower myself
into the seat, planting myself inside the car.  I reach over my shoulder for the seatbelt and wince.  My shoulder still gives me trouble when I make any sudden movements.

Braden ben
ds down, pulls the seatbelt across my lap, and fastens it. “There you go, baby,” he smiles and shuts the door.

I watch him as he rounds the car to the driver’s side.  He even exudes confidence when he walks.   Hell, it's more of a stalk or a prowl.

He climbs in, and puts the key in the ignition bringing the car to life before easing it onto the road. We ride in silence while I try to think of what to say.  I decide to speak only to shut my mouth again when Braden breaks the silence.

“What’s going on in that beautiful little head of your
s, Em?”

I sh
ake my head rapidly from side to side. “Nothing… I don’t know,” I reply, defeated.  I look down at my hands resting in my lap.

I want tonight to be perfect.  Earlier today, I decided that I was going to talk to Braden.  Finally open up to him about how I’ve been doing lately.  How I’ve regretted ending our relationship.  Do I have a right to even hope for reconciliation?  I mean, I know that he refuses
to budge when I try to send him off.  He's told me repeatedly that he's in this for the long haul and yet I still carry this fear around that he doesn't want me or I'm not good enough for him.  I have never been
this
girl.  It's driving me crazy.

I know that I still love him. 
There is no question about it.  The problem is that I don’t deserve him.  Not after what I did to him and certainly not after what Jose did to me. 

Could I be so bold as to think that someone as damaged as myself would ever be truly loved again?  Who in their right mind would want to take this on? 

How could I expect Braden or any man to accept this kind of burden?  To accept me as I now am? 

My heart is kicking into overdrive. 

“Emma,” Braden says, snapping into my thoughts.  “Get out of that head of yours, baby.  It doesn’t look like it’s a very good place for you to be hanging out right now.”

My body jolts, eyes moving to zero in on his profile. 
A thin sheen of sweat builds up on my forehead.

He
takes his eyes off of the road looking at me, then back to the road, then back to me again.  “Where were you just now?” he asks before focusing on the road.

I
go to speak, but before I get a chance to respond, he looks at me out of the corner of his eye and says, “If it’s about us getting back together—“

“What?
!” I shriek almost loud enough to crack his windshield. 

Braden winces, bringing a hand to cup his ear.
I lift my hands from my lap and cross my arms over my chest. He is teasing me.

“Jesus, baby
.  We’re not going back to that game, are we?”

“What game is that?” I practically snarl back to him.

He stretches over the console, pats my knee, and arches his brow at me.  “Who kissed who last night?”

Shit.  He has a good point.  Okay, maybe I am being a bit of a drama queen.  After all, it is true. I am the one who kissed him first.  It's just the fact that I can’t stand it when he goes from sweet to cocky in a matter of seconds.  Why does he have to do that and ruin a perfectly good evening?

He rumbles out a laugh, and I look out the window. 

The nerve of this guy.  Who the hell does he think he is? 

The rest of the ride to dinner passes in silence. 

Fucking infuriating.