Harmonized (11 page)

“Outstanding.” Niall returned her grin.

“Thanks, I thought so.” She shrugged. “My parents, they're totally into nonviolence, weren't too pleased that I'd tried to emasculate the mayor's son.”

“I thought he was a tourist.”

“Yeah, he was.” She stopped Niall from setting the chairs on the next table by whipping out her bar towel and waving it. Wiping the laminate clean, she said, “Turns out, he was from the mayor's first marriage to a stripper from Columbus. Mayor Hobbs didn't even know he had a kid until the sheriff called to tell him I'd racked the guy in self-defense.” She tucked the towel back into her apron and shrugged.

“But your parents were angry?”

“Only until I pulled the twenty out of my bra.” Her fairylike face took on a mischievous glint. “Then Daddy had a little chat with him.”

“No one hurts Daddy's little girl?”

“Something like that.” She flipped another chair, then started wiping down the bar.

They worked in silence for a few minutes. He'd stopped asking himself why he followed her around the bar and simply enjoyed being with her.

“I'm sorry about your friends.” Her words were soft, gentle. And startling.

“Pardon?” That sliver of discomfort arrowed up his spine. And the mind-numbing void he'd lived in since their deaths last month in Kandahar threatened to return.

“You asked me why I wasn't afraid to be alone with you, it's because you were thinking about them when you first sat down.” She tossed the towel into a receptacle, then returned to her spot behind the bar. While she spoke, she set out two shot glasses and grabbed a bottle of Patron Silver. Pouring the tequila she said, “I knew one of them. Danny Molloy. He was two years ahead of me in high school. I didn't know him well, but when news of his death hit town, we all felt it.”

Niall wanted to wrap himself in the nothingness that he'd worn like a shield since the explosion at the barracks. Drift back into the void of emotionless existence. Instead, he dropped onto a seat across from the quirky attractive bartender. “I'm sorry about Danny-boy.”

She slid the shot toward him and lifted her own glass, her eyes somber. “I'm sorry for you too. I barely knew him. But you were friends. And you lost another friend, too. Iggy, right?”

“How did you know that?” Niall's fingers tightened so fast on the little glass, tequila sloshed over the top and onto the counter.

“I told you, already. Your keys.” Without missing a beat, she ripped off a paper towel from a roll standing next to the cash register and blotted up the mess. “I didn't mean to pry. When I picked up the keys the first time, the memory kind of smacked into my brain.”

“You some sort of gypsy bartender?” he asked trying to add levity back into their discussion. And hoping the pretty bartender wasn't a nut job. Or worse, that she wasn't really psychic. He already knew one. According to his old friend, being crifted absolutely sucked most of the time. But if Hannah did have some sort of cursed gift, he hoped it wasn't mind reading. Inside his head was the dead last place he'd wish anyone.

“No, I'm really an artist, but I fill in as a bartender during college breaks to help out my parents. They own Heaven's Gate.”

“Seriously?”

“Yep, it's my parents' place.” She smiled at him then shook her head. “No, full truth, I'm not really an artist. No money in it. I'm studying to be a journeyman electrician. So I guess you could call me a psychic electrician.”

Niall wasn't sure how to respond. Was she joking about the psychic thing? She seemed pretty legitimate when holding his keys. And no one here could have known about Iggy. He'd only arrived in Kandahar the day before the explosion.

Was it worth the stress of wondering if she was crazy or not? She didn't seem like the phonies he'd met over the years. But she also seemed far more comfortable with her gift than his friend back in Tidewater. Then there was the Iggy thing. Hannah had been spot-on about him.

Maybe Niall should just leave the bar and this confusing but fucking attractive woman. He stared into her guileless golden eyes and didn't move.

Hannah lifted her glass and clinked against his. “To the friends that had you sitting in my bar all night.”

***

Hannah swallowed the tequila and waited. For a heartbeat, it appeared the hot Marine wouldn't drink. Then he lifted the glass to his lips and swallowed. She'd have to cover the cost of the top rail alcohol but it would be totally worth it. For him.

She'd sensed more than seen that Niall needed comfort. He'd lost friends in a vicious attack. When she'd held his keys both times, she'd slid into a moment in his memory. Every detail she experienced had been through his senses. The attack had been horrific. The choking stench of sand and blood and death drove her to pouring them each a drink.

She also remembered hearing him talk to someone named Iggy as he lay dying and pinned on top of Niall in the rubble. Niall's gut-wrenching hopelessness at being unable to help his friend had been almost more than she could bear. It was why she'd given him back the keys so quickly. Why she'd immediately sought out the strongest drink in the bar to wash away the vision.

“It's my turn to ask,” Niall said, drawing her gaze. “Where'd you go?”

Into your past.
But she didn't want to say that. They'd been having a lovely chat before she'd stupidly brought up his friends. She'd only wanted to play a little. Dip into his head and get a reading on him that would make them both laugh. Learn some fun secret, like a
Firefly
or
Buffy
obsession, the kind of energies she tended to pick up in the bar from other patrons.

She hadn't anticipated slipping into the Marine's painful past twice. Certainly not when he'd been showing her what she'd hoped was lustful attention.

Hannah glanced into the Marine's vivid green eyes and saw attraction there. And something more. Something sensual. And strangely peaceful. The sight made her whole body tingle.

“I'm trying to decide if I want to get you drunk and take advantage of you,” she said, hoping to throw him off guard.

He rewarded her when his black brows winged up. She didn't miss the way his eyes darkened to the color of summer grass. He poured himself another shot. “Maybe I'm the one who's in danger in this bar.”

Interestingly, he didn't immediately pour her one. He lifted the bottle in the air in question and waited for her to nod. Such a gentleman. And so handsome. His blue-black hair was cut high and tight in typical Marine fashion. His jaw was sharp and strong.

Most of the night, he'd nursed his beer, his mouth drawn in a grim line. He hadn't been rude to the few patrons who had braved Heaven's Gate. Instead, he'd been quiet. Reserved. Seated at the end of the bar as if unaware of the world around him.

Most of Fincastle had gone to Molloy's for the wake. No surprise, since Danny's family owned it. Normally, Heaven's Gate and Molloy's competed for business but tonight, Hannah had been relieved to see her parents' bar mostly empty.

“So are you going to get me drunk and stay sober?” Niall asked, sliding her glass closer to her. “Doesn't exactly seem honest.”

Could she do something like this? She'd been half-joking when she suggested getting him drunk. She'd only ever had one lover. If she couldn't keep the dull and frankly boring Bryan happy, what did she have to offer the Marine? Then again, Bryan had been dull and boring in bed so perhaps it wasn't her fault. And this man, this wonderfully complex man in front of her, was anything but dull.

She needed a sign that her sudden and unexpected impulse to take the Marine home was the right one. Just one little teensy sign.

He lowered the bottle, the light in his eyes dimmed a bit. And she knew. For tonight, she could give him comfort and give them something they both needed. An escape.

“What if I just offer to take you upstairs to my apartment? I bet if we think about it, we can come up with something to do that would make us both feel good.”

The pulse in his neck sped up, otherwise, he didn't move. He eyed her speculatively. “You seem like a nice girl. And I'm not going to lie. Going to bed with you would be the best thing that's happened to me in months. But I feel like I'm taking advantage. I'm a little old for you.”

Surprised laughter burst from her. God, she liked this guy. If his words had been a sign they would have been neon green. She was definitely making the right choice. “You're what, twenty-nine?”

“Twenty-eight,” he replied almost defensively.

“Six years, Marine.” She waved to the space between them. “All that separates us is six years. And I told you. I'm a woman not a girl. But I am nice. Very nice. And I think you could use that tonight. Whadaya say?”

***

Niall stood at parade rest in her tidy bedroom waiting for Hannah to come out of the bathroom. The walls might have been white but there was color everywhere. Tie-dyed curtains. A hand-braided rug straight out of the 1970s covered the faded hardwood floor. Watercolor paintings of sunsets, beaches, and blue owls gave the space a rich personality. Hannah's decorating style was eclectic and eccentric. Niall really liked it. It felt more homey than any place he'd stayed since he'd joined the Marines ten years ago.

The bathroom door opened. The light casting Hannah in silhouette didn't disguise that now she wore only her tight black T-shirt and panties. Hands at her sides, her fingers playing with the hem of her shirt, she said, “So . . .”

Don't change your mind. Oh, please, don't.
With his head buzzing from the two shots of tequila—he hadn't had the heart to tell her he really didn't drink—he might just get down on his knees and beg if she changed her mind.

“So,” he replied. He wanted to go to her. He hadn't even kissed her before accepting her invitation. And tasting her ranked high on his list of things he'd most like to do.

“Hey, Marine?” She closed the short distance between them. In her bare feet, she had to tip her head way back to look at him. It made him feel too big. Her, too small. “You plan to get undressed anytime soon? Or do you just plan to drop trou and do it with your boots on. 'Cause hot as that sounds, I was kind of hoping for something that would last a little longer than fifteen seconds.”

Niall frowned and relaxed his arms, tucking his thumbs in the pockets of his cargo pants. But her words baffled him. “I don't think I've ever had sex end in only fifteen seconds.”

“You're so literal. No, I bet you haven't.” She laughed while twisting her pink braid between her fingers. “But, I bet if we get naked, you could go all night. Wanna find out?”

Her words were brazen but her cheeks glowed red. For all her bravado, she was obviously not in her comfort zone. Not that Niall was either, but damn, he wanted to be. He wanted her, but not if she was nervous to be with him.

Niall opened his mouth to suggest they slow down—
goddamned moral code
—when she grabbed her shirt by the hem. In one fluid motion, she whipped the shirt over her head, sending it and his resolve sailing to the floor.

Then she stood before him, wearing only panties. Her breasts were perky, lush, and tipped with dusky rose-colored nipples.

Niall's mouth watered for a taste. Reining in his control, he slid his gaze up her body. Her skin had a healthy glow. Freckles dotted her naked shoulders and he wanted to kiss each one. There was a tiny scar on her chin that didn't dim her beauty. If anything, it made her more attractive.

She licked her full lips. They shined in the lamplight.

Niall swallowed hard.

Hannah was a feast and he didn't know where to begin. He wanted to taste her from the backs of her knees to her ear lobes. Still, he didn't move.

She shivered and raised her hands to cover her breasts.

“Changed your mind?” Of course she'd fucking changed her mind. She'd been naked and waiting for him to make a move. Instead, he'd turned into Forrest Gump and just stared.

“I'm standing naked in my apartment in the middle of one of the coldest Decembers in history.” She shook her head slowly. “I'm chilly and hoping a really sexy Marine will come and sweep me off my feet.”

Then she lifted onto her toes, wrapped her cool hands around his neck and pulled his face to hers. He wasn't sure what to expect. Given her size, he wouldn't have been surprised had she given him the lightest of delicate kisses.

But there was nothing. Nothing. Not one damned thing delicate about what her lips and teeth and tongue did to his. And holy fucking God, he was rock hard for her. He'd had sex before with more women than he probably should have. Never had he felt the fervor in his blood that this woman stoked in him with a single kiss.

And he was just taking it.

Then as suddenly as she started, she stopped and stepped back. She was panting as hard as he. He imagined his eyes were as wild as hers. But there was something else. Some strange emotion flitted across her face then disappeared. “Hey, Marine?”

“Yes?”

“You gonna just stand at attention or are you going to get naked with me?” she asked, shoving up his shirt. Like before, her cheeks went apple red. This time her hands trembled, but she kept touching him.

He tugged off the shirt, confused at her words. “I'm not standing at attention.”

She cupped him right through his cargo pants. “Yeah, you definitely are.”

He hissed in pleasure. Without breaking contact, she sat down on her bed, leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his belly, just below his navel. Her tongue flicked out and drew a wet trail south. He shuddered.

He wanted to rip off his pants and bury himself inside her. Lose himself in the pleasure of her body. Pound into her until the need she created in him was slaked. But she was so fucking tiny, he could hurt her if he rode her the way he wanted.