Spiked Lemonade: A Bad Boy Sailor and a Good Girl Romantic Comedy Standalone (30 page)

“Yeah. I made her call her parents to tell them where she was, and then I was giving her some space.” Bambi offers me a weak smile and heads back inside the shop.

“Wait, mind if I…?”

“Talk to her?” Bambi asks.

“Yeah,” I say. I’m not sure what I’ll say, but I can’t let that poor kid think what she’s thinking. It’s been years since I’ve seen her but maybe since I was there with her, I can help.

“Sure,” Bambi says.

“Can you wait inside for a few so I can go talk to her niece?” I ask Sasha.

“Of course,” she says, changing her attitude drastically to the kind and understanding Sasha I know.

I head inside and to the back room where Bambi said Ella-Beth was waiting. When I open the door, I freeze in shock at the sight of the girl I see.
Oh shit.
She’s the girl who was working at the Sawdust Motor Inn, the one offering her fucking body up to me. And I was right, she’s no more than fourteen or fifteen.
Fuck, man
.

“Ella-Beth,” I say quietly.

“You didn’t recognize me a couple of weeks ago, huh?” she says angrily.

Bambi must not have had any clue that her poor niece was working just across the street from where she lives. I wonder if Ella knew how close she was… “How are you old enough to work at that motel?”

“It doesn’t matter. I knew Aunt Greta lived in this town, and I was waiting and hoping she’d walk in at some point.”

“To a motel?”

“Yeah,” she says matter-of-factly.

I don’t understand that.

“I wasn’t sure if I wanted to see her. I tried to forget about her, but part of me didn’t want to.” She points out the door, and I’m guessing she means Bambi. “But only because my parents tried to make me forget.”

“Forgetting doesn’t help anyone. Although, letting the memories hang from your shoulders like a backpack doesn’t help either. There’s a halfway point and trust me when I tell you, I haven’t found that place either.”

“So, let’s hear it,” she says, flipping her light hair around so it covers one of her eyes. “‘Don’t kill yourself, Ella.’ ‘There’s so much to live for, Ella.’ ‘You have such a promising future, Ella.’ ‘Don’t you know the past is just the past, Ella? And it’s what you choose to do with your future that is most important, Ella.’” Her statements are in a mock-voice, one of either her mother’s or a shrink, I can assume. They’re by the psych-book words, that’s all I know.

“Ella,” I begin, kneeling down in front of her as she spins around in the desk chair like a child—a child who was offering prostitution. “I’m only going to say a few things to you, and I want you to listen to me and remember everything.” I stop her chair from spinning, forcing her to look at me. “I lived in Iraq and Afghanistan for more time than I wish I had. I had to clean up the bodies of my best friends, as well as their limbs and worse. There were many times I had to tell their families they died and let me tell you, my life really sucked for a long time. That day at the grocery store was just as bad, except that wasn’t my family in there. It was yours.”

“So?” she says coldly.

“My nightmares follow me around, and I try to run away from them every day. I cover them up with bad vices just like you. But you know what I’ve learned, more so recently than any other time?”

“That you can’t save everyone?” she asks, narrowing her eyes at me.

“Exactly. Life has its plans for everyone, and there’s nothing either one of us can do to stop it. Letting the demons and the nightmares eat you alive is the same as giving in to them. It’s giving in to that asshole who blew up the store that day. You’re giving him what he wanted. Suffering, pain, and death. The death and pain part can’t be fixed, but the suffering can. Don’t let him win, Ella. We can’t let those bastards win. They took everything from us already, but they can’t take us too. We’re stronger than they are, right?”

I feel like I’m lecturing myself as I’m lecturing her. Everything I’m saying makes sense, and I don’t know why I haven’t been able to convince myself of all this.

“Okay,” she says under her breath.

“I’m not going to tell you what to do, but if I were to…I’d tell you to not cheap yourself out because your brother is watching over you and wants you to be happy. I’d tell you not to consider leaving this world sooner than you have to. You have something to prove, and you can’t do that when you’re buried six feet under the ground. The best thing you can do is win. Win at life. Win at making those jackasses who tried to ruin our lives the losers. If you end your life, you’re letting that man who tried to destroy your life, win.”

Ella is staring at me intently, hopefully digesting everything I said. I can’t tell if she’s about to start crying or trying to comprehend it but she flings her arms around my neck and doesn’t let go for more than a couple of minutes. Not a tear shed and not even a quiet sob releases but when she lets up on her grip, she backs away, and the corners of her lip curl a bit. “Thank you,” she says quietly. “Can I see my aunt now?”

I press my hands into my knees and stand up. “You ever need to talk again, you know where to find me. And if I ever walk into that motel again, don’t you dare…”

“Okay!” she yelps like a teenage girl. She is a teenage girl.

“Remember what I said,” I tell her, pointing at her as I leave the office.

“How’d that go?” Bambi asks me from outside the door.

“Not sure, but she wants you.” Bambi places her hand on my shoulder and silently thanks me again. “I think she’s going to be okay.”

Bambi walks past me, closing herself into the office, and I take a minute to collect my thoughts before going back to find Sasha.
Shit
. I need to follow my own damn advice and stop letting this crap win.

With a sharp inhale, I walk out to the front counter, finding Sasha straightening up some piles of paper.

“What is your problem?” I ask her. I’m playing hardball right now because I don’t like games. She’s staring at me with a lost look in her eyes, and it gives me a minute to check out what she’s wearing. Her dark clothing is unlike her, and the red lipstick is hot but not her. “And why are you dressed like that?”

She rubs her hands up and down her arms. “I was sick of being me.”

“What does that even mean?”

“I don’t know,” she says softly.

“Look, I don’t know what’s going through your head, but this isn’t the Sasha I’ve known for the past few weeks. You look more like Cali right now, and it’s weird.” I think she looks embarrassed, and I get that she’s going through a ton of shit right now but that’s not an excuse to be fake or act like something she’s not. “Do you remember what I told you last night?”

She looks at me, dumbfounded. I don’t exactly expect her to remember much from last night since she was cocked, so I repeat it, “I told you I liked drunk Sasha but I also really liked the Sasha I met at first too.” I step forward and place my hands on her shoulders. “I know this whole thing with Landon blows, and it’s scary, and you’ve had a really rough few weeks. All of that doesn’t make for good timing when you find the man of your dreams, but you have to relax a little,” I say, going out on a limb a bit here.

“I’m sorry I got mad at you for whatever your relationship is with Greta…Bambi, whatever her name is. It just seems like the women around me lately are all badasses with dirty mouths, and I can’t keep up. At the same time, though, I’m a little tired of watching my mouth too.”

“Stop watching your mouth. Stop thinking. Just be you. Be whatever you’re feeling inside…even if that means belting along with music like we all witnessed last night, or if you want to sit on a bathroom counter and call me over. Even if it’s just that you want to confuse my cock for a roll of toilet paper or something as silly as pouring a little Jack in your lemonade…because I think together we could make one sick, spiked lemonade.” I grin at the thought, and she smiles in return. “Look, I don’t care how crazy or all over the place you are, just be you. Be the girl I’ve fallen for.”

She looks up at me, putting down the stack of papers she’s fidgeting with. “You’ve fallen for me?” she asks quietly.

“I wouldn’t have done what I did this morning if I hadn’t,” I tell her. “I told you, you were never meant to be a one-night stand without a real name.”

“I don’t know if that’s sweet or creepy, but I think I like it,” she says. Her cheeks brighten to a deep red, and I cup my hands around her face as I lean down to kiss her. Her arms wrap around my neck, and I realize how much I love holding this girl in my arms, even if she makes me crazy sometimes. “Can we do this?”

“This?” she asks.

“Yeah, can we be together, start something, see where it goes, see if it doesn’t have to end?”

“Monogamy?” she asks, looking like she needs to think about her own question. “That’s a lot to ask of me.”

“I’m sorry, I must be confused. Are you trying to make a joke?”

She slaps my arm. “You have to make it so hard?”

“It doesn’t work if it’s soft, doll-face.” To say I get a kick out of her changing facial colors by the minute is an understatement. I know she’ll eventually get used to my dirty mouth but for now, I’m going to take pleasure from knowing the effect I have on her.

I take her hand and bring her into the shop. “Maybe we should try to help Greta,” she says on the way in. “I feel awful.”

“Yeah, she’s not the type that likes help. I did as much as I could in there. Her niece is in rough shape. She watched her brother die and saw what happened with Greta. It’s a bad situation.”

As we’re talking about it, Bambi and Ella come walking out of the back office. “We’re going to go grab some breakfast.”

“Have a good time,” I say, waving quickly at both of them.

“Do either of you need anything?” Sasha offers Bambi. I squeeze her hand as she does that because it means a hell of a lot to me.

“Thanks, Lemonade, but I got this,” she says. “Jags, can you watch the place for a while?”

“Sure,” I tell her. “Good luck.”

Bambi doesn’t say much else, just grabs a rag to wipe off her hands with and heads out the back door.

“Lemonade?” Sasha questions.

“Ah, yeah…I told her you were as sweet as lemonade.” And I was as hard and rough as Jack.

“Rightttt,” she drawls. “Oh, crud…I’m supposed to go to work. I was thinking you could drive me, but you can’t now. You know what, don’t even worry about it, I can call Cali back,” Sasha says. “She’s probably parked on the side of the road with Tango somewhere anyway, doing, well…I’m sure you can imagine.”

“I can imagine,” I laugh. “Well I can lend you a loaner car but, without sounding like an overprotective dick like Tango, do you think running an office downtown yourself is a great idea with Landon still on the hunt for you?” I ask her.

Sasha hoists herself up on the counter and crosses her legs. “Honestly, I don’t even want to work there. I had to go beg
Daddy
for a job the other day, and it destroyed some of my dignity.”

“Work here, then,” I suggest with eagerness. “I’m sure Bambi will give you a job.”

Sasha laughs and looks around. “Yeah, and what exactly would I do?”

“Well, a pretty face can always sell a car, or there’s plenty of cars that need to be hand polished out there. I’m thinking about opening up my own place soon so if you can get some experience down, I suppose I could bring you with me when I get my shit together.” Sasha’s still laughing a little but I can see the thoughts running through her head. “I mean, it would require you to get a little dirty sometimes.”

“I feel like I’ve already gotten a little dirty,” she says, tugging at my shirt.

“You haven’t seen dirty, doll-face.”

“Oh, really?”

I step between her legs and lift her up, feeling every inch of her through the tight-as-hell pants hugging her ass. I take her around the back of the counter and lay her down on a pile of dirty rags. At first, I see her eyes clench, and she swallows hard. “You still okay with getting dirty?”

She nods her head and floats her hands above her head, allowing me full access. I’m not gentle with taking her clothes off as I hear material tear, but I don’t care very much right now. I loosen my pants and allow them to fall to my knees. Her panties are torn off, and I thank God that I grabbed another condom and put it in my back pocket this morning, just in case. I restock whenever I use one.
Always thinking
. “We gotta go fast. The shop opened five minutes ago.” Her eyes flash open, and she looks terrified. “Someone could walk in and find us back here.”

As much as I thought she might stop everything at that thought, she surprises the hell out of me and wrenches her hand around the back of my neck, pulling me down on top of her. Without time for much foreplay, I press inside of her and move as quickly as I can, enjoying the screams she obviously can’t control as they alarm through the shop. For such a quiet, passive chick, she can rock the joint with the volume of her voice.

I love the way her fingernails dig into my back as I press into her and the way her head falls backward and her jaw drops. The way her ass lifts from the ground and for the fact that I managed to tear her pants off with her fuck-me-heels still in place, this is a fucking dream come true. I run my hands up and down the center of her body, leaving black oil marks along the way. Dirt. Dirt she’s clearly learning to love. As her body convulses against mine, her hands sweep down my chest, and she moans with relief. “You’re filthy,” I grunt as I release too.

“I like it,” she sighs.

As we relax into the pile of dirty rags, I find it’s the perfect moment to ask her something important. “Can I take you out?” Those words aren’t the norm for me, not with a beautiful woman. I’m more used to asking if I can buy a lady another drink, or three…however many it’s going to take for them to agree to leave the bar with me. It’s amazing how one girl can make me change my whole outlook on women.

“Like on a date?” she giggles and reaches up to trace her finger around one of the tats on my chest. “I think that might be nice now that we’ve skipped all the other parts of getting to know someone.”

“Eh, that’s not the way I see it. You know, like dogs, they sniff each other’s butts before they make the decision to go all in. How do you know if you’re a compatible match if your butt doesn’t smell just right?”