Uncut (Unexpected Book 4) (13 page)

Before giving him my undivided attention, I find my wits, put up my anti-Matt walls, and lift my gaze. That sexy smirk plastered on those fucking gorgeous lips show one of my favorite parts of him: the dimple. Everything about this man is perfect. From the tousled light brown hair, the fitted shirt that covers his long, chiseled torso, to those tattoos on a pair of impossibly strong arms. I like to stare at them and try to decipher what each scribble, symbol, and line means. I can only decipher the meaning of the equal signal, which symbolizes marriage equality. Deep-blue eyes like the ocean, which make you want to dive into and swim in forever, top off the sin-on-a-stick package.

Keep your walls up, Thea.

“Hey, Matt. Don’t get your hopes up. Everything sucks tonight.” I tilt my head toward the stage. “You want your usual?”

“Yep. Add a shot of tequila.”

I pull out a Corona, open it, add a wedge of lime, and then pour a shot of Patron. “Where’s your brother been? I haven’t seen him for a while?”

“Europe. With the wife.” Whoa. JC Decker married? I arch an eyebrow, because that’s like telling me that the Pope performed a satanic ritual inside the Sistine Chapel. Matt and Jacob Decker are anything but relationship-type material. “Yep, he married. Not sure if you met her. Her name is Pria. It happened a couple of months ago.”

I bob my head, trying to connect the dots. That’s the chick that’s been hanging around with him for the past few months. Jacob is one of the scouts that visits the Silver Moon the most. His family owns a record label and they’ve been coming to the bar for about thirty-some years to scout. There’s always someone here from their company. But Matthew is the only one that comes by the bar and chats with me. He’s, in fact, the only one I enjoy talking to. He’s smart and we can spend hours chatting. Pria gave me her digits to call her if Jacob ever got too drunk or started fucking around. His image consultant, she’d called herself. She must’ve turned out to be more than that. Who knew she’d tame
him
?

“My brother plans to announce the nuptials next year. They are trying to keep it under wraps for as long as possible.”

“Wow, well there will be hearts breaking as soon as the media gets some wind of it.”

Then he narrows his gaze. “Not yours, I hope?”

I chuckle. “Uh . . . nope. I know better than to crush on a Decker man.” I wink at him. My delivery of the line is so flawless, I almost believe it myself. His stern face makes my insides go gooey, but I act like he has no power over me. Many will say that these brothers are the same. They’re not. To me they’re different. Matthew’s vibe reflects happiness, friendliness, sweetness. All the while, there’s this commanding persona behind his eyes. “Where have you been, Matt?”

I add the question as casually as I can. It’s been months since the last time he came by to the Silver Moon.

“It’s not where have you been. Repeat after me: I missed you, Matt.” He grins, then drinks his shot. “I missed you too, my little butterfly.”

I roll my eyes, moving my attention to the man who just stepped next to him. “What can I get you?”

He rubs his shaven skull, his dark eyes run up and down my body while he leans his muscular body closer to the bar. “Whatever you have on tap, and breakfast in bed.” Ah great, another funky pick-up line for my scrapbook.

“Why are you hitting on my girl, buddy?” Matthew rises from his seat and pins him down with those devilish eyes.

“I-I’m . . . sorry.” The guy leaves and I just lost a tip.

“Did you have to do that?” I say, motioning after the guy’s retreating form. He shrugs and keeps drinking his beer. I serve him another round of eye-roll. “There’s a rumor you guys are opening your own bar. Is that true?”

“Yes.” He taps the empty beer before he continues. “It’s a different concept.”

“Great. I’m going to be jobless.” I take his empty bottle of beer and set down a new one.

“As the prettiest bartender in Seattle, we’ll give you a job at Thrice.” He winks at me. “But, you’re not gonna tend bars forever, are you? You should do something else with your life, like writing.”

Ugh. I shouldn’t have told him about my degree, or that I enjoy playing around with writing during my spare time.

I look up to find that his penetrating glare has not let up. “I actually have a gig for you if you’re interested.” He pulls a business card out of his back pocket and hands it to me. Then he places a finger on my lips just before turning his attention to the new band.

The loud guitar and screeches of Dreadful Souls boom from the speakers. I’m not a heavy metal kind of girl. That fact makes me an unreliable source to dictate if they’re a good band or not.

“So, when are we going out on a date?” Matthew breaks his focus when the band finishes the song. He doesn’t bother listening to what's next. I crook a brow angling my head toward the small stage. “Oh, they know one of us is here and think that playing one of my father’s songs will add points. Don’t change the subject. Date. When will you do me the honor to go for some fancy dinner and maybe a movie?”

I squint, pretending to think about it, then lean closer to softly deliver my answer. “When you start dating, Matt.”

Matthew is a fuck-’em-and-leave-’em kind of man. Like his brother used to be. Many of our customers can attest to that fact. He gets rave reviews too, if the bar chatter is anything to go off.

“Fuck, you got me there, Butterfly.” His irresistible smile fades for a few seconds and returns with full strength after sipping his beer. “But when I do, you’ll be my first, right?” His voice softens and he seals that question with a wink.

Yes?

“Checking the pond to see what you’re fishing for tonight, Decker?” Reed appears from the back room, shakes hands with Matthew, and leans on the bar to chat with him. “Stay away from T. You know what’ll happen to your balls if you try to sweet-talk her.”

I chuckle, shake my head, and move to the other side of the bar. I love Reed. He’s amazing with me. No, with all his employees. The man protects me like a father, and cares. A foreign concept for me, but I like the feeling he creates. I let them talk while I walk around the bar picking up empty glasses, refilling, or taking new orders. Finishing my round, I look around to decide on taking my break or not. That’s when I catch Matthew’s eyes on me.

For one breath I wonder what would happen if I kiss him, if I touch him, if I let myself take that step. My hand trembles, as the consequences of making that one mistake would cost me in the end. I smile politely at him, signal Reed, and head to the break room to chew a piece of gum and clear my mind.

“This room is too small.” Matthew walks behind me. I frown at him and point at the sign that reads Employees Only. “It’s almost closing time. Reed allowed me to join you in here to continue catching up with you. What’s new?”

“Nothing, really.”

“So, are you dating yet?” I shake my head, giving him yet another round of rolling eyes. Why did I confide in him? “Zero sex, huh? I’m concerned about your wellbeing. Sex is important for one’s health.”

“Is that what keeps you looking so young?” He releases a loud laugh that makes my entire body vibrate. “I bet you’re onto booty call number fifty-four plus.” I mock him.

“I cut ties with my last booty call . . . after she screamed at me,
“Eight fucking months and you can’t stay longer than a couple of orgasms. What am I to you?”
”

My eyes widen. “You responded to that?” I wait for an answer, hoping he is smarter than the average guy.

“No. I feared she might reach some object and projectile it toward me.” He flinches and I suppress the laugh of this big hunk being afraid of anyone busting his balls. “You should be proud, I no longer believe in having booty calls. I never understood why none of them could stick to the rules.”

“Because sex isn't just sex to everyone.” I lean over the table, getting up close to him. “For some, it's a way to give themselves to the other person. The
only-physical-shit
line you draw can become blurry for your . . . sex partner. That's why booty calls are a bad idea. One always falls.”

“Is that why you haven't had sex?” His intense eyes hold my gaze. Is he trying to read me, understand me? “Waiting for an old flame, or the right one?”

“Yes,”
let’s go with that
, “waiting to find the right one is what keeps me waiting.”

Sex is complicated. Many use sex to obtain shit. Others do it to feel something
special
that will disappear the moment you finish fucking. Finding someone . . . it’s at the bottom of my to-do list. Right after finding a nice retirement home—at the age of ninety.

“Tell me more about that crazy life of yours, Decker.”

His superficial problems are fun to listen to, but they are the prologue to what really is happening with him. School—he graduated. His family—is growing. Matt is also taking charge of one of the family businesses. He continues creating new ventures. He has added a lot to his load since the last time we saw each other, like being in charge of Transcending, his father’s production company. I wish I could be that cool and tell him everything about me, but I can’t. At a young age I was taught to pretend. Later I had to use that one skill to survive. Nonetheless, pretending to be someone else implies many things. Rule number one is keeping everyone at arm’s length. One slip and they might find out who I really am. By the end of my old life, not many liked me—I hated myself. Matt hating me isn’t something I look forward to happening in the near future.

“T,” Reed comes into the room as Matthew shows me pictures of Gracie, his niece, “time to head to your place. We’re closing.” He places an envelope on top of the table. “Take your tips and call me as soon as you lock up.”

My phone’s clock reads three in the morning. Uh-oh, I’m in trouble. I didn’t help the crew, and I have a lot of work to do at home. Without giving it a second thought, I spring out of my seat, kiss Reed’s cheek and then wave at Matthew. “It was great seeing you, Matt.”

“Same, Butterfly. I’ll try to swing by more often.” I smile at him and leave, wishing we could talk just for a little longer.

Ironic that Matt Decker is one of the few people who makes me feel normal—human.