Worth a shot, p.8
Worth a Shot, page 8
I try to be nonchalant. “Well, I’ve heard of this place, K.O. Bar and Grill, and I was thinking we might try there.”
They shrug and nod. After swiping her credit card to pay for her dress, Jane turns to me. “Do you know how to get there?”
Here comes the tricky part.
To avoid looking her in the eyes, I pretend to search for something in my purse. “Actually, do you remember Tristan? The guy who saved my life that one time.” I laugh awkwardly and peek up to and meet her deadpan stare. “Right, of course, you do.” I look back into my purse. “I ran into him at the coffee shop, again, and he offered to take us to lunch.”
My cheeks flame with the feeling of several sets of eyes burning my skin. Did everyone in the store immediately stop what they’re doing to stare at me? Jane thanks the bridal consultant and puts her card back in her purse. Stepping aside so Britney can pay, she invades my personal space. I try to take a step back, but she leans toward me to hiss. “Oh wow, what a surprise! Really? You just happened to run into him, again?”
“This morning? What are the odds?” Britney asks.
“You saw him today and didn’t think to mention it until now? We’ve been together all this time, and you haven’t said one word—not a single word.” Jane’s voice goes up a notch.
I shrug and sidestep her to hand my credit card to the lady. “What’s the big deal? I didn’t want to discuss me when we’re supposed to be focused on you.”
Jane crosses her arms and raises her chin. “Well, that’s true.”
The consultant begins speaking to Jane, so she shifts her laser gaze from me to her. “We will have your dresses ready in two months, ma’am. You’ll receive a phone call to let you know when they’re ready.” Her eyes dart between us as she says, “Have a lovely rest of your day.” It came out more like good luck.
We smile and thank the lady. Outside the store, we see a late model, black HEMI Dodge Challenger. The windows are a dark tint, and the motor gives off a powerful purr. The passenger window glides down. Lord have mercy. Tristan looks like pure sin sitting in the driver’s seat. He’s wearing black sunglasses and a crisp, white button-up with the top button undone. He seems larger than life in this car. He gives me a sly grin. Ass knows he looks good sitting in that car, too.
“Ladies.” He peeks over his sunglasses at us. He opens his door and even exiting the car he looks ridiculously sexy. How the hell did he slide out like that with his height? His lean, strong body uncoils almost like a snake until he is standing at his full height. He takes long strides as he rounds the car to open the door for us.
Swoon. I’m literally swooning over a man exiting and opening a door. I’m pathetic.
Britney turns to Jane. “I don’t know about this. Maybe we should take our own vehicle and follow him.”
Jane gives a single nod in agreement and then scowls at me. “Tori, tell him we’ll follow him.”
Clearly, I’m the only one who isn’t bothered in the least that it might be dangerous to hitch a ride with a man who was released from jail recently, and is driving a dark-tinted, fast car. All I can think is but did you not see how hot he was getting out of that sexy car? Obviously, we should ride with him so we can watch him do it again!
I’m sane enough not to voice my inner thoughts. It wouldn’t be wise to anger Jane further. Instead, I shamelessly suggest, “One of us should ride with him. It’d be rude to have him drive by himself.”
Jane narrows her eyes. “I suppose you’re volunteering?” I shrug. “Ugh. No. You’re not riding with him alone. That’s clearly a fast car and he could lose us and drive off to God knows where with you.” She tugs Britney’s arm. “Come on, Brit, looks like we’re all going for a joy ride. At least with three of us in there, we can overpower him if we have to escape.”
Britney and Jane climb in the back. I slide into the front seat as gracefully as possible, and fail tremendously by basically falling into the seat and almost shutting the door on my foot. Tristan doesn’t comment, but I notice a hint of a smile on his face. Sitting next to him suddenly feels awkward in an enclosed space. I begin to consider if this was a good idea, because we don’t know him. He could take us anywhere. Jane, ever so subtly, voices her thoughts.
“Just to be clear, we’re going straight to K.O. and then right back here. I wasn’t too sure about hopping in this car with you, Tristan. I mean you could totally turn out to be a psychopath who has a wealth of axes and shovels in your trunk. I’m giving you the benefit of the doubt that you’re not a psychopath.” She lowers her voice. “Foolishly.”
Britney and I look wide-eyed at Jane. Tristan remains focused on the road as he revs the engine, and says, “Not much you can do now, is there?”
Jane leans forward between our seats. “Oh, don’t underestimate me. I have several items in my purse that can be used as weapons.”
Tristan, not missing a beat, says, “So what you’re telling me is that I need to confiscate your purse first? Never tell your supposed abductor where your weapons are located. Rookie mistake.”
Britney is fidgety and clearly uncomfortable with the topic at hand. “What kind of food is on the menu?”
“The lunch menu is considerably smaller than the dinner menu, but there are still plenty of choices.”
“Any recommendations?” I ask.
“I’d suggest—”
“How long have you worked there?” I narrow my eyes at Jane’s rude interruption and harsh tone.
“For a few years.” There he is being vague again.
“What do you do again? Do you have a girlfriend? Do you have any family in this area? What are your hobbies?”
“I bartend. No. Yes. I don’t have time for hobbies.”
Despite all the questions, I don’t learn much by the time we pull into the parking lot of a deep, red brick building with a tinted glass door that’s located in the downtown district. Tristan gives a sigh of relief and practically sings. “We’re here!” He jumps out of the car, ready to escape Jane’s assault of questions.
He holds the door open for us as we walk in. The interior of K.O. is charming. It has rich brown wooden floors, and the deep red brick from outside continues in the interior. There are three large, gray pipes that run across the ceiling, along with beautiful wood beams. The room is open with booths along the walls and two different sizes of tables scattered throughout the space. There’s another room off to the far left side, and I can see part of the bar through the opening. The restaurant offers a mixture of old casual elegance with modern touches sprinkled throughout. Whoever decorated this place obviously wanted to highlight the historic building and all its charm, and it’s stunning. As Tristan leads us to the back of the room, my eyes continue to scan and take in all the details.
Jane and Britney hurry and sit together on one side of a wood-trimmed booth with maroon cushions. This leaves for me to sit with Tristan opposite them. He gestures with his hand for me to sit while whispering in my ear. “Ladies first, Angel.”
I slide in, followed by Tristan, who does not leave any space between us. A waitress scurries over and hands us each a menu, except Tristan. Another waitress approaches with a pitcher to fill our water glasses. She already has a drink in hand for the man sitting next to me and places it in front of him. The two waitresses stand there visibly nervous. They both have their brown hair pulled up in high ponytails, minimal makeup, and manicured nails. They’re wearing black slacks, and red button-ups with black aprons. Overall, an extremely neat and professional appearance. The main differences between the two women are that one has large, round, blue-colored eyes, and slightly more curves. Whereas the other one has dark almond-shaped brown eyes, and is as tiny a ballerina. Blue eyes elbows brown eyes and gives her a nod. Brown eyes steps forward and clears her throat.
“H-Hello! I’m Stacey and this is Jennifer. We’ll be taking care of y’all. Would you like to hear our specials?”
She doesn’t really meet any of our eyes, and her hands are visibly shaking as she holds a note pad. Jane speaks first, attempting to ease the awkwardness in the air.
“Stacey? Sweetheart, you seem nervous. Are you new? I promise we’re easy customers. I’ve waitressed before, so I know how it can be. I’ve had to deal with some real assholes. Relax.”
Stacey gives a little laugh. “No, I’ve been a server for a while now. I’m usually not this nervous…” She gulps as she meets Tristan’s eyes, “but waiting on the—”
Tristan clears his throat and speaks in a flat voice. “No reason to be nervous. You were about to tell us the specials?”
The three of us give each other a confused look. He works here so they obviously know each other. But why is she so nervous around him? Did they have a relationship at one time? Why do I care?
Stacey gives her head a little shake. “Of course. Sorry, Mr. Goodman.”
Mr. Goodman. He’s the bartender. Why so formal? She must have a crush.
“Today’s specials are a Portobello mushroom burger with swiss, a teriyaki chicken wrap, and the house special Country Loaded Chicken. May we start y’all off with something else to drink? Maybe get an appetizer started as you continue to look over the menu?”
“Sweet tea for me.”
“Me, as well.”
Britney simply nods in agreement.
“Sweet teas all around.” Tristan looks at all three of us with a smile, and then turns to our servers. “How about we start out with an order of mozzarella sticks, mussels, and spinach dip with a side of salsa?”
I clear my throat and elbow him. His eyebrows pull together as I mouth please. He turns back to the server. “Please.”
The girls scurry off. As soon as they are out of ear shot, I turn toward Tristan, “What the hell? Why were you being so rude? They’re clearly unnerved because of you. New nickname, G-bag!”
He seems completely unfazed by my tone. “G-bag?”
I give him a “duh” look, but since he isn’t catching on, I clarify. “You were being a douchebag. Your last name begins with ‘g.’ Or…I can call you T-bag if you prefer. Can you imagine if I started calling you that? I’d love to know what people speculate on how you got that nickname.”
Tristan shakes his head as he reaches for his drink. “Nobody will imagine anything.” He brings it to his lips. Before he tilts the glass, he side-eyes me and says, “Because you won’t be calling me that.” I open the menu and skim over it. He places the drink back in front of him. “Anyway, what’re you thinking about ordering?”
“What are you having? What would you suggest?”
Once again, before he can answer Jane taps his menu with hers. “Wait! Was she an ex-lover?”
He covers his mouth with his hand. I watch his shoulders shake as he laughs. “Lover? Who calls anybody that?”
Britney chimes in as she looks over her menu. “No, she isn’t an ex. She would have been bitchy. She sure as hell wouldn’t have said ‘sorry.’ She didn’t give him a stare down either, or even look any of us over.”
I nod in agreement. “She also said she was especially nervous waiting on the dot dot dot before Mr. Goodman here interrupted her.”
Jane squints her eyes and gives Tristan a hard stare. “You don’t just work here, do you? Let me guess what Stacey was going to say. You’re the manager, right?”
Tristan throws his arm on the back of the booth, resting it to rest behind me. “Try the owner. But I do bartend occasionally. I’ve also been known to cook from time to time. I’m a man of many talents. I didn’t see any reason to mention that I happen to own half of this place.”
Jane smirks. “Sure. I asked if you were the manager. A simple yes or no would’ve sufficed. No need to go into detail.” She mumbles next to Britney. “And start bragging.”
“Only because you won’t let anything go.”
Britney, ever the one to try and keep the peace, chimes in, “I think I’m going to have a Caesar salad. Yum. Can’t go wrong with a Caesar salad for lunch.”
And the uncomfortable moment has passed, thankfully. The girls come back with our teas and take our orders. We keep conversation light, and luckily there are no awkward silences. We all agree that our lunches are delicious, but we save room for dessert. We each order something different so we can sample each other’s cheesecake, brownie delight, and peach cobbler with ice cream. Tristan declines. Weirdo. Who skips out on dessert?
While we’re waiting for our dessert to arrive, I decide now would be a good time to visit the restroom. Tristan points me in the right direction, and I excuse myself. I find it easily and am surprised at how large and nice the ladies’ room is. A row of chestnut colored, wooden stalls and a beige marble counter with several sinks greet me as I walk in. The room smells of lavender and is extremely clean. This place must get busy on the weekends to have such large restroom facilities. When I exit the ladies’ room, I’m startled to find a woman leaning against the wall outside the restroom. She’s probably a few years older than I am and exceptionally beautiful with her golden tan, ice blond hair that’s pulled up in a high ponytail, big blue eyes with lashes so long that they must be fake, full pouty lips, and a cute little nose. She’s thin but not too thin. Actually, now that I examine her, she’s fit—like really fit. She narrows her eyes at me and pushes herself off of the wall, strolling over until we’re nose to nose. What’s her problem?
“I hope you know you’re a rebound, sweetheart,” she says in a concerned tone, but her body language is expressing anything but friendliness. This is definitely an ex-lover.
“Excuse me? I think there’s some kind of misunder—”
Her sympathetic tone is long gone as she sneers. “Don’t play games with me. I don’t bullshit, so let me make this clear. He’s using you as a rebound. I don’t even know what kind of game he’s playing bringing you here.” She takes a step back and looks me up and down “What kind of game, indeed? I’m a little insulted he didn’t make more of an effort. You should put a stop to this now. It’s embarrassing for you.”
I have to assume she’s referring to Tristan. I could explain that I’m here as a friend, but this bitch got under my skin. Clearly, she’s an ex who hasn’t gotten over him. She’s the one who should be embarrassed. A little voice asks, has he gotten over her? But either way, I decide to have some fun with this psycho even though she could probably kick my ass in a heartbeat. I like to live life on the edge, obviously.
I give her my sweetest smile. “Oh, honey, I guess you haven’t heard?”
Her facial expression doesn’t change, but I see her body go rigid with anticipation. I give a little giggle and raise my hand. “He proposed.” Hurt flashes across her face before it’s quickly replaced with anger as her hands clenches into fists.
“Just so you know, his world is going to chew you up and spit you out. And I’ll be there to watch every glorious moment.” She arches a brow at me as she crosses her arms.
I have no idea what she’s talking about “his world,” so I ignore the comment, and instead stick my bottom lip out to give her a mock pouty face. “I’m sorry. I can tell you still haven’t quite gotten over him. How embarrassing for you.”
She uncrosses her arms and takes a step toward me. Thank goodness this is the moment Tristan decides to walk around the corner, because I’m positive I was about to experience my first beat down. He looks between the two of us with intense eyes. He addresses me first.
“I wondered what happened to you. Everything alright?” His words are of concern, but his tone is pure ice.
I raise my eyebrows and tilt my head toward his biggest fan. She gives me a look that screams snitch.
His eyes turn to slits and his jaw clinches, as his voice turns menacing. “Is there a problem, Shannon?”
She looks between the two of us and whispers to Tristan. “I was just meeting your fiancée?” There’s a slight quiver in her voice. I almost feel guilty. Almost.
Tristan doesn’t respond immediately. Shannon is watching him closely, and I fear she’s beginning to doubt what I said. For whatever reason, I cannot stand the idea of her smug face if she discovers we’re not actually engaged and that I lied. So, I act on impulse, which is never a good idea. I wrap my arms around Tristan and, thank goodness, he returns the embrace.
He looks down at me with an expression I can’t read. “So, you told Shannon about our engagement?”
“I did…Muffin.”
Shannon sneers. “Muffin? Since when do you allow anyone to call you something so ridiculous and childish?”
I’ve decided that I hate her and want to really piss her off. Playfully, I slap his chest and bat my eyelashes, “You don’t like nicknames? Since when? But then I guess you’re agreeable to anything under the right circumstances.” I make sure my intention with that statement is crystal freaking clear.
He squeezes me tight against him and discreetly pinches my side. It’s a light sting, but the fact that I’m getting to him too, makes this all the more fun. I run a finger over his collarbone. “Am I the only one who gets to give you nicknames? Oops. Am I supposed to use those in the bedroom only, babe?”
A part of me swells with pride at the idea. If he dated the gorgeous woman before me, and never allowed her to give him a nickname, yet he’s letting me…
Tristan bites his lip trying to fight his smile and nods. “Only because you’re special.”
I give Shannon a sweet smile and tilt my head. Did you hear that, bitch? Special. Wait…I feel like he doesn’t mean that entirely as a compliment.
“Do you want to know why I call him Muffin? It’s actually a funny story.”
Shannon huffs and glares. “I don’t have time for any—”
“Well, you see, he was fascinated with how I could stick a whole muffin in my mouth, and I think he got a little jealous of how much I was enjoying it.” I look up at him and wink. Slowly my hand slides down from his collarbone to his chest to his stomach. I feel his body go stiff. My hand continues its journey down his body while I continue my story. “He promised me something bigger and more delicious if I promised to moan the same way.” I run my fingers over the waistband of his jeans. “He didn’t disappoint, either.”
