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AFTER I FALL: CHAPTER 8
Parker
I’m stuck. I’ve never actually had this problem before. I should have paid better attention when I was at the bar arguing with Eli for a job.
But I was too wrapped up in the bruises on my pride to pay attention.
I’m standing in my closet, and I have no idea what to wear.
I close my eyes, trying to remember if any of the waiters or waitresses were there when I’d met with Eli. Kelsey had been wearing a light-colored tank top with The Pint’s logo the night before. I’m stuck, though, trying to think about what else everyone else had on.
I can remember what Eli had on, though. Black t-shirt that hugged tight across his chest. If I close my eyes, I can still feel the heat from his body as he pressed against me. I squeeze my thighs together, needing to focus on my future first night at work.
Instead, my mind takes a fun little sexy detour that is not at all helpful with my current dilemma of what to wear.
Instead of focusing on clothing, all I can feel is the touch of his fingertips on my cheek. The soft scrape of his beard against my skin. The smoky taste of whiskey on his breath as his tongue slides against mine.
I’ve been kissed before but never like that. Like he has nothing but time to explore every aspect of my mouth. My body.
It really makes me wonder if he’d be as attentive in bed as he was with his mouth.
Except that he’d said no. What guy says no to no-strings attached sex? Aren’t all guys supposed to be wild horn dogs only thinking about getting laid?
And just like that, the fantasy is over.
I drag my hands through my hair and focus on the task at hand. Eli seems like a pretty laid-back guy, dressing in jeans and t-shirts. So I assume if I show up dressed in something similar, it should be fine.
I shimmy into my favorite pair of skinny jeans and comfortable flats, then pull a fitted black v-neck T-shirt over my head. Sliding my hands over my sides and down my hips, I feel like I’m ready to face whatever the night has to offer.
I roll my eyes and finish straightening my hair. I don’t want to look like I’m trying too hard, and at the same time, I don’t want to stand out, either.
I change my bra.
I’m not stupid—I’m going to work in a bar, and if I want to make any tips I’ve got to play up my assets. Not that I need the money. I don’t. But it’s the principle of the thing—I can’t not make good tips. It’s a point of pride more than anything.
I think I’m finally ready to head to The Pint. I pause and take in my reflection. I look good.
I look like me again. For the first time since things with Davis started feeling off, I feel a glimmer of the real me looking back at me. Before the doubt. Before the whispers that I wasn’t good enough started to consume my thoughts.
I want to capture the feeling, to hold it in my hands and use it to ward off the loneliness that stalks my nights. It’s like a fleeting glimpse of light within the surrounding by darkness.
But I can only avoid Davis for so long. Sooner or later, he’s going to get frustrated with me and come back here if I ignore him for too long.
I wish I was brave enough to stand up to him. Tell him I took a class on feminist theory and I’m refusing to support the patriarchal hegemony of male dominance. Just thinking about his reaction makes me smile.
He’d explode.
Feminism doesn’t exist for girls like me. Girls like me do what our fathers tell us to do. We smile when we’re told to smile. We don’t think. We don’t argue.
And we definitely don’t get to go slumming when we’re supposed to be getting married to a congressman who’s a rising star.
I suppose I’ll get this out of my system then return to my regularly scheduled program with my perfectly scripted life.
God but that’s depressing if I really think about it.
I can’t. I have to push those thoughts aside.
Because I don’t want to hear the disappointment in my father’s voice that I’m overreacting. That I should be more accommodating to Davis’s needs. That I should be grateful he picked me as his future wife.
Getting a job at Eli’s is a small act of defiance that will end soon enough.
But I need this. I need this last taste of freedom.
I leave my phone and grab my keys and my purse.
I’m finally ready to live.
Even if it’s only for a little while longer.
Eli
Deacon walks behind the bar where I’m updating the register software on the iPad I use to track sales. “So where do you want Sorority Barbie tonight?”
Deacon is grinning like he’s incredibly proud of that nickname.
“You come up with that one all by yourself?”
His expression changes but he still grins. “It was the first thing I thought of when I met her. She’s polished and perfect. Hopefully, she’s got more under her pretty hair than an actual Barbie does.”
“She might surprise you.”
“I’m just hoping she’s not a pain in the ass to train.”
I lean back and fold my arms over my chest, leaving the iPad to download. “Is it Parker in particular you have a problem with or something more general?”
He pulls out the lemons and starts chopping them with a little too much emphasis tonight. “I don’t trust her. The kind of people she comes from could cause problems for you here.”
For a second, maybe more, my heart stops. There’s no way he knows. He couldn’t.
Deacon wasn’t on that deployment. I’ve lost touch with most folks I deployed with. I barely keep up with any of my classmates from West Point anymore.
Still. I have a healthy dose of paranoia that someday, my time in the Army will catch up with me. There have been high-profile articles written about my bar in national news outlets, and no one has put the pieces together yet. Maybe I’m safe.
It’s not like I’m hiding it. Hell, I wouldn’t be very smart if I was trying to hide things by running a bar where all the local vets seem to congregate, now would I?
I suck in a hard breath and hold it until my lungs burn, then release it. “I don’t see how.”
He lifts one brow and leans against the door frame. “Her father is Bennington Hauser. He’s a big wig at one of the largest defense contractors in D.C.”
“How do you know this?” I hesitate. That is news. And it’s also completely irrelevant.
He shrugs. “Google is your friend.”
I’m not sure how I feel about his blossoming cyberstalking skills but I table it for now. It’s not a crime to look up future employees. In fact, it’s probably smart. Something I should do.
But I don’t want to. Glass houses and all that, right? “So you think Daddy is going to come down here and pull rank?”
Deacon looks at me like I’ve started masturbating in public. “I’m just pointing out that the rest of us have our own complications but she’s got complications that come with money. And with money comes power. So just be careful with her.”
I nod, needing to put this to bed. “Tracking. Thanks for the warning.”
My response is clearly insufficient but Deacon says nothing, continuing to chop up the lemons like I haven’t even spoken.
“You’re the boss but when the shit starts pegging the fan, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
“And that, ladies and gentlemen, is an image I did not need.”
Deacon makes a noise and just like that, we are back on even footing. “My job here is done.” He glances down at his watch. “Kelsey hasn’t shown up yet, either.”
“Anyone check on her?”
“I texted her a couple of times but she’s not responding. Don’t forget she left with that Fifty Shades wannabe last night.”
I rub my hand over my beard. “Sadly, I know exactly who you’re talking about. Think she’s okay?”
He lifts one shoulder. “She’s an adult. She’s more than capable of having carefree consensual sex without any of us commenting on who or what she does on her off-duty time.”
He’s being deliberately nonchalant. It’s more than a little obvious. “Careful, or I’ll send you to her place to make sure she’s okay.”
He makes a sound of disgruntled disbelief. Part of me wants to send him to check on her. Just to be on the safe side.
“Anyway, where do you want Sorority Barbie tonight? Register? Floor?”
“How about you use her name, for starters.” I can see the leading edge of one of his moods coming on. “I think register is good for Parker’s first night. It’s Saturday so we’re probably going to be slammed. It’ll get her feet wet without pissing off the customers.”
Deacon nods and slides the lemons into a tray, then wipes the knife and heads into the basement for more supplies. His warning hangs in the air long after he’s gone. The iPad is still downloading, leaving me with little else to occupy my hands or my thoughts.
The war hasn’t followed me home yet. I’ve made choices, surrounded myself with good people. I’ve tried to live a normal life, not one soaked in alcohol or regret. Deacon isn’t wrong, though. Anything could resurrect that memory.
But that’s not why he’s pushing me on Parker. And that’s not why I hired her. And it’s definitely not the worry of a commander for one of his soldiers that is drawing me to Parker. No, it’s something else. Something darker. Something infinitely more possessive. Something I haven’t felt since…I can’t remember when.
I really need to let Deacon run interference with her. Because I need to stay away. All the want in the world can’t fix what ails me and no woman in the world would put up with my bullshit for more than a single night.
I finish up the iPad software and head back to my office to make sure it’s synced on the WiFi network.
And damn near run over the one person I really should be avoiding.