Beneath the Surface (10 page)

It was distracting as hell and she was fucking with his concentration. “You sure you don’t want to wait at the bar? Have a glass of wine or something?” he offered again, hooking the meter up to the refrigerator line.

“I’m fine. Unless you want me to get you something. Do you do this a lot?” she asked, changing the direction of their conversation. “Fix things around here for your dad?”

He shrugged. “Sometimes. This cooler and I have a love-hate relationship. It loves to break down and I hate to fix it.”

She laughed again and that sound rolled right through him . . .

“I have a grenade at home with this damn thing’s name on it. I swear, someday I’m going to take her out back and blow this bitch up.” More of that light melodic music caressed over him. “Pops always dreamed of owning a small bar like this. Maintenance issues are par for the course, I guess. I was on leave a few years ago when it came up for sale. So, I bought the place for him. I knew he’d never do it himself.”

“Wait,
you
own this bar?”

“More like a silent partner.” Yep, the charge was low. He disconnected the gauge and then readjusted his erection before standing. How pathetic was it that just the sound of her voice, her laughter, could make him this hot? Before turning to face her, he tugged the hem of his Henley over the bulge in his pants and tried to focus on their conversation rather than the path his mind was trying to lead him down. “My dad does most of the work. I’ve been taking care of the building, doing repairs and maintenance since I got back, but this is really his gig.”

“So that crack about your tab was really a joke.”

He chuckled. “Shit, I hope so, or else I’d probably be payin’ for the place twice.”

“You’re pretty much a jack of all trades then, huh? Special Forces soldier, mercenary, bar owner, handyman . . .”

She had no idea how handy he could be . . .

“That about cover it?”

She was giving him shit and he couldn’t resist giving it right back to her. Despite what he’d told her yesterday, he suspected, under different circumstances, they might have been friends—maybe more. He rather enjoyed her sharp, sarcastic sense of humor.

Taking a step toward her, he nudged her shoe with his boot. It was the closest he dared come to touching her. He was breaking the rules. He knew it and yet he was having a hard time caring at the moment.

“You forgot about babysitter.” He flashed her a teasing grin and her feminine snort should not have been as sexy as it was. Fuck, he had to get out of here, put some space between him and Quinn Summers, because she was about two seconds from going up against that cooler.

“I gotta go get some refrigerant. Would you mind grabbing me a beer from the bar?” He was out the door and down the hall before she could respond.

CHAPTER

12

H
e was squatted down, bent over the unit, filling it with refrigerant when a pair of breasts pressed against his back and a beer dangled in front of his face. He had a momentary flash of
Holy shit . . . 
then a reactionary
Oh fuck
when he realized it wasn’t Quinn. His first clue was the heady perfume searing his nostrils. And if he still had any doubt, Quinn didn’t wear hot-pink nail polish.

Asher rose to his feet and spun around to find his dad’s waitress standing way too close to him, pinning him between her large, surgically enhanced rack and the cooler. Tina might have been going for sexy, but it wasn’t working for her. The woman’s smile reminded him more of a cat that ate the canary, and he was missing a few pinfeathers. Goddamn, this woman was tenacious . . .

She planted one hand over his shoulder, bracing it against the cooler, while holding his beer in the other. “I heard you were back here. Thought you might like a beer.”

Tina was pretty enough, but not even close to Quinn’s league. Then again, not many women were. This wouldn’t be the first time he’d turned Tina down. He’d told her the last time she’d cornered him in the back storeroom that he didn’t fuck his father’s employees—no exception.

“I’m good, thanks,” he replied, trying to put some space between them.

She stepped closer, rubbing her breasts against his chest. It did nothing for him.

“Oh, come on . . . We both know you want it,” she purred, and she wasn’t talking about the beer.

Asher wanted something all right, but Tina wasn’t it. Problem was, the woman he wanted he couldn’t have. She slipped her beer hand up around his neck, pressing in for full frontal contact. He grabbed her hips and was about to forcibly move her back when Quinn’s voice echoed in the doorway—way too close.

“You never said what kind of beer you wanted, so I got you an Arrogant Bastard—”

Her sentence died on her lips and so did that rare smile. “Guess it was a good choice,” she added, slamming it down on the shelf. A mountain of foam bubbled up over the rim, spilling onto the boxes below as she spun around and walked out.

“Quinn, wait . . .”

He tried to go after her, but Tina blocked his path.

“Tina, stop. I’ve told you before, this isn’t going to happen. If you touch me again, you’re fired.”

He rushed past her to go find Quinn, cursing his damn luck all the way. Tina’s timing couldn’t have been worse. And he knew what Quinn was thinking. No way in hell would the thought ever enter her mind to give him the benefit of the doubt. Not after the shit he’d pulled around Nikko’s wedding. Guilt churned inside his gut, which was ridiculous. He hadn’t done anything wrong. Yet here he was, feet in motion, chasing after the woman he had no business wanting.

He stepped into the bar, stopping in the doorway when he saw Quinn talking to another man, and jealousy burned through his veins. He recognized the guy—Luke fucking Thompson. He had a reputation of being a player, and rumor had it, he liked to play rough.

The guy said something to Quinn as Asher approached, but the music playing in the background and the occasional crack of pool balls drowned out any hope of catching their conversation.

Quinn glanced his way and dismissed him just as quickly, nodding in agreement to something Luke had said. Just before Asher reached her, she slid off the stool and turned to leave.

Asher caught hold of her arm before she could walk away. “Where the hell do you think you’re going?”

Luke paused, giving Asher a surprised look. “Are you two together?”

“Yes,” he answered at the same time she responded with a resounding “No.”

“I’ll meet you over there,” she told Luke, who seemed a little uncertain now as he headed back toward the pool tables.

When Quinn turned her violet eyes on him, they were sharp with anger. Any of the softening that had been there earlier was long gone, and the sudden ache of disappointment blooming in his chest pissed him off.

“Let go of me, Asher.”

His grip tightened, fingertips biting into her biceps. “What do you think you’re doing?” he demanded.

“I’m going to play a game of pool over there with Luke, while you play whatever back there with your little barmaid.”

Dammit, he didn’t owe her any explanations, and that’s exactly what he found himself wanting to give her. “Quinn, Tina and I—”

“Save it, Asher,” she snapped icily, holding up her hand. “You don’t have to answer to me.”

Then why in the hell did it feel like he did?

“You’re free to fuck whomever you want. It’s not like I haven’t walked in on you doing it before.”

Her response hit him like a sucker punch in the gut. It was a low blow and completely uncalled for. You know what, she was exactly right. He didn’t owe her a damn thing.

“I don’t want you around that guy, Quinn.”

Her brows popped up, her expression a challenging
Oh really?
“Do you think he’s the man who’s after me? The guy who killed Emily?”

“No, but—”

“Then your babysitting services aren’t needed, Gunnery Sergeant Jackass.” She tugged her arm from his grip. “Take the night off. It looks like your ‘services’ are wanted elsewhere.”

Quinn told herself she didn’t care whom Asher messed around with, that it didn’t matter. It was a dirty lie. She cared. She cared a hell of a lot more than she ought to, and walking in on him with that waitress stung. She didn’t need an instant replay with him and the coat-check girl. Had she really thought he’d changed? That she’d misjudged him?

Was that why he’d sent her to go get him a beer, so he could have his little hookup? He’d tried twice before to get her to leave and wait for him at the bar. Like a fool, she’d refused, enjoying the few rare moments when they weren’t at each other’s throats. It made perfect sense now. How else was he going to get laid? He couldn’t get any privacy at his house. She felt like a complete idiot.

Well, now was his chance. She’d taken his advice and forced her mind to rest. Right now she was just a stranger in a small town, drinking a beer and shooting a game of pool. Asher could go fuck off—literally.

Only he didn’t. He’d taken a seat at the bar and just sat there watching her. She was acutely aware of his eyes on her, felt everywhere they touched, like the bold caress of a possessive lover—which was absolutely ridiculous because she wasn’t that to him, and she never would be.

“That’s a great shot.” Luke smiled at her from across the table.

“Thanks.” She sunk the eight ball in the left corner pocket, winning her first of the three games they’d played. Quinn suspected this last one was a pity win.

“You want to rack up another game?” he offered. “I’ll grab some more beers.”

That probably wasn’t such a good idea. She was testing Asher’s patience as it was, and she had the feeling he was about two seconds from tossing her over his shoulder, caveman-style, and hauling her ass out of there.

“Thanks, but I can’t. It’s been a lot of fun, but I really need to get going.” She went to walk around the table and misjudged the distance, whacking her hip on the corner. “Ouch . . .” She cursed, steadying herself on the rail.

“Are you all right?” Luke was at her side before she could blink, slipping his arm around her waist.

Quinn shouldn’t have let him. She really didn’t need the help. She’d only had two beers, but apparently that was enough to mess with her better judgment. The spiteful, reckless side of her wanted Asher to know what it felt like to be the one on the sideline for once.

“I need to use the bathroom.”

“Sure. It’s this way,” he said, guiding her toward the hall. Once they passed Asher’s line of sight, she pulled away from him. “Really, I’m fine, Luke. I’ve got it from here.”

She dismissed him with a polite wave and didn’t wait for him to respond before entering the bathroom. As she closed the door, she caught the briefest flash of something darkening his eyes that sent a prickle of apprehension needling up her spine. What had Asher been about to say when she cut him off as he’d tried to warn her about Luke? Quinn locked the bathroom door behind her and took her time in there, hoping Luke would be gone by the time she came out.

When she swung the door open, she was startled to find Asher standing in the hallway waiting for her. He was leaning against the wall, arms folded over his broad, muscular chest. “What are you doing here?” she asked, surprised, and admittedly a little relieved, to see him.

“Saving your ass . . . Come on, let’s go.”

Saving her ass?
What was that supposed to mean? He didn’t give her a chance to ask. Taking Quinn’s hand, he led her back to the bar. His grip was firm, his stride a determined clip that, no lie, was a challenge to keep up with. He made no attempt to disguise his anger, and she didn’t want to risk making an even bigger scene by asking him to slow down. Already, they were attracting more than a few curious looks. Asher’s dad was waiting for them up at the bar with a clear plastic bag in hand.

“Sorry about the wait. It’s been busy tonight.”

“Don’t worry about it, Pop.”

As they stepped into the hall, Robert said, “I’ll see to it he’s not allowed back here, Asher.”

“He comes back again, he won’t be walking out.”

Asher took the bag from his dad, and she noticed his knuckles were bruised and bleeding. They briefly paused near the exit and she heard him quietly tell his father, “You can’t report him to the cops, Pop. Quinn would have to make a statement, and no one can know she’s here.”

What the hell had happened while she was in that bathroom?

Robert’s voice was low, but not so quiet that Quinn couldn’t hear him say, “I understand. I’ll take care of it.”

“Are you going to tell me what that was all about?”

Asher looked up from his broasted chicken and stared at her, saying nothing. It wasn’t the first time she’d posed this question in the last hour, and this one was met with the same response as the last—silence. Quinn had never seen him this angry before. She’d always imagined Asher was the kind of guy that exploded when mad, but nope. He was a simmer-and-boil type, and those were the worst kind—dangerous and unpredictable.

Clearing his throat, he wiped his face with his napkin and closed the clamshell. “Do you have any idea how close you came to becoming a statistic tonight?”

His voice was deep, lacking any inflection of emotion whatsoever. She wasn’t sure if it was what he said or how he said it that made the fine hairs on the back of her neck rise.

“I’m wondering how it’s possible for a woman as smart as you to do something so stupid.”

“What?” She couldn’t believe the words that were coming out of his mouth. “I’m stupid because I played pool with a guy? Seriously? Maybe the problem, Asher, is that you’re jealous. Have you ever thought of that? Maybe you’re just pissed that your ‘I can’t be your friend or anything else’ plan is backfiring!”

“You’re stupid because you accepted drinks from a man you didn’t know!” he snarled, slamming his fist down on the table. The
bang
made her jump in her chair. His bruised knuckles split open and began to bleed again, though she doubted he noticed the crimson drops splattering on the table. “You hung out with a guy I warned you to stay away from, just to spite me. When you were in the bathroom, that bastard
mickeyed
your goddamn drink!”

That stopped her cold. But it didn’t take more than a heartbeat for her shock to dissolve back into anger. So this was
her
fault? Typical dickhead male, blame the woman because she was almost raped. “Well, maybe if you could manage to keep the women you’re fucking off of you for two seconds, I could stand to be around you without wanting to puke!”

“I already tried to tell you, I’m not messing around with Tina. Maybe you shouldn’t make assumptions because it makes an ass out of you and m—no, it just makes an ass out of you.”

“Wow, you sure have a silver tongue, Tate. I don’t know how I’m controlling the urge to leap across this table and jump you right now.”

“Easy. I’m not trying to fuck you, Quinn. If I were, you’d sure as hell know it.”

Another verbal slap. And then the realization hit her . . . He was telling her the God’s honest truth. He really didn’t want her. For some embarrassingly dense reason, she hadn’t truly believed him before now. Maybe he was right and she really did have an overinflated opinion of herself. Humiliation burned through her anger, leaving her feeling just plain exhausted. It spooked her to realize how close she’d come to being assaulted when she’d believed she was safe. And if Asher could have been just a little bit nicer and a lot less insulting, she would have told him thank you for protecting her tonight and offered to patch up his hand, because it sure wasn’t looking very good.