Beyond Repair (Broken Girl Book 1) (6 page)

"No issues here," I reply finally, distracted by my rambling thoughts.

"Yes there is," he laughs, albeit humorlessly. "With this town, with your dad, with me. What's the deal, huh? What did the world ever do to you?"

I release a long sigh, lifting my eyes to meet his.
What hasn't the world done to me?

"What do you see when you look at me?"

"Huh?"

"When you look at me. When you get past the hate you have for me. What do you see? Crazy chick right? Psycho? Lights on, but no one’s home?"

"I don't understand," he says, and the poor fucker looks as confused as he sounds. "What are you talking about?"

"You're conditioned, Reeves."

"Conditioned?"

"Don't worry," I throw him a small smile in response to his skeptical glance. "You aren't alone."

I turn away from him to face out towards the small town ahead of us. The sun is just starting to set, giving the view a burnt orange glow. From here, the place looks like any other small town. It almost looks inviting. No one would ever guess the stuff that actually goes on behind the closed doors.

"Everyone here is. All trained to see what's right in front of them, without daring to look under the surface. Sure, I'm crazy, psychotic probably, you knew me when I was a kid so that isn't news. I’m just the spoilt, attention seeking brat that you wish would just disappear instead of dragging your poor cousin down, right?" I snort a laugh. He hasn’t got a clue. "Ever wonder why? Even question why I'm like that? Why your cousin has needed to drag me from the gutter, time and time again?"

"That's your business, and Kate can make her own decisions."

I shake my head softly. He doesn't get it, never will. There was no hope for him, not even a tiny sliver. He is already in too deep. My hand grasps the handle of my car, and pulls the door open.

"Exactly."

I drop myself inside the car and start the engine. His voice cuts through the noise as I slam the door shut, so I roll the window down. He stares at me, questions mixed with anger and frustration burning in his gaze.

"Callum," I say softly, when the silence becomes too much. "You may not like me, but you'll never hate me more than I already hate myself."

My foot is on the gas before he can reply and I finally let the tears fall. They stain my face as I drive home, my mind questioning my own existence.

I think it's time to leave Park Bay.

The music is still as tasteless as it’s always been, but at least the beer is cold. I glance across the rest of the space, leaning my back against the rough wood of bar. Roy's is the only bar in town, but when next to no people residing here, there isn’t much need for another one. It's kind of divey, and it’s definitely in serious need of an updated look, but Roy himself is absolute awesomesauce personified. I love this man, kind of a lot. He's like the old inappropriate uncle you wish you could hate. Although for me, he is that uncle. My mother's brother to be exact, and he is the guy that looked out for me as I grew up. He stuck up for me when the town kids were being assholes, drove my drunk ass home when I discovered alcohol, and forced our beloved Mayor to take me to the doctors whenever I was sick. He hates my dad, which automatically makes me love him more. The fact that he makes the best spaghetti sauce helps, too. Really helps. I swear, that sauce has magical properties. I look at him now, his old weathered face fixed into a scowl as he watches his bar and the town throwbacks that are in it. His crazy, gray hair is sticking out at obscure angles, making him look like he's been licking batteries or something. I almost laugh, the guy doesn't give a crap about how he looks. He turns, as if sensing my stare, and offers me a rare smile before coming over.

"Everything okay, Fliv?"

I smile at the nickname he gave me when I was a kid. "Oh yeah," I reply, and lift my wine glass to him. "I'm just perfect."

"How many of those have you had?"

Automatic eye roll
. "Not even close to enough," I laugh, then reach over the bar and pull him into a fierce hug, whispering into his ear. "I missed you, Uncle Roy."

He chuckles into my hair before pulling back awkwardly. The smile in his eyes tells me he missed me too. Which is good, you know, or that would have been awkward. He takes the glass from me and fills it with more wine, then slides it back over. I expect him to wander off then, but he doesn't. He walks around the bar and perches himself on a stool beside me.

"Don't you have customers to tend to?" I tease.

"They can wait. I want to hear about New York, and work, and why the hell you're back in this two-star town."

"New York was okay, until it wasn't. Work is, well, it’s work. My boss is an ass, but then I don't have to see him so who gives a shit, right?" I laugh to myself. "And here? Well, I missed your pretty face obviously."

"Nice try, Fliv. What's really going on? Are you sick?"

The concern in his eyes almost floors me. He's looking at me like a parent would look at their child after missing a few calls or something. Not that I’d know what that looks like, not really. The only looks I got from my dad were disappointment and rage. I release a sigh, unsure of what to tell him. I can't even justify my glamorous return to myself, never mind another human being. Especially not one who cares so much. All I know is I’m here because I can be, when for a long time I couldn’t be. I don't get to reply anyway, as a half-drunk moron interrupts our little family reunion with his obnoxious sarcasm.

"Can I get some service please?"

Rude much.

Roy whips his head around to face him, the snarl growling right from his chest. I almost smile at the familiarity of it. Roy is a beast when he's mad, real scary. I mean, he's a total teddy with me and always has been, but when it comes to other people the grizzly bear comes out.

"Can't you see I'm busy?" Roy spits, his jaw as hard as his eyes.

"I'm sure your little," the idiot at the bar flicks his glance to me then back again. "friend will still be waiting for you in five minutes, won't you sweetheart? For the record, high five on scoring
that
piece, dude."

Little fucker.

I cut in before Roy can pulverize him into dust.

"Excuse me, asshole," I stand from my perch and offer Roy a wink as I stroll over, putting extra sass in my hips. "Firstly, interrupting a conversation is rude. Secondly, I'm not his friend. I'm his niece you dick."

I lean in close, whispering into his ear, "And finally,
sweetheart
. I do all the scoring around here."

I step back from him and smirk, offering a little wave when he scampers back to his friends. I force down the annoyance and turn back to Roy.

"So, where were we?"

"Hey baby."

I spin from my resting place against the bar and let a lazy smile spread across my face when I notice Mr Wannabe Rockstar beside me. His long hair is tied back in a ponytail, an almost shy smile on his face as he stands with his hands tucked into impossibly tight, black jeans. Faded tattoos snake up his surprisingly muscular arms, disappearing under the turned up sleeves of his pale blue shirt.
Yummy
. He must be new to town, because I sure as shit would have remembered him.

"Well, hello there," I reply. "What can I do for you?"

I lean back, resting my elbows on the bar, and cross my right leg over my left. His dark eyes watch the movement, widening when the hem of my black dress rises. I lift my glass of wine to my lips and take a slow sip.
Yes, I am a champion of Seduction.

"I was thinking more of what I can do for you," he says, a smirk creasing the corner of his mouth. "I mean you are here all by yourself, right? Maybe I can change that for you.”

He’s right. I am alone. Because my
best friend
is at some fancy-pants dinner with her husband, meaning my single ass is riding solo. Not that I mind, she'd never let me flirt with a complete stranger anyway. She’s mean like that. Besides, I had Roy up until twenty minutes ago when he had to go and deal with Martin, the town drunk. Poor fucker. Martin, not Roy. Martin Giles is at least five hundred and fifty years old, is the first one in the bar, and the last one out. He's currently being laid down on one of the dusty booths at the back because it's pointless to send his ass home. He'll only appear again within ten minutes. I flick my glance back to the tall drink of sweet release in front of me.

"What do you have in mind?"

His smirk deepens, his hand reaching across the bar to settle behind me. He moves his body closer to mine, and the heat from him warms me. I know what he wants, and it currently matches exactly what I want. Score one for the crazy chick.
Thank all that's holy.

"Well," he starts, bringing his face close to mine and talking directly into my ear. "It involves vodka, zero clothes, and you screaming my name."

Hot damn. I love a man who lacks any form of romance.

I arch my brow, "I don't even know your name."

"Jake Archer."

"You live in town?" I ask, and this is a very important question. Because if he does, then I'm gone. If not, then game on, Rockstar.

"Nah, just passing through. I'm heading out first thing but staying in that lodge place tonight."

I almost laugh. Looks like I will be getting laid in Park Bay Lodge after all. I swallow the rest of my wine, jump down off the bar stool and spin to face him.

"What the hell are we waiting for?"

His smile is wicked as he practically drags me out the bar, my own laughter echoing over the dated music. I offer a sly wave to Roy on my way past, who shakes his head in mock disapproval. At least, I hope it's mock. I don’t think I could deal with him being disappointed with me, too.

Jake leads me across the square and into the only other place open in town at this time - Al's Liquor. I smile inside at the memories of my childhood, of getting dressed up and strolling here to buy alcohol. Al didn't care that we were underage, but he appreciated the short skirts all the same.
Men.

"I wondered when you'd show your face in here," the old man says when I sidle up to the counter. "I heard your crazy ass was back in town."

I drop my elbows on the laminated wood and rest my head on my hands, flashing Al my sweetest smile.

"Awh, did ya miss me and my crazy ass?"

Jake appears beside me and drops a bottle of SKYY on the counter, the glass hitting the wood with a harder than necessary clink. He snakes his arm around my waist, marking his territory by metaphorically pissing in a circle around my reet. My libido hums in appreciation.

"How could I not? You were my best customer," Al replies, then turns to Jake and grunts, "Twenty bucks."

Jake hands him the cash, then offers me a curious glance. What can I say? I was here a lot when I was younger. Vodka is my friend. My very, very close friend. We're practically sisters. Or maybe vodka is a male, which makes us brother and sister. It would make sense for it to be male. Both men and vodka give me headaches in the morning and I absolutely always regret them.
High five
. I cracked a funny.

"So what's your name, baby?" Jake asks as we exit the liquor store.

I spin and walk backwards, his fingers linked with mine as I pull him along. I love this, love how simple it is. He doesn't know me, or anything about me and vice versa.

"Guess."

He laughs, halts his steps, and pulls me close to him. His arm moves around my waist and down to my ass. I bring my own arm around his neck and press a hard kiss against his mouth. He responds immediately, heating my lower stomach with intense hunger for desire. He smiles against my lips when I end the kiss, and digs his fingers into my ass as a low growl erupts from the back of his throat.

"Let's go play," I whisper, then pull away.

He drapes his arm over my shoulders, and together we head into the direction of the hotel.

Jake pushes my body against the wall the second the door to his room clicks shut. My pussy dampens in anticipation as he runs his hand up my thigh and under my dress.

We've spent the past two hours getting crazy drunk in the parking lot of the lodge, sharing stories about nothing, and giving each other very little of ourselves. It's been pretty damn perfect, and with the way his predatory smile is stretching across his face as he roams my body, this isn't going to disappoint either. In one quick movement, my dress is removed until I'm left in just my stilettos and red, lace panties. His hands work furiously at the fly of his jeans, before pushing them down and removing his shirt. Now it's my turn to roam his body.
Hot-fucking-damn
. Jake is a wall of lean muscle and weird tattoos, totally pulling off the skinny rocker-guy look he has going on. I normally prefer bigger men, with broad shoulders and solid frames but I can still appreciate the fine form in front of me now.