Blackout (19 page)

“It’s okay. Go ahead.”

“You don’t have to ask twice.” She sidles over to the table. “What can I do for you ladies and gents?” It’s two to one boys to girls, so the odds are good for Ella.

“So the hottie asked you out,” Ella says as she struts away, giving the boys a good view of her short shorts. The guys definitely notice. One ogles at her, not hiding his interest.

“Yeah. I’ve been out with him before. Sort of.” The party turned disastrous. If it weren’t for Dare following me home, I could’ve been hurt. Would the stalker attack me? A sudden chill claws my chest.

Ella tilts her head. “There’s a drag in your tone. How could you not be interested? Darius is fun to look at, but you can’t go anywhere with him.”

She’s right. He won’t even let me clear his name.

I help Ella with the large table, and we manage to keep everyone happy outside, despite the place being busy.

Shannon waits on the Tucker boys’ table. I try not to notice Dare, but my gaze wanders over. In his shorts, even his leg muscles are well defined.

He doesn’t once look at Shannon as he tells her what he wants. His gaze rakes over me, and my body tingles from head to toe. My head feels light, so I rest against the bar for a moment before heading outside with a beverage order.

By nine o’clock, my feet and legs ache, and my broken arm burns. This can’t be good for it. As I walk toward the door, I see Shannon sit on some hefty biker’s knee. Dare is no longer sitting with the regulars. I scan the room, and thankfully he’s gone, so I won’t have to walk by him with Graham.

Ella closes out Graham’s bill for the table.

“See you outside in a minute,” Graham says, cupping my elbow. His genuine smile is for me.

I have a date with a real man, not one troubled by the past, like me. One of us should have his head on straight, and that’s Graham.

Outside, I skip down the steps toward my bike. That’s odd. It’s gone. Anxiety ripples the hair on the back of my neck. I spin around and spot my bike in the back of the old restored pickup. Dare sits on the bumper.

“What are you doing?” I ask, hands on hips.

He gives me that confident half grin of his. “Giving you a ride home.”

“Why?” He told me there could never be an ‘us’, so why go through all this trouble?

“After what you told me last night about the daisies, I should see you home.” He slides off the tailgate and slams it shut. “Come on.”

Dare opens the door for me. The scent of the sea and sun kisses his skin. I imagine my tongue tasting it and pull back from him.

“I can’t.” I glance back, praying Graham takes a few minutes to come out.

He turns up his nose. “Why?”

I swallow hard because Graham walks out alone, his keys jangling in his hand. “I have a date.”

“You ready.” He stops when he sees Dare.

Their gazes lock, and violence flashes in Dare’s eyes while surprise occupies Graham’s.

“That figures,” Dare says, opening the truck’s driver side door. “I’ll drop your bike at home. Wouldn’t want your boyfriend to scratch his Lotus.”

I don’t mean to, but I search for it and run up the steps toward Graham. Its candy-apple red shines under the lamplights. Dare and I talked about driving every kind of sports car one day. We drooled over all of them from Porsches to old Jags to Lamborghinis.

“Teal, you’re not with him?” Graham asks, standing beside me on Harley’s porch. “Are you?”

“No. We were good friends at one time, and I’d like his help in reopening the case. I’ve told you this.”

Graham grasps my wrist, causing Dare to glare before he replaces it with nonchalance. “I don’t understand. That case was solved years ago.”

I don’t mean to sigh with irritation, but I do. “No, it wasn’t.”

“According to the rumors, Darius is the one person you should avoid.” Concern draws lines into his brow, so I try to squash my frustration.

“He’s the only part of that day I can remember, and he wasn’t the problem.” It’s what I cannot remember that’s an issue.

His hand runs up my arm in affection. “I don’t want to argue. Do you want to go out still?”

“I do.” I need to get out, and I like Graham. He’s nice, though his interference annoys me.

“No surprise there,” Dare mutters. “Have fun.” Before he gets into his truck, the rest of the Tucker boys come out.

I don’t know how long they’ve been standing there, but Sam wears a bemused grin. “We still have other places to hit tonight, bro.” He walks down the steps in front of us and throws an arm around Dare.

“Let’s go,” Dare says, not bothering to look back.

I don’t want to care that he doesn’t, but I do.

Randy hops into the rear of the truck while Sam and Jackson squeeze into the front alongside Dare. The truck peels out of the parking lot, and part of me travels along the lonely highway with him.

Graham opens the door for me, but Dares does that too. He waits for me to slip onto the buttery leather seat before walking around to get behind the wheel. “Let’s start over. If it were anyone but Dare, I probably wouldn’t say anything. But after my last girlfriend, he rubs me wrong.”

“I understand.” Graham that is, but not Dare. Why did he sleep with Graham’s girlfriend? I don’t believe he didn’t know about her having a boyfriend. The Outer Banks isn’t that big.

“Where are the rest of your friends?” None of them have come out.

“They want to go for late night skinny dipping, and I thought that might be a bit presumptuous on our first date.”

I laugh. “And my cast would get wet.”

“You got me there.” Graham has those high cheekbones, dark eyes shaded by thick lashes, well-defined jaw, and a hint of stubble that makes him amazingly handsome. His skin has the coloring of a man who loves the outdoors, and he has the strong, nimble hands of a surgeon. “If you’re hungry, I could buy you dinner and then dancing, maybe shoot some pool.”

“Harley’s feeds me for free, so I’m good. Pool?” I’d like to impress him with one of the few skills I own.

“Pool it is. Might have a little bit of a wait at this hour though.”

“That’s okay.” We can get to know each other.

He drops me by my house where I find the bike leaning up against the house, so I tuck it into the garage. Lulu has gone to bed, and the house is all locked up.

I put on one of Mama’s flowery skirts and another sheer top. I inhale at how revealing it is. This is the new less timid, less modest me.

Before I leave, I set the new alarm based on the instructions left on the kitchen table.

When I come out, a wide grin encompasses Graham’s mouth. He whistles. “You look beautiful.”

“Thank you.” I look like the photos of Mama now.

Graham drives us to the Bluefin Bar. The parking lot is packed and overflows into the sandy grass fields across 12.

With his palm pressing the small of my back, he shepherds me into the bar where a live band plays reggae. When I was in Paris, Henri took me clubbing all the time. We’d meet up with friends and dance. While they drank, I’d sip about a quarter of a Cosmo to fit in with the group. In Europe, the kids grew up drinking, and the legal age in France is 16. Here, I’m underage, even after I turn 18 tomorrow.

Graham sidles up to the bar to order a beer. “What do you want?” he yells over the band and people talking at the bar.

“Water,” I say.

He gives me an odd look. It’s better than Dare tossing my beer into the sand at the party. “Are you sure?”

I nod. The cops in town know who I am now, so there’s no point giving them any ammunition to haul me in, and I don’t need any excuse to blackout.

Several girls at the bar eye Graham like he’s the soup de jour. One squeezes up to him. “Hi Graham, do you want to dance?”

He smiles at her. “Sorry, not tonight.” He spins around and hands me an Evian. “Do you want to dance instead of playing pool?”

After being on my feet for nine hours, dancing sounds like agony. I take a sip. The water cools my throat and quenches my thirst.

Couples pack the floor in front of the stage, dancing cheek-to-cheek to a slow love song. Most of my friends dream about a boy like Graham, med-school, wealthy, and comes from a good family. So far, I don’t feel the sparks or the fire in my belly when he brushes up against me, but that won’t stop me from giving him a chance.

I glance around at the pool tables where it’s less noisy. “I’d rather beat you at pool.”

“Don’t make me look too bad.” He nuzzles his face into my hair. He’s gorgeous and sweet I remind myself.

I lean into him, and he fits comfortably. His arms fold around me, while his chin rests in my hair.

“You smell good,” he says, nudging me to the other side of the bar.

Two leggy brunettes stroll past us, giving him a long, lengthwise ogle. A guy smiles at me though, bumping into a stool.

“I’ve got the hottest girl in here,” Graham whispers into my ear as another boy checks me out.

“Thank you.” I don’t usually feel this confident, and his praise warms me all the way to my toes. They even crimp under for a moment in my gladiator sandals. In Paris, all my friends were tall and model-thin. In fact, several strutted on runways for top designers and one had a contract with Vogue.

Just as my body molds to Graham and he leans down to kiss me, I catch Dare out of the corner of my eye chalking a pool stick. I should’ve known. When I was eight, Sam loved to shoot pool, and Bluefin’s has the best tables.

For a brief instance, I turn my head back to Graham to brush my lips with his. The kiss sweetens with the slightest dip of his tongue, though my mind races back to Dare.

When I turn back to the Tuckers, Dare is staring at me. From his expression, Dare wants to rip out my eyes. Or is that look for Graham?

Graham doesn’t notice but finishes the kiss by rubbing my ear with his nose. “I’m having a great time.”

“Me too,” I say, though my thoughts focus on Dare. This shouldn’t be awkward.

Dare’s older brother Jackson kisses a pretty blonde then pats her butt before taking his shot. The glare he shoots my way is even less friendly than Dare’s. He plays with Randy at one table while Sam shoots with Dare. Sam snickers at me kissing Graham.

The six tables are busy with four players each. I walk over, fish out a twenty, and put it down on the middle table just as Graham unfolds his wallet.

“You should let me pay,” he says.

“Equal rights. Besides, I want the winnings.”

He tilts his head while looping one arm around my waist. “You haven’t seen me play.”

“Then I’ll break.”

A wicked grin slices Dare’s strong chin darkened by stubble, sending an uninvited thrill up my spine. “After this game, Sam and I will take your money.”

Sam leans on Dare, who’s about an inch taller now. “We certainly will, little girl.”

Graham briefly notices Dare and their eyes lock, sharing mutual hatred.

“We should go,” Graham says into my ear.

“I’d like to shoot pool. Please.” I lace my fingers into his.

“If you insist.” Graham squeezes my waist, and Dare white knuckles his beer before pounding it. He sets it on the waitress’s tray while ordering a round of beers and shots. When the drinks arrive, he slams a shot back.

“Here, Graham.” Dare hands a shot to him. “Bury the hatchet. I swear I didn’t know Ashley was dating you.”

That must be his ex-girlfriend’s name.

Graham’s brow twitches, but he does the shot and shoots a beer with Sam and Dare. Drinking with the Tucker boys isn’t a good idea, but I don’t say anything.

Jackson gestures Dare to slow down. “What’s you doing there little bro? I’ll have to drive you home at the rate you’re going and you have to race tomorrow. Don’t be blowing it.”

Sam takes his next shot. “Dare’s a big boy. He can make his own decisions, and he will go professional tomorrow.”

So that’s Dare’s plan to get ahead—professionally race. He must not want to be a vet anymore.

“He also has to beat Graham and Teal at pool,” Jackson says, “so he needs to stop drinking.”

“You don’t have to worry about Sam and I beating them,” Dare says. “I could do that with one hand tied behind my back.”

“I’ll take that,” Graham says, ordering the next round.

Jackson cups Dare’s shoulder. “I’m not worried about you winning. It’s you I’m worried about.”

Dare shrugs off his brother. “I can take care of myself.”

I carefully select a pool stick ensuring it’s straight and true then chalk it. Graham picks up a stick and leans over me, nuzzling my neck.

Dare snorts.

The boys do another shot and a beer. I shake my head while nursing my water.

Sam grins as though he’s a shark circling prey. “Shall we let the lady break?”

“If you want me to, I can,” Graham offers.

Dare’s never seen me play pool. Daddy played at the professional level and it paid for law school. Several big sponsors offered him big money to continue playing, but Daddy turned them down. He’s taught me everything I know.

“That’s okay.” Using a longer bridge, I hit the cue ball just below center and strike the lead ball squarely, knocking three balls in—two stripes and one solid.

“So we have stripes,” Graham says while Dare watches me. It’s as if he sees right through me, and my body responds to his gaze flicking over me.

I study the table. The layout for solids is much better, so I say, “Solids.”

Graham gives me a puzzled look. “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” I say. “The purple ball in the corner pocket.” A few of the guys have stopped shooting at the other tables to watch. I shoot all but one ball into the pocket, but don’t leave Sam with any shots. It’s like shooting fish in a barrel.

“Damn, girl,” Jackson says. “I would’ve never guessed, but I guess you aren’t as sweet and innocent as you like everyone to believe.”

Sam flicks my hair. “We already knew that. Dare took care of her.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Dare growls.

Jackson shakes his head. “That girl fucked you all up.”

“That’s for damn sure,” Dare mumbles.

“There’s no need to speak that way in front of a lady,” Graham says.

“It’s okay,” I say, pressing the heel of my hand on his chest. “I’m used to Tucker talk.” Well, I used to be. They haven’t changed much. “Let’s just concentrate on the game.”