Reaching Hearts (Hearts Series)
Read Reaching Hearts (Hearts Series) Online
Authors: Sabrina Lacey
Reaching Hearts
Part 2 of Hearts Series
© 2014 Sabrina
Lacey
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Cover Image © Christi Bastian
Licensed through:
Shutterstock.com
Published by Lacey Publications
This is a work of fiction. Names,
characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of
the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to
actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
No part of this
book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any
form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or
otherwise, without the express written permission of the publisher.
Copyright © 2014 Sabrina Lacey
All Rights Reserved
Note From The Author:
If you were among the first 30
readers who picked up Part 1 back in March 2014, two more chapters have been
added in the current edition. If your “The End” happened before Annie returned
to San Francisco, you haven’t heard the whole story. Please go to my blog
by clicking here
,
before you start this
book, Part 2. There are two ways to enjoy the new chapters.
If you’re not sure
…let me help. Were a couple of gorgeous men about
to open the door to Le Barré at the end of your Part 1? If so, you’re right
where you should be. Turn the page and enjoy.
Happy Reading!
Xx, S.L.
Reaching Hearts Description
Brendan doesn't know why Annie looks so
familiar, and she doesn't want to tell him. She wants to keep things just as
they are -
HOT
. He doesn't know
she's the girl he yelled at five years ago, or why he’s so drawn to her, when
his whole purpose has been to keep women at a far and safe distance.
Annie knows she should be honest, but when the
man she’s loved ever since she first laid eyes on him, finally sees her and
wants her, too - she doesn’t want to pull the curtain back to show who the real
wizard is… just a girl who nobody saw, and who changed herself just for him.
Annie
Mind:
relaxed. Body: same. Foot: tapping to the song
Can’t
Hold Us by Macklemore and Ryan Lewis. Hips: bouncing.
________
With
his hands soapy and wet from the sink, Manny gives me another glass to dry. I
take it, smoothing the cloth napkin around it, lost in my own world, boppin’ to
the beat. It’s the little things that make me feel good doing my job –
the simple act of washing glasses, wiping tables after we’re closed, placing
the order for more liquor with my suppliers. It’s an amazing feeling to have
opened my own business… to not have to work for anyone else. I have no idea how
I’m going to get it in the black, but hopefully something will happen soon.
I
wish I were better at social media. I didn’t spend a lot of time on a computer in
Italy, that’s for sure. There’s too much beauty outside to be stuck staring at
a screen indoors. Now I’m kicking myself for not making time for it. It just
never came up. Why would it? People actually get together in person there. With
the friends we had, we didn’t keep in touch over the Internet. Instead, we had
dinner parties. Met people in town for espresso and lively conversation. Took
day trips to surrounding towns. It was nice. Who am I kidding? It was more than
nice.
Still,
I’m glad I came back. Aside from my secret desire to find Brendan Clark, I
really needed to do something on my own. It had been eating at me for a while.
Christiano’s life became my life. His friends became my friends.
Who
am I without him? I still don’t know. But moments like these help, where I’m
tending to my own thing… even if that’s expressed simply by shining a glass,
I’m defining life for myself. Going where I want to go. Creating something
that’s of value to
me
. Learning how
to stand on my own without leaning on anyone.
Manny
hands me another glass as the front door opens. I’m busy humming to myself and
shining away spots. Barb, sitting on the other side of the bar from us, turns
around to see. She’s eternally up for drama, narrating people often as they
walk through the door.
Miss Congeniality
Club coming atcha! Get the vodka cranberries ready. Soccer must be missing a
couple moms. Break out the expensive white wine! College kids ready to flunk
out. Make sure the kegs are full because these guys won’t spring for bottled!
We
enjoy the hell out of her.
I’m
ready for the lowdown on our newest arrivals, smiling as I look down, shining
the glass and waiting. Tap-tap-tapping on the bar with her long red nails, she
purrs, “Ooooo. Two super hunks just strolled in like the world is their oyster.
I’ve got a pearl they can discover.” She turns her head to me. “Let me tell
you!”
Chuckling,
I look over to see what the fuss is all about. My eyes nearly fall out of my
head when I see Brendan Fucking Clark and Jerkoff Mark, all grown up and filled
out, standing by the door.
CRASH.
Just
before Brendan sees me, I drop to the ground, picking up the broken glass.
“Oh my God oh my God oh my God!”
Manny
is looking at them. “Who’s that?”
I
grab his leg and start pounding on it. “Stop staring!” He kicks me off, tells
me the coast is clear with a jerk of his finger. I hesitate and look at Barb
who’s got one eyebrow up, curious as fuck. I mean, wow. It’s like I’ve gone
back in time. The hot flush of excitement has spread into me just like it used
to. My heart quickly remembers how to pound like a jackhammer on crack cocaine
as if not a day has passed.
She
leans in and quietly asks, “Do you really want whoever that is to see you on
the ground like that?”
I
rise slowly and toss the glass shards into the trash, taking the opportunity to
toss a glance to the right to give him a quick inspection. His shoulders are
wider now. The baby fat is gone and his face is chiseled, the lines of his
cheekbones angular and pronounced. His forehead is still pressed in on itself,
eternally thoughtful just like I remember. And those deep blue eyes of his are
just as I remember, too. The two of them mount barstools on the far end of the
bar like cowboys would horses.
Oh
man. I’m in trouble.
“Give
me another glass to shine.”
Manny
hands one to me. He bends to pick up the rest of the broken glass.
“Wait!
Go get them a drink.”
From
the ground, he looks at me with surprise. “I don’t know how to make drinks.”
“They
probably want beer! You know how to pour, right
?!
” He
stands up, looking nervous. “Go! Please. Thank you!” He shrugs like
here goes nothin’
and heads away to help
his first customers.
Barb
is eyeing me, but I don’t even know she exists until, “What’s going on with
you, honey?”
“Nothing.”
I turn around to hide my face. What am I going to do? I can’t run. I’m the only
one tending bar tonight since it’s a slow middle-of-the-week shift. Who would
serve these people? Shit! I’m trapped. Oh God.
I
quickly cross to two Silicon Valley-types, but I hardly see them because my
eyes keep sneaking to the right. “Have you guys decided yet?”
The
one with the too long, curly blonde hair asks, “Do you use fresh mint in your
Mojitos?” He’s trying to look hip and maybe like a surfer but he
ain’t
quite there.
“It’s
not a Mojito if I don’t, now is it?”
They
glance at each other. “Of course. Sorry. We’ll have those.”
The
other quickly adds, “Please.”
I
wince.
Great way to run
a business, Annie.
“I’m sorry. I have a problem with sarcasm. I’m
seeing a doctor about it.”
Shaking
my head at my own crushed nerves, I nip tiny mint leaves off their stems into a
shaker. I called Brendan an idiot the last time I saw him. And the night before
that, we’d gotten into the worst fight. This will not be a happy reunion.
Scooping in ice and adding rum, plus a couple packets of Sugar In The Raw, I
look over again, quickly.
What
if he still hates me? He’d said he wanted to stay far away from me. Then why
did he run down the stairs that day I left?
Maybe
I’m about to find out.
I
give the shaker a good toss, staring at nothing. What is he going to say when
he recognizes me? I drain the concoction into a couple glasses with a flourish,
squirt in a splash of soda water from the gun, and slide limes on the rims. I
can’t believe this is happening tonight. Will he leave, as soon as he
recognizes me?
Handing the computer guys their drinks
,
I’m
on autopilot
.
Same
goes for getting the credit
card - it’s all a haze. The
short-haired
, quieter one
smiles after the first sip. “This is really good.”
“You
like it?” I’m doing anything I can to postpone the inevitable. Because part of
me wants to slide down the bar on my stomach stopping just in front of Brendan
Clark with a grin on my face, hands cupped under my chin, my eyelashes
fluttering as I ask,
See anything good?
I’m
guessing that wouldn’t go over too well.
“Uh…Yeah. It’s a really good Mojito.”
“Do
you need anything else? I could get you something else. Two more maybe?”
The
guys stare. I stare. It is AWKWARD.
“We
should probably finish these first. But then yeah, maybe.”
“Dammit,”
I mutter as I leave. Their eyebrows go up.
With
each step I take to Brendan, everything fades away more and more except him and
the cacophonic pounding of my heart. There’s also a single, solitary voice in
my head screaming, RUN.
Brendan
Hand:
closing the door to Le Barré. Eyes: adjusting to the light. Patience with
Mark’s heartbreak: shot to shit.
________
Standing
beside Mark just inside, we take it in. “Nice place. I like the décor. Simple,
but enough.”
He
looks around. “It’s got a fair share of people in here, too.”
“I
bet the owner doesn’t think that. How many are you guessing?”
Mark
does a quick head count. “Eighteen?”
I’m
in marketing. Numbers are everything. And eighteen, even on a weeknight, isn’t
enough to keep a new place afloat.
“He’ll
need more than that if he wants to stay open.”
His
tone is flat and distant. “You’re the expert.” I’ve lost him again.
Smacking
him hard on the shoulder, I say, “You’re a bundle of joy to be around, you know
that? You’re hurting my game with that face, by the way. You’re supposed to be
my wing man, right?”
“The
bar?”
What
is up with this guy? He’s a shell of himself.
“Yeah,
dufus. The bar. What… do you
wanna
cuddle up in a
booth together? I could hold your hand.”
“Shut
it.” He makes his feet move forward.
No
fun will be had this night.
We
each take a seat on the far side of the bar. I look around behind us. “There’s
no art on the walls. How long
they been
open?” Mark
shrugs.
A
bartender walks up to us, looking scared… from me to Mark,
then
back to me. “You guys want a beer?”
Mark
and I exchange a look. Mark nods and the guy races off to pour us a couple
pints from the draft. No asking if we want bottles. No asking what kind of
draft we want.
“What
the hell?” I mutter sideways.
Mark
just shrugs. “It’s a surprise.”
“Well,
at least the glasses are frosted.” I watch the guy pour us Bass Ale. “And at
least he has good taste.”
He
returns and puts the chilled pints in front of us. He stares for a second and
then just leaves. Something short of a chuckle breaks out of me and I pick up
the beer. “I’ve never had a bartender not ask me what kind of beer I want
before. But maybe that’s what they do here?”
Mark
lifts his glass. “Part of their ‘thing,’ maybe. They guess for you.”
“Huh.
I like it.” Mark drinks without a toast.
We
stay quiet for a while and then I’ve had it. “Mark, Let it fucking go already!
You’re making your grandchildren depressed. She’s a woman just like every other
woman.”