Whiskey Kisses (8 page)

I park and follow the scarf of her perfume as we head inside, opting to sit at the bar.

“So what gives?” She raises a brow, and my dick perks to attention. There’s never been a whole lot Izzy had to do to get my attention or that of any member of my anatomy.

“Meaning?”

“Why are you my knight in shining armor lately?”

“Maybe I’ve always been, and it’s just taken you this long to notice.” Great. Make her sound like she’s not observant enough. I wouldn’t blame her for bolting right now.

Her mouth opens as if she’s about to say something, and she’s quick to close it. “I don’t need a knight, Holt.” She drops her gaze for a second. “But thank you.”

The waitress comes by and asks if we’re ready to order.

“I think I need a sec.” Izzy raises a long, slender finger, and I can’t help but imagine slipping it past my lips. Every last part of her makes my mouth water, and her pretty pink fingernails are no exception.

I go ahead and put in my order as Izzy bites down over her finger, still studying the menu.

“Hawaiian roll.” She shakes her head. “Rainbow.” She gives a nervous laugh. “Definitely a rainbow roll.”

“Great!” The waitress snaps my menu and reaches for Izzy’s, but she’s quick to pull it back.

“On second thought, make it an eel roll—extra sauce.”

“You got it.” The waitress tries to pry the menu from Izzy’s hand, and a tugging war ensues.

“Maybe I should stick with the Hawaiian?”

“How about all three?” I suggest. “I’ll help polish them off.” I was just being polite by not ordering half the menu anyway.

Izzy gives a slight nod.

“Sorry,” she whispers as the waitress disappears. “That’s me in a nutshell. I can’t seem to take a step forward without taking two steps back.”

“Baby steps. Sometimes that’s the quickest way to move anywhere.”

“Baby steps.” She lowers her lashes and swallows hard. “You always know the right thing to say.” Izzy looks up at me with a question in her eyes, but she won’t give it.

I rock my shoulder into hers. “All right, fill in the gaps for me. You graduated high school—that’s about as far we got the other night. You’re still at the studio and what else? Any bad breakups you want to tell me about?” Shit. I’m pretty sure digging up bad memories is no way to break the ice. Leave it to me to put the night in the crapper long before our food ever arrives.

“Nope. I bet you can trump me in that department. Tell me about the girls you’ve gone out with. Any serious contenders?” She bites down on her finger again, and I can’t help but feel like she’s seducing me. Although something tells me she’s not trying, it’s just an aftereffect of being so damn beautiful. Hell, Izzy can seduce me simply by taking her next breath—already has.

“Let’s see. I’ve had three relationships that have lasted longer than a few months. One of those lasted about a year, but the rest were revolving doors.” More like revolving beds but I leave that part out.

“Sounds like you’ve been busy.” She giggles into her words, and it’s the first genuine smile I’ve gotten out of her all night. “I bet each of those girls wishes they had a second chance with you.”

“Doubt it. How about you? How many broken hearts are you responsible for?” I know for a fact one—and that would be me all through high school. I moped for her every time I left the studio after picking up Annie. Deep down I think I still mope for Izzy. Hell, I know I do.

“None here. I’m a smooth operator.” She gives a little wink. “I specialize in leaving them panting for more. God’s honest truth right there.”

Our food and drinks arrive, and she takes a quick sip of her water.

“Can I ask what your longest relationship was?” I’m not sure if I just entered a no-fly zone, but I’m betting her answer to this question is about to reveal more than I think.

“Ten years and counting.” She tips her drink to me as if making a toast. “That would be with my cats. But they’re loyal to a fault, and they know how to keep their paws to themselves—mostly.”

“Very funny. Cats, huh? I’d like to meet them. Annie had a cat once. I think my dog ate it for breakfast one morning.” I lean in and nudge my shoulder into hers. “I’m kidding. It took off for greener kitty pastures.”

“You never know, I might be harboring it.” She leans in further, and the light hits her just right, washing her olive skin smooth as velvet. My fingers tremble just wanting to touch her to confirm the theory. “I’ve got four strays.”

“That’s a lot of little mouths to feed. But I think you’re evading the question. Longest relationship?” I’m getting the feeling Izzy is hiding something, and it’s not just her relationship history. She’s skittish. Something has her spooked, and it has for a while.

“Longest relationship.” She glances down at the neat row of black-coiled dots in front of her. “How long have I known you?” She’s teasing, but that hurt look in her eyes says she’s not. “I don’t do relationships, Holt. I don’t think anyone’s ever going to get that out of me.” She stirs her drink with her straw, gazing off into the wall for a moment. “Besides, I want to stay close to my mom—make sure she’s okay. I don’t want her to be alone. No one should have to be alone.”

“Does that include you?”

“Trust me, with Mom around, I won’t be alone. Have I mentioned four cats?”

I glance down at my food, looks good, too bad my appetite took off about thirty seconds ago.

“What about, you know, having someone special in your life. Surely you’ll need a man around to open up jars—give you a nice massage at the end of a long day at the studio.” I meant for it to sound sarcastic, but, in truth, it sounded like some moronic question I’m insisting she answer.

“Mmm,” she moans before swallowing her first bite. “The massage sounds heavenly. And, yes, a jar-opening man would be nice, but this is me we’re talking about.” She averts her eyes as if I should understand what it means. “I think I’ll stick to psychotic blind dates for now. Baby steps, remember?”

“Got it.” We take in the rest of our meal, sharing memories of West Hollow Brook High, her days as a cheerleader, the drama department. For someone who seemed so outgoing, she sure clammed up after high school.

Strange. Sounds like something big happened between then and now. And whatever it is, it still has a hold of her.

I plan on finding out exactly what it might be.

And then I’m going to free her.

At least I hope I can.

Ironic because, deep down, I know there’s no one who could ever free me.

Izzy

Hi Dad,

I did it. I ventured into Laney’s bear trap and had to spend an hour gnawing off my leg just to get away from the lunatic she paired me with.

Do you ever feel like life is trying to lead you in a direction you don’t want to venture? And yet, ironically, I think I do want something along the same path. I’m just not sure it can ever fit into my life. Who could ever accept me when I can’t seem to accept myself? Plus, I’m pretty sure shacking up with my mother isn’t some poor boy’s dream of a happily ever after. You know Mom. It would be more of a horror story. Funny, because without you, it’s been nothing but a tragedy.

~Little Bit

The rain drives down over Hollow Brook like axes being hurled from the sky as I run into the Black Bear with my jacket pulled over my head. It’s the night of Laney and Ryder’s engagement party which seems strange since they technically got engaged months ago, but, knowing my sister, it’s her way of starting what she’s affectionately dubbed her wedding season. It’s officially the big countdown with only nine weeks to go. I went ahead and got fitted for a simple black dress, high collar, long sleeves. I’m not in the mood to attract attention to myself on Laney’s big day or any other day to be exact. I’ve never wanted half the attention I’ve received. That scene from last night at the sushi bar runs through my mind. I could feel Holt probing. He wanted more, I could tell, but really the rest isn’t all that important. I’m the reason my mother has had nothing but a string of revolving-door relationships. And, to be honest, I’m not holding my breath that things will work out with her and Greasy. Speaking of which.

Off at the far end of the bar, I spot my mother in a bright blue power suit. Her inky hair sits combed back neat with a matching blue bow plastered to the side of her head. She’s laughing it up with a man about her age, well-dressed, gray hair, handsome. He seems nice enough. Too bad Greasy D is standing right beside her with his wandering eye while he levels the edge of a younger girl’s miniskirt. Holt goes over and pats the gentleman on the back, joining their circle.

“Interesting,” I whisper as I make my way in their direction.

An oversized banner is strung up over the bar, spelling out
Congratulations!
with little silver wedding bells dispersed throughout. A plethora of flowers sit on each table—white roses with a sprig of asparagus flowers thrown in for color. It looks beautiful and elegant, much like my baby sis. I couldn’t be happier for her and Ryder.

“Hey there,” I say as I step into the small circle, planting myself right next to Holt.

“Hey yourself.” Holt gives an easy smile, and I feel right at home by his side.

“Marcus”—Mom pulls me in—“this is my daughter, Elizabeth. She’s working on her spinstership with four cats currently under her charge. If you find a stray please give me a call because every cat lady worth her salt knows you can never have too many.”

“Nice intro,” I smart. “You can call me, Izzy,” I say, accepting his hand as he gives a gentle shake. Spinstership. My mother keeps reminding me, that in three short years, I’ll be turning thirty. You’d think I were inching my way toward a very steep cliff, and the only way to save myself from this horrible outcome is to strap myself to some poor, unsuspecting man for the rest of my life.

“Marcus Edwards,” he says. I can’t help but notice he looks slightly familiar—something about those glowing eyes. “This is my fiancé, Jenny.” The girl by his side looks all of thirteen with her dark locks pulled into a sleek ponytail. Her over-bright lipstick gives her that playing-with-mommy’s-makeup look.

“Izzy, this is my dad.” Holt presses his hand into the small of my back, and I take a breath. I glance down at his arm, and he pulls it away, quick as it came.

I revert the attention back to his father and the ingénue he’s linked himself with. “It’s nice to meet you—both.” God, is she really marrying him? No wonder my mother is stuck with men like Greasy D, all the good ones are busy trolling the sandbox for their next conquest. That can’t be awkward
at all
for Holt, considering, legally, he’ll be obligated to card his new stepmother for the next five years.

Mom fires up their conversation again, and Holt and I take a step back.

“Sorry about that.” He glances down to my waist. “I wasn’t trying to—”

I shake my head. “It was fine. If I want to date, I need to get used to things like that? Baby steps, right?”

He looks puzzled for a moment until the gravity of what I’m saying finally sinks in. It’s my subtle way of letting him know I’m starting from scratch—that I have further to go than he could have ever imagined.

“Baby steps.”

Bryson and Baya come up, and he gives his brother a friendly sock to the arm.

“What did I say about hitting on the patrons? Izzy is this bonehead bothering you?”

Baya swats her boyfriend over the arm. “Ignore him.” She leans into me. “Holt is the second hottest guy in Hollow Brook. Isn’t that right?” She gives a quick wink over to him.

“You’re both funny.” Holt shakes his head at his brother as if he were ready to gift him a new orifice.

“Who says he’s second?” I tease.

Holt locks his gaze over mine with a sly smile building on his face. For a second it’s just the two of us in the room, stealing a private moment.

Laney and Ryder breeze over. Her hair is up with a waterfall of curls rippling to the side. She’s wearing a strapless mint green gown that finishes off that princess effect.

“Laney!” I give her a quick hug. “You look stunning.” I pull back and take her in as tears blur my vision. Laney is beautiful and whole—normal in every way. I thank God every day she escaped our childhood untainted by the bullshit that went on behind the scenes. I did exactly what my father asked and made sure Laney was safe. I would have killed to protect her—almost did. Sometimes I wish I would have, although the fear of a prison sentence kept me from committing a felony. Ironic since here I am with my invisible bars, caging me in wherever I go.