The One Where He Finds Her At The Club

Light rain beats against the windows of my Seattle apartment. I stand in the front room, against the ceiling-high windows, and look out at the city.

I’ve been here so many times, and every time, I’ve looked and wondered where she was. Seven weeks ago, I got my answer. She was standing in front of me in a hotel looking so fucking beautiful that it hurt.

I vowed, there and then, that I’d never let her go again. That the only time I’d see her waking away from me would be because she’d be walking into the bedroom, ready for me to follow her. Or perhaps into the kitchen wearing nothing but my shirt, ready to make coffee.

I broke my promise to myself and my promise to her, but now, I’m determined to make it right again.

No matter how hard it is. I need my woman back in my life, and this time, I need her to stay.

My cell buzzes with a message from Tyler telling me that he’s back in London and he thinks there’s a possibility that the woman he fucked last night works for me. Fantastic. Not that I’m surprised any. While I spent my teen years pushing my father to teach me everything he knows about running a business, Tyler was gaining enough experience with girls to manage a porn company and give the girls real orgasms to boot.

I drop it on the bar in my kitchen and pour some whisky in a glass, barely glancing at the measurement. It burns my throat as it goes down, but it’s a welcome burn, and the subsequent warmth spreads through my body.

To know that Dayton is here, in this city, is making my body hum with anticipation and fear. I know she’s here, just not where… If she’s working or not.

Fuck. If she’s working. I don’t believe it, not in my heart, but the chill she looked at me with in Paris when she informed me that I was just her client is enough to make me doubt it. If she can be so impersonal and emotionally blank standing right in front of me, surely she can do it without me being around.

My cell buzzes again, and I look at the ceiling. If that’s Tyler…

She’s in Vibe.

I stare at Uncle Ted’s text. We own a handful of bars and clubs together, mainly in Seattle, but I leave the running of them to him while my aunt manages the restaurant side. The nightlife has never really been my thing, but the business opportunity came up. Working with my uncle was a no-brainer, even five years ago.

And now I know where she is. In the first bar we bought together, the one that doubles as a nightclub. Vibe Bar. The one a block away from my apartment.

I run my fingers through my hair. The temptation to go down there and see her, even if we don’t talk, is so strong. It would take me a minute to get there.

I want to see her. I fucking need to see her, to see if she’s okay, who she’s with…

Who is she with?

A blond girl.

I nod my head, letting my breath out. Good. That’s probably her best friend, Liv. I remember her telling me about her a few times before.

But some guy is trying to hit on her.

I slip my feet in my shoes and slam the door behind me without thinking about what I’m doing. Right now, whether or not she wants to see me is irrelevant. Whether or not she does is even less relevant.

All I can think of in this second is getting down to Vibe and hauling this jackass off of my Dayton.

The music from the bar hits my ears as soon as I round the corner, and there are small pockets of people smoking outside. I push past them and into the bar.

My eyes immediately scan the place, searching for that gorgeous head of brown hair. She’s not hard to find. I’m drawn to her like we’re opposite poles. I’m certain I could find her even if the world was ending.

“Really, let me get it for you,” some guy says, leaning into her.

“That’s very kind of you, but no, thank you,” she responds, her voice carrying over the music. She hands a bill to the guy working the bar and turns away from the one next to her.

I think he’s about to speak again, but I don’t know, because I interrupt him anyway. “You heard the lady. She can buy her own drink.”

Dayton stiffens.

“And who are you?” he shoots back.

My lips tug up at one side. “I’m the owner.”

“Right. Sure you are. I bet you just want her for yourself, don’t you?”

I lean into him, lowering my voice. “I own this bar, and you’d be right in assuming that the woman you’re attempting to hit on is mine also. Now I suggest you find a seat at the other end of the bar or I’ll remove you personally.”

He stares me down before grabbing his beer and moving. Dickhead.

Dayton grabs Liv’s arm and they both stand. She tugs her toward the exit, and the second Dayton’s hand falls from her friend, I step in. I shake my head at the blonde in front of me, and she shuts her mouth on whatever she was going to say.

The street is empty, the smokers of minutes ago back inside or moved on. The only person here is Dayton, leaning against the wall with her hands pressed against her stomach.

I step in front of her, my heart racing at the sight of her. Fuck. She looks gorgeous. Her dress clings to every part of her body, and her hair is parted to the side, hanging over one shoulder, tantalizingly showing the side of her neck. I want to bend forward and run my lips across her skin, fold her into me, slide my hands over her body.

And then she looks up, and I remember everything.

Her dark eyes are hard but shocked. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

“I own this place with my uncle. He saw you were here and called me.”

“Not that it has anything to do with you. Where’s Liv?” She straightens, ready to move, but I reach out.

My fingers wrap around her bicep and I spin her into me. This conversation isn’t done yet.

“I wanted to see if you were okay. That’s all. Then that guy—”

“I can take care of myself.” She snatches her arm back. “I’m more than capable of it, thank you. I certainly don’t need saving from someone who has no right to do so.”

“Is that what you think?”

She steps back, her voice softening slightly. “That’s what I know. You gave up every right to have anything to do with me eleven days ago.”

“Twelve.”

“What?”

A bitter laugh bubbles in my throat, but I swallow it down. “Twelve days. But who’s counting?”

“Not me, evidently.” She turns away from me, leaving me with the view of the way her dress dips down to the small of her back, and rests her hand against the door.

“It’s over.” The words fall from me easily despite the desperation inside me. I need her to know this, know that the thing that broke us apart is done with. “Naomi finally signed the papers two days ago.”

“Congratulations,” she responds weakly. “Now perhaps you can find someone and have a real relationship with them.”

I shake my head as I look at her, her profile illuminated by the flickering of the bar lights. “I already found her.”

“Then it’s a shame you fucked it up, isn’t it?”

I step into her and rest my hand above hers on the door handle. My chest presses into her back, her ass perfectly curving against me, and I settle my hand on her waist. She needs to understand that I’m not letting her go.

I lower my mouth to her ear. “It took me seven years to find you again, and if you think I’m giving up now, you’re so very, very wrong.”

“I don’t doubt that for a second, but it doesn’t mean you’ll get anywhere.”

“This isn’t over, Dayton. We aren’t over.”

“Oh, it is. We’re very over. Trust me.”

Like she’s snapped out of a trance, she yanks on the door. The movement forces me to step back and let her back inside. I follow her in, allowing her to return to Liv, and watch her steadily. Her hips sway with each step, and something in my stomach twists when I see her reach up to the corner of her eye and smile wanly.

Then her eyes meet mine, a myriad of emotions swirling in them, all fighting for the limelight, for the consuming swamp of feeling. Heartbreak is the most prevalent, I notice, its shadows slightly darker than the regret and sadness that push against it.

I hope that, in my own, she sees the same thing reflected back.

The eyes speak louder than the mouth ever could.

Date: 2015-02-28; view: 711