Stand & Deliver Page 2

  Not exactly the smoothest retort she could have come up with, but admitting how hard it was to watch the affectionate way Beckett kept his date tucked close and teased his thumb along her bare shoulder wouldn’t be kosher either.

  The wait at the bar was blessedly long, the number of patrons waiting shoulder to shoulder for a chance to order giving her time to relax and even out. Why she tortured herself by being around Beckett was beyond her. Like buying her favorite chocolate, leaving it out on the counter and refusing to eat it in the name of staying healthy for her job.

  Well, she was tired of the temptation. At least for tonight. One more drink and she’d be able to call it a night without earning the killjoy label the guys always tagged her with.

  The bartender finally made eye contact in that nonverbal way that said she was ready for Gia’s order, but Judd’s voice sounded before Gia could speak. “So, you didn’t bail.”

  Gia just barely managed not to drop her head in frustration and kept her sights on the bartender. “Shot of tequila.”

  With a smoothness that surprised her, Judd slid between her and the biker holding down the bar stool next to her. “Decker just tried to bet me twenty bucks you’d beelined it out of here.”

  Rather than give him her attention, Gia watched the bartender. “You didn’t take him up on it?”

  “’Course not. I know you better than that.” He splayed his hand low on her back, and moved in close enough his lowered voice was like a caress. “Seriously, you okay? You seemed upset.”

  Fucking Judd. Really, he was a nice guy. Cultured. Good-looking. A walking Ken doll with a voice as smooth as warm molasses. And he was right. They’d known each other a very long time.

  She twisted enough he had no choice but to drop his hand on her back and rested her elbow on the bar. “You know, despite what my parents tell you, you don’t need to babysit me. I’m a big girl.”

  His quick smile was full of perfectly straight white teeth, but she still remembered what he’d looked like as a pre-teen sporting braces—one of the benefits of having been neighbors for as long as she could remember. “Who said anything about babysitting? Maybe this is just my way of showing you I’m not giving up.”

  This time she did hang her head, sighing and scrunching her eyes tight as she did. They’d had this conversation more times than she could count. Not just with Judd, but with her parents, who’d been absolutely certain since she was in high school that she and Judd were a match made in heaven. “Judd, you know how I feel about this.”

  “Oil and water,” he said with the usual unshakable smile in his voice. “An odd couple. Not right to mix work and pleasure. Yeah, I think I’ve got them all memorized.” His warm finger drifted from beneath her ear and along her jawline to her chin then gently nudged her face to his. “I hate seeing you this sad. This alone. Can’t you even consider it? We know each other. Have the same interests and complement each other better than most couples who’ve been together for years.”

  Oh, she’d considered it. Especially early on when both sets of parents had gone above and beyond to arrange every possible scenario where the two of them were accidentally together. A tag-team effort that would have paired the daughter of Atlanta’s most successful criminal attorney with the golden son from one of the world’s foremost shipping company presidents.

  Judd was easy. Comfortable like a lamb’s-wool-lined pair of house shoes in the middle of winter. Going with the flow and seeing where things led would have been the simpler course for sure, but she just couldn’t shake the idea that something was missing. That some critical piece in their relationship was a tad skewed or out of kilter. In the end, she’d ended up relocating from Atlanta to Dallas just to find a little breathing room.

  And then she’d met Beckett.

  If there’d been any doubt before about what she wanted as far as a connection between two people, Beckett had shored up her ideals. Sure, he hadn’t noticed her, but he’d made it crystal clear what she wanted when she finally settled in with someone. That swirl low in her belly. The snap and crackle of electricity whenever her someone walked into a room. But more than that, she wanted respect. Mutual respect. The kind her parents never had, or had lost well before she could remember it existing.

  But maybe she’d been wrong. Maybe that kind of relationship didn’t exist. Or maybe it just wasn’t meant for her. “Do you remember that field competition in high school?”

  “The one where you cut in front of me on the home stretch and nearly made me bust my ass in front of everyone? Yeah, I remember it.”

  “That’s me, Judd. I’m competitive as fuck.”

  He flinched at the vulgarity. Or what their mothers would consider a vulgarity. For her, it was more of a sentence enhancer. A subtle exclamation point to drive the message home without shouting. “You were pissed at me for weeks, but I’m always going to be that girl.”

  Judd inched closer and slid his hand along the curve of her hip with the familiarity of longtime lovers. He wasn’t quite as tall as Beckett and definitely not as broad, but in that moment, she felt tiny. Feminine. And she hadn’t been able to claim that sensation in a very long time. “I was eighteen with a teenage ego. I promise you, the man I am today can take any competition you dish out.”

  God, it was tempting. To be appreciated. Touched. Even if she knew to the pit of her gut it wouldn’t go anywhere. All she had to do was lean in, press her hands against his chest and pray he’d take over.

  “Tell me you’ve got a damned good reason for having your hand on her.”

  Beckett.

  His voice hadn’t been loud, but it cracked with the same potency of a violent storm. Enough so the men on either side of her ceased their conversations and leaned a good distance away.

  As to her, she couldn’t decide whether to thank God for his intervention, or toss the full shot glass the bartender had plunked down at Beckett’s head. Damned if she did, and damned if she didn’t—just another night at the same old rodeo. If she’d learned nothing else in the time she’d worked with men like Beckett and Judd, it was that the closest thing to a non-response was the best response. Hard for a guy to get their ego stroked or wounded if you gave them no foothold to start with.

  She playfully swatted Judd’s hand away and turned for her shot, diffusing the situation with a whole lot of meh. “Don’t worry about Judd. He’s just fucking around.” She knocked the tequila back, raised the glass toward the bartender for another, then glanced up at Judd. “Isn’t that right?”

  Like always, Judd kept an even expression, but his tanned skin had a hint of red to it and a burn behind his eyes only mirrored shades could’ve covered. He held Gia’s stare, eyes narrowing just a fraction before he studied Beckett. “Yeah.” His gaze slid back to Gia and he huffed. “Just fucking around. Wasting time like always.”

  With that he turned and lifted his chin toward Beckett. “Have fun with your date.”

  The bartender plunked a fresh shot on the concrete surface just as Beckett moved into the space Judd had vacated.

  Gia ignored him and tapped the space beside her glass. “I’m gonna need a few more of those.”

  “No, she’s not.” Beckett reached for the shot, but Gia caught his wrist before he could make contact and glared at the bartender.

  “He absolutely has no say in what I drink,” she managed without growling. “So, when I say I need a few more, I mean I need a few more. After that, we’ll see.” She eyeballed the older biker sitting on her right who was clearly enjoying the show. “Kind of depends on how the next five minutes go.”

  Chapter Two

  Beckett hammered on the women’s restroom door hard enough the hinges protested and the beat-up doorknob rattled. Even with the racket he’d created, the sound barely registered against the party now in full swing in the main bar. “Darya, open the goddamn door.”

  “Man, if you b
ust that door down over a drunk woman, Jace will give you shit for months.” Not the least bit concerned with Beckett’s aggression, Knox leaned a shoulder against the wall beside the restroom door and crossed his arms. “Just chill. Darya can handle Gia no problem.”

  Darya manhandling one seriously shitfaced woman wasn’t the problem. It was the guilt presently using his conscience for a punching bag that was causing him issues. Not that he was gonna clue Knox or anyone else into that little tidbit. “Did you see how much fucking tequila she drank? Hell, I couldn’t drink that much and I’ve got a solid 120 pounds on her.”

  “Yeah, that was whacked. Never seen her go for the booze that heavy before. But you gotta admit, she’s a friendly drunk.”

  That was an understatement. She’d forgone their private table in the back of the bar in favor of making a whole new slew of friends up front. Within thirty minutes, every damned biker in the place had not only fallen in love, but was giving her their undivided attention. Hence, the reason he’d flat-out lied to Katy about a security crisis and got her a private car to take her home so he could stay close to Gia. It was either that, or break every man’s neck before he left the bar.

  The bathroom door swung open with a groan, and Darya propped it with one high-heel-shod foot. The glare she aimed at Beckett might have made him feel bad on any other night, but all he could process at the sight of Gia upright and somewhat healthy was solid relief. Her eyes were glazed over and the arm she had anchored around Darya was the only thing keeping her vertical, but her cheeks were flushed and her goofy smile promised she was feeling zero pain.

  “I had enough on my hands without you banging on the door every five seconds,” Darya said, her Russian accent a whole lot stronger than normal and weighted with a good amount of frustration.

  “I was worried.” Beckett moved in to peel Gia off her and take her weight himself.

  Darya held up a hand and stopped him before he could manage the task. “What do you think you’re doing?”

  “I’m getting her home and staying with her until she sleeps this off.”

  “No, you’re not. I promised her I’d take care of her.”

  “When?”

  Knox picked that moment to stop grinning at the two of them and straightened from the wall. “I think it was somewhere between the fifth and sixth shot. There were also muttered vows I couldn’t quite make out, but I thought I heard killing anyone with a set of balls, so I’d tread carefully, brother.”

  And there it was. Proof he’d seriously fucked up. “She’s pissed at me. I caused it, so I need to make it right.”

  The way Darya pursed her mouth—a mix of anger and pure feminine justification—confirmed his suspicions without a single word spoken.

  Knox, on the other hand, was clueless. “Whoa. How the hell’d you cause anything?” His gaze cut to Gia. “What’d I miss?”

  Gia picked that moment to surface from her happy daze and frowned at Beckett. “He cock-blocked me.” The furrow between her brows deepened as she tried to focus on Knox. “Or is that only when a guy does it to another guy? Oh, wait!” She smiled up at Darya. “It’s a clam jam!”

  Darya laughed at that and shifted her stance to better juggle Gia’s wavering balance. “Bushwhacked!”

  “Clitoference!” Gia volleyed back.

  “And now we know what was taking so long in the bathroom.” Knox waved Darya out of the bathroom. “Come on, angel. We’ll split the difference on everyone’s sense of fair play. You drive Gia’s car home. I’ll follow you in my car, and Beckett can haul Gia home in his.”

  “But I promised her.”

  “And Gia’s already puked once. Where do you want her puke the next time? Her car, or Beckett’s?”

  “Beckett’s,” Gia answered with a solemnity only a drunk person could manage. “Definitely Beckett’s.”

  The grin Darya shot Beckett should have terrified him. Hell, just thinking about anyone hurling in his ’Vette would have made him cry like a schoolgirl under normal circumstances, but at least he’d be able to keep Gia in touching distance until he knew she was safe. “See? We’ve got a plan. Now, come on, gorgeous. Let’s get you home.”

  He moved in to pick her up, but Gia staggered out of reaching distance. “You’re not carrying me. I’m not a wimp.”

  Translation: Even in her drunken state she was still keyed into the fact that a load of their peers were still blowing off steam. Hard to blame her, though. The guys always gave her a hard time. A fact that had pushed him to nearly punching half of them at one time or another. “You’re not a wimp. Just gonna move in close to help you keep your balance. That’s all. No one’s gonna suspect a thing.”

  She tightened her hand on the vanity and gave him a distrusting look. “You promise?”

  “Scout’s honor.”

  Knox chuckled. “Just for the record, Beck was never a Scout. Although, he did booby-trap some tents for a few guys who teased him in sixth grade.”

  “You’re not helping,” Darya murmured, but reached out to guide Gia to Beckett. “Come on, girlfriend. Time to get you home.”

  In the end, getting her to his car was far less of a fire drill than he’d anticipated. Whether it was years of keeping herself on guard within a male-dominated profession or sheer stubbornness that allowed her to mask how blotto she was, he couldn’t say. But by the time they hit the first stoplight on Lower Greenville, she was lights-out, her temple resting against the passenger window and her dark hair spilling softly around her pretty face.

  God, she was a walking contradiction. Petite, curvy and incredibly soft on the eyes, she was the type of woman a man instinctively wanted to protect. A classic Southern belle. But she could hand most men their ass before they’d had so much as a chance to say, “Excuse me, ma’am.” The whole dichotomy turned him the fuck on like no one’s business. A fact he’d tried for years to ignore, but kept losing ground.

  He never should have interfered between her and Judd. He’d never once seen her hook up with a guy, let alone someone they worked with, but when he’d walked into the main bar and seen Judd’s hand on her hip, he’d nearly lost his shit.

  With Darya and Knox trailing behind him, he navigated the upscale neighborhood to her town house and parked his ’Vette out front. What the three-story structures lacked in landscaping, they more than made up for in curb appeal, the whole brick-and-stonework combo somehow making the place look like an old English suburb. He’d barely known Gia a few weeks when the one she ended up purchasing had gone on the market, but it had been one of the few times he’d truly seen such openly displayed joy around those she worked with.

  He’d barely made it around the back of his car to get Gia out of the front seat before Darya was beside him and handing over Gia’s purse and keys. “Are you sure you don’t want me to stay? You’re not exactly Mr. Observant where she’s concerned.”

  Something about the tone of Darya’s voice and word choice pricked his attention enough he paused before picking Gia up. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  Too quickly, Darya’s gaze sliced to Knox still waiting behind the wheel of his Audi in the parking lot.

  “Darya?”

  She shrugged, but still didn’t meet his stare for a few beats. As if she had to take the extra time to either formulate her words, or make damned sure she schooled her expression. “I’m just saying...men don’t always see the things women do.”

  “Such as?”

  Huffing, she shook her head and dipped her head toward Gia, still out cold. “Just take care of her. And for once, really pay attention.” With that, she spun and sashayed off back to Knox, the click of her high heels ricocheting off the concrete between the tall buildings.

  As light as Gia was, getting her in the house was a breeze, and thanks to Knox, her alarm didn’t pose a problem either. Thank God, he’d actually convinced her to let his company be the o
ne to install the system when she’d moved in. Otherwise, he’d have had a whole different set of problems to juggle.

  Soft lamplight spilled from the corner of the living room, so Beckett aimed that direction and laid Gia out on the couch. Once settled, he crouched beside her and smoothed her hair away from her face.

  The impact hit him instantly, the soft and silky strands jolting his amplified need for touch into high gear and tempting him like a junkie on a four-day dry spell. As out as she was, he could toy with the long strands and sample the skin on her face and neck for hours and she’d likely never remember the thing. The thing was, if he ever got the chance to touch her that way, he’d want her to remember. Would want to see the response in her eyes and learn how her body reacted to his touch.

  He braced one hand on the couch above her head instead. The fabric was nowhere near as luxurious as her hair, but it was soft like the chairs he kept at his place and kept him from giving into touching where he shouldn’t.

  That was the thing about people like him. Touch was everything. The thing he needed to stay in balance and keep his head and impulses in check. While his sensory processing disorder—or SPD—wasn’t as debilitating as it was for some people, he’d sure as hell learned not to underestimate it.

  He leaned in and lowered his voice, knowing full well she probably wouldn’t hear or understand a word he said. “How about you chill here for a bit, gorgeous. Let me go get things ready for you upstairs.”

  Gia moaned and rolled to one side, tucking her hands beneath her cheek.

  He couldn’t help but chuckle. The pose was cute. Totally innocent and sweet. Which meant she’d be mortified if she had any clue he’d seen it. “I’m gonna take that for a yes.”

  Forcing himself to stand and move away from her, he made his way to the staircase at the back of the first floor. She’d made a lot of changes to the place since the last time he’d seen it. When they’d first installed her security system, the townhouse had been empty and about as bland as a saltine cracker. Now, it was decked out in comforting grays and a greenish-blue color that reminded him of ocean water over a powder-white beach. The furniture ran more to the contemporary side of things, but without being cold and uptight. Totally classy, just like Gia.