Page 27 of Keys

Jason Getty was a nice enough guy. Honestly, when I first saw him at the brewery – where we met for our date – he had bad boy written all over him. The man showed up in some dark blue denim pants that fit him like a glove and showcased the thighs and amazing ass he worked hard to sculpt. His button up shirt was all black and the sleeves had been rolled up to reveal forearms covered in ink. His hair was spiked at the top in an unruly, bedhead sort of way, and that grin he had plastered to his face when he saw me screamed that he would be one hell of a good time in bed. Tash hadn’t lied. Those shoulders made up for the fact that he only stood about an inch taller than me. That would have been fine too, under normal circumstances.

The problem was, and yes, I cringed when I admitted this to myself, he was too nice. Normally, I would have overlooked it and tried him out for size, but he sort of reminded me of Quickshot. Not in looks, but in the way the bad boy took care of the woman he was wooing. Jason pulled my chair out, ordered my drinks, and expected to pay for everything. He had good old southern manners and it meant that if he ended up liking me, I’d just crush him in the end. Plus, there was the slight problem with his train of thought. The only thing I could really get him to talk about was the gym, his last girlfriend, or the fact that he was a banker by day and musician by night.

The man played banjo in a bluegrass band, of all the things. He looked like he’d be more at home in the rocker crowd. You’d think that bluegrass, being a close cousin to country, would have ticked off a slot in the positive column for me, but no.

“Bill Emmerson is kind of my hero, and I’ve tried to learn from him because he has this amazing timing when he plays.” Jason was telling me when my phone buzzed in my clutch that sat on top of the table.

“Sorry, normally I wouldn’t do this, but that alarm is for something important at work,” I explained as I pulled the phone out and glanced down. “Shit!”

“Everything okay?”

I tipped my phone down just enough that he could see a security alarm had been tripped. “I apologize, Jason. I’d love to hear more about metronomes and how you learned timing while playing the banjo,” I lied. “I have to go and see to this though. It’s a security breech that can’t wait.”

“Oh wow, I guess I never did ask what it was you did for a living.”

“I work in the information and securities sector.” That was my go-to bullshit answer to throw at people who wouldn’t understand what my job entailed even if I sat down and drew them a chart with pictures.

“That’s awesome.” He stood as I did and came around the table. “I hope we can pick this back up another night.” His voice was hopeful, and if I only had to look at him all night, I might be able to handle it. I didn’t think I could deal with another lesson in how to play the banjo in a bluegrass band though.

“If this turns out to be nothing, then I’d love to.” I wiggled my phone at him.

“If it’s something?”

“Then I’ll probably be on the road for a bit and won’t have the time.” I crossed my fingers and held them up. Granted, I didn’t want the alert to amount to shit because it involved my parents, and someone trying to dig into their information again. I was not, however, looking forward to another date, so I left it at that and attempted to turn and walk away.

“Wait!” Jason called out to me before jogging over and grabbing hold of my waist. “I’d kick myself if I never got the chance to do this,” he told me. Then, his lips landed on mine. They were wet and far too eager considering he just surprise attacked my mouth with his. I stood there, stock still, waiting for him to finish. My dead fish routine worked, and he backed off with a sheepish grin and a quick shrug of his shoulders. “Sorry, I saw that going a different way in my mind.”

I nodded but didn’t bother saying anything else to him. Instead, I turned and left while swiping away the spit he left behind on my lips. I really hoped that Tash and the girls left me alone after that disaster.

Chapter 9

“Is that Keys?”

Walker was right. I turned just in time to see her stand from the table she had been sitting at with a fucking gym-rat looking bastard. I snickered when he stood too, and I saw how short the fucker was.

“I guess that answers the question about whether or not she moved on.” There was only one other time in my life that I wanted to punch one of my club brothers in such a way that the fucker might end up in the hospital as a result.

“There’s no way she’s on a date,” I huffed. It didn’t matter that I could tell I was wrong. The woman always looked good enough to eat, but my imagination ran wild at the sight of her sitting there in hooker-high heels, a tight black dress that highlighted every one of her sumptuous curves, and then there was the makeup and hair. Her hair seemed a bit shorter, styled differently in long layers rather than the mid-back length she had before. The change looked amazing on her, and it fucking killed me to know that none of it was for me. It was all for the short shrimp who she was apparently on a date with.

The whole scene wrecked me as I watched her pull a phone from the tiny little purse she had sitting on the table. She glared down at the thing and this look of pure agony crossed her face momentarily. It was enough that I wanted to go wrap her in my arms and solve whatever problem that could cause that reaction.

She wasn’t out with me though. No. Instead, I watched as she stood and the fucker who was with her quickly moved to catch her before she could bolt. The idiot clearly wasn’t good at reading a situation because he went all in with a kiss. The only consolation I had was that she wasn’t into it. The fucker did have an ass kicking coming to him though. For putting his mouth anywhere near my woman’s and for being presumptuous enough to stick his tongue down her throat when it was obviously the last thing in the world she wanted.

I was so lost in what I was going to do to the asswipe that I hadn’t even realized Walker had moved on to a table where some of the other guys had congregated. A woman’s voice and a petite hand on my shoulder brought me back to my reality. The one where my woman was no longer mine, and she had been out on a date with another man.

“Hey there, handsome. You look kind of like you’ve seen a ghost. How about I get you seated and then make sure you’re taken care of?”

I tipped my head in agreement and followed her to the table next to the one the other guys were occupying. Once I was seated, my attention finally settled on my waitress and the fact that she seemed so familiar. The more I watched her move around the diner, the more I realized she looked like a slightly younger version of the woman who I couldn’t get off my mind.

Her hair was a lot lighter, not quite blond and not quite brunette, but it lacked the vibrant red that was natural for Keys. Her eyes were brown, but if you swapped out hair and eye color to match, the two women could have been related. It was almost uncanny. Maybe that was why she was being so damn nice to me, because I couldn’t stop staring.

“So, are you going to ask for my number or what?” The woman asked, bold as ever, when she delivered the check for the meal that I ate but never tasted.

I grinned at her. “Shouldn’t I ask for your name first?”

She tapped a name tag pinned to the right side of her chest. “It’s right here. Besides, I told it to you when you first came in. Not my fault you were distracted then.”

“Bold and sassy,” I said, though I hadn’t really meant for the words to be out loud.

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