Page 12 of Volt
“That wasn’t a no.”
I laugh. “No. It wasn’t that either.”
“Okay, I give. Why are you hiding out here in Pineville?”
I drain the last of my beer and before I set the mug down, Fallon is already pouring me another. She sets it down and takes away the empty then picks up a glass of soda, and I can’t help but watch the way she slips the straw between her full, red lips. I watch the way she drinks and though I can guarantee she didn’t intend for it to be so, I found it slightly... erotic. I certainly felt a warm stirring sensation deep inside of me.
I try to push it out of my mind. This is not appropriate for the situation—I’m mourning a fallen friend, for fuck’s sake. How in the hell can I let myself get aroused by something as simple as Fallon taking a drink of her soda when Prophet’s lying dead on a slab? It makes me feel sick but no matter how hard I try to banish the feelings, they persist.
“My friend was killed the other day,” I tell her. “I came out here to kind of get away from it all. I just needed a little bit of space from all the reminders.”
Her face immediately drops. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry,” she says. “I-I didn’t know, or I wouldn’t have been joking around with you about it.”
I shake my head. “No, it’s all right. I intended to just sit in this corner, have a few drinks, and try to forget about it all. It wasn’t really working,” I said. “But you’ve somehow gotten me laughing and feeling a little lighter than when I first walked in. Surprised the hell out of me.”
“Well, I’m glad I was able to take your mind off it for a little bit then.”
“Yeah. Me too,” I say and take a sip of my beer.
Somebody at the other end of the bar calls for her, and she gives me a tight smile before turning and walking away. I watch her go, mesmerized by the sight of her ass in those tight cutoffs. She’s looking over her shoulder and catches me staring at her ass and I laugh, giving her a shrug. She just shakes her head at me and attends to her customer.
I hadn’t planned on saying anything about Prophet to her. Truthfully, I hadn’t planned on talking to anybody in the bar tonight. My plan was to sit in the corner, drink myself into oblivion, and if I was too trashed to ride home, take a room somewhere. Or hell, maybe I was going to take a chance and ride home anyway. The way I felt when I walked into the bar tonight, I wouldn’t have put it past me. The survivor’s guilt I’m feeling is thick and heavy, and it’s fucking with my head.
But talking to Fallon has somewhat eased the burden of guilt that’s been pressing down on me all night long. It’s been crushing me, and she somehow lifted it off me like it was nothing. I don’t know how she did it, but laughing and joking around were the furthest things from my mind when I walked in here. After seeing what I saw, I honestly didn’t know if I’d be able to laugh again at all. But I had. She’d gotten me to laugh. And she’d done it as easy as flipping on a light switch.
That’s not to say I’m all better and my feelings of grief and guilt are gone. But Fallon’s managed to give me a brief respite from them. A temporary safe harbor where I don’t have all the most horrible images and feelings all crashing down on me at the same time, threatening to crush the very life out of me.
And for that, I’m thankful to her.
Chapter Six
Fallon
“Did you enjoy the view?” I ask as I lean on the bar across from him.
A smile flickers across his lips, and he won’t meet my eyes. He seems bashful all of a sudden, and I find it kind of adorable. I’m not upset at all. I’m actually a little flattered that he was checking me out. I just want to give him grief for it. Besides that, I want to keep him talking and laughing, and I sure as hell want to take his mind off his friend. I feel terrible that he lost a friend, but I’m glad I can give him a little bit of peace in what has to be a horrible time for him.
He finally turns his green eyes at me, and I feel the flutter of butterfly wings in my belly. His gaze is so piercing and direct that it sends a surge of electricity straight through me that brings a smile to my face. I’m not the sort of girl who goes in for the bad boys. Well... not anymore. I dated my share of those edgy boys in the past, and they’ve all brought me nothing but heartache and misery.
And yet despite my checkered dating history, I find myself drawn to Volt even though he looks the part of the stereotypical bad boy. He’s edgy as hell, but I sense something more to him. Maybe it’s the fact that he swooped in to save me from Tommy and Dutch like the Caped Crusader or something, but I think there’s a lot more to him than that edge. There’s a gentleness I see in his eyes and a kindness in his words when he speaks you don’t normally see in bad boys. Plus, he’s gorgeous. I could stare into those green eyes of his literally all day long.
“Actually, I did,” he says with a small smile on his face. “I enjoyed the view. Thanks for asking. But more importantly, thanks for the view.”
“Well, we do aim to please here.”
“You’re doing a fine job so far,” he says.
We share a laugh, and I shake my head. I’m normally not this forward or bold, but part of me just wants to make him laugh. I want to provide him with the distraction he obviously needs in light of the fact that he’s in mourning. And I’d be lying if I didn’t say that I’m also enjoying the back and forth flirtation and the attention he’s giving me. It seems like it’s been forever since I flirted with a guy and I was worried that I’d be too rusty to be any good at it. But I guess it’s one of those things that’s like riding a bike—you never forget how to do it.
“So tell me, what kind of a name is Volt?” I ask.
“It’s my club name,” I said. “You can either call me that, or you can call me by my given name. Doesn’t matter much to me one way or the other.”
He takes a drink of his beer and looks up at me. I stare back at him, waiting for him to finish the statement. But he doesn’t say anything more. He just looks back at me like he’s waiting for me to say something and I laugh.
“In order for me to do that, you’d have to tell me what your given name is,” I say.
He quirks a grin at me. “Right. Sorry. My given name is Blake. Blake Donaldson.”
