Page 37 of Wild Rush
Chapter Twelve
Rush sat at the bar nursing a beer and watching Reena move between the pub and Sunday’s. She smiled at customers, laughed at something her fellow waitress said and looked like she was happy. But he could see the strain around her eyes, the look of sorrow in them whenever they turned his way.
They were down to a day and a half. After Reena’s early finish yesterday, they’d hit downtown Baltimore and wandered for hours with no particular destination in mind. It had been a balmy evening and they had strolled hand in hand, talking and laughing, sometimes not saying a word. They’d eventually found a pub—not as good as Pat’s—with a beer garden to have a meal and a drink.
Then they’d gone home and had some of the hottest sex of his life. Every time with Reena was hot but there had been an edge of violence, a frantic urgency to their fucking Rush had never experienced before. He knew it stemmed from the increasing tension over his departure.
As he lay there listening to Reena’s breathing even out, knowing she’d fallen into an exhausted slumber, that same oblivion had eluded him. He’d stared up at the dark ceiling and mapped out the rest of their time together. He didn’t like the way it made him feel as though he was manipulating her but he had to have a plan. Had to be sure every second until he left Baltimore was used to his advantage.
Today had been a lazy stay-in-bed day. He couldn’t remember ever spending time in bed with a woman and not having sex. It surprised him how much he enjoyed being snuggled up under the covers watching movies on Netflix with Reena curled into his side. They’d stayed in their warm cocoon until the last second before she had to get ready for work.
He wished they were still hidden away inside her house ignoring the world.
Except she had the dinner shift and Rush knew her well enough to know she’d never call in sick. And Pat’s was hopping, they’d have felt it if Reena hadn’t come in. Tris, the Collins who ran the bar tonight, had told him they were unusually busy due to the rumor floating around that Sky and Teagan Mitchell were in town. Apparently, that drew in local fans hoping for an impromptu performance.
Rush hadn’t made the connection between the Collins family and Sky Mitchell before Tris mention the famous singer—and his equally famous wife, who happened to be Tris’s sister. He also noticed the man hadn’t confirmed or denied the rumor.
“Want some company while you wait?” Mr. Collins clapped him on the shoulder as he took the stool beside Rush.
He grinned at the older man. “It’s your bar.”
“That it is.”
Tris appeared in front of his father. “Guinness, Pop?”
Mr. Collins tapped the bar top. “Couldn’t convince you to make it a Jameson, could I?”
Tris arched an eyebrow, grabbed a pint glass and pulled a Guinness from the tap. Placing the perfectly poured beer in front of his father, he said, “Do I look like I have a death wish? My wife’s here tonight, you know.” He indicated the back corner of the room with a tip of his chin.
“Damn women,” Mr. Collins grumbled. “They’re all but measuring me for a coffin. I ain’t going nowhere ’til I see all them babies happy and settled like me and my Sunday were. Like you and your siblings are.”
Rush had just brought his own beer to his mouth when a boney finger was poked in his face.
“And you.”
He glanced at the Collins patriarch, wondering what the hell he had to do with anything.
“You need to make that girly happy. Give her a bunch of babies and that’ll get her settled. She needs it. Family. We all do. It’s what makes us strong. Gives us a reason to do better. And you two got nothing, so you have to make your own.”
Rush stared at the old man.
“Pop. Leave the guy alone.” Tris smiled at him apologetically before moving to serve the customer waving from the end of the bar.
“I’m right, ain’t I? You got no one.” Mr. Collins tapped the wrinkly skin beside his right eye. “I got peepers and they see more than people think. Damn fool kids thinking they know it all,” he muttered.
“I…” Rush swallowed. “What gave it away?”
Mr. Collins shrugged. “Who knows? Could be I’m just an old Irishman spouting nonsense.”
Rush chuckled. “I doubt that.” He took a sip of his beer and pondered the old man’s words. “I’m in love with her.”
“I see it.”
“Can’t say she feels the same.”
“Oh, I think she does.” Mr. Collins glanced over to where Reena was delivering a tray of food to a table at the back of the room. “She’s lost a lot that one. Had it taken when she was too young to know how to handle it. Beth helped but the scars run deep. You’ll need more than a bit of patience if you want to stick.” The man turned perceptive eyes Rush’s way. “And you want to stick, right?”
“Yeah. I want to stick.”
