Page 104 of Hopeless
She nods.
“Almost there.”
The light turns green, and within minutes, we pull up in front of Gin and Lyrics. Owned and operated by the one and only Ford Grant—world famous investor slash record producer and Willa’s older brother. Which is the only reason I got our names on the VIP list.
This bar offers music of all kinds. Different genres on different nights. Concerts for slightly bigger bands, talent nights for newbies. Tonight, there’s a DJ playing. I don’t know shit about them, but I figured a night in the city for Bailey to have fun without constantly having to look over her shoulder would be a good gift. She’s still so young. She needs some fun in her life.
I want to give that to her.
“We’re here,” I say as I pull my helmet off and run a hand through my hair. Bailey’s hands trail over my back and my ribs as she extricates herself from the bike. Music thumps from inside, and when I glance back, she looks excited.
Her eyes sparkle like dark gemstones as she straightens her hair, only slightly flattened on top from the helmet, then curling in little swoops around her arms. Long and loose.
She looks carefree for once.
Platform sandals prop up her wide-leg, loose jeans, and the skin on her chest shimmers from the reflection of the lights out front. She’s wearing a black leather jacket with a little tear in the elbow and a corset-style tank top that has me fighting not to stare at her breasts like some basic asshole who sits at her bar every night.
Even though I am one.
“I’ve heard about this place,” she murmurs, combing her hair out with her fingers. There’s a soft smirk on her lips. A flash of anticipation in those chocolate depths. “Have you been here?”
I shake my head no, struck speechless by how different she seems in the glow of the city lights.
She’s standing taller.
Her eyes aren’t darting around.
It seems as though just getting her past those town limits has given her a boost.
Even her voice sounds different—less sugary and fake. More sultry, like she isn’t trying to be someone else.
She can beherselfhere.
And I can’t stop staring at her.
“Beau?” Her head flips in my direction, hair whipping over her cleavage, hip cocked out.
I shake my head to clear it. It doesn’t help, though. I’m fully distracted by her, and I don’t think I’ll be getting over that anytime soon.
“Yeah, sorry. No, I haven’t been here.”
A flash of white teeth grates over her full bottom lip as she considers my answer. “I heard it’s hard to get into.”
I toss her a wink, deciding I need to get back in my confident mode and leave this starstruck version of myself out here in the parking lot. “Not for us. Willa got us onto the VIP list.”
Her eyes widen. “Seriously?”
I pop our helmets on the bike and step toward her, hand outstretched. “Seriously. You ready? Date night?”
My breath stills, a little part of me wondering if she’ll correct me. We had an agreement. This shouldn’t be a date night.
But I want it to be.
She eyes my hand with a smile that makes my chest ache, then she links her fingers with mine. “Ready.”
I underestimated how claustrophobic I would feel in the midst of this crowd. It hits me that I haven’t been anywhere truly busy since getting out of the military. I’ve been hiding on the ranch, in that town, not living my life the way I should.
I feel intensely free and deeply terrified all at once.
