Rebel Love

  Then she stopped, but she didn't turn to look back at me. Yellow moonlight poured down on her as she stared out at the ocean. I stayed ten feet back, worried that if I got too close she'd run again, like a frail, scared deer. "Why don't they leave me the fuck alone? I don't want any of it." Her thin shoulders bobbed, and my heart knotted up at the sound of her crying. She breathed in a shuddering breath. Her tear stained face turned to me. The ocean breeze made her long hair dance around her face. "And then there's you."

  "I'm not like them, Rebecca. I'm not like those other guys."

  Her shoulders dropped as if in surrender. "I know. I know. But I wish you were. I wish you were just like them." She swiped at a tear on her face. "Why is everything always so wrong? Why is everyone always so wrong . . . except you."

  She ran to me, but I met her halfway. Her arms circled my neck as I pulled her against me. Our mouths locked. It was all there, everything that I'd imagined. Her sweet warm breath, her body tucked next to mine, feeling as if it belonged there. The hurricane of emotions that swallowed me every time I thought about her swirled around us like a fucking category five storm. I tried to tell myself it was nothing. It was just the beer and the fight and the intense night. But I knew. I knew it wasn't nothing. It was fucking everything.

  Rebecca peeled her lips from mine. Her blue eyes rounded with a mix of confusion and pain that went straight through me like a steel bolt.

  Her hand flew to her mouth. "Shit, shit, shit." She ran back toward the house and out of my reach.

  I watched her disappear over the ledge of sand that had been formed by the tide.

  "Fuck."

  Chapter 13

  Rebecca

  I snuck behind the shield of the bar counter to retie the knot in my t-shirt. We were allowed to wear any shirt we wanted with the short mini skirt, as long as it was tied up to show a few inches of stomach. I smoothed my hand over the Iron Maiden decal, something I'd done so often, there was hardly any color left. Somehow, touching the darn thing always made me feel better, like I could take on the whole fucking world.

  Olivia, the head bartender, dropped the last slices of lime onto a tray next to the shots of tequila. I saw it as my opportunity to get into the stockroom and snoop around. As Olivia went to help someone down at the other end of the counter, I plucked the four limes out of the basket under the counter and hid them behind some bottles of scotch. Olivia returned, and, just as I'd predicted, she reached down into the citrus basket to get a few more limes. I pretended to busy myself filling water glasses as she brought up every fruit except a lime.

  "Shoot, I thought I had limes up front." She sighed in frustration and pulled her stockroom key from her pocket.

  "I'll go, Olivia. My tables are taken care of, and I'm just fru-fruing around filling water glasses and stacking napkins."

  "Well, if you really don't mind. And bring out some more of the coarse salt."

  "Sure thing." I held out my hand, and she dropped the key onto my palm. Only Trent, his two goofy cousins and the bartenders held stockroom keys. After that stealthy meeting I’d caught Trent in at the alley door, I saw him take something into the stockroom. I decided it was as good a place as any to snoop around. I had to admit, I was kind of having fun with the sleuthing stuff. Now if I could just find something of value, something that would ruin Trent.

  The light was on in Trent's office. Fortunately, I didn't have to walk past it to get to the stockroom. I peered around as I unlocked the door. No sign of anyone. I slipped inside and reached up to pull the chain for the light. Shelves lined every wall. They were packed solid with boxes. My heart sank. It would take me hours to get through all the boxes, even longer since I didn't actually know what I was looking for. As big an ass as Trent was, if it had been drugs or something illegal, he wasn't stupid enough to leave ill-gotten gains out in the open.

  I started on the back wall. Many of the boxes were sliced open. I flipped up the ends of a few to check inside. Nothing untoward in any of them. Olive cans were sitting in the box marked olives, and salt containers were in the box marked salt, which reminded me to grab a container of salt.

  I gazed up to the top of the shelves. There were plenty of boxes stacked high and out of reach. In the midst of all the commercially labeled boxes, there was one unmarked, opaque plastic container. I glanced around and found a metal stepstool shoved beneath the shelving. I yanked it out and lined it up in front of the shelf with the plastic container.

  My feet wobbled from side to side on the stepstool. Either its legs were different lengths or the cement floor was not level. I had to hold on to the shelf in front of me to keep from falling over.

  I stretched my arm up as high as it could go but I could only reach the smooth round edge of the container. I needed to get a better grip. I placed my knee up on the middle shelf to give myself a lift up. As I stretched my arm up high, the stockroom door opened.

  "Oh!" I lost my balance and fell backward. I landed in a pair of arms. The smell of cheap cologne assured me that the arms belonged to Marty, Trent's less than genius cousin.

  He seemed determined to keep holding me. I wiggled violently like a fish in a net until he had no choice but to lower my feet to the floor. I stepped out of his reach.

  Marty had close set eyes that went perfectly with his personality. "What were ya looking for way up there?"

  "Uh, well," I looked around and saw the crate of citrus fruit. "Limes. Olivia needs limes, and I thought they might be up top." I scooted to the crate and pulled out four limes. "And here they are right on this low shelf. Oh well. Thanks again for catching me. Olivia will be waiting."

  I plucked the salt off the shelf and tried to move past him quickly. His arm shot out, and I looked down at the silly pirate tattoo that stared up at me from his forearm.

  "Now, I was thinking we could make a deal. A partnership of some kind. We could exchange favors."

  His words were frighteningly familiar, and they sent a chill through my bones. The pale yellow walls of the storage room began to close in on me, making it hard to breathe, and I felt tingling sensations race up my arms like thousands of tiny spiders. I hadn't had a major panic attack since I was a teenager, but it seemed I was about to be overwhelmed by one. As clueless as Marty was, he seemed to sense something was wrong.

  "Rebecca, are you all right? Never mind what I said. I'll let you get back to your shift. You look pale. You need some air." He flung open the door and raced off as if he was going to get in big trouble.

  He was right. I needed air. The hallway didn't provide me much relief. I clutched the limes and salt against me and closed my eyes to calm the terrified thoughts in my head. They were all still there. Sometimes I let myself believe they were gone. That I had outrun them. But I hadn't. They were never going away. I rested back against the cool plaster wall in the hallway until the spinning stopped.

  "Rebecca?" Olivia's angry tone snapped me out of the attack faster than the cool plaster.

  "Sorry." I pushed off the wall. "I was feeling a little dizzy." I handed her the limes and salt. "I need to get back to my tables."

  I was still shaky from the panic attack as I made the rounds to see what my customers needed. I returned to the bar for the pitcher of iced tea and carried it back to a table.

  Anna leaned closer as she swept past with a tray of drinks. "Now, there's a man who knows how to wear a hat," she quipped.

  I glanced in the direction of the cowboy hat that had just walked in. His face was down, and the wide brim of the hat blocked it from view. But he was wearing a nice black leather jacket and boots. His long hair rolled over his shoulders. Billie, the hostess, led him to one of the small tables along the side window. Something about the way he walked sent a rush of breath from my lungs, but I couldn't pinpoint why. Maybe it was just the swagger with the cowboy boots.

  I finished pouring the drinks and rushed back to get some more napkins for one of my tables where everyone was eating spare ribs. I grabbed enough napkins to wallpa
per the restaurant, and I headed back to their table. From the corner of my eye, I could see the guy lifting off his cowboy hat. Curiosity caused my gaze to flick his direction. He lowered his hat to the seat and lifted his face. Our gazes stuck together like strong magnets. I felt the stack of napkins flutter past my legs on the way to the floor.

  "Uh, excuse me, miss. Excuse me." I heard the customer's voice, but I felt glued to the spot. I kept staring at Joshua, trying to decide if he was real or if the stressful last twenty minutes had made me conjure him. He had always been the one person I wanted to see when I was upset.

  "Miss, could we get some fresh napkins?" The angry man with the fingers covered in barbecue sauce was close to shouting.

  "Uh yes. So sorry." I stooped down to pick up the fallen napkins.

  "What are you doing, Rebecca?" Trent said angrily as he tossed fresh napkins on the table. "That was a big waste of money."

  Of course he didn't help me pick them up. Instead he stood over me, glowering down with crossed arms.

  "Sorry, I'll get them." I scooped them into a big papery cluster against my chest.

  Trent eyed them and then motioned for me to follow him. "I need to talk to you about something."

  I was in trouble. Marty must have told him that I was climbing up on the shelving. His feet stomped along the gray tile floor. It seemed those anger management classes he'd been ordered to take hadn't really done the trick. I knew I wasn't keeping up with him. My feet were dragging. Not from worry about the office lecture, but from the shock of seeing Joshua.

  Apparently, not wanting to make a scene, although he pretty much was, Trent discretely reached back and grabbed my elbow. He gave my arm a sharp tug. Once again, the napkins fluttered to the floor like square white leaves falling from a paper tree. I stooped to pick them up.

  "Leave them," Trent snapped. He turned around sharply on his heels to lead me to his office, but there was someone standing in his way.

  I leaned my head to see past the boss's big shoulder. Even in the midst of staring down Trent's scowl, Joshua's eyes found me instantly.

  "Can I help you?" Trent asked rudely.

  Joshua allowed his gaze to hold mine for a few more seconds before turning his eyes to Trent. "Just here to take my friend home."

  The sound of his voice had the same profound impact it had always had on me. It took me a moment to comprehend what he said.

  I shook my head to let Joshua know that I wasn't going with him. I was determined to finish what I'd started.

  "Well, don't let me stop you," Trent barked. "Now, if you could clear the aisle, my server needs to get through." I hadn't noticed that Anna was behind Joshua with a tray of food.

  Joshua stepped back out of the way. Trent grabbed my arm rather roughly and pulled me along behind him. We didn't make it far.

  Joshua circled back in front of us. Trent was one of those extra thick men, but Joshua, whose shoulders and arms showed that he had never stopped lifting weights, wasn't the least put off by Trent's size.

  "Uh, I think you're holding on to the friend I was talking about. And she's wearing my t-shirt. I've come to collect it." It amazed me how calm Joshua spoke when he was speaking to Trent, a man who I knew damn well Joshua hated as much as me or more.

  "You're not supposed to take back gifts," I said around Trent's shoulder.

  Trent's forehead bunched up. He looked back at me before turning back to face Joshua. "Who the hell are you?"

  Joshua held out his arms. "You don't recognize me? Cuz, I sure as hell remember your big, ugly face."

  Sensing that the restaurant had gone oddly quiet, Trent's cousins walked out of the back. He motioned silently for them to join him.

  I jumped between them and gave Joshua a 'what the hell are you doing' look. "You should go now. I'm working." I glanced back at Trent. "He's just an old acquaintance. I hardly know him. He's just leaving." I turned back to Joshua. "Right?"

  "I'm going. But you're coming with me."

  "No, I'm not. I have work to do." I kept giving him the secret look, but he blatantly ignored me.

  "All right, buddy." Trent's cousin, Alex, who was as big as he was mean, came forward. He stopped short of pounding Joshua. "Hey, I know you."

  Joshua pointed up at him, and it was obvious Alex wanted nothing more than to break off Joshua's already crooked finger. "Right. Big foot. From the conference. Did you learn a lot? Because I did. I found someone I'd lost track of." Joshua winked at me. I shook my head discretely in response.

  Alex reached for Joshua's arm, but he pulled it back. "Don't want any trouble. I just came to collect my friend."

  "You can't make me go," I mouthed to him.

  "Just watch me."

  "You wouldn't dare."

  "Yep. I would." Joshua closed the gap between us, but Trent shoved him back hard.

  Joshua lifted his chin. "Go ahead, take your best shot. It'll be an excuse for me to throw my fist at you. Something I've been dying to do for four years."

  Trent squinted at him. "Shit, I knew I recognized you. Get the fuck out of here and take her with you."

  "That's what I'm doing." Joshua offered me his hand, but I didn't take it.

  "I need to get my stuff," I told him with a scowl. "Butthead," I added for good measure.

  It made him smile.

  Every baffled expression and a few really angry ones followed me as I raced to the backroom and grabbed the pouch that held my stuff.

  Joshua was standing at the exit, hat in hand, surrounded by Trent and his cousins.

  I pushed past Trent's cousin. Something told me I had been on my way to getting fired anyhow.

  Joshua took hold of my hand but before we walked out the door, he turned around and whistled loud enough to stop every conversation in the room. Trent's cousins looked ready to pummel him and I tugged his arm. But he stood his ground. "Hey, diners, if you want to know just what kind of a man the owner is just Google the name Trent Vandermeer. Now enjoy your meals."

  We pushed quickly out the door into the cool night air. I laughed and swung his hand back and forth as we walked toward the parking area. "Shit, I wish I'd thought of that. I wouldn't have even had to go through the job process."

  "Ah, people probably won't care. As long as the food and booze are good. I'm kind of surprised you left there without at least kicking the guy in the balls," Joshua said.

  I shrugged. "I stuck a dead cockroach under a customer's steak. He had been bragging to his friends about his new law firm position, and he was kind of an asshole. He seemed like the perfect recipient of the cockroach."

  Joshua laughed. It sounded so familiar. I hadn't forgotten one thing about him. It was all still crystal clear in my head.

  "And speaking of that," I said, "I'm kind of surprised you didn't throw your fist at him since you were standing toe to toe with the guy."

  Joshua glanced down and nudged a cigarette butt out of the way with the toe of his boot. My words had made his mood darken. "I'm pretty sure if I threw my fist at him, the fight wouldn't have stopped until one of us was dead."

  I regretted even saying it. Joshua had a pretty good temper and I knew that. But he was also one of those rare guys who knew when to keep it in check. And he was right. If he'd thrown his fist, there would have been no possible happy ending. Which, I suppose, was exactly why he came to the restaurant to take me home. I was just going to end up in trouble.

  We stopped at the corner and he turned to me, his pale gaze held mine in a way that made everything around us fade away. He reached up and touched the side of my face and then pushed my hair back to see the tattoo on my neck. "Rebel, Rebel," he said quietly, and the sound of it took hold of my heart and squeezed it.

  Chapter 14

  Joshua

  It was as if we'd been hanging out together these past few years, instead of being worlds apart. I'd never felt as comfortable with anyone, not even Emily. We'd driven our separate cars to the park in the center of town. I'd kept my eyes glued to the re
arview, certain Rebecca would turn off and head in another direction. But she stayed behind me.

  I sat on the bench in the middle of the green, watching as Rebecca circled around the small gated rose garden. Most of the park lights had been shut off to discourage people from lingering there at night, but I could still see every curve and angle of her face. She was even more stunning than I remembered. And it seemed she was still unaware of it. Or, more likely, she just chose to ignore it.

  My phone beeped, and I pulled it out. "It's a text from Dylan. He wants to know where the receipt book is. Sometimes I feel like I'm babysitting him. I'll let him know I'm with you."

  "No," she said abruptly as she rounded the garden wall to my side. She shook her shoulders. "It's just I have kind of wiped them from my mind. Everything got so messy in the end, with the divorce and . . . just don't say anything about me."

  I looked at her for a long moment before texting Dylan back about the receipt book. I slipped the phone into my pocket. I knew the family had fallen apart quickly, like a crumbling hillside, but I figured if nothing else, Rebecca had kept in contact with Michelle. Dylan never talked about her much, but then he rarely talked about anything that didn't center around him.

  Rebecca leaned over the wall to smell some pink roses, giving me a nice view of her long, sleek leg muscles. "I worked for a landscaper when I was with my dad in France. It was amazing. Lots of sunshine and everything was so green, like the earth there is different than here." She stopped and reached over to pluck a rose from the bush. It was half wilted, and the petals fell away from the stem as she touched it. "I almost got married when I was there."

  I quickly assured myself she'd said almost. How was it possible, after all this time, after all that had happened, that she could still make my entire body react with every word, every turn of her head, every small breath she took in.