Page 7 of Troubles

She shrugs her right shoulder and wipes her hands dropping her napkin in the empty basket. “I don’t really have a lot of free time. I either collapse on the couch with a movie or a book, or I come here with Gracyn, my roommate. She was here with me the other night.”

Finn turns resting against the bar and folds his arms across his chest glaring at me. “And where’s your Gracyn tonight?”

“She’s in Florida for spring break, but I need the hours so…” another shrug as she peers at me over the rim of her glass, “I’m sure she’s having enough fun for both of us.”

“You didn’t want to go?” I take her glass and reach across the bar to refill it. The idea of her lying on a beach, her creamy skin kissed by the sun has me tied in knots.

“I would love to be on the beach, are you kidding me? But I get to take everyone else’s shifts this week so that helps a ton. I should be able to cover tuition for my summer classes by the end of this week.” Lisbeth gives a quick nod, genuinely excited by this.

“Your parents don’t help you?” Her beer becomes her sole focus as Finn’s head shoots up from his phone and Francie glares daggers at me. What the fuck?

“No, I’m doing this on my own. Just me.” She says that like it’s not any big thing before she snarks, “Plus, I got to have dinner with the help, so…” She pulls out some cash and hands it across to Finn, but I’m not done. I’m not ready for her to go, for this to end.

I reach out taking her hand and turn it over in mine. “Can I take you to dinner? A real one, not bar food. Do you have a night free this week?” The inside of her wrist has the softest and silkiest skin. I brush my thumb along it and feel her pulse ramping up. Her breaths are shallow as she watches my thumb pause and take measure.

“I…um, I have to…” She lets out a soft sigh and looks up into my eyes. “I only have tonight and tomorrow night off. I…” After a quick glance to Francie, she eases her hand away from mine, breaking not only our contact but our connection. I feel the loss of her hand more than just physically.

“I’ll be needing your address to pick you up, then.” I grab a napkin, a fucking cocktail napkin—how cliché—and a pen from near the taps. I slide them toward her. “And I’ll be needing your number as well.” I study her profile while she writes out her information. Her skin is pure like porcelain, and her lips are all I’ll be thinking about as I try to fall asleep later. The taste of them. The feel of them.

I reach out and let a silky lock of her hair fall through my fingers as she finishes up her mobile number. The smell of her shampoo washes over me and, suddenly, I want to grab a fist full of it and drag her toward me. I want to feel it brush across my chest. I want a lot of things that would earn me all kinds of looks from Francie.

I’ll have to talk to Francie—find out what his problem with me is. And get Jimmy to take my shift tomorrow night.

Why does she not have any help from her parents? Where’s her support? And why is Francie keeping such a close eye on me?

5

Lis

Ifeel his gaze on me as I walk across the bar, searing into my back as I leave for home.

I can still feel the way his fingers danced across the inside of my wrist caressing—sending electric heat through my veins.

The way his voice washed over me as we talked of everything and nothing at all. Deep and a little smoky like a good bourbon, I want to drink it in. Talking with him tonight—his focus solely on me—was like I was the most interesting person he’d ever spoken to. Like I was important. I don’t know the last time I felt that.

I slide my car up to the curb right in front of my building, grab my bag from the back seat and check for cars before getting out. There’s not a lot I like about being all alone this week, but I’m not ever going to complain about padding my checking account or a good parking spot.

Normally Francie watches to make sure I get home safe but he was acting ten different kinds of twitchy and weird tonight. I pull out my phone as I pop up the steps to my apartment and dial the number for McBride’s. “Hey, Finn. It’s Lis, can I talk to Francie for a minute?”

“Have to wait your turn. He’s having a go at Aidan just now.” Finn’s obviously enjoying not being on the receiving end of a tirade for a change. I love Finn, but that boy is a mess. “O’ course, Aidan might like an interruption. Are you up for swooping in to save your man?”

“What? Why is… Just, yeah. Tell Francie I need to talk to him.” I hear harsh words filtering through the noise in the background before Francie jumps Finn’s shit for interrupting, tearing into him, until I hear…my name. They get freakishly quiet and my heart pounds against my ribs. The shuffling of the phone, the hiss of static as it changes hands, and muffled warnings make their way through to me.

“What can I do for you, love? You’re safe home?” It’s not normally awkward when I call Francie, but tonight this is for sure. His words are terse and distracted.

I stumble through telling him I’m fine—that I wasn’t murdered in the few blocks home. It suddenly makes sense—the garbled phrases, the tone of what I heard.

I steel myself with a deep breath and launch into it. “I know you’re looking out for me, and you know I appreciate it, but…”

“Lisbeth darlin’, I’m setting the boy to rights. He’ll not be bothering you again, love.”

He full-named me.

This is serious.

“Francie, we’re going out to dinner tomorrow night. He wasn’t bothering me at all. Last week you asked for my thoughts on him, so…”

“No, you’re not. No. He’s a shift to work tomorrow night so he won’t be available.” Where the hell is this coming from?

---