Page 2 of Forgot to Tell You Something

“You got me there,” Dan chuckles, turning away to serve another customer.

“He’s beautiful,” Stefani murmurs, giving me a hip check as we lounge against the bar. Her eyes track Dan from one end of the floor to the other. “He has a great laugh.”

“Agreed.” I love Dan’s laugh—it holds nothing back, and it’s fiercely genuine. The truth is, most of the people in Wicked Chucks are genuine. Oh, they can be assholes, but they own that facet of their personality. Hell, they’re proud of it. It took years of training to grind their uncouth states to a fine edge.

It’s a motley bunch, but I find the honesty in this group of rag-tag punk rockers highly refreshing in a world hellbent on half-truths.

“Is he single?” Stefani presses, jostling me back to the melee of the moment.

“Define single.” Dan has his choice of women, a rotating harem that fulfills any of his physical desires, at a moment’s notice.

But his loose tendencies aren’t because of an overinflated ego. It’s a mode of protection.

Keep your heart unreachable, and no one can crash in and mangle it. In that regard, Dan and I are kismet.If only I felt anything beyond friendship for him, and vice versa, our lives would be set.

No such luck.

“Don’t tell me, he’s one ofthoseguys.” Stefani fluffs her waves, releasing a huff of resignation.

“He’s not one ofthoseguys. He’s single, but he’s not celibate. However, I have it on good authority that he’d love to fall head over heels for some lucky lady.”

“Are you hoping to be that lucky lady?”

I sputter my beer. “No, not at all. We are 100% platonic.” I cock my chin at her, a smile coloring my lips. “You’re interested, aren’t you?”

Before she can answer, Dan re-enters the conversation. The man has perfect timing on lockdown. “Are you going to introduce me to your friend?”

“No, I plan on being rude the rest of the evening,” I volley back, smirking at the come-hither gazes my friends are exchanging. If anyone can tame Dan, it’s Stefani.

“Since Tallulah is refusing to cooperate, I’ll take the reins on this one. I’m Dan, pleasure to meet you.”

“I’m Stefani. I work with Lu,” she coos, extending her hand in greeting, her smile showcasing perfect white teeth.

Poor Dan doesn’t stand a chance.

It’s funny, but the old adage that opposites attract holds true in this scenario. Dan and Stefani are a mismatched set. She looks like she sauntered off the catwalks of Milan, while Dan would sooner gouge his eyes out than sit for a fashion show. Come to think of it, so would I.

But he is terminally good-looking, from his square jaw to his piercing, dark eyes, and it’s apparent from Stefani’s nervous titter that his charm is working its magic.

Feedback echoes from the front of the bar, and the locals gravitate toward the stage. Time to hightail it to my hiding spot.

“Hey, Dan, is my balcony available?” I question, nodding my head toward the back of the bar. Wicked Chucks wasn’t always a punk dive. In its heyday, it was a community theater, complete with velvet curtains and box seat balconies. For obvious reasons, the balconies are closed to the general public, although the staff still uses them for storage and all manner of illicit activity.

After the unfortunate manhandling incident on my inaugural visit to Wicked Chucks, Dan granted me access to one of the balconies. I left him little choice, especially when I threatened to show up solo to a show the following evening. Per him, he’d much rather seat me up there, away from the noise and hoodlums on the floor. Hell, it’s also the best view in the house.

“Tallulah, would I ever deny you your balcony?” His gaze returns to Stefani. “Will you be joining your friend, or can I convince you to park it here?”

Stefani glances at me, a puppy dog expression crossing her face.

Okay, Stef, you can stay and play.

“I think I’ll stay down here for a bit, so long as I’m not bothering you, Dan.”

“You’re never a bother. But I will ask you to move to this side of the bar. It’s safer. More private.”

That’s Dan-speak for tucked away in a corner where other ogling men have less of a view. Well played, my friend.

Dan hands me another beer with a wicked grin. “You’re on your own, young lady.”

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