Page 2 of Rebound (Men of Inked 2.3)
After drinking enough alcohol that I should’ve passed out or at least become sedated, I was coherent and pissed off. I was angrier than I had been before I sat down at the bar inside the Funky Pirate. The man sitting on stage singing his lungs out was talking about lost love. Another reminder of the girl I was trying to forget.
She wasn’t just any girl.
No. No.
She was the one I had been pining for since my very first boner. I followed her around like a puppy dog my entire life. Sloppy Seconds could’ve been my nickname. No matter how hard I tried to forget her and move on, I always went back for more. Really I was a fucking idiot, but I could never say I didn’t try. And try. And try. And try.
Izzy Gallo brought me to the brink, leading me around by the balls for years. I never wavered in my love for her, no matter how hard she tried to push me away. It’s hard not to love a woman who had my heart doing backflips ever since she kissed me on the playground in middle school.
I can’t blame her though. She never claimed to be mine. We were “friends with benefits,” and she was never my girlfriend. I hoped for years that she’d change her mind. She never did. For the last ten years, I never opened my heart to anyone else, saving myself for her. It was all in vain.
James Caldo stole her heart. He’s a prick, but she loves him. I bowed out graciously, giving up my imaginary claim to Izzy. He was in law enforcement like me, and I brought them back together through a series of unfortunate events. I owned my fuckup.
Sometimes I think I was too nice to Izzy. A pushover, some would say, although her brothers think I’m an asshole. I treated her with kid gloves, cherishing her as I put her on a pedestal my entire life. James strolled in and bossed her ass around, and she fell to her knees, pledging her love for him. Go figure. I had been doing it wrong for years. I’m done being the sweet guy, the one who chases a piece of ass. Izzy fucking wrecked me.
I had to push her out of my mind. Rid myself of everything Gallo and move the fuck on with my life. She made her choice, and it wasn’t me. It was plain and simple. I wasn’t the one. There wasn’t a damn thing I could do about it short of killing her boyfriend and stealing the girl, but I didn’t have the stomach for it.
“Hey, sweetie.” The female bartender touched my hand, dragging me back to reality. “Did you want another?” she asked in a raspy voice.
“Pleaaase,” I slurred, staring down at her hand where it was still connected with mine.
“Same?” Her fingers slid across my skin as she pulled them back.
Usually a move like that from a beautiful woman would have my dick taking notice, but tonight…nada. I looked up at her and couldn’t even picture fucking her. Did Izzy ruin me that badly? “Yeah,” I said with a smile. The answer could’ve been to my question about Izzy too. She did fucking ruin me.
I need to find me again. The man I am without Isabella Gallo. She’d never be mine. I’d never be hers.
There’s no better place than New Orleans to find yourself again. When they say the world is your oyster, they must’ve been referencing this city. It’s filled with life. The beauty and history are intoxicating. There’s an undercurrent of something that I just can’t put my finger on to describe it properly, but it’s stirred something inside me.
“Is this seat taken?” a quiet voice asked as the bartender set my gin in front of me.
“No,” I replied without even turning to look at her.
“Thanks,” she said, setting her purse on the bar before she sat.
I took tiny sips, nursing the gin instead of giving in and downing it quickly. Gin wasn’t made for slamming. It was like a woman. Put on this earth to be savored, tasted slowly, and enjoyed.
I rolled the glass in my hand, letting my fingertip glide against the smooth surface as I watched the amber liquid dance.
“Hard night?” the quiet voice asked from the stool next to me.
I sighed. I really wasn’t in the mood for small talk, but I wasn’t rude. Glancing out of the corner of my eye, I replied, “Tough year.”
Fuck. Who was I kidding? It wasn’t a year. It was my entire life. Wasted on Izzy.
“I know the feeling.” Her body shifted, moving closer to me. “Want to talk about it?”
“Not really.” I didn’t feel like sharing my problems with a stranger and especially not with a woman. I wanted to forget and pretend that period in my life never happened.
“I didn’t mean to intrude.”
I looked at her for the first time, feeling like an asshole. “I’m sorry. That was a total dick move. I didn’t mean to be rude.”
“No. I understand.” She had a slight smile on her face as she spoke. “I didn’t mean to pry.” She fidgeted with her hands as she diverted her eyes from mine, focusing on her fingers.
“Listen. Let me buy you a drink to make it up to you.” I turned to face her. She looked very different than Izzy. Pale skin, blond hair, blue eyes, along with freckles scattered across her flesh like a connect the dots puzzle. Her hair was straight, ending at her jaw in a severe line.
“You don’t have to do that.” Her legs rubbed together as she shifted in her seat. “I was being nosy and I shouldn’t have been.”
“I insist. It’s the least I can do after being a dick.” Raising my hand, I waved over the bartender. “The lady would like a—”
Her eyes finally met mine. “Whiskey sour, please.” A grin spread across her face. It was faint but visible.
I placed a ten on the bar as the bartender made the drink, but I kept my eyes on the woman to my side. “What’s your name, doll?”
“Doll?” Her sparkling blue eyes shot up.
“You look like a doll. It’s the first thing I could think of since I don’t have your name.”
“How do I look like a doll?” She grabbed the drink as the bartender set it down and gave it her full attention.
Oh boy. I could see she wasn’t exactly happy about the nickname. I thought a moment before speaking, choosing my words very carefully. “Your skin is luminous. It glows even under these shitty lights. When I look at you, I think of a porcelain doll. God, that sounded like such a load of shit, but I meant it. You’re stunning.” My eyes dropped to her mouth and I stared, captivated by her red lips.
Pink flooded her cheeks as she played with the red straw in her mouth. Twirling it with her tongue. “My name is Fiona.”
“Fiona,” I repeated. It was a great name and one that fit her. “I like it.”
“Thanks.”
“So what’s your story, Fiona? What are you doing in here alone on a Saturday night?” Holding my glass to my lips, I watched her over the rim.
Her shoulders sagged a bit as she sipped the whiskey. “It’s a boring story. You really don’t want to hear about it.”
“I doubt anything about you could be boring. Tell me who Fiona is.” I set my drink on the bar, giving her my full attention.
“What do you want to know?” She repeated my actions, placing her drink on the bar and swiveling around on her stool.
“Let’s start with something simple. What do you do for a living?”
“I’m a nurse,” she replied as she straightened her back.
“It’s an admirable profession.” An image of her in a naughty nurse outfit popped into my mind. A few buttons left open, showing off her amazing rack. The skirt too short, showing just enough thigh to drive a man wild.
“It’s interesting, that much is for sure.” A genuine smile spread across her face, almost touching her eyes. “What do you do? Sorry, I never got your name.”
“It’s Sam, and I’m in law enforcement.” I didn’t want to mention the FBI. It either wigged people out or they were filled with questions. There were two things I didn’t want to talk about tonight: work and Izzy Gallo. It dawned on me in that moment that I hadn’t thought about Izzy since I’d given my attention entirely to Fiona.
“Sounds dangerous. I’ve always loved a man in uniform.” She smirked, and I swear to god my
cock twitched.
“It has its moments, but there’s a lot of downtime and paperwork.” Do not think of her sexually. The last thing I needed right now was another woman in my life. “Do you live here?”
She rubbed her thighs together, and my eyes instantly caught the motion, watching them move back and forth. “Yeah, I went to college here and never left. I fell in love with the city and couldn’t imagine living anywhere else. You?” She must’ve caught me staring because she placed her hands on her legs and rubbed her thighs back and forth.
I cleared my throat, trying to break the hold she had over me. The fact that she had on a skirt that rested around mid-thigh had me wishing for a peek of her underwear. “No, I live in Florida. I’m just visiting for a couple days.”
“Work or pleasure?” The smirk was still plastered on her face. Maybe she liked me looking. The one thing I knew was that she didn’t do anything to stop me.
“Pleasure.” I grabbed my drink off the bar, giving my attention to something other than her lush thighs. I tried not to wonder what it would feel like for my hands to caress her skin or how she would react if I sank my teeth into her inner thigh. Would she call out my name or shudder in my arms?
“There’s plenty of that around here. You don’t have to look too hard.” As she turned on her stool to face the bar, her skirt rode up, showing even more leg than I’d seen before.
Fuck, her legs were killer. If we stood, she would have to be almost as tall as me, especially with the heels she had on. The hint of red from underneath told me they were pricey. The name of the designer escaped me, but I knew enough about girl shit to know they were top-notch. “I’m finding that. What do you like to do for pleasure?” Licking my lips, I watched her eyes following my tongue as her lips parted. Interesting.
“That’s a loaded question, Sam,” Fiona said, almost purring my name.
