I’m totally enjoying my own little bubble when a woman catches my attention. I crane my neck to follow her as she weaves through the crowd like she’s trying to be invisible. Does she have any idea how impossible that is when she glows like a beacon? Not literally of course. She’s not radioactive. At least I hope not. It’s just... wow. That body is banging. Thick. Full. Curvy in all the right places. And as a guy, I appreciate that. I’m instantly curious.
Her hair hangs in glossy brown waves down her back and she tucks some of it behind her ear as she finds a place to stand away from the herd so she can talk to someone on her phone. The strands catch the brightness like a suncatcher, a multitude of highlights standing out. Yeah, I’m a people watcher. And not of hot chicks in particular. Of everyone. It’s an author thing. I never know when my next bestseller is going to punch me in the brain.
I light up my own cell phone. Pull up my notes app. Start jotting down an idea for a new story that involves a full-figured woman.
She tips her head back and laughs at whatever the person on the other end of the line is saying.
Fork me in the ass with an ice pick. Is that Jane Matthews?
I shake my head. It can’t be the girl I’ve called my best friend for near on fifteen years. There’s no way the gorgeous woman across the platform could be the girl I went to high school with. The same girl I spent all my college years hoping would fall in love with me. Because that girl is on a whole different continent, and if she were back, well, she’d tell me.
But it does kind of look like her. The way she laughs. The structure of her cheek bones and jawline. She’s familiar, but too far away for me to be certain. I mean, logically, it can’t be her, but a doppelganger... well, that’s possible in the great state of Illinois.
I push my phone back into my pocket. Step toward her as the train pulls in. She doesn’t notice me, too busy chatting on the phone. All the years Jane and I were best friends she never noticed me either. Not in the way I wanted her to.
The people on the platform flow as one toward the cars, and I get caught in the tide. By the time I’ve sidestepped she’s gone.
I enter the train and glance around, but the chance of finding her on the L is unlikely. And it couldn’t have been Jane anyway. The last time I saw Jane in person she was moving to the UK with her boyfriend.
That was six years ago.
Chapter Two
Hudson
“Hud, what the fuck are you doing?” Vale slings another slab of cans on top of one of the piles he has set out in front of the fridges behind the bar, bringing me back to the present and the job at hand. Prepping for another Friday night at Chicago’s premier hot spot, Line ‘Em Up.
Giving myself a quick mental headshake, I throw off the last vestiges of what will probably turn out to be a couple of great opening paragraphs for my next book. I hope I haven’t been talking to myself again because sometimes I like to run both sides of the dialogue out loud. And as an audiobook narrator I’ve managed to achieve a seriously sexy female voice when it’s needed. “Nothing. Why?”
“I can see that.” He pulls out a cardboard cutter and slices into one of the boxes of spirits, but he doesn’t give me hell for talking to myself. Phew. Instead he grabs a bottle of Rudgers and stows it neatly in its spot on the shelf at head height. Good stuff, that whisky. “How about you stop standing around and start stocking.”
“Fuck, when did you become the boss?” I ask, but he’s right. Friday nights are hectic, and there’s no time for dilly-dallying, or daydreaming, or coming up with the plot for my next awesome book in my badass bartenders series. Callan and Fleetwood are in D.C opening another club. They’ve opened clubs in L.A., New York, Miami, and now D.C. Which means me and Vale and Arrow are training new staff, but they’re still in the learning curve, making everything that much more hectic.
“Brewed fucked up our beer order again,” Arrow says as he walks through from the kitchen, waving the itemized list. “We’re out two barrels.”
“Damn it.” Vale slides a bottle of vodka into an empty spot on the shelf. “That’s the third time this month. Cal is going to be pissed if this is still going on by the time he gets back.”
“Why don’t you call them and tell them to bring the missing barrels pronto,” I suggest, breaking down the empty box.
Vale thumps the heel of his palm against his forehead and shakes his head at me as though I’m the one overreacting. “Why didn’t I think of that?”
“Because you’re stressed out.” I grab another slab and tear into the plastic covering. Vale’s been working his ass off for months on a new app that he refuses to talk about, and it’s all come to a bit of a head the last couple of weeks. He’s been riding my ass worse than a leopard print thong and quite frankly it’s beginning to chafe. “Why is that? What has your dainty little panties in a twist?”
He clears his throat while he looks like he’s tasting something bitter. “Maybe if you weren’t over there staring into the ether—”
Although he’s usually chill, his eyes bulge when he’s not. If he’s not careful one of his eyeballs is likely to pop loose and fly across the room and land in a glass like a spongey ice cube.
Standing up, I wipe my hands on my jeans and grab the list from Arrow as I stride from behind the bar. “Arrow, take over for me, man. I’m going to go handle this little problem so our pal here doesn’t become apoplectic and suffer a stroke.”
“You’re a jackass,” Vale calls after me.
“I love you too, buddy.” I flip him off by scratching my nose with my middle finger as I walk backwards away from the bar.
He’ll remember how much he adores me when he finally steps out from under the insane pressure he’s putting on himself trying to get this app done. Usually, it’s all love all the time between us. He’s practically part of the Hudson clan with how thick we are. My grandparents adore him. My little sister Lily wanted to marry him for a long time. Thankfully she grew out of that idiocy. Because as much as I love the dude he’s not the kind of guy one wants showing an interest in his little sister. Not with his penchant for redheads, and tech being his one true love. While something like that might make for a good story, in real life it would only make for a good ass whooping from yours truly. Because he would break her heart. And then I’d have to deal with it like a mafia boss. Once you’re in the Hudson family there is no leaving. Unless it’s in a body bag.
I chuckle to myself as I close the office door behind me and take a seat at the desk. It’s been a while since I wrote a dark romance. It might be time to stretch my fingers in a new direction.
Picking up the phone I dial the number for the supplier and then cradle it with my shoulder while I pull up my note app and jot down another set of plot bunnies while I listen to the dial tone. Write out the worst version of a blurb while I’m transferred to the representative I am about to ream. And buddy, I have no plans on being gentle, so I hope you like it hard and fast and rough. And in the shower... Ooh.
The hold music ends as the line is picked up. I straighten, typing out an idea for a new sexy shower scene for my current work in progress as I gear up to give this rep hell. Three times they’ve screwed up the order. In one month. Time to be tough and lay out the terms of our business arrangement going forward.