Unrequited Read online

  Kicking back in his chair, he grabbed a few peanuts from the bowl in the center of the table. He could use that steak he’d ordered right about now.

  “You’re up,” Frank said. He handed him the darts and reached for his own half-finished beer.

  Ty dropped his peanut shells onto the table and wiped his hands. A Lynyrd Skynyrd song started ripping through the airwaves as he found the spot marked on the floor. He eyed the board carefully. He needed seventeens.

  He was taking aim when the door to the bar opened and new customers walked in. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the flash of a figure. And by that, he meant a figure. Long, dark hair. Sleek curves in high heels.

  In a word—his type.

  For a moment, his concentration was distracted. It was blown to bits, though, when he saw the way she moved. There was something about the tilt of her head…the sway of her hips…The dart flew out of his hand and embedded itself firmly in the pockmarked wall behind the board.

  Frank let out a snort. “That’s a first,” he laughed.

  Ty looked straight over his friend’s head and felt the air get knocked right out of his lungs. The woman wasn’t just his type.

  It was The One.

  Trista.

  And she was with someone.

  Frank swiveled around in his chair. When he saw the beautiful brunette, he did what came naturally to construction workers. He let out a whistle. Ty’s free hand whipped out and clapped his buddy across the back of the head.

  “Ow,” Frank said, reaching up to rub the spot. “What’s up with you? Just because you saw her first doesn’t mean I can’t look, too.”

  “Put your eyes back in your head,” Ty growled.

  He felt his fingers curl into a fist around the remaining two darts. Men around the bar were eyeing her like fresh meat. Just because he couldn’t stop staring didn’t mean that they shouldn’t. The fucking cavemen.

  “Ooo, baby!” A howl erupted from the table of bricklayers beside him, and he’d had enough. Turning, he jabbed his darts halfway up their tips into the men’s table. The laughing stopped pretty damn quickly.

  “Give the lady some respect,” he ordered.

  “Sorry, Ty,” one of the guys mumbled. He held up his hands defensively. “We didn’t hear you call dibs.”

  “Just back off.”

  Frank was eyeing him carefully when he turned back around, ready for whomever he had to take on next. “I take it you know her?” his friend said.

  Ty’s teeth ground together. “Yeah.”

  He knew her. Hell, he’d been silently obsessed with her for nearly three years.

  “She was married to Denny.”

  Frank perked up in surprise, and he looked over his shoulder again. “That’s your sister-in-law?”

  She wasn’t his sister.

  Not even close.

  “Not anymore.”

  Trista was a free woman. She and Denny’s divorce had gone through eight months ago. Eight months and ten days, to be precise. She was single now, but this was the first time he’d ever seen her out with another man.

  He found he didn’t much like it.

  He watched in disbelief as her “date” ushered her to a booth at the back. He used the term loosely. After the way she’d been disrespected, a real date would have turned her around and walked her right out of this dive. Instead this…this weenie had his hand at the small of her back. He was pushing her out in front of him almost as if he liked putting her on display. Or, more likely, because he got off on the attention it was bringing him.

  Ty’s eyes narrowed as he watched that hand at her lower back. If it dropped so much as a quarter of an inch, the guy was going to lose it.

  Serena finally showed up with the food. She strode through the swinging doors to the kitchen with a huge platter lifted to shoulder level. “Here are your steaks, boys,” she said as she propped the tray on the back of a free chair.

  Frank eagerly reached out to help her. The steaks, baked potatoes, and corn-on-the cob took up most of the table. Their waitress set the bottles of ketchup and steak sauce in the two open spots she could find and let the tray drop to her side. “Anything else I can get you?”

  “A gun,” Ty bit out.

  Both Frank and Serena jumped. Frank was the first to recover. A smile slipped onto his face as he looked at the barmaid. “Why don’t you just start with another beer?”

  Serena caught on quickly. She followed Ty’s gaze and her blond eyebrows lifted. “She’s gorgeous. I’ll bring you a pitcher.”

  Ty had a feeling he was going to need something more than that.

  Trista was gorgeous—and that dress. God damn! She looked like sex. He felt his gut tighten. What was she trying to do? Bring him to his knees? It wasn’t as if she was showing a lot of skin. The dress just…clung. He didn’t blame it. With that body she had, he’d want to cling, too.

  He always had.

  He reached for his beer. Unable to stop himself, he let his gaze slide down her back to her tight little ass. Watching it sway was his favorite pastime, and tonight was no different. As always, his cock went on alert.

  She was sending out vibes she shouldn’t, not here in the bar. His gaze drifted lower to her long legs. He’d had dreams about those legs. Fascinating dreams where they’d been wrapped around his waist…draped across his shoulders…

  His beer mug hit the table with a thump when her dress hitched up as she sat down. Was that a thigh-high he’d just seen?

  Shit. How much was a guy supposed to stand?

  His pulse began to pound as he looked at her face. The lighting in the bar wasn’t the best, but he could swear that dots of pink were coloring her cheeks. The flutter at the base of her throat told him her heart was beating as fast as his was. And her lips…He felt his groin get heavy. She’d chewed off half her lipstick.

  She was acting edgy. Adrenalized.

  Her gaze suddenly swung up and locked with his.

  Horny.

  His dick nearly jumped out of his pants.

  She was aroused. He could see it from halfway across the room. She’d felt his stare, and she was responding to him. As a woman. A freight train started rumbling inside his chest.

  Her mouth parted halfway when she recognized him and all he could think about was kissing her. Touching her. Lying down with her the way he’d always wanted. He took a step forward, ready to throw tables aside and knock people out of his way in order to get to her. Her so-called date suddenly turned in his seat, though, and he was stopped cold.

  She was here with someone else.

  “Easy, Ty,” Frank said softly.

  He’d forgotten there was anyone else left in the room.

  “What the hell is she doing here?” he growled.

  “Having dinner,” Serena said as she swooped in on them again. The beer in the pitcher swished dangerously close to the spout as she set it on the table. “Like you are. Come on. Sit down. Your steak’s getting cold.”

  He wasn’t hungry anymore.

  At least not that way.

  The waitress turned and placed a hand against his chest. It made him realize how tightly his muscles were clenched.

  “Now’s not the time,” she said calmly. She glanced at the couple at the back booth. “She’s interested. Get her name and number and call her later.”

  Oh, he’d do more than call her.

  Still, he drilled the waitress with a look. “How do you know she’s interested?”

  Serena let out a snort. “Honey, if you could feel the look cutting into my back right now, you wouldn’t even have to ask.”

  Ty looked at Trista again, but she was doing her best to ignore him. Slowly, he sat down.

  If she was so interested, why was she out on a date with someone else? And who the fuck was that guy anyway? He knew her friends, or at least he’d thought he had. Ty felt himself start a slow burn. What did she see in the little wimp? His hair was thinning, and he could use another twenty pounds on his skinny frame
. She was so far out of that guy’s league, he shouldn’t have stood a chance.

  Well, the pip-squeak still won’t.

  Ty made up his mind so quickly, it really wasn’t a decision at all. Once made, determination settled inside his chest. Mr. “Date” better make the most of dinner, because that was the only shot he was going to get.

  The meal seemed endless. Trista poked tensely at her food, wishing that she could snap her fingers and make the clock turn faster. It wasn’t that her meal was bad. The shrimp was delicious; she just didn’t have an appetite tonight.

  Ty was doing everything he could to make sure she wasn’t comfortable.

  And that was putting it mildly. He was watching her every move, seemingly listening to every breath. The focused attention made her self-conscious. Worse, it had her confused body still raging. She didn’t know whom she was more upset with—him or herself for letting him get to her. Trying to find a way to cool down, she took a long drink of ice water. Goose bumps popped up on her skin when she felt his hot gaze slide down her throat.

  Damn you, she mentally cursed. If you have something to say, why don’t you just come over here and say it?

  Her hand shook as she lowered the glass. Water dribbled onto the table, and she let out a breath of frustration. She plucked a napkin out of the metal holder and mopped up the puddle.

  Cliff, meanwhile, was oblivious to the nervous energy pulsing around them. He’d tucked into his steak the moment the friendly blond waitress had set it on the table in front of him. The only time he’d come up for air was to ask questions.

  Unfortunately, they were tactless. Finding out he was her first date since Denny had given him too much confidence.

  “So why did you divorce a guy like that?” “Was it messy?” “How much did you get out of him?” “Is that brother-in-law of yours as dangerous as he looks?”

  Honestly, she’d had enough. All she wanted to do was go home, lock the door, take a nice cool shower, crawl into bed, and pretend this night had never happened. Cliff, unfortunately, was blind to body signals. He kept up until her head was pounding.

  “Do you want a doggy bag for that shrimp, hon?”

  Trista blinked and looked at the waitress who’d appeared from out of nowhere. Their gazes connected, and she could have hugged the woman for coming to her rescue. Cliff had about a quarter of his steak to go, but the sooner she could coax him out of here, the better.

  “That would be great,” she said.

  The waitress winked at her. “I’ll be right back.”

  And she was. A sister-in-arms, she made a beeline for the kitchen. She was back with a Styrofoam container before Cliff could get out yet another question about alimony. “Here, I’ll do that for you,” she said as she leaned in to take Trista’s plate.

  “Bad date?” she whispered so Cliff couldn’t hear.

  “The worst,” Trista said under her breath.

  The name badge on the woman’s curvy chest said SERENA. Casually, she nodded towards Ty’s table. “There is something better, if you’re interested.”

  Trista’s head jerked back. Oh, God. Had their silent battle been that obvious?

  “He’s a great guy,” Serena whispered as Cliff reached for his drink. “I could say something to him if you’d like.”

  Trista’s stomach plunged. “Oh please, don’t. It’s not like that.”

  It wasn’t like that at all!

  Cliff set down his empty glass and happily patted his stomach. “That was fantastic. Pass on my compliments to the chef.”

  Serena let out a sound that sounded suspiciously like a snort. “I’ll be sure to let Skeeter know.”

  It took everything inside Trista not to grab the woman’s arm and repeat that she’d misinterpreted things.

  Serena must have felt her impatience, though. Efficiently, she reached into her apron and pulled out her order pad. She ripped off the top ticket and set it in front of Cliff. As he was reaching for his wallet, she slipped another piece of paper under the take-out. The smooth move surprised Trista. Trying to be as secretive, she pulled the paper into her lap and peeked at it.

  It had Ty’s name and phone number listed.

  The irony should have made her laugh.

  But she couldn’t.

  Even this stranger had noticed the tension between her and her ex-brother-in-law. Serena just didn’t know the reason for it. She’d made a logical leap in assumptions, but hooking up with Ty…Trista shivered. The idea was unfathomable. Wild. Forbidden.

  And it sent a hot flush running through her body. One that left her nipples hard and her pussy tingling.

  She was still fighting the effects when the waitress brought back Cliff ’s credit card receipt for signature. Suddenly, it all became too much. The bar’s heavy atmosphere, the insinuations, the anticipation…Her fist closed around the slip of paper, crumpling it into a tight ball. Forgetting her take-out, she slid out of the booth and headed towards the door.

  She felt the stares again, only this time she knew where they were coming from. It only made matters worse. She hit the door at almost a run, and Cliff struggled to catch up with her in the parking lot.

  He caught her arm as they neared his car. “Do you want to see if we can still go dancing at the Blue Muse?”

  She let out a breath of disbelief. He hadn’t caught a whiff of what had happened in that bar. “Thank you, Cliff, but I think we’d better cut the night short.”

  His brow furrowed. “How about a walk on the waterfront? It’s cooled down a bit.”

  Could a person really be so unaware? Trying to contain her impatience, Trista took a deep breath of the heavy air. The heat might have abated, but the humidity was still there. She could feel it pressing on her. “Maybe another time. Please, take me home.”

  He stood there for a moment, staring at her. “All right,” he finally agreed. “Here. Let me get your door for you.”

  She nearly sagged in relief.

  The drive back to her house was made in silence. Trista did her best not to think of Ty. When she considered Cliff, though, she felt badly for the way the night had turned out. It had been mostly her fault. She’d entered into this date with less than good intentions. She hadn’t really given him a chance, and she’d paid virtually no attention to him over dinner. She’d been too caught up in her own personal world.

  Mainly, her ex-brother-in-law.

  “I’m sorry, Cliff,” she said, once again holding onto her purse as if it were a lifeline. “I haven’t been good company tonight.”

  He glanced at her and the dejected look on his face lightened.

  “That’s okay,” he said, reaching out to pat her thigh.

  She crossed her legs uneasily when his hand touched more bare flesh than she was comfortable with.

  “I made a terrible mistake with the restaurants,” he admitted, “although that was the best steak I’ve had in years.”

  Trista couldn’t help a small smile. “Thanks to Skeeter.”

  Cliff shared her grin. “We’ll just have to try it again.”

  Her momentary amusement withered. She hated to tell him, but there wasn’t going to be a second date. She’d accept responsibility for tonight, but she wasn’t willing to put herself into this kind of a situation again. They simply weren’t compatible. Somehow, though, breaking the news to him tonight seemed cruel.

  Besides, she just didn’t have the energy. The tension at the bar had left her exhausted.

  “Take a right here,” she said quickly, seeing he was about to miss the turn onto her street. “It’s the one with the porch light on.”

  “Oh, yes. Here we are.”

  He pulled into her driveway and stopped. Her hopes for a clean getaway died, though, when he turned off the engine and the lights. He hopped out of the car and hurried around to get her door again. Trista’s patience was wearing thin, but she forced a gracious smile on her face as he helped her out of the car and escorted her to the house.

  She had her keys in
hand before they even hit the first step of her porch. “Thank you for the evening out,” she said, strategically opening the glass screen door and holding it between them.

  “It was my pleasure,” Cliff said. “Let me help you.”

  Showing more moves than she gave him credit for, he pulled the screen door open wider and slipped in beside her. Trista took a deep breath of surprise at his closeness, and her breasts accidentally brushed against his chest. Startled by the sensation, she took a step backward. The porch railing stopped her from getting far.

  Cliff smiled as if he didn’t have a clue as to what he’d done. Instead, he reached for her keys. She relaxed. He really was going to unlock her door for her. She waited as he dealt with the lock, swung the door inward, and dropped the keys back into her uplifted palm.

  Finally, the date was over. “Thank you, Cl—”

  She’d let down her guard too soon. Seeing his chance, her date leaned forward and boldly kissed her. For a moment, she was too dumbfounded to react. When she finally did, the sensation of his dry lips against hers made her lurch up onto her tiptoes. Unfortunately, he took that as a sign of encouragement. He wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her closer.

  As sensitive as her body had become over the course of the night, Trista found herself responding. But she knew it wasn’t to him. Automatically, she reached for the hand that was dangerously low on her back. Too late, she remembered her keys.

  “Ah!” Cliff hissed, flinching sharply when she jabbed him.

  She used the opportunity to slip into her house through the open door. She was suddenly glad she’d left the lights on. “Good night,” she said as calmly as she could.

  “But—”

  “Good night.” Firmly, she closed the door and threw the deadbolt into place. Now, the date was over. Shoulders sagging, she let her head drop forward. Her forehead rested against the doorjamb, and she counted to ten.

  What a disaster.

  She let out a shaky sigh. The only good thing about tonight had been the shrimp—and she hadn’t even been able to enjoy that.

  Men.