Raine's Haven Page 3

  Her breath hitches in response to my question. As her chest expands and retracts at a quick rate, she takes a step away from me.

  "Well, what's it going to be?” she asks with a hint of unease.

  “Why me?" I respond. She doesn't know one damn thing about me, and she's been studying me from inside her bedroom window for months. Shouldn't she be concerned with sipping tea, wearing cute dresses, and talking like she's either from another decade or a weird part of England? Girls like Haven don't fall all over worthless shitheads like me.

  I steal the foot of space she forced between us, pushing her up against the brick wall of the bar, all without touching her. Mesmerized by the rhythm of her breasts moving up and down, knowing full well what I’m causing, I press my body up against hers, letting my cock harden against her stomach. Her breath is erratic and fanning over my neck, bringing me to a point where I'm going to get myself into trouble. "Tell me to stop," I growl, knowing I may be about to lose at my own game. Haven nods and I press my hands into the wall around her head as I lean down, hovering my mouth over hers. "I want to taste your red lips, but you don't know what you're getting yourself into."

  "Please kiss me," she begs.

  I'm damn proud of my restraint as I pull away, watching a struggle blaze through her as she searches for her next breath. "I only agreed to get some air." This girl is red, hot trouble.

  I can’t decide if she’s embarrassed or angry when she turns away and stumbles back into the bar. Knowing her friends are inside, I’m convinced she’s better off with them tonight than she would be if she kept pursuing me. With a struggle against desire, I head away from Crow’s and call it a night. Of course, she’s got be the damn mayor’s daughter.

  3

  Haven

  With classical music swirling around us and the lights dimmed in the crystal chandelier, I rest my elbow down on the white linen tablecloth while staring at the grandfather clock behind Mom’s head. She has been chewing my ear off about socializing with other “like-minded” people for the past thirty minutes, but my mind is lost in a cloud of thoughts revolving around Raine and his parting comments last night. He’s the equivalent of a book I can’t put down...I need more.

  "You know, the Sullivan twins are having a small party tonight, maybe you should join them," Mom suggests as she pokes at her thin slice of roasted turkey.

  "I don't care for them," I tell her. "I'm not like them." Five years ago, when Mom and Dad were struggling to pay bills, we had canned food for dinner more often than not, and our house was the size of this dining room that the three of us are drowning in. Dad was fighting his way through his failing family law practice a few towns over from here, never making much income, while Mom supported us with her teacher's salary. After his firm "hit gold," plenty of money came in. Rather than walk away with it, though, Dad wanted more, so he started making decent sized donations to this small town while also befriending all the locals, until he had almost everyone eating out of the palm of his hand. In less than a year, he became a local hero, and it was all part of his “big plan.” Once he was adored here in Cascade, a town full of people who didn't know a thing about him, he ran for mayor. Ten months later, we were moving out of our poverty-ridden house and into this lifestyle of shittin’ in high cotton. It's taken me years to figure out how this all came to be, but the void has been filled as answers trickled in...answers I wish I didn't have to know.

  Mom drops her fork, and it clatters against the fine china plate. She huffs with evident haste and clasps her hands together, bringing them to her forehead. "Lord, Haven, you need to try a little harder to like these girls in the neighborhood. They have made several attempts to get to know you, and you keep turning your back on them." She pulls in a long inhale through her nose and presses her closed fists against the tabletop as if she were experiencing a sudden pain. "Do you want to be miserable forever? Because it seems that way."

  "Pamela, please calm down," Dad tells her. I think he's aware of the disruption his career choices have brought to my life, but I don’t believe he cares much. From the moment he became mayor, I was primed to become a model teenager with class. I let it all happen for as long as I could stand it, but these last couple of years, I've come to realize I can't be who I want—not that I know who that is yet, but this isn't it.

  "Maybe we shouldn't go tonight," Mom tells Dad. Guilt. There's always that factor. We all know who each of us are deep down, and we're playing a role we were never designed to fill. Every passing day we live with this wealthy lifestyle we didn’t earn, the place and life we came from becomes a little blurrier in the rearview mirror.

  "You don't need to do that. I don't need a babysitter," I tell them.

  "I feel like we leave you alone too often." Mom huffs as she takes the napkin from her lap and blots her lips. That's because you do, but don't worry, the damage has already been done.

  "I can go alone," Dad says. "It's just drinks with a couple of local politicians." They're serious. If they stay home, they'll ruin my plans, and my entire night for that matter.

  Thinking on my toes, I tell them, "Maybe I will invite Maryanne over tonight. We can play cards and sip lemonade or something," I mock Mom without trying to be too subtle. “I’m sure she’d rather come here than go to the Sullivans’ house.”

  "That sounds nice," she says. "I think that's a fine idea. I've always liked that girl." Well, that makes one of us. Maryanne belongs in this neighborhood. I don't.

  "Yeah, she's kind of grown on me I guess." I've learned that the best trick is to act as if I have no desire to leave the house, and if they don't want me alone, I fix that problem too. If I show no real hints of acting like a typical teenager who wants to get into a little trouble and have some fun, they'll never be any wiser on the subject.

  The white lies are my only way to avoid suspicion, and I'm good at them. What Mom doesn't realize is that Maryanne and all the other girls in this neighborhood pull the same crap on their parents. We may not like each other very much, but there's an unsaid camaraderie involved in our small union of privileged teenage girls.

  "Well, that's lovely. I suppose I'll be joining you after all, Frederick," Mom says with a tight-lipped smile; one that says she's not as excited about going as she's pretending to be. Every now and then, I see a glimpse of despair in Mom's eyes, like maybe she misses our old life too. Either that or the guilt is starting to eat her alive. Dad's a different breed, though. This was his life's ambition, and he wakes up with a proud smile every day, knowing what he's accomplished.

  I plant myself on one of the couches in the sitting room, acting casual in my sweats as if I were truly preparing for Maryanne to come over. Mom walks in while piercing her obnoxious and oversized diamond earring through her earlobe. "Well, we most likely won't be home until well after midnight. You know how these dog and pony shows go. The old men enjoy their gin and gossip."

  "I'm sure I'll be in bed by then. Maryanne isn't much of a night owl."

  Mom studies me for a moment. "Won't you be putting something else on? You're in a sweatshirt, and those pants look filthy," she points out with a cringing look.

  "Nope, Maryanne accepts me for who I am—a slob who doesn't like to dress in designer clothes." I force a taunting smile, knowing how angry I make her.

  Mom rolls her eyes and takes her evening purse from the side table. "I hope you have a good time. Call if you need anything."

  Dad walks in to find Mom and leans down to give me a kiss on the head. "Behave yourself tonight, sweetie."

  I offer him a what the hell kind of look because how could I get into trouble while sitting here with Maryanne of all people? She puts on a better act than I do, and it can't be easy.

  "I promise not to let our card game get out of control tonight," I reply with an uneasy laugh.

  He raises a brow as if he's calling my bluff. "Mmhm. Goodnight, Haven."

  The second the door closes and the headlights disappear from the front window, I spring off the cou
ch and run to my bedroom. Sliding the hangers apart, flinching from the squealing noise they make, I reach into the back of my closet and pull out one of my favorite shirts, a pair of torn skinny jeans, and my knee-high boots. I have four hours to have myself a good time tonight, and as wrong as I know it is, I have the worst best idea on how to succeed.

  I walk a little over a mile down the street and cross into Sutter, stopping in front of a metal door with the word "Crow" spray painted on it. Reaching into my back pocket, I retrieve my tube of scarlet-red gloss and brush it across my lips. I couldn't help but notice Raine's fascination with it last night.

  I step inside the bar I found Raine in last night during a stupid dare one of the twins made—a bunch of upscale girls in slutty clothes walk into a biker bar. The joke should have been on us, and I was dumb enough to go along with it, but that's just where I am in my life right now. Trouble is more exciting than the alternative. Even with that thought in mind, I'm still a bit uneasy walking into this particular bar. I'm underage, asking for dirty looks, and in a position to get caught by someone who knows Dad, even though I'm sure no one in this bar would know Dad personally. They’re not good enough with their leather, tattoos, and piercings.

  The moment I break through the wall of smoke, my gaze falls upon Raine. I wasn't sure he'd be here, but he did say something about there not being much else to do around here. Considering how lame these two twin towns are, he couldn't be more right.

  Raine didn’t see me walk in, but I'm in clear view of him, as well as his hand resting on a woman's knee. It looks like he's blowing air into this sleazy brunette's ear, and I’m now starting to take note of his type. I should have considered the possibility of him having a girlfriend, but I'm pretty sure he was with a blonde woman last night. For a split second I consider leaving, but as I lift my foot to turn around, Raine spots me. His hand lifts from the woman's knee, and he stands from his stool, making it clear he’s in no rush as he kicks the thing under the bar with the heel of his black boot.

  He strides toward me, his head cocked to one side. "You aren’t giving up on me, are you?" he asks with a wicked grin.

  I shrug off his question, doing my best to appear disinterested in his scowl as I glance around the bar. "Not that easily," I mutter. His hand flies toward me and locks around my wrist as he pulls me outside and around to the back of the building.

  "Coming here isn’t the way to keep testing me," he says, right before he corners me against a nasty smelling dumpster.

  My heart is pounding, and I want to feel my pulse race even faster. After all, that's why I came back tonight. "Then, what is the right way?" I see frustration and a little confusion running through his eyes. The situation I'm in right now is stupid, and I love every moment of it. I'm beginning to consider the thought that something might seriously be wrong with my mental state, seeing as I don't know this guy, and he could kill me if he wanted to, but only a small part of me is considering this man dangerous. The other ignorant, desperate parts of me are intrigued.

  "You can't be doing this shit," he tells me as he pins my shoulders against the wall. "You're going to get yourself killed, or worse, if you keep coming to this bar."

  "Are you going to hurt me?" I ask with more confidence than I should be allowed to have right now.

  "Seriously, what in the hell is wrong with you?" He looks down at my clothes. "You are not from this town, and you do not belong here associating with someone like me. Don’t you know I'm what your people call filth? A bum. A loser. An ingrate. I mow the lawn for your fucking parents."

  "Maybe you should consider that might be the reason I'm fascinated by you." I feel breathless as I try to explain myself. "I've been fighting against being the person you think I am. I'm not who you think I am." Am I trying to convince him or myself of this?

  "Look, Haven, I get it. I do. Everyone around you is uptight, and you're desperate for a good time." He's so much taller than I am. I should feel inferior to him by the way he's hovering over me, but instead, I'm a little excited. "But besides the fact that I'm a big fucking nothing, I need to stay the hell away from the mayor's daughter. From you.”

  "I thought you had to stay away from me because you don’t date girls you pick up in bars, oh, and because I’m too young. In any case, you sure do have a lot of reasons to stay away from me. Maybe just pick one and stick with it.” I groan, irritated with myself for thinking he’d be happy to see me tonight, after the way last night ended. I was wrong. “You know what,” I say, laughing with spite. “I'm going back into the bar. I'm having fun tonight, and no one is going to stop me from doing that. Besides…” I shrug. “There were plenty of good looking men in there tonight just waiting for the right girl to walk through those doors." I know I’m pushing his buttons, but that’s what he gets for messing with my head.

  He presses away from the wall, balling his fists by his waist. "Are you even listening to yourself? Jesus, you're a young girl. I'm probably the youngest guy in that bar except for Crow, and we both know you're asking for trouble if you go back in there."

  "True, but by the looks of the pretty woman you were sitting with in there, it appears you're just a trouble magnet." My heart has sunken into the pit of my stomach, and I don't know what's coming out of my mouth at this point. In any case, my words make him smile. He has a sweet smile—bright white teeth and lips that curl into a crooked angle. Although, describing any part of him as sweet doesn’t quite work with his personality at the moment.

  Again, he's in my space, leaning up against me as his large, calloused hand cups around my cheek. "I feel sorry for the life you think you have. It’s obvious you've been deprived of freedom," he says in a hoarse whisper. "On the contrary, I've been given too much freedom." I'm not sure where he's going with his words or actions, but I take it all in, listening carefully, even to the words that aren't being spoken. A slight breeze blows between us, becoming wordless whispers of what I wish was a mutual understanding, one that would define each of our differences. "Haven, we'll never see eye to eye."

  "I don't care," I tell him, being honest. I want out of my world, and it seems to me that he wants out and away from his, as well.

  "You don't even know me," he says. "Why do you look at me like you do? Why did you want me to kiss you last night? It makes no sense."

  His words embarrass me a little, and they should because they're the truth. Except, I do have a reason. "You want to know why I look at you the way I do?" I ask. "It's because I have a desire to be around ordinary people, and you're the first one to come anywhere near my house since we moved in five years ago."

  "Normal," he laughs. "You don't get it. You just, you don't get it."

  "You're right." To refrain from sounding childish and repeating his words to use against him, I push away and walk toward the street. Maybe he is right. I'm so far removed from the person I once was that I don’t know if I will ever be able to figure out who I should be now. If no one else sees me for the person I think I am, then maybe I'm the one who's confused.

  "Where are you going?" he shouts after me as I turn the corner.

  "Home. This was a mistake."

  "Yeah, coming to find me at a dive bar with forty bikers is more than just a mistake, Haven; it's fucking stupid. Smarten up, will ya!" He's still shouting as he follows me around to the front of the building.

  "We're all stupid at some point in our lives. Clearly, you've had your moments so don't rain all over my damn parade." My shouts filter through the air as I make my way halfway down the street. Screw him and his good looks. You can't always cover up rudeness with entrancing eyes and a perfect smile.

  4

  Raine

  All I wanted to do tonight was get some much-needed ass and a better place to sleep than Crow's springy couch. The two kind of go hand and hand for me. That certainly isn’t happening now. Instead, I'm following this girl back to her house to make sure she gets there in one piece. I'm keeping enough distance so she doesn't notice me, but I don't th
ink she'd put up much of a fight if she knew I was behind her. I don't understand her or what she's trying to accomplish. I give her credit for the effort she's making, but it's borderline crazy.

  She knows jack shit about me, but unfortunately for her, that isn't the case on my end. Her name swims through the local news on a weekly basis. People are always wondering where she is and why she isn't by her parents' side during town events. I've wondered about her myself, but mowing their lawn every week has given me the opportunity to catch a glimpse of her life. The sun is always shining directly into her window at ten in the morning, allowing me a clear view of the girl who stares out the window with sadness in her eyes. Sometimes, I see her reading on what must be a bench below her window. Other times, she appears to be looking for me. I've considered her attempt of getting my attention may be an SOS, but there is no way in hell I'm messing with the mayor's daughter.

  I figured she was on the younger side, always appearing to be locked indoors, so I kept my interactions with her to a minimum. Normally, if I were to look inside a person's window and they saw me, I'd do what I could to cover it up, but she's wanted me to see her. That much was made clear last week when she stripped down in front of the window. She's screaming for help, but she doesn't realize it, or the fact that I can't even help myself. She's locked in, and I'm locked out.

  "I know you're following me," she shouts without turning back to see me. How the hell did she know I was fifty feet behind her in the dark? "Change your mind?"

  "No. I'm making sure your stupid ass doesn't get abducted on the way to your damn town," I tell her.

  "Why would you care?" she asks, quieter than her previous shouts.

  I speed up my pace, catching up to her. "I'm a human being, and most mentally healthy people don't wish for bad things to happen to others."