Crank (The Gibson Boys 1)
“It’s fine,” I say. “I’ll go up there and get one in a minute.”
“What’ll it be, lady?” Peck grins.
“Um, an amaretto sour?”
“Typical chick drink. Be right back.”
Peck dashes away. A couple plays pool on one side and another half-dances, half-copulates on the other beneath the dick-shaped duck lights, but we’re alone otherwise. Tucking a strand of hair out of my face, I wait until I can’t take the awkwardness anymore.
“I’ll go get the drink. It was nice to see you,” I say.
“Wanna sit?” he gruffs out.
“What? No, I’m fine.”
“Sit down,” he sighs, sitting on all four legs again. “I won’t bite.”
“I’m not totally convinced of that,” I mutter.
He leans forward, gripping a bottle in front of him with both hands. “If I did,” he whispers, “you’d like it.”
His tone dances across my skin, the words pooling in between my thighs. It takes every bit of self-control I can muster to remain unaffected—at least on the surface.
Walker’s attention rests with me, every blink, twitch, and gasp duly noted. The power, although never completely mine, is slipping away quickly and I have to get some of it back.
Sitting across from him, I let him wonder what my response will be before I finally give it to him. “If I didn’t,” I say, “that would be embarrassing for you, wouldn’t it?”
A slow smile plays on his lips before he lifts the bottle and drains whatever is left in it. It sets with a thud. “What brought you to Linton, anyway?”
“Tonight or in general?”
He shrugs.
“My friend wanted to come in tonight, so that’s why we’re here. She’s also why I’m in Linton at all, really. What about you?”
“Born and raised here.”
“I was born and raised in Georgia,” I tell him. “Went to school in Los Angeles. Ended up here for the time being.”
“How the hell did you go from LA to Linton?” He leans forward, his brows pulled together.
“Delaney had a business idea and I thought, ‘Why not?’” I say, lifting my shoulders and dropping them back down.
“What is it you do?”
“Design things. Clothes, merchandise, marketing material—whatever someone needs, really.”
He looks beyond me with a slight shake of his head. “Can you design Peck a brain?”
“Why?”
I turn around in just enough time to witness Peck bent on one knee in front of a brunette, a beer extended in the same way a person would a ring. “Who’s that he’s . . . proposing to?” I giggle.
“A girl who doesn’t deserve him.”
Lifting a brow, I can’t help but smile. He flinches.
“I didn’t mean it like that,” he insists. “Peck is just way too good for Molly and he doesn’t even realize it.”
“I take it we aren’t big Molly fans?”
“She’d fuck a dog with two dicks, if you catch my drift.”
Not sure whether to laugh or vomit at that imagery, I just squeeze my eyes shut. “That is so disgusting.”
“Then you catch my drift.”
The rhythm between us slides into motion, calming my nerves and settling me down. His body relaxes too as we watch each other across the empty field of bottles on the table.
“Did you drink all of these?” I ask, motioning towards the maybe ten bottles lined up.
“Nope. I think I’ve had two.”
“I can’t drink beer. I don’t drink a lot at all, actually.”
A touch of surprise floats across his features as that sinks in. “Not even wine? Don’t all women drink wine?”
“Not me. I don’t care for the taste of it, to be honest. And I really hate the feeling of not being clear-headed. If I drink, I’m home with my friends or sister or something.” Biting my lip, considering how that makes me sound, I make a face. “Guess I’m not much fun, huh?”
He leans forward again, his cologne drifting my way. A shiver trickles down my spine as I sit under his heavy, wonderful gaze. “I think fun can be described a lot of ways. Alcohol usually takes a lot of that out of the equation.”
“What about you?” I ask, needing the focus off me for a moment.
“What about me?”
“Are you fun?”
He does this half-snort, half-chuckle thing that only increases my curiosity.
“What’s that about?” I poke, picking up one of the bottles and sloshing the mouthful or two left around.
“Why are you so full of questions?”
Placing the bottle in the middle of the table, I contemplate my choices. Sit here and let him navigate the conversation or walk away for a bit and let him come to me.
Decision made, I stand. “No more questions. See ya later.”
I flash a smile at his slightly puzzled reaction and walk away before I change my mind.
There are a few more people now than before, and by the time I reach the bar, I can’t spot either Delaney or Peck. Machlan is still behind the bar, wiping up a spilled drink.
“Hey,” I say, taking a seat on an empty stool. “Did Peck order me a drink?”