Tease Me Once by W. Winters
Braelynn
The outside patio at the pub is the perfect place to be on my day off. It’s brisk, but not cold. Especially with the sun shining down, giving a hint of warmth. It’s quiet and a piece of normalcy. There’s no place I’ve ever been that holds the same atmosphere as The Club. Being here is like coming back to reality. And heaven knows I need that after last night.
Taking a sip of the cider, I try not to think of last night. Of the kiss. Of him leaving me and not coming back up to see me. Or of him not answering the knock at his office door.
I have no idea what we are or what we’re doing. It’s another piece of that prominent enigma that is Declan Cross. His life, his club, his touch … they’re unfathomable for a woman like me. And yet here I am, caught in his trap.
“Refill?” the waitress asks just as I bottom out the cider. She’s quick to bring me another, and all the while I focus on anything other than Declan.
I’ve always loved the early fall when the breeze is still gentle but the air is crisp. I hold a heavy glass of chilled apple cider in one hand and my phone in the other. My stomach turns. Everything was perfect until the message came in. Now my heart beats faster with anxiety. The patio feels too exposed now. There’s no door to lock between me and the rest of the world. I glance at the message one more time as if looking back down would change what I saw.
Travis: You need to call me back. I deserve a damn response from you.
My throat goes tight, partly with fear but also with anger. He’s so damn entitled. Gritting my teeth, I set the phone down and take a longer sip of the cider, wishing it was spiked. Hell, I’d even take whiskey just to have the edge softened. I don’t owe my ex-husband a damn thing. He doesn’t deserve anything from me, not after all he’s taken.
Yet the level of anger doesn’t rise to where it should. I should be furious, and instead I’m irritated and, if I’m honest, a little scared.
Because all I keep thinking about is the kiss.
Travis means nothing. His empty threats mean nothing when Declan Cross just kissed me. It was a kiss that heated me up inside like a fire in the middle of winter. It felt familiar, in a way, but also entirely new. A bit dangerous. A lot forbidden. And then he walked away, almost daring me to follow him. If I had followed him, anything could have happened.
“Everything okay?” my mom asks, startling me and bringing me back to the present as she retakes the seat across from me. The iron legs of the chair scrape on the paved patio as she pushes her chair back in. I trace the pattern on the iron patio table. My phone vibrates and the sound echoes through the metal.
The smile I force my lips into is a farce. We came before the dinner rush, so there’s practically no one else here. “Yeah, everything’s good.” My mother doesn’t need to deal with this mess. It’s mine to clean up. So I do everything I can to appease the worry in her gaze.
I take a casual glance at my phone, expecting to see something worse from Travis. The number on the screen isn’t his, though. It’s a number I don’t have saved in my phone.
Unknown: This is Mr. Cross’s associate. If you come in, you’ll be working exclusively for Mr. Cross from now on. I realize this is an occupational change that is unexpected. If you’d rather resign, please let me know.
Holy fuck. What? My head spins as I sit across from my mother, attempting to hide every reaction. I don’t know what to think. Blinking rapidly, and surrounded by nothing but fresh air, it’s still nearly impossible to catch my breath. My heart hammers as I reread the message, making sure I understand exactly what the hell is happening. Working exclusively for Mr. Cross. Is it because I couldn’t cut it as a waitress, or … because of that kiss?
If you’d rather resign … That doesn’t sit well with me. Instantly, I’m on high alert.
“The blood just drained from your face, nena. What is going on?” My mother’s dark eyes meet mine from across the table. With wide eyes I stare back at her. I’ve never been able to hide a thing from my mother.
It doesn’t seem prudent to mention the Cross brothers, though. It does feel like lying, but she doesn’t need to know. She’ll worry herself to death. Especially when I don’t have the first clue what this is about. I turn my phone over so the screen doesn’t show.
“Travis has been messaging me.” I offer up the alternative truth. It’s a relief to be honest with her and it makes my heart sink to omit any part of it.
She curses under her breath in Spanish, sweeps her napkin up from the table, then throws it back down. The wrinkles around my mother’s eyes show her age but also her worry. I hate that look on her. It kills a part of me that knows I’d be in a better place in my life if only I’d listened to her years ago.
“No, Mama, it’s okay.” I’m quick to reach across the table and grab her hand. “Really. It’s okay.” With my hand over hers I stress, “I can handle it.”
Her bottom lip drops as if she’ll say something, but she decides against whatever it was. Instead, she shakes her head, her short bob swaying with the movement. “I’m telling your uncle.”
Her stern voice sets off that same response it has since I was a child.
My words are rushed when I tell her, “Don’t do that. No one needs to get involved.” Pulling her hand away, she shakes her head again, staring down at her cup of tea that’s most certainly gone cold now.
“He needs to leave you alone.” Her voice goes breathless when she says it, and my heart breaks.
“Mama.”
She doesn’t want me to be hurt. She wasn’t convinced that me moving out of her house was the best idea, but I had to do it. I’m twenty-five. I need to move on. I had to make something of myself. I couldn’t hide in her house forever.
“Can we eat? Please? Our food will be here any second. I’ll block his number.” Again. She doesn’t know I’ve already blocked it before. And she doesn’t need to know either.
It’s always going to be “again” with Travis, isn’t it? He’ll keep pushing, demanding, attempting to control me and hold on to whatever part of my life he can. He’ll always be an asshole and I’ll keep blocking him, because what else can I do? Over and over until he finally loses interest and lets me get on with my life.
“If anything worries me, if he says anything else or … or tries anything else, I will tell you.”
Another text comes in. We both avoid looking at the phone for as long as we can, but finally Mama sighs. “Is that him?”
She takes her hand back and watches as I pick up the phone.
“No. It’s not him. It’s my friend from work. The one who got me the job.” Mama knows of Scarlet, but she’s only met her a time or two.
“Does she know about Travis?”
Scarlet: OMG! I just heard you’re being moved to personal assistant … he must really like you!!
“She knows about Travis,” I tell my mom. She knows everything. Scarlet’s known me long enough to understand why I needed a job and to be financially independent. Scarlet knows why I have to get my feet under me and make my own life … far away from my ex.
Scarlet also knows about the kiss last night and how torn I am about everything.
I scroll back through the texts, feeling … so damn conflicted.
Braelynn: I did something I shouldn’t have.
Scarlet: Tell me now. Whatever it is, I’ll fix it. It’ll be okay.
Braelynn: I don’t think you can fix this. I kissed Declan.
I remember how my heart raced after I sent that text and how it took Scarlet forever to respond. It would say she was typing, then it would disappear. Typing. Then nothing.
Braelynn: Say something! Please!
Scarlet: I’m just a little shocked. What are you thinking? Feeling? Tell me everything! Was it good?
Braelynn: Your last question has me cracking up. YES! It was good. It was also shocking for me.
Scarlet: So you kissed him and you liked it … did he mention anything after?
Braelynn: Not after. Before he said if I didn’t want to do it, I should walk away. But … I really wanted to kiss him.
Scarlet: So he didn’t say ANYTHING after?? He had to say SOMETHING
Braelynn: Nothing … I went back to work and waited for him to come back up and he didn’t, so I just … I left.
Scarlet: I’m just going to say it. I heard he is freaky like BDSM freaky. AND I KNOW - you are curious. I KNOW YOU ARE!
That was last night after everything happened. And now she’s texting me congrats on a new position? Like, it doesn’t have anything to do with the kiss …
That makes the timing of this text feel off to me. It hasn’t been two minutes since I got the text myself. Everything feels uneasy. She wasn’t honest about the dress colors, and waited far too long to tell me about the rooms downstairs.
I’m so tempted to tell her I’m going to resign. But I know she’ll push me to stay. Maybe I’m just looking too much into it.
Declan Cross scares me, but I am curious. I want him. I’m attracted to him, but that doesn’t make him or the idea of being with him any less intimidating. And she damn well knows that.
Turning the phone back over, I smile at my mom.
“We’re here to have a good lunch,” I tell her with an upbeat tone. Not to get a million texts and make potentially life-changing decisions before the food has even arrived.
“You can message her back, you know, nena.”
I sure can, but knowing Scarlet it will turn into more questioning and more pushing. She’s been a good friend to me, but I don’t need a long conversation right now or any pressure.
“I just want to have lunch with you. Forget the texts.” I wave my hands over the table like I can brush all this away. “What’s going on with you?”
My mother purses her lips, and I can tell she’s trying to decide if she wants to tell me something. But she’ll give in. She always does. “Your uncle’s not feeling well.”
“No?” I know Uncle Gael has had problems with his hip recently, but I haven’t heard anything about that in weeks.
“And …” This is the part she was hesitating to tell me before. “Travis went to go see him. I don’t like that he does that.”
“I don’t either.” Ice spreads through my veins. Visiting my family crosses a line, and Travis doesn’t care. He’s never given a damn about boundaries. With a steadying breath, I try not to let my anger ruin lunch.
My gaze lifts to the waitress, who’s seating another table. As I lift the cider to my lips, I debate asking her to spike it on the next refill.
“Uncle Gael told him he needs to leave you alone and stay away.”
As I’m nodding, the food is served.
The two plates are delivered by a different server, a smiling waitress with her dark hair in a ponytail that swings around.
“Thanks,” our waitress murmurs to the first and comes up behind her with a side plate of salad for Mama. It’s an easy lunch of our favorites. Nearly every time we come here my mother gets the chicken wrap and salad, and I get the same as well. Today I felt like ordering something different, though. Looking down at my monte cristo, my mouth waters.
With another tea ordered for my mother and a round of “enjoy,” we’re left alone again. This time at least there are salty fries that can join my salty attitude toward Travis. I chomp down on one and notice my mother’s demeanor. This past year has been hard on her. It’s starting to show.
“What’s done is done, Mama. Can we talk about something else? Something easy.” Smoothing the napkin in my lap, I try not to feel guilty for adding stress to my mother’s life.
She unwraps her fork and puts her napkin in her lap. “Something easy,” she repeats, thinking. “How is your new job?”
My face flushes. I can’t think of my job without thinking of Declan. I think of him constantly. Retreating behind my cider, I give myself a moment before responding.
I think of the heat in his eyes while that demonstration was happening on Thursday night. He wouldn’t answer me when I asked him if that was what he liked—the whips and the ropes. Pain and pleasure. He didn’t have to answer for me to see the truth. I was honest with him too. I don’t know if I would want things to be so … public. It seems dirty to even imagine, but I can’t help it. I have imagined it.
That’s what makes the kiss so complicated. It’s not just a kiss, it’s an invitation. I have some idea of what might have happened if I’d followed him last night, and not retreated back upstairs. He’s not a man with vanilla tastes. You need to stop before something bad happens to you, Braelynn.
Bad as in … getting whipped? Bad as in getting hurt? Plenty of bad things have happened to me in my life, but the women on that stage didn’t seem to think it was bad.
And if I know anything about Declan’s club, it’s that they gave consent. No one goes down to the lower floor if they don’t want to. No one would be up on that stage if they didn’t want to be there.
Or maybe he just meant that if I kept tempting him, I’d end up with him.
My glass clunks as I set it down on the iron a little too hard. “It’s going well. I barely ever have a chance to sit, it’s so busy.”
“I’d like to come visit you at work,” my mom mentions.
That stops my imagination in its tracks. “Oh, I don’t know, Mama.”
“What?” She laughs, her eyes lighting up. “I thought you were a waitress. You can help me find something on the menu to order, right?”
“It’s a nightclub.” I lift a brow and shrug, hoping she’ll understand. “My dresses are a little short.”
And depending on when my mother came to visit … I don’t want to have to explain why some of the women are wearing red, and for what. She’s observant. She’d notice.
She reaches for my hand and pats it. “Well, you know I don’t judge. If it makes you happy, then I’ll support you.” Her little smirk tells me she knows more than I think she knows.
I head off whatever she’s thinking and say, “It’s not for better tips.”
“I’ve been around the block a time or two, you know.”
“Mama,” I say with a gasp and a smile lights up my face. As she chuckles, I join her.
“You do what you have to do. A little skin, a little flirting for a better tip. I get it.” She talks as she eats her salad. “You know your grandmother was a waitress all her life.”
“I didn’t know that.”
My mother nods and says, “She got me my first job as a waitress in the cafe.”
As my mother tells me stories I’ve never heard about my abuela, my mind drifts.
It goes straight back to Declan.
How his lips tasted. How his body felt against mine. The rumble of his voice when he whispered at the shell of my ear.
He’s not a boy anymore, and I felt a certain amount of fear at being downstairs with him. And … I wanted it. I know how risky it is to be involved with any of the Cross brothers. They’re dangerous men and powerful here in the city. I would never want to go up against them, never want to give them a reason to think negatively of me. What I want is deeper than that, I think. The memory of Declan kissing me is enough to send heat rushing to my cheeks and warmth all through me.
I haven’t felt like this since I can remember.
