Getting his sorry ass to apologize would do him some good. Poor girl should have known better than to mess around with the help at the club. Maybe she’d learn a lesson after this.
“What the fuck?” he shouted, and then his eyes widened when he realized who I was. My dad sat on the board at the Kerrington Club, and I could have Jonathon fired with one word. He knew it.
“That’s what I was wondering, Jonathon. What the fuck? What the fuck are you doing at Finlay’s house, and why the fuck are you treating your date so badly? She too young for you? I know you prefer the over-forty crowd,” I said, taunting him. I wanted him gone. Just one wrong move, and that was all I needed to make sure he lost his job without feeling a shred of remorse.
“I didn’t . . . I mean, I was invited. I got an invite. This is just a girl whose aunt works at the club. She’s not anybody.”
Glancing over at the girl in question, I recognized her right away from her big brown eyes. She was Darla’s niece, Bethy. I’d seen her before. Hell, it was hard to miss her. Jonathon was right about her tits. They were noticeable. But her sweet face and innocent look had kept me from moving in on that. Besides, Darla was scary as hell. She handled hiring the employees at the club, and she’d been there forever.
“Bethy, right?” I asked her.
Her big eyes got even bigger before she nodded.
“This guy’s a douchebag, sweetheart. You shouldn’t trust him. Be careful who you let take you out.”
“You know her?” Jonathon asked incredulously, as if she were too beneath me to notice.
Stupid shit was getting on my last nerve. I turned my attention back to him. “Yeah. I know her aunt. The woman who hired your sorry ass. I wonder how she’d feel if she knew how poorly you were treating her niece?”
Jonathon’s fear was obvious. He had a good gig at the club, and he didn’t want to lose it.
“Leave. Don’t ever come back. Finlay finds out about this, he’ll do more than give you a warning. He’ll beat your sorry ass. He likes Darla. We all do. Stay the fuck away from her niece.”
Jonathon turned his attention to Bethy. The furious gleam in his eyes was directed at her. She shrank farther back, putting more distance between them until her back was pressed to the wall. Dickhead was getting off on scaring her.
Stepping between the two of them, I glared at Jonathon. “Leave. Now.”
I could tell it was taking everything he had to keep his mouth shut, but he did. I watched as he muttered a curse and turned to leave the kitchen.
“Make sure you don’t stop until you’re off this property,” I called out after him.
When he was gone, I turned back to Bethy. She was wringing her hands and looking nervous. I’d gotten rid of the prick. Why was she upset now?
“You good now?” I asked her.
She bit her bottom lip, then shrugged. “I, um, don’t know.”
She didn’t know? I couldn’t keep from grinning. She was pretty damn cute. But she was young. “Why don’t you know?” I asked. I enjoyed the way she talked. Her voice was husky but sweet.
She let out a small sigh and dropped her gaze to the floor. “He was my ride. I don’t live close by.”
As if I would let her get back into the car with that fucker. He had to be four years older than her. He was older than me. “I’ll give you a ride. I’m safe. Jonathon isn’t. Besides, he’s way too old for you. Dude would go to jail if he touched you.”
She lifted her eyes back up to look at me. “I’m almost seventeen,” she said, as if that were legal, although she was a little older than I expected. She was so expressive. I liked that. She didn’t try to bat her eyelashes or pucker her lips to look sexy. She was real. How long had it been since I’d been with a girl who was real? But then, she was young, and she’d been raised in a very different world from mine.
“Yeah, sweetheart. But he’s almost twenty. He shouldn’t have gone anywhere near you.”
She looked deflated, then nodded. Surely she hadn’t wanted to stay with him? Fuck that, what was Darla teaching this girl?
“I’m sorry I ran him off, but he wasn’t treating you right.”
Those eyes went wide again, and a dimple appeared in her cheek. “Oh, don’t apologize for that. He wanted me to go back to a bedroom and uh . . .” She trailed off. She didn’t need to explain. I was pretty sure of what he wanted to do back in a bedroom with her.
“Come on. Let’s get you home,” I said, nodding toward the door.
Bethy
Ohmygod, ohmygod, ohmygod, Tripp Montgomery, or was it Newark—I wasn’t sure; I’d heard him called by both names—was speaking to me. He was actually looking at me and talking to me. It was hard to breathe. When he’d shoved Jonathon back into the kitchen, looking like an avenging angel, my heart had gone into a frenzy.
He was the most beautiful man I’d ever seen. I was ten when I first saw him at the club. I’d been trying to load the drink cart for Aunt Darla because she was mad at me for running around outside in front of members instead of sitting in her office until she finished a meeting. So I thought if I helped her, she’d be happy again.
The problem was, I couldn’t carry the cases of drinks because they were too heavy, so I’d carried four single drinks at a time from the cooler to the cart. It’d been ninety degrees outside, and after five trips, I was getting exhausted. I’d let my attention wander and ended up tripping over a step and dropping all the bottles of beer in my arms. Glass had shattered everywhere.
I was sure that Aunt Darla would never let me come back and stay with her. I’d be stuck with the stinky old neighbor lady in the apartment next door who yelled at me all the time when Daddy was working. And he was always working.
Tripp had walked up and seen my mess. Without a word, he’d started cleaning it up. I’d stood there in awe of him in his khaki shorts and white polo shirt, looking like a teen model in a magazine. When he’d glanced up at me and winked, my ten-year-old heart was lost.
That had been our last interaction, although I’d been watching him from afar all these years. He was my favorite daydream. Now here he was, saving me again.
I followed him as he walked out of the kitchen. When he saw the large crowd of people gathering in the living room, he reached a hand back and took mine. Any ability to breathe was now gone. Tripp Montgomery Newark was touching my hand. He was holding it. If I died today, it would be OK. Because of this moment, my life was now complete.