Reaching Hearts (Hearts Series) Read online

  Reaching Hearts

  Part 2 of Hearts Series

  © 2014 Sabrina Lacey

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  http://sabrinalacey.com

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  Cover Image © Christi Bastian

  Licensed through: Shutterstock.com

  Published by Lacey Publications

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the express written permission of the publisher.

  Copyright © 2014 Sabrina Lacey

  All Rights Reserved

  Note From The Author:

  If you were among the first 30 readers who picked up Part 1 back in March 2014, two more chapters have been added in the current edition. If your “The End” happened before Annie returned to San Francisco, you haven’t heard the whole story. Please go to my blog by clicking here, before you start this book, Part 2. There are two ways to enjoy the new chapters.

  If you’re not sure…let me help. Were a couple of gorgeous men about to open the door to Le Barré at the end of your Part 1? If so, you’re right where you should be. Turn the page and enjoy.

  Happy Reading!

  Xx, S.L.

  Reaching Hearts Description

  Brendan doesn't know why Annie looks so familiar, and she doesn't want to tell him. She wants to keep things just as they are - HOT. He doesn't know she's the girl he yelled at five years ago, or why he’s so drawn to her, when his whole purpose has been to keep women at a far and safe distance.

  Annie knows she should be honest, but when the man she’s loved ever since she first laid eyes on him, finally sees her and wants her, too - she doesn’t want to pull the curtain back to show who the real wizard is… just a girl who nobody saw, and who changed herself just for him.

  1

  Annie

  Mind: relaxed. Body: same. Foot: tapping to the song Can’t Hold Us by Macklemore and Ryan Lewis. Hips: bouncing.

  ________

  With his hands soapy and wet from the sink, Manny gives me another glass to dry. I take it, smoothing the cloth napkin around it, lost in my own world, boppin’ to the beat. It’s the little things that make me feel good doing my job – the simple act of washing glasses, wiping tables after we’re closed, placing the order for more liquor with my suppliers. It’s an amazing feeling to have opened my own business… to not have to work for anyone else. I have no idea how I’m going to get it in the black, but hopefully something will happen soon.

  I wish I were better at social media. I didn’t spend a lot of time on a computer in Italy, that’s for sure. There’s too much beauty outside to be stuck staring at a screen indoors. Now I’m kicking myself for not making time for it. It just never came up. Why would it? People actually get together in person there. With the friends we had, we didn’t keep in touch over the Internet. Instead, we had dinner parties. Met people in town for espresso and lively conversation. Took day trips to surrounding towns. It was nice. Who am I kidding? It was more than nice.

  Still, I’m glad I came back. Aside from my secret desire to find Brendan Clark, I really needed to do something on my own. It had been eating at me for a while. Christiano’s life became my life. His friends became my friends.

  Who am I without him? I still don’t know. But moments like these help, where I’m tending to my own thing… even if that’s expressed simply by shining a glass, I’m defining life for myself. Going where I want to go. Creating something that’s of value to me. Learning how to stand on my own without leaning on anyone.

  Manny hands me another glass as the front door opens. I’m busy humming to myself and shining away spots. Barb, sitting on the other side of the bar from us, turns around to see. She’s eternally up for drama, narrating people often as they walk through the door. Miss Congeniality Club coming atcha! Get the vodka cranberries ready. Soccer must be missing a couple moms. Break out the expensive white wine! College kids ready to flunk out. Make sure the kegs are full because these guys won’t spring for bottled!

  We enjoy the hell out of her.

  I’m ready for the lowdown on our newest arrivals, smiling as I look down, shining the glass and waiting. Tap-tap-tapping on the bar with her long red nails, she purrs, “Ooooo. Two super hunks just strolled in like the world is their oyster. I’ve got a pearl they can discover.” She turns her head to me. “Let me tell you!”

  Chuckling, I look over to see what the fuss is all about. My eyes nearly fall out of my head when I see Brendan Fucking Clark and Jerkoff Mark, all grown up and filled out, standing by the door.

  CRASH.

  Just before Brendan sees me, I drop to the ground, picking up the broken glass. “Oh my God oh my God oh my God!”

  Manny is looking at them. “Who’s that?”

  I grab his leg and start pounding on it. “Stop staring!” He kicks me off, tells me the coast is clear with a jerk of his finger. I hesitate and look at Barb who’s got one eyebrow up, curious as fuck. I mean, wow. It’s like I’ve gone back in time. The hot flush of excitement has spread into me just like it used to. My heart quickly remembers how to pound like a jackhammer on crack cocaine as if not a day has passed.

  She leans in and quietly asks, “Do you really want whoever that is to see you on the ground like that?”

  I rise slowly and toss the glass shards into the trash, taking the opportunity to toss a glance to the right to give him a quick inspection. His shoulders are wider now. The baby fat is gone and his face is chiseled, the lines of his cheekbones angular and pronounced. His forehead is still pressed in on itself, eternally thoughtful just like I remember. And those deep blue eyes of his are just as I remember, too. The two of them mount barstools on the far end of the bar like cowboys would horses.

  Oh man. I’m in trouble.

  “Give me another glass to shine.”

  Manny hands one to me. He bends to pick up the rest of the broken glass.

  “Wait! Go get them a drink.”

  From the ground, he looks at me with surprise. “I don’t know how to make drinks.”

  “They probably want beer! You know how to pour, right?!” He stands up, looking nervous. “Go! Please. Thank you!” He shrugs like here goes nothin’ and heads away to help his first customers.

  Barb is eyeing me, but I don’t even know she exists until, “What’s going on with you, honey?”

  “Nothing.” I turn around to hide my face. What am I going to do? I can’t run. I’m the only one tending bar tonight since it’s a slow middle-of-the-week shift. Who would serve these people? Shit! I’m trapped. Oh God.

  I quickly cross to two Silicon Valley-types, but I hardly see them because my eyes keep sneaking to the right. “Have you guys decided yet?”

  The one with the too long, curly blonde hair asks, “Do you use fresh mint in your Mojitos?” He’s trying to look hip and maybe like a surfer but he ain’t quite there.

  “It’s not a Mojito if I don’t, now is it?”

  They glance at each other. “Of course. Sorry. We’ll have those.”

  The other quickly adds, “Please.”

  I wince. Great way to run a business, Annie. “I’m sorry. I have a problem with sarcasm. I’m seeing a doctor about it.”

  Shaking my
head at my own crushed nerves, I nip tiny mint leaves off their stems into a shaker. I called Brendan an idiot the last time I saw him. And the night before that, we’d gotten into the worst fight. This will not be a happy reunion. Scooping in ice and adding rum, plus a couple packets of Sugar In The Raw, I look over again, quickly.

  What if he still hates me? He’d said he wanted to stay far away from me. Then why did he run down the stairs that day I left?

  Maybe I’m about to find out.

  I give the shaker a good toss, staring at nothing. What is he going to say when he recognizes me? I drain the concoction into a couple glasses with a flourish, squirt in a splash of soda water from the gun, and slide limes on the rims. I can’t believe this is happening tonight. Will he leave, as soon as he recognizes me?

  Handing the computer guys their drinks, I’m on autopilot. Same goes for getting the credit card - it’s all a haze. The short-haired, quieter one smiles after the first sip. “This is really good.”

  “You like it?” I’m doing anything I can to postpone the inevitable. Because part of me wants to slide down the bar on my stomach stopping just in front of Brendan Clark with a grin on my face, hands cupped under my chin, my eyelashes fluttering as I ask, See anything good?

  I’m guessing that wouldn’t go over too well.

  “Uh…Yeah. It’s a really good Mojito.”

  “Do you need anything else? I could get you something else. Two more maybe?”

  The guys stare. I stare. It is AWKWARD.

  “We should probably finish these first. But then yeah, maybe.”

  “Dammit,” I mutter as I leave. Their eyebrows go up.

  With each step I take to Brendan, everything fades away more and more except him and the cacophonic pounding of my heart. There’s also a single, solitary voice in my head screaming, RUN.

  2

  Brendan

  Hand: closing the door to Le Barré. Eyes: adjusting to the light. Patience with Mark’s heartbreak: shot to shit.

  ________

  Standing beside Mark just inside, we take it in. “Nice place. I like the décor. Simple, but enough.”

  He looks around. “It’s got a fair share of people in here, too.”

  “I bet the owner doesn’t think that. How many are you guessing?”

  Mark does a quick head count. “Eighteen?”

  I’m in marketing. Numbers are everything. And eighteen, even on a weeknight, isn’t enough to keep a new place afloat.

  “He’ll need more than that if he wants to stay open.”

  His tone is flat and distant. “You’re the expert.” I’ve lost him again.

  Smacking him hard on the shoulder, I say, “You’re a bundle of joy to be around, you know that? You’re hurting my game with that face, by the way. You’re supposed to be my wing man, right?”

  “The bar?”

  What is up with this guy? He’s a shell of himself.

  “Yeah, dufus. The bar. What… do you wanna cuddle up in a booth together? I could hold your hand.”

  “Shut it.” He makes his feet move forward.

  No fun will be had this night.

  We each take a seat on the far side of the bar. I look around behind us. “There’s no art on the walls. How long they been open?” Mark shrugs.

  A bartender walks up to us, looking scared… from me to Mark, then back to me. “You guys want a beer?”

  Mark and I exchange a look. Mark nods and the guy races off to pour us a couple pints from the draft. No asking if we want bottles. No asking what kind of draft we want.

  “What the hell?” I mutter sideways.

  Mark just shrugs. “It’s a surprise.”

  “Well, at least the glasses are frosted.” I watch the guy pour us Bass Ale. “And at least he has good taste.”

  He returns and puts the chilled pints in front of us. He stares for a second and then just leaves. Something short of a chuckle breaks out of me and I pick up the beer. “I’ve never had a bartender not ask me what kind of beer I want before. But maybe that’s what they do here?”

  Mark lifts his glass. “Part of their ‘thing,’ maybe. They guess for you.”

  “Huh. I like it.” Mark drinks without a toast.

  We stay quiet for a while and then I’ve had it. “Mark, Let it fucking go already! You’re making your grandchildren depressed. She’s a woman just like every other woman.”

  3

  Annie

  Face: calm, cool and collected. Cleavage: gathering beads of sweat.

  ________

  Getting closer, I overhear Mark. “She’s not like every woman, Brendan. She’s just not.” His face is tired and he looks, well, heartbroken. I conceal my shock. Is Jerkoff Mark in love?

  Brendan shoots him a huff of annoyance and turns in disgust, to me.

  I can’t breathe, but I keep walking. My heartbeat suspends the air between us. I look at him like he’s any other customer, as I come to stand in front of him.

  I wait for the fight to begin. For the name-calling. For the running out.

  “Can we get a couple glasses of scotch, neat?”

  I blink, speechless and waiting for more. Within fractions of a second, I realize he doesn’t even remember me. Here I am nursing a torch for a guy who has no idea I even exist! But in a flash, just as I’m considering whether or not to reach over and slap him again, I catch a glimpse of my strawberry blonde hair. It’s not that he doesn’t remember me. It’s that he doesn’t recognize me.

  I plant my hands on the bar with a sassy smile. “What kind, honey?”

  Brendan drifts to the hills of my breasts all pushed up and pretty, and holds there. As I feel goose bumps spread down my legs, he meets my eyes, his saying volumes, before he casually looks past me to the bottles on the shelf, deciding on a scotch. Stunned, I watch his face, grabbing the opportunity to tighten my screws.

  How could I have forgotten how different I look from back then? Gone is the heavy, white foundation, leaving my freckles no longer hidden. Gone is the thickly applied black eyeliner and lipstick. Gone is the baggy clothing. My breasts are riding high in my halter; that certainly wouldn’t have happened back then. And the real kicker is my hair – long, light and healthy – the stark raving opposite to the black dyed bird’s nest he last saw me sporting.

  He’s so handsome, it makes my brain hurt.

  Leaning back, he regards me with a sexy look that instantly tingles my panties up. “Let’s do Oban.” I have to hold myself back from leaping the bar and landing on his lap.

  Flashing him a flirtatious smile and a “Good choice,” I stroll away to the shelves with an extra swing in my hips, loving every minute of this newfound anonymity. Reaching up, I stand on my tiptoes with my back arched way more than necessary, pulling the bottle gracefully down like a sexy librarian reaching for a book. My ears are trained from working in bars for the past four years. I can hear anybody over anything if I’m focusing. Like right now.

  Brendan says to Mark in a voice he thinks is undetectable, “Guess what I’m doing later?”

  I almost fall over.

  Also not quietly enough, Marks whispers back, “Looks like the door is open.”

  Feigning ignorance, I plop the two glasses down, pouring heavily. The door has always been open…didn’t you know that? Didn’t you know how much I adored Brendan for all the years I was at State? How much I lived to hear just a word from him? No, you didn’t know, because you thought I was invisible. Well, I’m not invisible. It is on.

  I hand Mark his glass, looking at him like, Recognize me. I dare you. He just thanks me for the scotch. I can’t believe it.

  I shift my weight to my other hip and look at Brendan, daring the same thing. Eating me up instead, he sits back and smiles. He holds my look with the confidence of one who knows his admiration is always wanted.

  “What’s your name?”

  You asked me five years ago! My heart picks up the pace, racing with anticipation. When I tell him – AGAIN - will it jog his me
mory? Is this the moment the curtain comes down? Where we see that the wizard isn’t a sexpot ginger, but really just a shy, socially inept girl who nobody noticed?

  “Annie.” I wait for it, ready for anything, my hair standing on end on the back of my neck.

  “Annie.” Rolling it around on his tongue, he says it again. “Annie… I like it.”

  Holy crap. He has no idea who I am. I need a second to think. I can’t be trusted not to climb over the bar and lick him.

  So I tap the bar counter once, say “Good,” and head away.

  As I’m leaving I look back and catch him staring at me. That he was still looking at me stirs up a smile from deep inside my heart. Something shifts in his eyes, too. Neither of us expects it. His reserve melts as our gazes are locked and I see it – what Brendan hides – his soft underbelly, exposed. I see in this instant the nice boy I used to love, not the suave player he’s become.

  My old butterflies launch themselves into my stomach, happy to be home and wondering where I’ve been all these years. With eyelashes falling hastily to the floor, I look away. I can’t believe this feeling. It’s like I’m falling.

  4

  Brendan

  Brain: cracked open. Thoughts: twisted. Eyes: still staring. Cock: awake.

  ________

  As she keeps walking, I realize I’d stopped breathing. What is going on with my pulse? It’s through the roof. “Oooohoooo. Wow. Did you see that?”

  Mark glances to her and gives me a knowing look. “I think you may have just met your match.”

  I don’t say anything as I glance over at her, wondering why my veins are pumping so hard. It’s unsettling watching her and for a second I consider what he said before I toss it in the trash with all the other bad ideas. I’m not interested in meeting my match, but that doesn’t mean I can’t give her the ride of her life.