Mind Games Read online

  Snapping out of my stupor, I refocus my attention on my beer and drain it. I grab a bill from my wallet and leave it on the counter, not caring about getting any change. The excessive tip is a price I’m willing to pay to avoid having to talk to Asher, considering the last time I saw him I pretended to have no memory of the previous night and our almost-kiss.

  I’m about to jump down from the stool when a hand on the bar next to me stops me.

  “Running off without saying hi?”

  My eyes dart up, coming face-to-face with Asher York. His voice is even smoother than I remember. A low rumble that hits places on my body that haven’t felt excitement in an eternity.

  I part my lips, attempting to come up with a response, but I’m rendered speechless when I catch a glimpse of his arm leaning on the bar, the position causing his biceps to flex and push against the confines of his t-shirt, stretching the fabric.

  A woodsy scent surrounds me as I stare, the smell reminding me of large family dinners, playing guitar on the dock overlooking the lake on his grandmother’s property, roasting marshmallows. Reminds me of a girl I used to be. One I’ve tried to keep in the past.

  Swallowing down the bittersweet memories, I push a strand of hair behind my ear, forcing a smile. “Asher. Good to see you.” I hold my head high, looking anywhere but directly into his eyes. I can’t. He has the same eyes as Jessie. Born eleven months apart, their appearance was always strikingly similar. But that was where their similarities ended, the two brothers as opposite as two people can be. Regardless, I’ve never met two siblings as close as they are. Or maybe I found it so foreign since I’m an only child.

  “Phew.” He blows out a breath, laughing shakily. “I wasn’t positive it was you. I thought it was, but everyone in this town seems to look like someone else.”

  I shrug, finally meeting his gaze. “It’s me.”

  “Good. That would have been awkward otherwise.” A flirtatious smile curves up the corners of his lips. He even has the same smile as Jessie. But Asher’s looks more natural, like he’s actually happy. “What are you doing in Vegas?” he continues when I don’t immediately say anything.

  “I could ask you the same question.”

  He nods at the stage. “Music.” He doesn’t embellish. “Your turn.”

  “Bachelorette party. Hannah’s getting married next month, and Bernadette was in charge of planning her bachelorette party.”

  A look of understanding crosses his face. “Say no more.”

  As uneasy as it should be to see Asher again, considering his connection to a time in my life I’d prefer to keep in my rearview mirror, it’s refreshing to talk to someone who already knows me, scars and all. Someone I don’t have to go into all the details of my life with because they already know.

  “Cash you out, miss?” The bartender’s voice cuts through.

  I nod. “Thank you.”

  “Actually,” Asher interrupts before the bartender can retreat with my money, “she’ll have another. And I’ll have an IPA.” He places a finger on the cash I’d left on the bar and slides it back in front of me. “Put all her drinks on my tab.”

  “That’s not necessary,” I insist, attempting to push the bill back toward the bartender. “I really should be going. It’s been a long night and I—”

  The heat coming off him as his hand wraps around my arm stops me mid-sentence. I fling my wide eyes to his, my insides vibrating at his touch. Something that never happened when his brother touched me, caressed me, made love to me. That should have been a sign back then, but I was too young to realize it. Too smitten by the handsome college senior who noticed me. Or maybe I just didn’t care. Maybe I’d wanted to feel like I was wanted, like I was cherished.

  “Stay.”

  One word, and my mouth goes dry.

  One word, and my heart pounds in my chest.

  One word, and I forget all the reasons I should leave.

  “Okay.” I slowly slink back into my barstool.

  What harm can one drink with an old friend do?

  Chapter Two

  “So you quit without a backup plan?” I ask several hours later as Asher and I sip on our beers, the bartender having just announced last call.

  I’d told myself I’d only stay for one drink. One drink soon turned into three as I caught him up on everything that’s been going on in my life. How I ended up getting my master’s, something I never would have done if I’d married Jessie. Hell, before I broke off our engagement, I probably would have been happy working at a general practitioner’s office where the hours were normal and the stress level low. But something about the breakup made me reevaluate my plans and think about what I really wanted. So I continued with my education, focusing on pediatric oncology. The hours are less than optimal, the mental strain of holding these precious young lives in my hands high, not to mention the heartbreak when I lose a patient, but I can’t imagine doing anything else.

  “If I wanted to pursue my dreams, I didn’t want anything holding me back. My teaching job was a crutch. I turned down gigs because I couldn’t take time off from work. Good gigs, too. A few opening up for Dave Matthews Band, Ed Sheeran, Jason Mraz. Granted, I would have been the first opener when everyone was waiting in line for beer, but it was still a great gig I had to miss because it was during the week and my headache of a principal refused to sign off on the time. Thought it was a waste. So about four years ago, when I needed to either start my master’s so I could keep teaching or do something else, I decided to take the leap and do something else.”

  I drain the remainder of my drink, then sip on some water. “That takes some serious cojones. I don’t know many people who would quit their job and move to Los Angeles to chase their dreams.”

  “What can I say? I’m not most people.” He playfully nudges me. “You should realize that by now.”

  “I certainly do.”

  There’s a warmth within his gaze when I lift my eyes to meet his. But there’s something more, too. Something that’s been missing from my life all these years.

  I clear my throat, breaking through the mounting tension I’m convinced is one-sided. “Weren’t you scared?”

  “I was.” He looks forward, staring into the distance, squinting. “But I was more scared of never pursuing my dreams. Of being content with a life that was just good enough. Don’t get me wrong,” he adds quickly. “I loved my job. Loved teaching kids about music and seeing the joy on their faces when they nailed that difficult passage for the first time. But I always looked at teaching as something I could do to pay the bills while I pursued my dreams. So when teaching got in the way of those dreams, I knew what I had to do.”

  I smile a genuine smile, one that reaches my eyes and warms my heart. “That’s incredible. And inspiring.”

  “It hasn’t all been easy. Sure, they call Los Angeles the city of dreams…” He shakes his head, sipping on his beer. “Believe me. It’s not.”

  “But you made it work.”

  The corners of his mouth quirk up. “I have.”

  The lights snap on, the universal sign of the bartender saying, “You don’t have to go home, but you can’t stay here.” I check my watch, surprised to see it’s practically two and that we’ve been talking for nearly three hours. I can’t remember the last time I’ve been so immersed in another person that I lost all concept of time. It was probably at the lake house when Asher and I would end up staying awake all night without either of us realizing it, too lost in the music he strummed.

  “I guess that’s our cue to leave,” he remarks, finishing his beer.

  “I suppose it is.”

  I slide off my barstool, but my heel catches on a leg, propelling me forward. Asher reacts quickly, wrapping an arm around my waist and pulling me upright…directly into his body.

  His warm, firm body.

  Every inch of me instantly buzzes to life as a thrilling sensation washes over me, leaving me nearly breathless. This isn’t the first time Asher’s held me.
Hell, it’s not the first time he’s broken my fall, preventing me from making a complete fool out of myself. But it’s never felt like this. Like my insides are ready to ignite from the electricity coursing through me.

  I tilt my head back and peer into his eyes that glisten under the bright lights of the bar. His chest expands a little more with every inhale. The motion is subtle, but I notice it. Just like I notice the swipe of his tongue along his bottom lip, moistening them. The slight flaring of his nostrils. The awe and curiosity in his stare. Does he feel this, too?

  “You okay?”

  Eyes the shade of whiskey skate over my frame before returning to mine. He makes no immediate move to drop his hold on me. In fact, he seems to draw me even closer, his fingers thrumming against the exposed flesh between my jeans and top, his touch a ray of sun on that first spring-like day. So unexpected. So surprising. Yet still very welcome.

  “Izzy?” he presses when I don’t immediately respond, lost in the tremors the mere sensation of his arms wrapped around me kindles. His voice pulls me back to the present, reminding me who I am. Who he is.

  Just like he reminded me all those years ago.

  I push out of his embrace, increasing the distance. “Those beers must have caught up to me. I should have eaten something.”

  I smooth my hands over my shirt, pulling it down so no more skin shows around my waistband. Fidgeting with the hem, I rock on my heels, the way he’s staring at me unnerving, like he can read my thoughts and is about to recite a list of reasons we can never be together. I am more than aware of those reasons. I don’t need a recap of them.

  “Well…” I scramble to push past him. “It was good seeing you. Thanks for the beers.”

  I hold my breath as I make my escape, about to ring the victory bell when I hear his voice call out, “Want to grab a bite to eat?”

  I come to an abrupt stop, blinking. I slowly glance over my shoulder. “What was that?”

  He averts his gaze, scraping a hand through his hair. Asher’s never been the nervous type. More brooding, mysterious, aloof. I’d lost count of the number of girls I’d witnessed fawning over him whenever his band had a gig. But he never seemed to notice them.

  “Sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking. I just enjoyed spending time with you again and wasn’t ready to say goodbye yet. But you’re right. You probably should—”

  “Yes,” I interrupt before he can finish his statement.

  His brows furrow. “Excuse me?”

  I fully face him. “Yes, I’d like to grab a bite to eat. With you.”

  “Are you sure? You’re not too tired?”

  I pass him a sardonic look. “Were you not paying attention to a single word I said tonight? I’m a nurse. My body’s used to staying up late.”

  A dazzling smile flashes across his features. “So you’re still a night owl? Even all these years later?”

  I shrug. “Guilty as charged.”

  “Well then…” Approaching, he extends his arm toward the exit. “Shall we?”

  “We shall.” I make my way onto the casino floor, which is even busier than it was earlier. It doesn’t seem to faze these people that it’s after two in the morning. They’re still slamming back drinks, which causes them to be more reckless with their money.

  I’ve never been a gambler. Hell, I don’t think I’ve so much as put a single bill into a slot machine the entire time I’ve been here. Living in Manhattan with the high rent doesn’t give me much wiggle room to throw away money on frivolities.

  I allow Asher to take the lead through the casino, but make sure to keep some space between us. Regardless, there’s still a buzz in the air. As we pass a group of men in their twenties dressed in dark shirts and jeans, their hair slicked back, their musky cologne overpowering, a few of them eye me up and down, lasciviously licking their lips.

  Asher steps closer and rests his hand on my lower back, his protective nature flaring. “You really should be careful walking around this place at night. Especially alone.” He narrows his disapproving gaze on me, which is riddled with concern.

  “I can take care of myself.” I roll my eyes. “And for the record… I walk around Manhattan at night all the time.”

  “I’m more than aware you can take care of yourself, Iz. If I remember correctly, there was an incident at one of the festivals our band played where you managed to bring some schmuck who attempted to hit on you to his knees. It was the highlight of the gig.”

  I laugh, surprised at his memory of one particular performance when he’s played hundreds, maybe even thousands. Then again, he is an artist. He crafts beautiful melodies with heartfelt lyrics. He probably remembers everything about everyone, pulling inspiration from everywhere he can.

  “You still remember that?”

  “How could I forget? It was all anyone talked about for weeks. About how tiny Isabella Nolan took down the star quarterback.”

  “What can I say? My father refused to send me away to college unless I took self-defense classes. When that prick wouldn’t take no for an answer and tried to make a move on me, I knew exactly how to send him to his knees. There’s nothing as effective as an open palm to the nose and a knee in the groin to knock out your opponent.” I playfully waggle my brows, following him outside to the valet stand, where he hands a ticket to an attendant.

  The instant I step into the chilly night air, a shiver rolls through me. I rub my arms. While the temperature has been above average for January, according to several of the locals I’ve spoken to, nighttime is still on the cooler side. When I’d dressed earlier, I hadn’t expected to go outside. I didn’t expect to run into Asher York, either, yet here I am.

  “Take this.” He shrugs out of his leather jacket and places it over my shoulders, leaving himself in just a t-shirt. A few women in tight dresses whistle as they walk past, ogling him.

  I’d like to say seeing his muscular arms doesn’t have the same effect on me, but it would be a lie. His physique is one you can’t help but admire. Not too bulky, yet not just skin and bones, either. His arms are ones you crave to have wrapped around you. Arms you hurry home to after a long day. Arms you subconsciously seek out in the middle of the night as you sleep peacefully.

  “Thanks,” I say in a small voice, tugging his jacket closer, savoring the warmth. I inhale deeply, the material smelling like Asher — a woodsy, citrus scent. It’s refreshing to know some things never change.

  “Only out in the desert does it go from eighty degrees during the day to the forties and fifties at night.” He looks up to the sky, the stars barely visible against the bright lights of Vegas. On a long exhale, he returns his eyes to mine. “But it beats all the snowstorms back east.”

  “You’ve got that right. The last few winters have been rough. I’ve lost count of the number of times I slept at the hospital so I wouldn’t miss my shift. Or so I wouldn’t have to try to find my way home in the middle of a blizzard.”

  “It’s been that bad?”

  I nod. “We’ve had some big storms that dropped upwards of a foot, sometimes more. If it’s only a few inches, it’s not that bad. But when we get that much snow, the city has trouble keeping up with shoveling and plowing, especially where I live.”

  “And where’s that?”

  “Tribeca. It’s—”

  “I know where it is. Jessie…” He stops short, wide eyes flinging to mine.

  It’s the first time either of us have brought him up, our very own elephant in the room. I’ve thought of Jessie throughout the night. How could I not when spending time with Asher? But now that his name is out there, an awkward tension has made itself known, coiling around and squeezing the life out of what, mere minutes ago, was a fun, lighthearted evening.

  “I mean…” He stammers, trying to recover, apprehensive about Jessie’s presence between us. “I played a few gigs in the city before I moved out west.”

  A small ball of guilt lodges in my stomach. We’ve both moved on, both dated other people. But thos
e other people weren’t his older brother. His own flesh and blood. Granted, Asher and I aren’t dating, nor will we ever, but I know how Jessie is. He’ll grow suspicious if he learns Asher was with me, even if merely as a friend. Just like I know Asher’s struggling with his own thoughts of betrayal.

  “Here we are,” Asher announces, his voice brightening. Perhaps out of relief.

  I look up to see a classic red Mustang convertible rounding the corner. “Is that yours?” I blink repeatedly, gaping at the stunning vehicle rumbling our way, the beautiful purr of the engine like a siren’s call.

  “And if it is?”

  “That car is…” I shake my head. “Wow. My dad would lose his shit if he learned you were driving one. And by lose his shit, I mean he’d try to con you out of it. It’s… What? A sixty-five?”

  “Sixty-four.”

  “Damn. My dad would definitely try to con you out of it.”

  I follow him toward the passenger side, my eyes soaking in the beauty before me. And I’m not the only one. Every male within the vicinity has stopped, their attention drawn to the sleek lines of the car instead of their dates. It’s not something you see every day.

  “He always did have a thing for old cars, didn’t he?” Asher holds my elbow, helping me into the passenger seat before making his way around to the driver’s side. “Want me to put the top up?”

  “I’ll be fine. I should take advantage of the fresh air while I can, even if it is a little chilly.”

  He slides into his seat with ease, pressing his foot against the clutch before shifting into first. I tug his jacket tighter around my body, the wind cutting against my face. But I wouldn’t trade this moment for anything. Hair whipping in front of me. The Vegas lights blinking all around me. And Asher York sitting beside me. It’s a completely unexpected turn of events. Then again, the best things in life often are.

  “Are you sure you’re okay?” Asher shouts over the noise of the wind and engine as he merges onto the interstate. “I can pull over and put up the top.”

  “I’m fine,” I yell back. “But I thought we were going to get something to eat.”