Page 1 of Frankie (Big Northwest #5)

CHAPTER ONE

FRANKIE

T he heavy bass of pop music blasting from the overhead speakers was normally one of her favorite aspects of the bar she visited a few evenings a week. Tonight, it felt like the steady thrum was going to rattle the teeth right out of her head.

Wouldn't be the worst thing that happened to her today. Not by a long shot.

Sliding onto the only empty stool at the bar, Frankie caught the bartender's eye and gave him a wink. Thank God Ricky was working tonight. She wasn't in the mood to deal with anyone else. Honestly, no one else would be in the mood to deal with her either.

Thankfully, Ricky must have read her mood on her face, and in less than a minute, her friend was sliding a RedBull and vodka in front of her. Unfortunately, he was also sizing her up, one arched brow angling into a judgmental line. "You look like shit, honey."

“Shut up." Frankie wrapped her lips around the straw and sucked down as much of the sweet liquid as she could before the icy concoction started making her throat ache. "I've had a shitty day." One no one else would understand… Even if she could explain it to them.

"That's obvious." A well-built guy at the end of the counter caught Ricky's eye and the bartender straightened, his attention leaving her in an instant. "Be right back," he called over one shoulder as he hurried away.

"Sure you will." She'd heard that claim from him before under similar circumstances. Based on the flirty way Ricky was leaning onto the polished wood surface between him and Mr. Muscles, a second drink wasn't coming her way anytime soon.

And she was gonna need a second drink. Probably a third too.

"That's a pretty steep frown you're sporting." A deep voice cut into her misery, splitting it down the middle into more bearable chunks.

Fuck another drink. What she really needed was something—someone—to take the edge off. So, after taking a deep breath, Frankie turned to the man next to her, fingers crossed he looked half as good as he sounded.

"Well, damn." Her brows climbed high in surprise. "Aren't you a pretty thing. "

Pretty wasn't normally what she went for in a distraction, but tonight might be the perfect time to make an exception. Not just because she desperately wanted something to make her forget the pit in her belly, but also because this guy filled out a suit like no one she'd ever seen.

He was tall and broad with a set of biceps doing their damnedest to bust his jacket at the seams. His thick thighs were giving his pants the same sort of run for their money and his shoulders were probably a tailor's worst nightmare. The only thing that might be better than his body was his face. His jaw was clean shaven and his dark blond hair was combed into a perfect side part. The man was a pristine specimen if she'd ever seen one.

He huffed out a deep, rumbling laugh, full lips curving into an amused line. "Gotta admit, that's the first time anyone's called me pretty."

She straightened her shoulders and shot him a smirk, already feeling more like herself. "To your face."

The man chuckled again, his blue eyes looking her over. "Fair enough." He held one hand out between them. "Phillip Foster.”

Frankie took his hand. "Nice to meet you, Phillip." His grip was strong and surprisingly rough. Like Phillip might not be as fancy as he appeared, which ratcheted her interest in him up tenfold. "What brings a nice man like you to a place like this?"

"Work." His eyes dragged down her body, taking in the sweatpants and T-shirt she was still sporting after racing out of her niece's birthday party.

Definitely not winning auntie of the year for that one.

"What about you?" His gaze came back to settle on hers. "Doesn't look like you planned on going out this evening."

If his assessment wasn't so accurate, it might be insulting. But she knew she looked a mess. Her curly hair was neglected and she hadn't even bothered with the black winged eyeliner that always graced her lids. What was the point? Everything was stupid, and lonely, and now?—

Clearing her throat, Frankie forced her attention to the man across from her. "Are you saying there's something wrong with my outfit, Phil?" she asked.

Phillip's delectable lips lifted even more. "I'm saying, you went a very different direction than the majority of the women here tonight."

This bar was the closest place to get a drink for a lot of the people who lived like she and her sisters did, so it was a weird cross between a watering hole and a club. Jeans-wearing loggers lined the bar while glamorized women out for a girls' night took the tables. Obviously Phil didn't realize she was the former.

"What about you?" She motioned at his expensive attire. "You always wear custom suits to hillbilly bars?"

Instead of the offense she intended, Phillip again seemed amused by her, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "I do."

"Interesting." This guy might be growing on her a little. Frankie picked up her drink, holding it between them. "To wearing whatever the fuck you want, whenever the fuck you want to."

Phillip clinked his tumbler against hers before taking a sip, watching over the rim as she sucked down the last of her cocktail. Once it was empty, she turned to find Ricky was still slutting it up at the end of the bar.

"He a friend of yours?" Phillip asked.

"He was ." Frankie shot Ricky a dirty look as she set her empty glass onto the bar. "I'm rethinking it, though."

"Not him."

She turned to find Phillip's gaze fixed on a place across the room. He tipped his head in that direction. " Him ."

A sense of awareness crept up her spine and sent her stomach dropping.

No.

No fucking way. The universe couldn't hate her enough to do this to her twice in one day. It wasn't possible.

She slowly tipped her head to peek over one shoulder at the table in the far corner. Her eyes immediately locked with JD's. "You've got to be fucking kidding me."

Spinning away, she grabbed her keys and phone from the bar and stood. "Sorry to cut this short, Phil, but I forgot I have somewhere to be." No way was she going to sit here and watch that asshole suck face with some random chick. Especially the same random chick he brought to Lily's party.

Frankie was already two steps away when Phillip's voice stopped her in her tracks. "I guess we can talk about your sister some other time then."

Her spine snapped straight and the edges of her vision went black as she slowly turned to face him. "The fuck did you say?"

"Your sister." Phillip showed zero fear as she closed the distance between them. "James."

Frankie was one of the less restrained of her sisters. Luckily no one ever seemed to notice. Between the hair, the tattoos, and the piercings, people expected her to be a little crazy. A little unhinged.

A little aggressive.

She could hide what she was in plain sight and no one batted an eye.

Including this fucking guy.

"I don't think you want to find out what'll happen to you if you've done something to my sister, Phil ." Her voice dropped low as she let a growl creep through. "But you should know, I enjoy fucking up pretty things."

She'd spent her adult life proving it. After a childhood of being told how pretty she was by the men her father had planned for her to one day service, she made sure the last thing anyone would call her now was pretty. Hot, sexy, strong—sometimes scary—yes.

Not pretty. Fuck pretty and fuck the men who told her that's all she should ever try to be.

Phillip took another sip of his drink, looking unintimidated and unimpressed. "I think we both know your sister is as capable of taking care of herself as you are."

That threw her for a little bit of a loop. Not just what he said, but the careful way he said it. Who the fuck was this guy? And what the fuck did he know about her and her sisters?

"Relax, Frankie." Phillip leaned back in his seat. "I'm not your enemy."

She snorted. "Well you're definitely not my friend, so I might have to argue with you over that."

Phillip studied her for a minute. Not in a judgmental way—she was used to that and could identify it easily—but in an assessing way. Like he was trying to gauge her reactions. "I'm more than happy to discuss anything you'd like." His eyes left her, flicking to one side for a split second before coming back. "But I'm not sure this is the best place for that."

"And why is that?" He sure seemed fine conversing a minute ago.

"Everything okay over here?" A deep, annoyingly familiar, voice offered up her answer.

Fucking hell. She'd forgotten JD was there.

Spinning to face him, she plastered on her best bored expression. "Everything's fine." Her lips tightened, but what they formed was nowhere near the smile she was trying for. "You can go back to your date ."

JD stared at her, his expression hardening more with each passing second. "Not until I know you're okay. "

Frankie lifted her brows, letting her head tip to one side. "So now you're back to pretending like you give a shit about me? That's fucking hilarious." Huffing out an unamused snort, she turned to the man sitting behind her. "You know what, Phil? I think you're right." She let her gaze drift back toward JD as she said, "Maybe we should get out of here."

The look on JD's face was priceless. He obviously assumed she was taking Phillip home, and that was fine. He could assume whatever he wanted.

"No fucking way." JD stepped directly in her path when she attempted to move toward the door. "You don't even know this guy."

The anger that had flared earlier at the mention of her sister flashed back to life, only this time it was directed at JD.

And this time, it wouldn't be as easy to temper.

"In spite of what you think, I'm a grown ass woman and I'm more than capable of deciding where I go and who I go there with." She stepped closer to JD's hulking form, craning her neck to keep her eyes on his. "So you can take whatever fucked-up sense of self-righteousness it is that makes you think you're responsible for taking care of me, and you can shove it all the way up your?—"

"Is everything okay?" A soft, sweet voice stole her attention, dragging it to the woman who showed up at Lily's party dangling from JD's arm.

She was pretty. Of course she fucking was. Long dark hair, a nice smile, manicured fingernails, and silky- smooth skin. The woman was about as opposite from her as it could get, and it fucking chafed. Stung nearly as much as JD's rejection had all those years ago.

The woman held one of those perfectly soft hands out with a polite smile. "I'm Lena. You're Frankie, right? Sam's sister?"

"I don't have time for this." Frankie turned to where Phillip sat, watching the scene unfold with a smirk. She waved one hand, beckoning him. "Come on, big boy. Time to go."

She needed to get the hell out of this place before something bad happened. Something like her decking Phillip Fucking Foster right in his smirking face. Or possibly punching the scowl right off JD's mouth.

Either way, Lena would probably scream or cry or some shit and that would piss her off more. Because of course JD would want a woman who was too delicate to throw a punch.

"You're not fucking leaving here with him." JD didn't back down as Phillip stood up, one hand casually going to the button of his suit as he flipped it back into place. "If you need a ride home, I'll take you."

Lena's head tipped back a little at that, her perfectly mascaraed eyes widening in surprise.

"No, thanks." Frankie grabbed Phillip by the sleeve of his jacket, fully intending to drag him out of the bar if that's what it took. He knew something about James and she wanted to hear what it was. Plus she wanted the fuck away from JD and his new pretty princess.

Again, she only made it a few steps before JD blocked her path. This time he leaned close enough only she could hear when he said, "You wanna be pissed at me that's fine. But there's about to be a whole lot of people asking a whole lot of questions, and I'm not gonna let you put yourself in danger to prove a point."

"What the fuck are you talking about?" she snapped.

JD shifted closer, his broad chest blocking out the rest of the bar as the familiar scent of his skin curled around her. "I'm talking about your eyes, Frank."

She automatically blinked, as if the motion would clear away the problem. It wouldn't. The only thing that would get rid of the glowing of her irises was to calm down.

And that wasn't happening anytime soon.

"Fuck." Frankie fumbled around the top of her head, detangling the sunglasses from the tight curls of her hair before shoving them onto her face. Once they were in place, she shot a snarl at JD. "And fuck you ." After giving his hard chest a shove that knocked him back a step, she glanced around to find Phillip. He was still there, but he was the only one. "Where's Lena ?" There was no reason to say the other woman's name in such a snide manner, but she was petty.

Petty and pissed.

"She left about halfway through the lover's quarrel." Phillip tucked both hands in his pockets and rocked back on the heels of his shiny shoes. "Didn't seem super thrilled to realize she was a third wheel."

JD narrowed his eyes at her. "Good fucking job."

Frankie's mouth dropped open at the accusation. "Me?" Was he seriously going to blame this on her? "What about you ?"

"I wouldn't have even had to come over here if you had any fucking sense of self-preservation." JD practically spit the words at her. "But you'll risk anything to keep fucking punishing me for something you think I did to you over a decade ago, won't you?"

That actually took her aback for a second. Stole any comeback she'd considered slinging right out of her freaking brain and left her gaping.

"Because that's what this is about." JD leaned closer, lowering his voice. "That's what everything's about, isn't it?"