Page 5

Chapter five

Keala

K eala set her glass down on the bar, and the bartender, a man who could win a contest for most number of piercings, smiled at her as he took it. “Want another?”

“Could I get an Ocean View instead? Thank you.”

She turned around, taking stock of the few people around the room. The space was dimly lit and smelled faintly of stale beer, with worn, faded posters on the wall and sticky tables, which had led to her sitting at the bar. A flickering neon sign cast a garish orange glow over the chipped wooden bar, where a few older men sat, nursing their drinks and taking turns eyeing her. In a darker corner was a group of both women and men laughing around a pool table.

So maybe she could’ve found somewhere better, but she’d never looked for bars before. Any time she went out, someone else chose where they went. The prospects here were not great, something that was about as surprising as the sun rising in the morning, considering it was a Wednesday evening at an aging bar. Still, she was glad she’d made a different way for herself than she usually might have, and with a drink’s worth of courage in her body, she redownloaded the dating app and started swiping.

Sure, it would be Keala’s first one-night stand if she was successful, but she was feeling good about this whole new version of herself. She’d gotten herself here, hadn’t she? Maybe she would finally be able to come from something besides her own hand or vibrator.

That’d be the day.

The man dropped the drink off and she thanked him. Two small sips later, someone said, “I imagine the options right in front of you might be more interesting than the ones on there.” His voice was velvety and deep, and something sparked up her spine at the sound of it.

The clatter of her phone on the bar top as she startled and whipped her head in his direction only served to make the stranger grin wider. He slid onto the tall stool beside her.

He was handsome with strong, dark features. Potentially Mediterranean? She wasn’t sure. But there was something familiar about him as she looked a little longer.

She took in the rings on his fingers, the tattoos across his knuckles that crept up his left hand and disappeared under the sleeve of the nondescript sweatshirt, his skin tone close to hers, maybe a shade darker. And as she drank in the strong set of his jaw, the dimple beside his bemused grin that grew wider by the second, his strong nose, and thick locks of black hair, she realized exactly who had taken a seat beside her.

The hood that only left a bit of his hair exposed couldn’t fool a woman who had grown up watching the Sentinels and had followed them closely since she’d moved away from home. Certainly not a woman whose cousin played for the team and who’d had to memorize the information and faces of every single player in case tailgaters felt like talking about them.

She made a move to stand because Landon Beaumont, hot as he may have been, sitting beside her was absolutely the last thing she needed as a Sentinels Siren with strict instructions not to fraternize with Sentinels players—outside of Ikaika of course.

But then she remembered Angelica’s sharp words, the heavy feeling in her chest she’d hoped alcohol might chase away and she stayed seated. She wasn’t exactly a Siren anymore.

“Um…huh?” she asked dumbly.

Landon nodded to where her phone now lay, the dating app still open. “Was just saying I can’t imagine you’re going to have much luck there.”

Keala clicked her screen off. She wanted to agree with him, but trying to do the opposite of her instincts, she said, “That’s…awfully presumptuous of you. How do you even know what I’m looking for?”

He shrugged. “I don’t. But doesn’t matter what it is, that can’t possibly be the best place for it.”

Channeling Josie, she asked, “And you’re implying that this dingy bar is? That you’re what I’m looking for?”

“I find that often, yes.”

She ignored his self-satisfied smile, the right side of his mouth quirking up higher than the left. “What are you doing here? Don’t you usually look for a place that’s more, I don’t know, high profile?” It was a genuine question, but it came out with a bit of an edge.

He looked around, setting an arm across the back of her stool. There wasn’t even skin contact, just his sweatshirt-covered arm against her sweatshirt-covered back, and yet she felt the heat of his touch sear her spine and surge through the rest of her body. “Hey, there’s no need to be mean to Ole Faithful.”

“I’m just saying, it’s a little depressing and miserable for a star like you.”

He grinned. “You think I’m a star?”

Keala snorted but took another couple of sips of her drink instead of responding. She didn’t know if it was the touch of alcohol in her body, or if her filter was gone thanks to the hellish day she’d had, but fighting her instinct to put him at ease was easier than usual. She couldn’t read what type of person he wanted her to be, and that may have helped too.

“Maybe I like miserable. Maybe I’m seeking out miserable.”

She cut her eyes to him. “What do you have to be miserable about? You guys won Saturday.”

Landon’s smile slipped to a fraction of what it’d been before, and he drummed his fingers on the bar. “Just an overbearing parent and a brother who can do no wrong.” His mouth quirked up again, like he was joking.

Keala nodded because now he was speaking her language. She matched his smile. “It’s like looking in a mirror.”

Their eyes met, and Keala knew neither of them were joking.

Landon leaned back, and she hated the way his eyes traveled over her features, then down to her sweatshirt, and finally to her drink before meeting her eyes again. Hated even more how her whole body warmed at the look, as if it knew what she was planning and had set its sights on him.

“While I know I’m hot, I’m not the smoke show you are.”

She fake gagged. “Please.”

“No good?”

“Could definitely use some work. Not sure how you pull as hard as you do with lines like that.”

“Aw, sweetheart, do you keep track of my dating life?”

Why was the way he was looking at her so hot? He was presenting himself as an intriguing option, even if a very loud voice in her head told her it was a horrible idea. But wasn’t the point of tonight to ignore that voice?

“Trust me, I’m much too busy for that.” Though she suspected the next time she saw a headline about his antics, she’d be more inclined to pay attention.

“Right. Well, I live down the street, and this is a good place to get a drink when I want to go somewhere low-key and don’t want to be chased down. And a good place to meet beautiful women, apparently.” He paused for a second, then rapped his knuckles against the bar. “Anyway, if you have any interest in someone of a slightly higher caliber than”—he looked down at her phone—“and you haven’t had too much to drink, I’d be more than willing to oblige.”

Keala opened her phone and glanced down at the finance bro, aptly named Chad, who she’d spent too long debating about. Siren or not, it wouldn’t look good if she were photographed with Landon Beaumont. But then again, with his sweatshirt hood pulled over his head, he appeared to be flying under the radar.

She felt the thread of her resolve coming undone, fraying and unraveling. She wanted to be a Siren again, that she knew, and sleeping with a player was a horrible idea, even if he was hot. He was on the team with Ikaika, and doing anything with him could be uncomfortable for her cousin and for her if she had to see him again.

Then again, she’d been living at Ikaika’s for a couple of months, and Landon had never been there. Either they didn’t hang out much, or if they did, it wasn’t somewhere she’d have to interact with him again.

And when had playing by the rules ever worked out for her? Tonight was about doing things she normally wouldn’t, and she wanted to have a story to tell Josie tomorrow. She couldn’t let her friend down.

Keala finished the drink, enjoying the burn as it flushed through her body. Then she tossed a few bills onto the bar and stood, tucking her phone and wallet into her small purse. Landon watched her closely, and he must have caught the subtle jerk of her head, because when she’d made it past the group by the pool table and to the darkest part of the already dark bar—a hallway with a couple of unisex bathrooms—he was only a few feet behind her.

She didn’t need anything more from him than sex, she reminded herself. She didn’t need his love or his affection the way she did from others. She didn’t need to please him any more than he did her, didn’t need to go out of her way with him. Keala could ask for what she wanted without feeling like she was asking too much or stepping on anyone’s toes. She chanted it in her head like a prayer.

Landon leaned against the wall, waiting. Like he wanted her to make the first move, which was rather unexpected. Keala had assumed he would take charge.

She stepped forward. In the interest of taking what she wanted, she pulled him by his sweatshirt and kissed him. He brought one hand up to cup her face, hands rough and calloused like she’d hoped they would be. The other slipped into her hair, twisting just enough that excitement shot through her body.

It was slow at first, but she wanted more, and their height difference was quickly becoming a nuisance. As if Landon understood, he took over, hands on her waist, picking her up and allowing her to wrap her legs around him.

Smart man .

He pushed her against the wall. And then, suddenly, it was the best kiss of her life. His large palm on her back arched her into him, his stubble scratched against her, and when she opened her mouth, he grunted, suddenly greedy. Her hands moved over his arms and shoulders frantically, floored by the feel of his muscles beneath her palms, even over his sweatshirt.

His hand slipped down to cup her ass, and when he bit her lip gently, she couldn’t help but moan. Her hips rolled, trying to create friction, and she could feel the hard press of him between her thighs. She grinded against him like she was a beast half unleashed and was rewarded with another throaty groan.

He pulled away a touch, whispering, “I don’t mind fucking in the back of a bar, but you seem like the type of woman who should be spread across a nice bed.”

Keala reared back. “What is that supposed to mean?” Did she look like a princess? She was dressed in an oversized sweatshirt and tight workout shorts—she hardly thought so.

“I just mean you’re too pretty to be fucked like you’re a mistake.”

She rolled her eyes at the way he said it so plainly, like it was obvious.

His lines seriously needed work. “Fine. But not at my apartment.” That would be too strange, even without Ikaika home. She’d have to figure out a way to get back to her car tomorrow, but she knew she was close enough to her building that it wouldn’t be a problem.

He set her down. “I live down the street.”

Right as Landon moved to put an arm around her, she pulled his hood farther over his head. “Do a better job of hiding who you are.”

“Don’t worry. The media does less fawning here with all the celebrities and tech people nearby. Plus, it’s not like my team is particularly good.” There was a flash of something in his eyes before he dropped them away from her, eyebrows drawn. Still, he allowed her to pull the hood as far as it would go, then guided her out of the bar. “I want to make it super clear—”

Keala shook her head. “If you’re going to say this is a one-night thing, I’m going to stop you right there. I promise you I am not gonna want to see you ever again.”

He gave her that cocky, lopsided, dimpled smirk. “I think I might like you the best.”