Without Promises (Under the Pier) Read online

  Table of Contents

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Discover more New Adult titles from Entangled Embrace… Leaving Everest

  Cinderella and the Geek

  The Backup Plan

  Straight Up Irish

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

  Copyright © 2018 by Delancey Stewart. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit in any form or by any means. For information regarding subsidiary rights, please contact the Publisher.

  Entangled Publishing, LLC

  2614 South Timberline Road

  Suite 105, PMB 159

  Fort Collins, CO 80525

  [email protected]

  Embrace is an imprint of Entangled Publishing, LLC.

  Edited by Heidi Shoham

  Cover design by Mayhem Cover Creations

  Cover photography by Geber86/iStock

  ISBN 978-1-64063-555-5

  Manufactured in the United States of America

  First Edition May 2018

  This book (and all my books, whether I mention it specifically or not) is dedicated to my mother Pam. She was the one who taught me to love books, and she has always been the one who told me one day I could write them. I love you, Mom. Sorry about the sex in this one.

  Chapter One

  Trent

  The club was insane. Music wove through the crowd of people pressed up against my bar, and the air was thick and dense. Every breath I took as I worked was perfume, alcohol, and sweat, and it fueled me as I flew around behind the bar, my feet moving in time with Rob’s guitar as he played a Pearl Jam cover on the stage up front.

  This was the way I liked the club. Busy, filled with people drinking, dancing, and having fun. I liked the motion and the noise, the girls, and my friends doing shots on the other side of the bar. Nights like this reminded me I was young and alive.

  “Hey, darlin’.” I smiled at the girl leaning over the bar. Her familiar eyes glittered as she watched me. She was young and pretty, her full cherry lips pulled into a smile.

  “Hi, Trent,” she said, changing her expression to a pout. “I haven’t heard from you in a while.”

  “I’m sorry, Lindsay,” I said, already making her usual orange crush as I shot her a smile. “Things have been busy.” It was a good enough excuse. I ran this bar for my family and worked shifts as a firefighter. I was busy. And I was also not a call-you-later kind of guy.

  She continued to pout, but I earned a smile when I slid her drink across to her and waved her money away. “Consider it an apology,” I said. “Have a great night. I’ll talk to you soon.”

  I didn’t say I’d call her. That’d be a promise, and I didn’t like to break those, so I never made them.

  Lindsay wandered back to her friends at a far table, and I took a breath as the relentless thirst of the crowd ebbed for a minute. I turned to my friends—firefighters from the station who liked to come hear Rob play and soak up whatever free alcohol I was willing to send their way. Oliver and Chad were good guys. They probably would have come even if I wasn’t generous with the drinks.

  Chad’s head was bent forward, listening to someone I couldn’t see because his big body was blocking the view. I grinned. Chad had always been popular with women. The way he leaned in close to talk to this girl and the encouraging tenor of his laugh made me pretty sure he was interested in her.

  “Hey, guys, doing okay?” I said, leaning toward my friends.

  Oliver stood taller to look at me, and I took a sharp breath as I caught sight of the girl he’d been talking to. She was way out of his league. Hell, she was way out of everyone’s league. She was the kind of gorgeous you saw on magazines and in movies—tight black tank top and long silky hair that feathered over the curve of her chest when she moved, light brown eyes and a smile that made you wish it was aimed at only you.

  “Dude, this is Amy. Amy, Trent.” Oliver introduced me, and I did my best to toss off a casual greeting.

  “Oliver tells me you’re the HMFIC,” she said, smiling a million-dollar smile.

  My mind wasn’t moving at its usual speed, thanks to the way this girl’s eyes glittered when she spoke. Pretty girls weren’t hard to come by in San Diego—and both bartenders and firefighters seemed to have better odds than the average guy of catching the attention of the ones we wanted. But there was something intangible about this girl that was slowing my game.

  “I’m not sure what that means, but you let me know if I need to rearrange his anatomy, okay?” I said, my mind still trying to figure out the acronym she’d fired off. I didn’t like being in second place in the flirting game.

  “The head mother-effer in charge,” she said, the smile never faltering. “And I don’t think you should hurt Ollie. He seems like a decent guy.”

  Something in me riled at her half compliment to my friend. Nope. I didn’t want her complimenting Oliver or interested in Oliver. He’d met her first, but I wanted her interested in me. I turned to my default—humor. “He’s okay if you can get past the chronic flatulence,” I said.

  Oliver shook his head and laughed when Amy did, and he gave me a little shrug that told me to go for it. “Thanks a lot, dude.” He stepped back to the other guys, leaving Amy looking up at me with those huge eyes.

  “So you’re in town for work,” I guessed. “Mixing a little business with your pleasure?” It didn’t make much sense, but I wanted to know everything about her. Immediately. I knew I should be scanning the bar, taking money and serving drinks, but the idea of turning away from Amy now that I had a chance to talk to her was impossible to resist.

  “I live here,” she corrected. “My sister, Dani, wanted to drop in to say hello to Rob.” She introduced her sister, who greeted me distractedly and then returned her focus to where Rob was finishing his set up on stage. Interesting. Rob hadn’t mentioned a girl, but it explained why he’d seemed distracted tonight. I was beginning to feel pretty damn distracted myself.

  I got Amy and her sister a drink and then was pulled away to help other customers. I talked and joked with the clientele who made the High Note one of the best bars downtown on any given night, but something tugged me constantly back to Amy, like a tractor beam connected us.

  Rob was at the bar when I got back, and Amy was between Oliver and Chad. Her light brown hair glowed under the amber lights, and her skin practically sparkled.

  “Sorry about that,” I said, returning to face her. “So what do you do, Amy?”

  She lifted a shoulder and told me she was in pharmaceutical sales. “Basically, I’
m a drug dealer.”

  The guys laughed, and I pictured Amy in a suit. This was a girl who could definitely pull off the sexy executive look. “Kind of makes me wish I’d gone into medicine,” I told her, ducking my head so only she could hear me. I knew it was cheesy. I knew it was lame. Normally, I was smooth. I knew what to say to women, how to make them smile. I’d been brought up to be polite, and I found that successful flirting was really just a variation on etiquette. People appreciated it when you paid attention to them. They liked it when you were kind. And flirting with a beautiful woman wasn’t much more complicated than showing her you appreciated her personality and looks, that she was more than worth some kindness and politeness. But with Amy? It was coming out crooked. I was nervous with her standing there in front of me, looking up at me with those fiercely intelligent eyes. I hadn’t been nervous around a girl in a while. And so I’d dropped a cheesy line, but it didn’t look like she was having it. And that made me like her more.

  “Do these lines usually work for you, Fireman Trent?” Her voice was low, but Chad heard her and hooted with laughter.

  I felt a slow blush creeping up my neck, and I chased it with a hand, shaking my head. “Actually, yeah.”

  Amy looked around. “Kind of like shooting fish in a barrel for you in here then, I guess.”

  “Damn, brother,” Oliver said, grinning at me. “She’s got your number.”

  Shit. I couldn’t tell if she was flirting or just having fun at my expense. Since she was still talking to me, I didn’t care. “All right,” I said, lifting my hands in the air. I’d try another approach. “You got me. I was flirting.”

  “I got that,” she said, shaking her head lightly with a grin. Her eyes were twinkling under the lights. She lifted her beer to her lips, and I couldn’t help but stare at the exposed column of her throat as she swallowed. I gripped the edge of the bar to keep myself from reaching out to touch her.

  Amy looked at me again, and I thought she was about to say something when her sister grabbed her arm and pulled her attention away. Amy’s posture shifted as they spoke, almost shielding the smaller girl from the crowd around her. I realized Amy must be the older sister, and that she was protective. And if Rob was involved with Dani, it meant I’d probably get to see Amy again no matter how things ended tonight. Some of my confidence bubbled back. Maybe I’d get another chance.

  “Hey, FT,” she said, and my brain scrambled again.

  FT? Fireman Trent, right.

  “You should call me.” She handed me a thick business card with the name of her company emblazoned across the top and her name, Amy Hodge, beneath it. Her number and email were printed on it, too, and I felt like I’d won the lottery.

  “I will,” I said, pushing the card into my wallet and returning it to my pocket.

  I watched Amy wind away from me through the crowd and realized I’d just made her a promise. The strange thing was I knew I was going to keep this one.

  Chapter Two

  Amy

  “I can’t believe you didn’t keep that gorgeous purse. I would have bought it from you,” my best friend, Amber, moaned after I told her about my latest bout of buyer’s remorse, which had involved a way-too-expensive bag. She handed me a beer from her fridge as she shuffled back to the spot on the couch next to me. “God knows, I never have time to go shopping for myself between seeing patients and chasing Jack around. You sure you want this glamorous life?” Amber waved her arm to indicate both her La Jolla apartment and herself. “Up at dawn for rounds, in the office until God knows when, no time for men or friends or—”

  “What the hell am I?” I asked, trying not to be offended by being construed as something other than “friend.”

  “No, no, you’re a friend… I just mean.” Amber huffed out a frustrated sigh and looked around. “We should be out. We should be at a hot club. I should be wearing stilettos and something slinky, flirting with a fireman of my own…but even when Jack’s with his dad, I’m way too exhausted for anything beyond sweats and beer on the couch. The life of a doctor is pretty damn fancy.”

  Amber worked harder as a cardiac surgeon than anyone I knew. And despite her complaints about long hours and no sleep, I was sure her life was exactly what I wanted for myself. Maybe not the sweats and beer, but I was pretty sure about the rest. She was the one who’d convinced me to start on the road toward medical school, and she’d inspired my desire to pursue cardiology.

  “The purse was way expensive,” I said, trying not to think too longingly of the gorgeous bag I’d returned. “It’d look like I was trying too hard if I carried something like that. I’m more of a thrift-store girl.”

  “Oh my God, no, you’re not.” Amber rolled her eyes. “You make awesome money, you work hard, and you deserve it. If you want a nice bag, you should have one. You can afford it.”

  It was hard to explain to her that while it was about the money, it also wasn’t about the money.

  “I don’t need it,” I said.

  “Your call,” Amber said with a shrug. “Okay, now tell me all about Fireman Trent.” She grinned and put down her beer, actually rubbing her hands together in anticipation. An eager smile parted her full lips, and her dark brown eyes gleamed. “I have to live vicariously for now, so spill it.”

  The mention of Trent’s name stirred up a low glow of excitement that had been smoldering inside me since I’d handed him my card that night at the High Note. I’d learned—through a conversation constantly interrupted by the crowd and him having to fill drink orders—that he ran the High Note for his family in addition to being a firefighter in Ocean Beach.

  “We’re meeting tomorrow afternoon.”

  “Where?”

  “Mission Brew.”

  Amber nodded. We’d been to the funky coffee shop on Mission Beach together a couple times in the past. “Perfect opportunity for a stroll down the beach afterward,” she said, grinning.

  “If it goes well, I guess.” I hadn’t thought past coffee. Truth be told, I hadn’t thought past just showing up at Mission Brew.

  “Why do you look like you might be sick?” Amber asked, stiffening as if she were about to go get me a bucket.

  “I’m fine.” My voice was too bright. She wasn’t buying it, so I just admitted my concerns. “I don’t know—I might’ve given him the wrong idea. I was super forward the other night. He probably thinks I’m fun and outgoing.”

  “You are fun and outgoing, loser. Is this going to be a hot-air balloon situation?” she asked, her voice low and wary.

  “Dammit. Why can’t anyone forget about that?” I should never have told her. It’s bad enough my sister uses it against me any time she thinks I’m being too indecisive. “I just changed my mind about that,” I explained for the hundredth time.

  “About the perfect guy and the perfect date. And you just didn’t show.”

  And that had been the end of that relationship. But I couldn’t help that I got cold feet sometimes, and I really didn’t need the distraction of commitment. Which didn’t change the fact I was very distracted by Trent and his surf-god good looks and messy blond hair.

  I picked up my beer bottle, stood, and walked to the window that faced out onto the community pool. There were people swimming in the glow of the pool lights, and one couple in the corner who looked like swimming was definitely not the first thing on their minds. “I hope they use a lot of chlorine in your pool.”

  “You’re not getting out of answering,” she said. “You’re not going to freak out and cancel on Trent, right?”

  “Argg. No. I’m not. I mean, I won’t pretend it hasn’t crossed my mind. And, yeah, I’m totally nervous.”

  “Sure. Of course.”

  “I could cancel. That’s what I usually do. Or I show up and then make some excuse to leave, right?”

  Amber nodded. She’d witnessed this behavior a few times.

  “But I’m tired of doing that, even though I really don’t need to be getting into anything just before startin
g med school,” I said. “Still, maybe I’m too old to keep running away from everything that feels scary.”

  “You’re tired of returning the bag,” she suggested.

  It took me a second to realize what she meant. Yeah, I’m tired of second-guessing things I wanted. “Right. So I’m going to go and have some fun with a hot guy.” I closed my eyes as I said it, making a promise to myself as much as to Amber. In my head, I saw Trent’s easy smile, his messy blond hair falling over his forehead, and the reassuring glint that had sparked in his deep chocolate eyes when he’d said he would call me.

  Chapter Three

  Trent

  Waiting until the afternoon to see Amy had me spinning my wheels as soon as I got up, a restless energy zipping around in my gut and my head turning up all kinds of scenarios.

  Coffee, loser. It’s just coffee.

  I hadn’t been this worked up about a girl in as long as I could remember.

  I was about to go out for a run to work off some tension when my phone rang.

  Dad. I contemplated not answering, but the least I could do was listen as he told me about the many things I’d done wrong since we spoke last. “Hey, Dad.”

  “Son.” Dad’s voice was serious, which was not unusual. Dad had two modes—all business and partly business. The partly business mode was the one I preferred, but that was reserved mostly for wining and dining clients and business associates, and for beautiful women. I generally got all-business Dad.

  “What’s up?”

  “Definitely not profits at the High Note,” he said. It was almost a joke. Except Dad never joked about business. “When I gave you the responsibility of managing the club, it was intended to be a primer to ready you to take over McNeil. Son, if I hand you the business now, I’m confident it’ll be bankrupt inside three years.”

  You might as well punch me in the stomach. Actually, it’d be preferable to the dark, twisting discomfort of being told what a complete disappointment I am. I stayed silent. No response was needed. This was nothing new.

  “What’s going on down there? Are you still letting your fireman buddies behind the bar? I thought you hired that manager I pointed you to. All you should have to do is check in and let her know you’ve got your eye on things. How hard can that be?”