Bait

  Bait: The Wake Series, Book One

  Copyright © 2014 M. Mabie

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of the material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author/publisher. The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, alive or dead, is coincidental and not indented by the author.

  LICENSE NOTICE. This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book man not be resold or given away to other people. If you wish to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  DISCLAIMER. This is a work of adult 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.

  The author does not endorse or condone any behavior enclosed within. The subject matter is not appropriate for minors. Please note this novel contains profanity and explicit sexual situations.

  Cover Design Copyright © 2014 by Arijana Karcic, Cover It! Designs

  Book formatting by Stacey Blake, Champagne Formatting

  Editing by Marion Making Manuscripts, Marion Archer, and Bare Naked Author Services, Claire Allmendinger

  ALSO BY THE AUTHOR

  DEDICATION

  ONE

  TWO

  THREE

  FOUR

  FIVE

  SIX

  SEVEN

  EIGHT

  NINE

  TEN

  ELEVEN

  TWELVE

  THIRTEEN

  FOURTEEN

  FIFTEEN

  SIXTEEN

  SEVENTEEN

  EIGHTEEN

  NINETEEN

  TWENTY

  TWENTY-ONE

  TWENTY-TWO

  TWENTY-THREE

  TWENTY-FOUR

  TWENTY-FIVE

  TWENTY-SIX

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  TWENTY-NINE

  THIRTY

  THIRTY-ONE

  THIRTY-TWO

  THIRTY-THREE

  THIRTY-FOUR

  THIRTY-FIVE

  THIRTY-SIX

  THIRTY-SEVEN

  THIRTY-EIGHT

  THIRTY-NINE

  FORTY

  EPILOGUE

  READER EXCLUSIVE

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Also by the author

  Fade In

  For Danny, my hook

  Friday, May 23, 2008

  IT RAINED BUCKETS the whole day. There wasn't much that could make me feel more disgusting than a plane ride coupled with that wet and dry moistness you get from being in and out of the rain. Moist. That word alone made me want to take a shower.

  I'd flown into San Francisco to attend my dear friend, Micah's, graduation. We met when we were both attending culinary school at The Art Institute of California in San Francisco, when I was in my second year and she in her first. The ceremony wasn't until the next day, but I'd flown in early so I could go out with her and our friends.

  After I graduated the previous May, I moved back home to Seattle. Most of my family lived there, so they appreciated my closer proximity. I loved being close to them, too. My mom and dad had been married forever. For someone my age, it was odd to have married parents who still liked each other. All around, we were a close family. I was the youngest of three and the only girl.

  For a year, I'd been dating my boyfriend, Grant, and if my blabber-mouth parents were correct, he was soon to be my fiancé. Grant and I didn't live together. His choice, not mine. I lived in my mediocre apartment and he lived in his, four blocks apart. Even thinking about it drove me mad. But Grant was a great guy and insisted on not living together until we were married. I could only presume he'd insist on that sooner than later. That was the traditional thing to do.

  He was traditional. A classic. The all-American guy.

  But I didn't think of myself as the classic, all-American girl.

  Opposites attract. Apparently.

  We got along great and rarely fought. Well, until that morning, when we fought about him bailing on the trip last minute. That was the kind of day I’d had.

  I finally made it—damp and all—to the Hook, Line and Sinker, or HLS if you were local, and my first beer was on its way. I should’ve probably ordered two. That first beer wouldn't last long.

  Oh, yeah. The airport lost my luggage, too. Thankfully, I had my toiletries with me. It was almost a silver lining. Almost.

  “Blake!” I heard Micah shout my name when she blew into the bar. I twisted in my stool to face the door where I saw her bouncing up to me. She looked the same as she had a year before. Micah had a messy, blonde pixie cut. She looked like a little fairy.

  As soon as I stood, her short, petite body hugged me and I hugged her back in earnest.

  “I've missed you so much,” she said into my hair and squeezed me hard. She was a mighty little thing and her hold on me was more than I'd anticipated. As she pulled away I saw the two guys she came in with order beers.

  I knew she had a boyfriend. I’d seen pictures of them together and she'd said that I met him before I left. I really couldn't tell you which one he was. I assumed the one closest to her.

  Then I noticed they were the same damn dude. Well, two versions of the same dude anyway. I swore they were twins. They had to be.

  Micah stepped closer to the one of them and introduced, “Blake, this is my handsome boyfriend, Cory Moore. Cory, this is my talented friend, Blake Warren.” He offered me his hand and was happy to shake it.

  He looked thoughtfully at her and asked, “What are you drinking, baby?” I already liked him. He seemed very sweet on her by the way his hand affectionately rubbed her side.

  “I'll take a pint of whatever Bay they now have on tap.” She crooked her head and smiled brightly at the replica of her boyfriend. He swiftly looked at her with a cool, knowing grin. “What are you drinking, Blake?” Micah lifted up on her toes to look around me on the bar where I had my glass. “She'll take one, too!” I never ordered the second one, so I didn't object.

  Cory motioned to his brother, who’d taken a seat behind them at the bar, and said, “This is my brother, Casey.” Casey didn't bother to look up. Instead, he fiddled with his phone, not paying any attention. Cory kicked him for being rude or maybe just to get a response.

  I could unquestionably tell they were twins by then, but they weren't carbon copies, at least not anymore. Cory's hair was cut very short on the sides, a little longer on the top and neatly combed to one side. Casey's was full-on loose curls everywhere. Cory wore a crisp pair of gray tweed trousers, a white shirt and tie, complete with suspenders. Casey had on dark jeans, and a loose fitting, black V-neck T-shirt.

  Cory was attractive and Casey was perfect. Simple as that. I could have stood there comparing the two all night. They were identical twin bodies, transformed into totally different men by their styles and personalities alone.

  Casey finally looked up with a blank expression. Standing stock still, he said hello then went right back to his phone.

  “Don't mind him.” Cory smiled and then our drinks arrived. Only when I took a swig of my beer did Casey look my way again.

  I smiled at him and mouthed “mmm, good.”

  I wondered what his problem was. He looked like an easy-going guy. He wore f
lip-flops with jeans for crying out loud. I decided that maybe he, too, had had a shitty day.

  It wasn’t too long before all of the old gang filled HLS. We chatted and played catch-up. It was fantastic seeing everyone. The cocktails flowed, my drowned appearance and lack of garments quickly forgotten.

  Cory and Micah danced in the other room. They made a great couple. Since I needed another beer, I decided to belly up to the bar next to Casey, where he'd been most of the time. All night I'd wanted to walk over and talk to him and needing another drink was reason enough.

  Leaning toward him a little to get his attention, I said, “What are you drinking? It's Casey, right?” I was, obviously, really smooth. It was evident he’d been drinking the same draught beer I had. Okay, so I didn't know what to say to him, but I really wanted him to talk to me.

  “Right.” He was tight-lipped. I didn't feel like being a pest, so I waited patiently for the bartender. I bounced and bobbed to the song playing that filtered in from the large, banquet-style room on the other side of the bar.

  “And...” I coaxed.

  Finally, he spoke more than just two words in a row, “I'm drinking a new Bay brew. It's pretty good.” But he still refused to look at me straight in the eye.

  “I think I'm drinking a Bay beer, too. It must be local.”

  “They're local,” he said. “I'm a brewer. That's what I do.” It finally seemed like he might be interested in small talk with me. I was relieved.

  “That's cool. I'm a chef. A sous chef now, but I'll be head day chef soon. So...” I trailed off, and faked my impatience waiting for another pint.

  “That's how you and Micah know each other then? You’re friends from school? I think she mentioned that.” I liked his voice. It sounded raspy and fallow. I definitely didn't want him to stop talking.

  His eyes finally met mine and then he seemed to survey me from head to toe. It made me self-conscious, like my face had something on it, but I pretended to be unaffected. He was blatantly taking inventory of me, which worked in my favor because I wanted to do the same.

  “Yeah, we lived together for a few years. Micah’s amazing and she looks really happy with your brother.”

  He nodded his agreement. “I know. They make me nauseous sometimes, but yeah, they're good for each other.” Casey finished his beer and motioned to the bartender to bring two instead of just mine. “If you cook as well as her, I bet you're pretty damn good.” There was almost a grin hiding behind the beginnings of a beard he had going on.

  “Thanks, I'm sure your beer is pretty damn good, too,” I said in return. He was finally being friendly. I could be, too. He gave the bartender money for both our beers.

  “Thank you.” He turned in the stool facing me. I had his full attention. His eyes didn't look like they had when he walked in. He looked more at ease. More comfortable.

  “Oh, you'd like my brew,” he said and nodded confidently, with the first real smile he'd gifted me.

  It was worth the wait. I felt like I’d truly earned it.

  “How do you know that? I have a very particular palate.” Cleary flirting, I arched an eyebrow.

  It was true. My mouth had an uncanny ability to detect things. It worked well for me in my occupation. Chances were, if I liked a dish I could guess the ingredients from taste alone. It hadn’t ever failed me.

  “Because you've already had four of them. Going on five.” His fresh smile broke clean through, teeth and all. He was charming me and he had me dangling on a line. I laughed in jest at the trap that I’d played right into. If it kept that look on his face, he could have tricked me all night.

  When Casey smiled, his whole face was involved. His eyes, his cheeks, his mouth, those teeth, his chest puffed out, and his head tipped back. He looked pretty damn proud. His delight was contagious.

  He had the most perfect set of teeth I had ever seen.

  I needed to leave him alone.

  That was probably why I felt the need to deflate his ever-growing ego. So, I told him, “I've had better.”

  “I doubt that.”

  I feigned offense. “That's awfully cocky. You're the cocky twin then?” I retorted in an attempt to knock his peg down a rung. I failed. Miserably.

  “If you mean I have the better cock, then yeah. I'm the cock one.”

  “I said cocky.” My mouth went dry and even though it played right into his hands, I took a long drink of my beer.

  Casey leaned in and said, “See? You already can't get enough.”

  “You're trouble.”

  “Yeah, I am trouble. And you should go dance with your friends before you find out what kind.” The mischievous gleam in his hazel eyes promised he could back up the threat.

  That called for another long drink. Did I want trouble? I typically wasn't a trouble seeker. So why didn't I want to walk away? God, I probably looked like a fool standing there with my beer glass that hovered in front of my mouth while I stared at him. All I could think about was that mouth and those teeth all over me.

  I broke my blatant stare and, instead, watched his lips move in the mirror behind the bar as he said, “I can tell you right now, that isn't a good idea.”

  “What? You don't know what I'm thinking.” I blushed. Did he? No. But what had he assumed I'd thought?

  I stole a glance at the dance floor and then my eyes went right back to him. Standing there flirting probably would get me in trouble.

  I had a boyfriend.

  I had an almost fiancé.

  But he stayed in Seattle. He made his choice. A voice inside me said, this might be a good time to sow some oats. Surely, it had to be better to cheat on a boyfriend than a fiancé. I'd never once cheated before. It wasn't how I rolled. But Casey was too good to pass up.

  What would one night hurt? I was drunk, right? This happened to people all the time. They made poor decisions after drinking too much. I hadn't drunk enough to completely sever myself from my better judgment, but I had drunk enough to pretend I had.

  I was going to hate myself in the morning, but I did, in fact, want his trouble. I was too curious.

  “Compromise?” I asked.

  Casey's dark eyebrows shot up at my challenge. I’d caught him off-guard.

  “I'll leave your trouble over here, like you advise. If you follow my trouble over there.” The bass was thumping and it sounded like everyone was about to get their sexy back and that included me.

  Acting so wanton was out of character; it must have been the beer.

  Best-case scenario, we’d have a great time dancing and I’d make a new friend. Best worst-case scenario, I'd finally get those dirty clothes off.

  He was clever man. I could tell. He asked no questions and simply picked up his beer, grabbed my free hand and started us in the direction of the dance floor. He turned around and walked backward with the sexiest sway to his shoulders. Then, he stopped short of the dance floor.

  “I've already warned you. You won't be able to get enough. Now, here's your chance to stop this, while you still have the willpower.” He was both menacing and tempting.

  My warm cheeks tightened and I couldn't help but cackle out loud with a resounding, “Ha!” I pointed my finger straight at his face and bent over. He was kidding and flirting, but also I knew he spoke some truth. It didn't matter though, because I still followed that cocky man.

  Playful and shamefaced, he admitted, “My moves are potent. You've been warned, honeybee.” His hips began swaying in time to the beat. He danced right where he stood. He was joking, but as soon as his body touched mine I knew it wouldn't be enough.

  Honeybee? Could he be any more swoon-worthy?

  “What’s with the honeybee thing? You have an insect fetish?” I asked. Praying to God that I was wrong. I mean, it was likely that I was way off base, but you never knew. People were weird.

  “I don’t know. Your eyes kind of look like honey and your name starts with a B. Plus, you sort of have this buzz about you.” His eyebrows bunched together and he wa
ited to see if I bought it, then added, “Maybe I do have a thing for bugs.”

  We both tried not to laugh, mouths puckered.

  He said, “I don’t know why I picked it, I just did. I can stop.”

  “No. Don’t. I like it.”

  We made our way onto the dance floor in time for the end of the song and for another one to begin. There was that awkward silence in between songs. We looked at each other expectantly. That was about the time when I realized I was fucked. I knew the next song when it began. Casey's eyes lit up like he would have picked it himself. And then there was that smile again.

  He took the beer from my hand and placed it on the nearby ledge and asked, “Okay, honeybee. You in?” I wasn't sure what he was asking me, but my answer was yes. He only waited for the start of my smile before he had his hands on my hips, pulling me into him.

  He held me tight. His right hand circled all the way around my lower half and his left ran straight up the center of my back. My chest was pressed beneath his and I could feel how hard his pecs were.

  Instinctively, I brought my hands around his neck and clasped them together. I felt shy and possibly guilty.

  I had a boyfriend.

  I had an almost fiancé.

  I was a ho.

  I was about to stop the whole charade; my arms began to slip from our embrace. But before I could retreat, he put his nose against my cheek and breathed into my ear. “Hold on to me, Blake.”

  Willingly, I tightened my hold on him. And then he moved us. His hips swayed our bodies side-to-side and back-and-forth and Led Zeppelin begged the girl, “Don't go.”

  Casey sang along immodestly the whole time. With every “Oh” and “Ay” I felt him vibrate. There was no turning back. I shouldn't have, but I wanted him. I should have stopped, but I also knew that I wouldn't. I couldn't. It felt too right.

  The stubble on his cheek scratched against my forehead. Our bodies created friction everywhere. My hands were hot and had clenched fists full of Casey's shirt. I could not get close enough. I didn't know this man. He didn't know me, but hell if the two people dancing on that dance floor didn't fit in the most fundamental of ways.