Hooked on You: An Annapolis Harbor Series Prequel

of his home situation, and I did too. I didn’t want family services involved.
How could she ignore her son and what was best for him? I wanted to go to the meeting, but I couldn’t. I wasn’t his parent or his relative—I was nothing to him. “What do you want?”
“I don’t know, man. I wish you could go instead.” He looked at me with a hopeful expression.
“Me too. But you know I can’t.” I hated to disappoint him, but I had no authority to go to the school on his behalf. I handed the paper back to him. “Will she sign that?”
“No. I’ll put it on the counter, but she doesn’t see it or ignores it. I don’t know. She thinks school is a waste of time. She wants me to quit when I turn sixteen to get a job to help out with the bills.”
When do you turn sixteen?” I clenched my teeth so hard my jaw hurt. What mother would tell her child to quit school to pay the bills she was supposed to be covering? I tried unclenching my teeth so he wouldn’t know how annoyed I was.
“Two months.”
“Okay, we’ll deal with that when the time comes.” I didn’t know what to do about it, but we had some time. I’d come up with a plan to help him. I wanted him to live with me so badly but there was no way that would happen. I’d checked the requirements for foster care, and not having a criminal record was one of them.
After we’d finished Zach’s homework and he’d eaten as many tacos as he could stuff in his mouth, I wrapped up the rest of the taco meat into soft wraps and packed them into a container for him to eat later. I always told him I hated eating leftovers so he would take them home. He was a growing boy and the free meals at school were not enough.
After Zach promised he’d stay home for the evening I headed back to the bar. I’d gotten him some weights so he could work out at night. It gave him something to do and it didn’t hurt to get stronger. I’d rather he focus on working out than getting into trouble. And if he did get into trouble, he could defend himself.
I’d tended bar for Isaac since I got out of jail. My goal was to manage the bar or even open my own business one day. I lived in the same cheap apartment and didn’t own a car to save money. I didn’t think I could apply for a business loan, since I had a record.
The closer I got to work, the more I wondered if Taylor would actually show up. She’d never waitressed and she’d probably never lived in a city. She was too trusting and naïve. She probably went back to her boss and told him she wasn’t cut out for it. Because she wasn’t.
Thinking she’d be too chicken to show up, I shoved the way her legs looked in those heels out of my mind but couldn’t erase the fantasy of fucking her in the stockroom. When I arrived at six forty-five, she stood at the bar talking and laughing with Isaac. Something about seeing her so relaxed in my bar and talking to my friend set me off. It messed with the idea in my head that she didn’t fit in here. She wore black skinny jeans, which clung to her rounded ass, a red fitted tank-top, and white scuffed Converse.
“What do you think you’re doing?” I asked, grabbing her elbow, and guiding her to the back office.
“What are you doing?” She asked, pulling her elbow from my grip. “I was talking to Isaac—the owner of the bar—about the increasing crime.”
I crossed my arms over my chest, sitting on Isaac’s desk, while she stood in front of me. “You told me to be here at seven. You’re going to help me in exchange for waitressing,
remember?” When I remained silent, realization dawned on her face. “You didn’t think I’d show up, did you?” She shook her head. “I should have known, you never even told me your name.”
She turned to walk out, and I grabbed her elbow to stop her. “Not really. I just didn’t think you’d actually show up. I mean, look at you.”
“What’s wrong with me?” Her eyes flashed with anger before she looked down at her outfit.
There was absolutely nothing fucking wrong with her. She was gorgeous—even more so when she was angry and right now her entire body vibrated with barely restrained anger. “You’ve never worked hard a day in your life.”
She pointed her finger at my chest, jabbing several times. “You don’t know me or what I’ve been through. You can’t see through that fucking chip on your shoulder.”
I allowed a smirk to play on my lips and she stood straighter, pushing back her shoulders in response. “Why don’t you tell me how you’ve had it so rough?”
“It’s none of your business.” Hurt flashed through her eyes before she masked it. “Am I working or not?” She looked ready to bolt and I wanted her to stay more than anything. I wanted to know why she thought her life was rough. I wanted to know what caused the hurt I’d seen in her eyes, which pissed me off even more. I shouldn’t care what some spoiled princess’s life was like. It was nothing like mine and that was all that mattered.
I stepped closer to her and her scent—lavender. I wanted to cup her chin, tilting her face up while I looked into her light blue eyes, I wanted to draw out her anticipation while I hovered over her lips for a few seconds, before turning her face to the side and kissing her neck, biting her earlobe while goosebumps danced over her skin at the sensation. But seeing the hatred in her eyes, I knew there was no way she wanted that. Not after everything I’d said and