by Piper Rayne
“I think that’s it,” she says. “It’s everything we asked for.”
“All that’s left is to sign it.”
She nods and stands. “Actually there’s one thing that we have to do first. Well, two things.”
“What?”
I watch her disappear into the back of the house for a couple of minutes before she comes back with another folder. She puts it down in front of me. “I’ve been talking to my own lawyer.” Out of the cupboard she pulls a bottle of whiskey. “So I need you to sign those, and then we can have a toast.”
“What is this?”
Opening the folder, I start to read, and my jaw drops open. “Are you sure you want to do this now?”
“Why not?”
“It’s not necessary. If you’re healthy and around, why? You said you had it in the will.” The documents in the folder are transfer of ownership papers for Granny’s. They give me full control of everything, minus a living stipend for her that comes out of the profits. And knowing the anticipated numbers from the sales of Granny’s sauce and Brandon’s projections of the business, I’m not remotely worried about meeting the very modest number.
“Because,” she says. “I don’t want you to have to run to me for every major business decision any more than I want to be on the receiving end of it. Now that the contract is ready with Brandon, you take Granny’s, and you sign the contract. It’s all you now. No reason to wait.”
I swallow. “And you’re sure that you’re fine? You’re not doing this ‘cause of…I don’t know…”
“How many times are you going to beat a dead horse, Red. I’m fine. Having you here keeps me healthy and not having the responsibility of the business anymore will be good for me. But I swear if you start to treat me like a goddamn old woman after this, I will throw a fit.”
I laugh in spite of myself. Her health isn’t something that I want to joke about, but if she tells me that she’s fine, then I have to believe her. “Okay.”
“Sign them both. Get them notarized and make it official.” She pushes the pen that she was supposed to use across the table to me, along with a very full shot of whiskey.
Just like she did, I take the time to read everything carefully, and then I sign. She passes me the Wolfe Foods contract, and I sign that too.
“How do you feel?”
“A little like I want to throw up,” I say with a laugh.
She lifts her shot glass. “This will help.”
I’m not sure that I agree, but I raise my glass in toast, and savor the burn when I knock it back. Holy shit. I’m a business owner now. I can make the changes that need to be made without any approval. All the work I put in will be directly reflected back at me. It’s both a new source of anxiety, and a tremendous fucking relief.
“Thank you for this,” I say. “You didn’t have to do it.”
“Yes, I did. It was more than time. Besides. Let’s play out the hypothetical in the other direction. If I left Granny’s to you and then kicked the bucket, transitioning everything while also dealing with a funeral? Not exactly the ideal time to be learning the ropes on fully owning a business.”
I roll my eyes. “Can we please stop talking about you dying?”
“Sure. For now. But eventually it’s going to happen, and the more you’re prepared, the easier it’s going to be.”
“Sometimes I really hate your pragmatic side, you know that?” I laugh.
She holds up the bottle of whiskey. “Want another shot?”
“I still have to drive home.”
“It’s like a four minute drive.”
I make a face. “As the previous owner of a bar you shouldn’t be encouraging me to drive under the influence. And as the current owner of a bar, you know I can’t take that risk.”
“Good girl,” Grandma says. “You passed.”
Stacking all the documents together, I shake my head. “You’re ridiculous.”
“I’m aware.” She pours herself another shot and knocks it back.
“Is your plan to get drunk tonight?”
Grandma lifts her glass into the air in a salute. “Hell yes it is! I’m free now. Nothing to do but whatever the hell I want. And whiskey seems like the way to go tonight.”
I laugh. “Do you want me to stay?”
“When there’s an extremely handsome man waiting for you at your house, likely cooking food for you, and ready to drag your ass to bed? No.”
“Grandma.”
“Ellie Rosalyn Thompson, what did I just say about treating me like a goddamn old woman? I know about sex. How the hell do you think you got here?”
I laugh. “Grandma. You knowing about sex and us talking about my sex life are two very different things.”
She stands and walks me to the door. “Go home. Have fun. And promise me that you’ll take at least one more shot when you get there, because this is something worth celebrating.”
“I promise.”
She smiles. “Now shoo. Go tell him the good news.”
After she closes the door behind me, I sit in my car for a minute. Holy shit. I own Granny’s. It seems too good to be true.
If I’d known that this is where I would end up ten years ago, and that I would be happy to be here and running the bar, I wouldn’t have believed it. Even if I’d been shown irrefutable proof from this future version of myself that found a way back to tell me.
But I am here. And I am happy. Happier than I dared that I would ever be again.
Grandma is right. I need to tell him, because for the first time in what feels like forever, I have someone that I’m excited to share news with.
14
Ellie
Exactly like Grandma predicted, Brandon is cooking when I walk in the door. Not only that, but he’s arguing with Jack.
“No, you’re not allowed on the countertop. I know it smells amazing, but it’s not for you.”
“He’s been trying to steal the food?”
“Relentlessly.” He wipes his hands on the towel and captures me around the waist. The way he kisses me is hot, hard, and possessive. That flavor of an edge that I like when it comes to him and me. Brandon is unfailingly kind and caring, but the minute he kisses me he turns fierce and dominant, and I can’t say that I don’t like it. I do. A lot.
“Hello,” he says.
“Hi.” My body is pleasantly warm and my head is fuzzy, the way it always is when he kisses me like this.
He grins and lets me go. “How’s Dorothy?”
“She’s good. Scared me half to death, but she’s sassy as ever.”
“What did she do?” Brandon hands me a serving of what he’s cooked. A stir-fry that’s making my mouth water.
I take a bite and groan. “Fuck, that’s good. I walked in on her taking like a million and one pills. I thought that she was hiding some kind of illness, but she says she’s okay. Though I’m not totally convinced.”
He looks at me, searching for the thing that I’m not telling him. “Why?”
I smile and reach into my bag, handing him both folders.
“She signed?”
“Look.”
He opens the first folder—which isn’t the Wolf Foods one—and scans the documents. “Holy shit. She transferred it to you?”
“Every bit of it. Which of course terrified me more. But she’s just tired. So I signed those. And the other ones.”
Brandon grins. “We’re in business?”
“We are.”
“Fuck yes,” he says. “I’m glad that’s out of the way. I’m so ready to move on and not have that on our plates.”
I’m consuming the food on my plate right now because I forgot that I haven’t eaten at all today. “I’d rather have this plate.”
He chuckles. “Anytime.”
“Oh,” I say. “And I took a shot of whiskey with Grandma. She wanted me to take another one, but I was driving so I promised that I would take another one here. With you.”
“She knows?”
&n
bsp; I roll my eyes. “Yes. I think she was trying to get me drunk for you.”
He’s out of the chair and grabbing the bottle of whiskey before I can even finish the sentence, and I laugh. “You want me drunk?”
“The last time we were drunk together it led to one of the hottest kisses of my life and it was never finished.”
Jack jumps up into my lap, quickly climbing up to my shoulder and purring in my ear. He missed me. “We’ve finished that kiss so many times now, it doesn’t matter.”
“I think it does,” he says, pouring us both shots. “This will be nicely circular. Coming back to the beginning.”
“I did promise.”
We lift our glasses together and knock them back. It burns going down, and with the other very full shot, I can feel the warmth spreading.
“That one was for Dorothy,” Brandon says, pouring us both another shot. “And this one is for me.” He clinks his glass against mine. “Congratulations.”
“Thank you.”
This time I savor the burn even more. And I know that in about ten minutes I’ll be pleasantly buzzed and heading down the path to drunk. “There are definitely other ways we can celebrate.”
Brandon picks Jack up off my shoulder and places him down by his food. “He’ll be fine for a little while.”
“And where are we going?”
“To celebrate.”
He hauls me out of the chair and I yelp as he tosses me over his shoulder. “Oh my god what are you doing? Put me down!”
All he does is laugh, carrying me up the stairs and into my bedroom—though it’s been more like our bedroom for the past month. He drops me onto the bed, and I bounce once, laughing. “You’re insane.”
“Am I?” His hands are on my belt, already tugging off my pants. “Or do I just want to congratulate my new business partner in the best way that I know how?”
The dark edge to his voice melts me inside. He knows exactly how to drive me crazy now. But I know how to do it to him too, and it’s only fair. “I should get to congratulate you too, partner.”
He smirks. “I’ve made these deals before. You haven’t.”
“But you’ve never made one with me.” I wriggle out of his hands and off the bed, pulling him with me and sitting him down.
I’ve done this before. In the last month there’s…very little we haven’t done, and I’m blushing just thinking about it. But he’s never let me finish. He pulls me up and drives himself into me until I’m screaming. This time, I’m not giving him the option.
“Ellie.”
“Brandon.” I smirk up at him, undoing his belt. “Like you told me the first time, let me.”
He’s already hard when I get his belt undone and pants open. Hard and glorious. And I sink down onto him before he can say anything else to stop me.
“Fuck,” he mutters, hands immediately falling into my hair. I suck him down, taking him deep. This is something that I’ve always been good at, and proud of it. Time to show him exactly how much.
This isn’t going to be long and slow. The alcohol is hitting my veins and I want to hear him groan. Brandon helps me get his pants off while my mouth never leaving his cock. And as soon as they’re gone, I take him.
Brandon is big—perfect—but I can still handle him, and in seconds my mouth is sealed against his skin, nose pressed against his stomach, swallowing. He makes a noise low in his throat and curses again. If my mouth wasn’t full of him, I would smile.
Pulling up, I take a deep breath before I push down onto him. Again, and again, and again, creating the rhythm and speed I know he likes when we’re fucking.
“Jesus, Ellie. I’m not going to last.” The words are gritted through his teeth.
I release him and lick my lips as I look at him. “That’s exactly the point.” Taking a moment to breathe, I stroke the length of him. I never look away. “Take what you need.”
And then I swallow him again. “Holy shit.”
I take him fast and deep, all the way. And when he grips my hair, doing what I asked and guiding me to what he wants, I let him. His hips rise up to meet my mouth, fucking my throat with every stroke.
I let go, surrendering to the rhythm and the motion, savoring the sounds he makes. And it’s not long before the rhythm of his cock goes erratic. He drives into my mouth and holds himself deep as he comes, heat spilling across my tongue. The sound of him—the raw, unrestrained passion—sends arousal spinning down my spine.
The alcohol along with desire are making me dizzy in the best way. I swallow Brandon whole, looking up at him to find his dark gaze locked on me. A combination of awe and lust.
He has me off my feet in a second, bending me over the bed and pulling aside my panties. There’s no waiting, he just plunges into me, all the way. Oh god.
Coming hasn’t slowed him down for a second. Brandon’s cock is still hard, still filling me up to bursting, still hitting that place deep in my pussy that somehow manages to make me see fucking stars.
His arms are around me, holding me against him, one hand reaching down to my pussy and dragging across my clit. And now I can’t breathe. I can’t move. My fingers dig into the comforter, holding on while he slams into me.
I’m made of nothing but pleasure. It’s lining me in electric light, straight from my core and along my limbs. Every brush of his hand and movement of his hips drives me higher, and I can’t hold myself back even though I want it to go on forever.
Pleasure crashes over the edge, and I hear my voice echo off the walls. One bright surge of light behind my eyes. I swear that I’m lit up from within so bright that he’ll be able to see it. His fingers keep moving, driving me to the edge of a second orgasm, and his cock is the thing that pushes me into it. Drowns me in it.
I scream his name, muscles entirely giving out. I’m nothing but a melted puddle on the bed, wracked with bliss. Brandon slams into me one last time, and pulls out, spilling himself onto my skin with a groan.
“Holy shit,” he says, catching himself on his arms behind me. “That was—”
“Fucking amazing?”
“Something like that.” He rises to his feet and goes to the bathroom, coming back with a towel to clean up. “I’m sorry. I didn’t ask. Condoms.”
I roll over, still boneless and pliant. There’s no way I can stand. “You pulled out,” I say. “And I’m on the pill. Have been for a long time.”
He looks relieved. But even without the reassurance of birth control, I wouldn’t have minded. The realization shakes me a bit. Am I that settled already?
No, I’m not. But the thought of going in that direction doesn’t scare me. Brandon and I have eased into each other’s lives effortlessly and seamlessly. Neither of us have talked about what might happen when the project is complete and he has to go back to New York.
I don’t want to even think about it.
Brandon pulls off the rest of his clothes, and I let him undress me. I’m deliciously buzzed now, swimming in that delightfully exhausted aftermath of really good sex. “I’m not sure I’m ready for round two yet,” I say.
“I want to hold you,” he says, “and I’d prefer you to be naked while I do it.”
I laugh. “You’re shameless.”
“It’s a hell of a view,” he says with a grin. “And I happen to have a minor obsession with touching your skin.”
He settles me against him, and for a minute, we just breathe. I could go to sleep right now and be perfectly content. But it’s still early. I’m glad to have a few nights off. Granny’s has been closed for the repairs that we’re doing, and it’s refreshing to be able to spend some evenings at home.
“I had an idea today, about how to get the word out about the sauce.”
“Oh?”
He laughs softly in my ear. “You know the videos that I’m famous for? Celebrity cooking and taste tests? I thought it could be fun to do one in the bar. Great word of mouth. We get to shout to the world that you’re open for business, and probably lock in a
shit ton of customers who just want to try it for the sake of being a part of something like that.”
I swallow. Celebrity. Celebrities mean paparazzi. And that kind of publicity is dangerous for me. It’s barely four months since everything happened. Granted, any paparazzi that come down here won’t know who I am, but the tattoo on my spine…If anyone gets a look at it at all, they’ll know.
“That’s right,” I say, trying to laugh. “You’re famous. I almost forgot. Why haven’t we been chased down by men with cameras trying to figure out what the great Brandon Wolfe is doing?”
“I’m not that kind of celebrity. No one cares about what parties the food guy is going to. I’m not nearly scandalous enough for them.”
No, I think to myself. He’s not.
“I don’t know. You’re pretty fucking hot. One would think they’d be chasing you down anyway.”
Brandon turns me around so he can see me and smiles. “I’m perfectly happy without that being an aspect of my life. I much prefer being able to kiss you in the street.”
I groan. “We can’t do that anymore. My grandmother already knew about us because someone saw and told her.”
“All the more reason to keep doing it then, if she already knows.”
“Clearly you’ve never lived in a small town. I was already the subject of all the gossip because I moved back here in disgrace. I don’t need to be the gossip because I’m making out with you in the street.”
Brandon smirks. “On the contrary. I did grow up in a small town. I just…like kissing you more than I care about the gossip.”
He kisses me then, to prove his point, and I melt under his lips. The way he kisses makes me feel like anything is possible. “Who do you want to do the video? And will there be paparazzi coming with them? I’d rather not have the town have to deal with that.”
“I’m not sure yet. I’ll have to reach out to some friends and see who’s interested. And I’ll try to make sure that they keep it on the down low so we don’t have to deal with the photographers. But I think it could be a really fun idea.”