by Kate, Jiffy
It’s mostly bile.
Maybe I should’ve eaten something last night.
Maybe I picked up some nasty germs on the plane?
My flight home was packed and there was a kid sitting behind me coughing and sneezing. I haven’t felt any other symptoms, but the flu doesn’t always show up in typical fashion for me. Sometimes, it’s chills and body aches. Other times, it’s the stomach stuff.
A knock at the door has me scrambling to flush the toilet and climb off the floor, but I don’t make it before Shaw’s standing in the doorway.
“Avery?” His tone is questioning and hesitant.
“I’m fine,” I tell him, pulling myself back to a standing position and going straight for the faucet to wash my hands and rinse my mouth out. My toothbrush is downstairs in my backpack. I’m definitely going to need that. After mine and Shaw’s...sexcapade? Love fest? Fuck fest? I’m not sure what to call it. But after that, we showered together and I dressed in one of his t-shirts and fell fast asleep.
It was singularly the most erotic, passionate...orgasmic night of my life.
Swishing the water around in my mouth, I chance a glance up at Shaw to see him squinting his dark eyes at me in the mirror. “What’s wrong? Are you sick?”
There’s an edge of worry that I hate. I’m not stupid. I know where Shaw’s mind probably goes when people get sick. After him losing Liz, he’s always going to be skeptical of a cold or anything out of the ordinary. I’m well aware of what I’m getting into when it comes to him. He’s not perfect, but he’s perfect for me.
After borrowing his mouthwash for one more good rinse, I spit and wipe my mouth on the towel beside the sink, making sure to fold it and put it back exactly where I found it. Turning to him, I let out a breath, willing the queasy feeling to go away.
“I’m fine,” I tell him, shaking my head at the lingering feeling of unrest. “I should’ve told you last night that I was feeling a little sick.” The regretful smile I give him doesn’t do a lot for the stern look he’s giving me. “I hope I didn’t give you anything.”
I’ll feel horrible if I passed on something to him.
Walking forward, Shaw touches the back of his hand to my forehead. “You don’t feel warm...if there’s no fever, you shouldn’t be contagious.”
“Maybe a stomach virus?” I ask, leaning into his touch.
Wrapping his arms around me, he pulls me into his chest, a protective air swirling around us. “We should get you in to a doctor...get you checked out.”
“I’m fine. I think I just need some rest...” I pause, breathing him in. The way my body responds to him after a night like last night and how my morning started is crazy to me. I wasn’t lying when I told him I’ve never felt anything like what he makes me feel. No one has made me lose control like he does. No one has ever made me come...ever. I’m embarrassed to admit that part—embarrassed that I spent four years of my life having sex with Brant and never being satisfied. The only orgasms I’ve ever had have come at my own hand.
Kissing the dark ink on his chest, I let my lips rest there for a second before asking, “Tell me about these?”
Shaw’s hands slide gently up my back and to my shoulders, gathering my hair and pulling me back so he can see my face. “Promise me you’re okay.”
“I promise.”
“You’ll go to the doctor if you don’t start feeling better.”
His statement leaves no room for discussion, so I nod. We stand there for a few moments, him waring with his memories and me willing him to drop it.
“This is a Celtic tree of life,” he finally says, a broad hand running over his defined pectoral muscle. “The endless knots represent how nature is eternal. Everything, and everyone, is woven together without end...life is continuous and it just keeps going and going...”
He trails off and I know without him expounding that the tree is something he got for Liz and I think it’s beautiful. Leaning forward, I place a soft kiss over the symbol.
“What about these?” I ask, pointing to more of the black that paints his upper torso.
“More Celtic symbols...a Trinity Knot...Triquetra,” he says with a lilt to his voice. “All of the men in my family have one.” He sighs and turns his head, examining the ink. “After Liz died, I did a lot of things to feel anything besides grief. Getting fresh ink was one of them. Most of these hold a meaning, but some are just random symbols.”
“They’re all beautiful,” I tell him, letting my fingers trace the patterns. “I’ve always wondered what they meant, so thank you for telling me.”
“Avery,” Shaw says, taking my hand and placing it over his heart. “You know that you own all of me, right? Every part. Even the broken pieces. They’re all yours.”
The honesty and conviction in his words nearly make my knees buckle. I take a deep breath and force myself to meet his dark gaze, giving him back what he deserves in return. “Thank you,” I tell him, my voice thick with emotion. “Thank you for trusting me with your heart...all the pieces. I promise to take good care of them.”
Crushing me to his chest, he wraps his strong arms around me, cradling my head and stroking my hair. His lips rest on my hair and he breathes deeply. “I have something for you,” he whispers. “It’s downstairs. I wanted to give it to you for Christmas, but I didn’t find it until after you were already gone.”
“I have something for you too,” I tell him. “It’s in my backpack.”
We stand there for a few more moments, soaking in the closeness, the sense of our beings intertwining is tangible.
“Do you feel like you could eat some breakfast?” he asks, his voice low and rumbly, a vibration that goes straight to my core.
“Pancakes?” I ask, feeling like I could definitely eat some pancakes. I’d like more of Shaw and what he was serving me last night, but pancakes are a good place to start.
Later, after Shaw feeds me and I help him clean up the kitchen, I walk over to my backpack and pull out the brown paper package...tied up with string...yep, I’m cliché like that. The book doesn’t feel very substantial, but it’s all I have and I hope he likes it.
“I would just like to preface this by saying you’re kind of hard to buy for,” I tell him, chewing at the side of my thumbnail out of nervous habit. Shaw’s such a simple man with simple desires. Most things that people buy would be such a waste on him. “This isn’t much, but—”
“Avery,” Shaw says cutting me off with his words and his stare. “Give me my present.”
Handing it to him, I feel a blush bloom on my cheeks as my heart starts to beat faster. It’s nothing. It’s an old book I got from my nana. But it’s the first gift I’ve ever got him, outside of food, and I’m nervous.
Unceremoniously, he pulls the string loose and tears into the paper. When the cover of the book comes into view, he pauses for a beat, eyes scanning the worn paperback.
“It’s noth—” I start, but Shaw cuts me off.
“It’s perfect,” he says, smiling up at me knowingly. “I’ve always wanted a copy. Where did you find this?”
The heat in my cheeks increases and I start to pick at a thread on my backpack that’s lying beside me on the counter. “My nana...so, I didn’t even spend money on it. Which now that I think about it, makes it kind of a gift from her instead of me,” I ramble.
Shaw’s low chuckle draws my eyes back up to him and the award winning smile he’s giving turns my whole body to lava. The blush on my cheeks is probably spreading down my neck and chest.
I feel flush.
Maybe I am coming down with something.
“Your nana, huh?” Shaw asks, pulling his gaze from me and back to the book as he turns it over in his hand, using his thumb to flip through the pages. “Wow. I really love this, Avery. Thank you.”
“Well, I know how much you love the movie and you remind me so much of George...so, I thought you might like the book.”
“I love it.” His eyes shine when they look back up at me. “D
on’t ever feel like you have to buy me something, but any time you want to give me something like this...something that means something...don’t hesitate. It’s perfect.”
Letting out a sigh of relief, I smile back at him, biting the side of my lip. “You’re welcome. Oh...” I pause, digging back into my backpack and pulling out the Country Crock container. “Here, this is also from my nana...basically, she’s my supplier.”
He chuckles, taking the container. “Butter?” he asks with a sly grin. “Is this some twisted foreplay? I can think of a few uses...”
“Gingerbread,” I tell him, fighting back a smile. The playfulness in his tone is mixed with heat and it’s making me want to pull him back upstairs and back to bed, where he can bring my body under submission and make me come again...over and over...
“Avery,” Shaw’s voice is low and guttural. “What are you thinking about?”
I focus my gaze back on him, swallowing at the vivid imagery playing in my mind. “You.”
“What about me?” he asks, coming to stand between my legs.
“And me,” I admit, my tongue darting out to lick my lips.
“You want me to fuck you again?”
The blunt question catches me off guard, but only for a split second. I’m learning that Shaw likes to talk dirty and I like it too.
“Yeah,” I reply, my eyes dropping to his mouth.
“With my mouth?” He leans in and brushes said mouth over my jaw, sending tingles up my spine. “Or with my cock?”
“Uh,” I swallow again, fighting to keep my breathing in check. “B—both.”
“That’s what I thought,” he murmurs, his soft facial hair brushing against my collar bone and doing delicious things to my insides.
Hot.
Melting.
Compliant to his every whim.
“Just as soon as I give you my gift.” His tongue swipes out to lick the base of my neck, then he peppers kisses to the swell of my breasts, which are only covered by his white t-shirt. My nipples strain against the soft fabric.
“Okay,” I practically moan, not even remembering what I’m agreeing to.
When he pulls away, my eyes flutter open as the cool air hits my heated skin. “Wh—where are you going?” I stutter, watching him walk away in nothing but black boxer briefs.
Maybe I’ve died and gone to heaven?
There was a moment last night when I felt like I had departed this world for the next? Maybe heaven looks like Shaw’s kitchen?
He’s gone for a moment and then walks back into the room with a small black velvet bag in his hand. It’s his turn to look unsure of himself, but I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that whatever is in that bag is going to be perfect. Because it’s from Shaw.
He could give me the toy from a cereal box and I’d be happy.
When he hands me the bag, I look up at him expectantly, thinking he’ll preface it by saying something, but he doesn’t. He just watches me intently. My hands fumble a little, but I finally manage to get the drawstring loosened and open my palm to shake out the contents.
A ring...not like a ring-ring...but a small gold ring with hands that encompass a heart and a crown. “It’s beautiful,” I gush. “I love it.”
Shaw picks it up from my palm and takes my right hand, slipping the ring down my finger. “It’s a claddagh ring,” he says, that same lilt from earlier making an appearance and making me squirm in my seat. “It represents friendship, love and loyalty and when it’s worn like this,” he says, his eyes coming back up to meet mine, “with the heart facing inward...it means that the person wearing the ring is in a relationship. That I’ve captured your heart.” His fingers fiddle with the gold band, adjusting it to his liking. “And one day...when I ask you to marry me, you’ll switch it to this hand,” he says, picking up my left hand, “turning it where the heart faces outward, letting everyone know you’re engaged.”
He’s so sure in his declaration and it brings tears to my eyes that go unchecked, because I don’t feel the need to hide from Shaw. He’s the person I want to spend the rest of my life with...good times, bad times, happy times, and sad times. I want it all with him.
“Thank you,” I whisper, afraid to disrupt this moment. His head bows down and kisses my right hand where the ring sits and then the left...and then my lips, sealing his promises.
“Avery,” Wyatt calls into the kitchen as I’m loading up a tray with orders. “You’ve got a visitor...and he’s grumpy and ruining my dining room vibe.”
I smile at him, shaking my head. I’ve come to learn that Wyatt and Shaw go way back. He knew Lizzie and has been a friend to Shaw over the years. However, he does love giving him shit and I really love that about him. “I’ll take care of it,” I tell him with a wink.
“Not in my restaurant,” he growls under his breath. “How many times do I have to tell you people? No sex on my tables.”
Shawn turns to roll his eyes at Wyatt from where he’s manning the stove, and Sasha, one of the newer employees lets out a shocked laugh, probably wondering if Wyatt is being serious or not.
“Right, no sex on the tables,” I tell him as I back my way out of the kitchen doors, hollering “clear” over my shoulder just in case anyone is coming in.
After I deliver the orders and make sure all of my customers are taken care of, I walk over to the table Shaw is occupying. “Hi,” I say in my most professional voice. “I’m Avery and I’ll be your server today. Can I start you off with something to drink?”
Shaw’s eyes start at my waist and rake up my body, paying special attention to my breasts, which are covered by a tight-fitting black shirt. “I’ll have the special.”
Leaning over the table, I place my hands at the edge, closing the distance to Shaw’s mouth, my lips hovering over his. “My boss said no sex on the tables, but he didn’t say anything about the chairs...or under the table...or the bathroom...” I trail off, wanting nothing more than to devour him. How dare he walk into my restaurant looking better than anything on the menu. I have another four hours on my shift. It’s not fair.
When Shaw’s hand touches my thigh, I jump and cover my mouth to keep from laughing, turning to make sure no one is watching. “As long as you’re on the menu,” he mutters, his hand inching up to cup my ass, “that’s all that really matters.”
“Is this what you came in here for?” I ask, my lips back in the vicinity of his. “Did you come to harass the help?”
“Yeah, I did,” he answers matter-of-factly. “I also wanted to check on you.” His tone shifts and his eyes take me in again, but this time, they’re more concerned than heated.
“I’m fine,” I sigh, leaning in and finally pressing my mouth to his, lingering for a moment but not deepening the kiss. There’s no need to start something we can’t finish. “I promise.”
“No more throwing up or feeling nauseous?” he asks, sitting back in his seat to get a better look at my face.
“No.” Okay, I haven’t thrown up again. I really think that was a fluke, but I have still been feeling nauseous, but I think it’s just my body telling me I need some rest. The last month has been crazy and I haven’t been eating the best, except when I was at home. My mama made sure I had three square meals every day...plus snacks. “Don’t worry about me,” I insist, putting on the most convincing face I can muster.
After a few moments, Shaw finally sighs his surrender. “Fine.”
“Is that the only reason you came in?” I ask, pulling up a chair and taking a seat. I haven’t had a break since I got here today, so I know Wyatt won’t mind if I sit and talk to Shaw for a minute.
“The main reason,” Shaw replies with a nod, crossing his thick arms over his chest. I wonder if he’s been working out more lately? His muscles seem more defined, which I’m not complaining about, but I hope he’s not turning to his punching bag because of me. I don’t want to cause him stress or worry.
“What else?” I ask, wanting to change the topic and talk about something else.
<
br /> “New Year’s Eve,” he says and I smile.
I love New Year’s Eve.
“What about it?”
“Well, Carys, who owns Blue Bayou Hotel, asked me to come bartend for a party she’s hosting. I know it doesn’t sound glamorous, but I think it’ll be fun. I only have to be there for a couple hours. Plus, there’s the bar, which I plan on tending to earlier in the evening.” He sighs again and this time he sounds regretful. “I know it doesn’t sound like too much fun—”
“It sounds great,” I tell him, cutting him off. “All I care about is being with you...so, sign me up. I’ve been wanting to get back behind the bar and see Paulie and the gang.”
Shaw runs a hand down his face, smoothing the facial hair in an effort to obviously calm his thoughts. “Avery,” he starts, but hesitates. “I don’t really want you working the bar.”
“Why not?”
“Other than the fact that it drives me crazy with worry?” he asks, like that should be enough.
“You have nothing to worry about. We both know I can handle myself.” I can’t help it, but my tone turns defensive. I don’t like people telling me what to do.
“I don’t want you to have to handle yourself. And I also don’t want to have to kick a bunch of drunk guys’ asses for coming onto you or putting their hands where they don’t belong.”
Scooting my chair closer to him, I place my hands over his, forcing him to look at me. “I’m not saying that won’t happen...the guys coming onto me part,” I clarify, because the last thing I want is for Shaw to fight anyone, especially over me. “But you don’t have to worry about it. I’m coming home with you. They might touch, but they’ll never have me. And they’ll walk away wishing they hadn’t.”
His eyes go from dark and brooding to blazing. “You can’t talk to me like that in public,” he warns, the corner of his lips turning up into a devious smile. “Walking out of here with a hard-on is going to be a little embarrassing.” His voice is low as he leans forward and slyly guides my hand to his crotch. From anyone else’s perspective, we’re just holding hands, but I feel the steely length under his jeans and fight the urge to moan.