Sugarlips (Beefcakes Book 2)

by Katana Collins

  However, if I wasn’t mistaken, Dan’s eyes were on me. He was watching me with jealousy glinting in his brown eyes. Just like the other morning when he and Liam had their little showdown over the La-Z-Boy, he seemed to be having regrets as he watched me from across the room. An aching flame inside of me was dying to know why; what about me now was so appealing? Was it the fact that I was here with Liam and it had looked like he’d spent the night with me that morning Dan had shown up at my house? Was it that I looked professional and polished, and Raina looked like she’d just left a party at Woodstock? Was it that my business was thriving—that I was thriving? Or was Dan just the kind of man who wanted what he couldn’t have?

  Well, if he was going to stare, I was going to give him something to stare at. I swallowed a large gulp of the cool grapefruit from my glass and grabbed Liam’s hand. “Come on,” I said. “Let’s dance.”

  I led him to the middle of the dance floor where there were only a few other couples swaying to the crooning music.

  I pulled Liam close enough to smell the sandalwood and vanilla scent clinging to his skin and inhaled deeply. God, he smelled good. Warm and sexy. Dan had always smelled vaguely clinical—like that weird scent of a filling being drilled. Liam’s hand slid from the curve of my waist around the small of my back and he curved me into him, flush against the broad wall of his chest.

  I buried my nose in his neck and from over his shoulder, I watched as Dan’s scowl deepened.

  I closed my eyes. I didn’t want to look at Dan. Didn’t want to think about him or the woman he’d replaced me with.

  And yet, I couldn’t resist peeking every now and then to see if he was watching.

  “Chloe,” Liam’s voice had a hard edge to it. Shit. I was caught red-handed obsessing about my stupid ex who I didn’t even like, let alone love anymore. I didn’t want the man back, so why was I so damn obsessed with what he thought about me?

  “Sorry,” I sighed, dragging my gaze away from Dan. Instead of staring, I fell in step with Liam’s slow sway and nuzzled into his neck. I felt immediately better in his arms. Like home. And for the length of one song, I pretended he could be mine. That we hadn’t rushed into this business together and muddied it all up. I smiled against his neck, picturing how our life would be together.

  “What do you want, Chloe?” His question could have been so innocent. But the growl in Liam’s voice was thick and carnal and sent a flare of awareness spiraling between my legs.

  My heart pounded as I lifted my gaze and came face-to-face with Liam. How was it that a man I saw every day in various stages of undress—from naked to ripped jeans and an apron to now in this suit—could continuously take my breath away? I swear, each time I saw him, I was stunned with how gorgeous he was. It should be a crime to look as hot as Liam Evans.

  “Breathe, Chloe,” he said, smiling, as he curved his hand into mine and hugged it against his chest.

  How could I, with him so close?

  With another disarming smile, the few couples on the dance floor with us faded away, blending into the low hum of the crowd around us.

  I stopped dancing. Right there in the middle of all the swaying bodies, I halted, not caring who was watching.

  My eyes slid to the bar where there was only one employee and boxes of champagne bottles unattended beside the bar. I grabbed his hand and tugged him off the dance floor. “Come on.”

  “Where are we going?”

  “You ask too many questions. Take off your jacket and hand it to me.”

  He stumbled as I tugged him back over to the bar, fumbling out of his suit jacket and handing it to me. “Chloe, what the hell—”

  I spun a quick one-eighty to face him and pressed my index finger to his lips, whispering, “Do you remember our first kiss?”

  His pupils dilated, the inky black widening against the moss green background. “Of course. You’d literally just ended things with Dan—”

  “Not that kiss,” I interrupted him. “Our first kiss. When we were in high school.”

  He went silent for a breath before he answered. “Of course I remember it. Every second. I remember your hair was even blonder back then… and long. So long that it usually landed at the middle of your back. But that night, it was tied in high pigtails with blue and silver ribbons. You had Go Cats painted in the school colors on your cheeks and you tasted like cherry vanilla Chapstick mixed with—”

  “Champagne,” I finished his thought. “Because Elaina and I had stolen a few bottles from our parent’s cellar. We thought they’d never notice… we were wrong. And we were grounded for a month.”

  “I didn’t know you got grounded for that.”

  I shrugged, continuing with my thought. “I’d been watching you all year. I thought you were so cute, but always so serious. And at sixteen? I didn’t know what to make of that.”

  His expression morphed into a grin. “You watched me all year? Why didn’t you ever talk to me… or, I don’t know, make a move.”

  “I was a sixteen-year-old cheerleader. I was used to the guys always making the moves. Prior to you, I’d never had to work to get a guy to kiss me.” And frankly, I’d never had to work for it after, either. Liam was the only guy who kept me at arm’s length. “But man, you made me work for it.” I laughed and Liam’s smile tugged higher. “I tried to find every reason in the world to walk by your locker that year. I even tried out for the fall musical because you had auditioned. All my cute flirting that usually worked so well on other guys, you ignored. You kept your nose buried in your books or kept talking to your friends, ignoring me completely.”

  Liam snorted and rolled his eyes playfully. “Ignore Chloe Dyker? Hardly. More likely, I thought there was no way in hell you were really flirting with me.”

  “Well, you were dead wrong.” I flipped his jacket over my arm, and as I approached the crate of champagne, I intentionally stumbled, dropping my clutch on purpose. He rushed to grab my elbow, his flirty smile quickly etching into a look of concern.

  Until he saw that as I bent to retrieve my clutch, I slid a bottle of champagne out of the box and covered it fully with Liam’s jacket. “And that night at the homecoming game, I stole a bottle of champagne just for us.”

  With a crook of my finger, I gestured for him to follow me as I weaved through the crowd out to the balcony. “I had every intention of seducing you that night.” The night air was chilly—that was summer in New England for you—and there was only one person out there with us who quickly stubbed out his cigarette and went back into the party.

  I handed Liam back his jacket, but instead of putting it back on, he slid it around my shoulders. With a squeal, I popped the cork off the champagne, then wrapped my lips around the bottle, taking a swig of the fizzy liquid spilling out over top.

  “You cornered me at the after party in the woods behind the football field,” he said, his eyes bright.

  “First, I lured you away from the rest of the people at the party,” I said and noted the way he glanced at where we were; once again, lured away from the crowd. Like a coyote, I knew how to capture my prey. I held the bottle up to his lips to drink, just like I did that night all those years ago. “Then I convinced you to try the champagne. You weren’t much of a drinker, but I remembered that you were always reading gourmet cookbooks and I thought I could win you over with an expensive bottle. Especially if I seemed like I knew something about it.”

  His grin widened. “You told me, ‘This champagne runs $60 a bottle.’ Which for us back then was an insane amount of money. For God’s sake, we could’ve bought a video game with that kind of money.”

  “Back then?” I snorted. “Hell, that’s a lot of money for champagne now.”

  “And you told me that it was the perfect champagne to pair with a pungent cheese, such as limburger or camembert. Except, I think you pronounced it camem-bert, with a hard ‘T’ at the end.”

  “All I knew was that I was desperate for you to think as highly of me as I thought of you. Yo
u made me want to be smarter and stronger and more poised. And that night, after we made out, I wanted to call you so badly.”

  His inhale was sharp and he brushed a finger across my cheek. “Then why did I see you kissing someone else the next week at school?”

  “Because you didn’t call me.” I’d been so heartbroken when he never called. I was grounded—not allowed to make any calls myself. “I had thought and hoped since I’d made the first move that you would reach out to me. And when you didn’t, I tried to heal my broken heart by doing what Chloe Dyker does best—moving on.”

  “Well, I did call you. Dozens of times. But your mom answered every time and so I just hung up on her. I was so damn intimidated by you,” Liam purred, his voice a soft rumble that made desire curl around my spine. “I didn’t know you liked me that much. I just thought I was some guy you found that night.”

  “Tasmanian Chloe strikes again.” I said with a sad smile.

  He didn’t mean for that comment to hurt me so much… but it did. I’d tried so hard to get Liam’s attention in high school. I had tried to show interest in his interests… to talk to him about food and cooking and the books that he read. But he had still only seen the party girl cheerleader.

  “No,” he said quickly. “It wasn’t that. I just couldn’t fathom that you could possibly want me. You were Prom Queen and a varsity cheerleader and in the National Honor Society. You weren’t just beautiful and fun, you had brains. You wrote this passionate essay about Jack Kerouac in English class and we had to read them out loud and…” He faded off, chuckling. “I remember it so clearly. You hated On the Road while almost every guy in class worshipped that book. And you made it clear that Kerouac was a directionless nobody and the women who fell for that beatnik bullshit deserved to live in a flea-ridden room and travel in truck beds.”

  I laughed, too, remembering that essay clearly. “I stand by that. Kerouac was a rambling narcissist. And he needed an editor.”

  “See? And most importantly, on top of everything… you were nice. Genuinely nice to everyone in school. You invited new kids to sit with you at lunch, even when they were clearly not cheerleader material.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Inviting someone to sit with you at lunch doesn’t make you some kind of hero.”

  “It did to the new kid.” He cocked a brow, challenging me to argue. “You joined a larping weekend just for fun—”

  “Hel-lo! I got to play an Elvish Princess! Who wouldn’t want to do that?”

  “You sat with Miranda Hovel in the hospital, bringing her and her mom food every night while her dad was in the hospital dying of Hodgkins.” A sheen of moisture glistened across the green depths of his eyes. “She wasn’t even your friend. But when you heard her dad was dying, you left in the middle of volleyball practice and drove to be at her side.”

  My throat was clogged like the drain in my shower. “Compassion and human decency aren’t rare, Liam.” I blinked as a thought struck me. “How do you know that? That I left volleyball and went straight to the hospital—” My words faded as I remembered. “The bakery. I stopped at your mom’s bakery first to pick up cupcakes for Miranda and her mom.”

  He nodded. “And I was there working after school. Your cheeks lacked their normal pink hue and your eyes were rimmed red even though you weren’t crying. You couldn’t figure out which cupcakes were appropriate to say, Sorry your dad is dying.”

  “But—”

  “Chloe.” The seriousness of his tone stalled my arguments. “You were and are one of the most incredible people I’ve ever known. You could have had your pick of any guy in school. Back then, I just never dreamed I could be that pick.”

  He didn’t kiss me, but his lips hovered just above mine. This felt different than that first night we shared together. The heady electricity pulsed between us and every molecule in my body buzzed to life at the anticipation of his lips on mine. Even still, there was a niggling feeling in the deepest part of my soul. Liam saw me with rose-colored glasses. He had this vision of me in his head—with all the s’s—smart, sexy, sporty, sweet. But the truth was, dating me wasn’t a picnic. And if he went into our relationship thinking I was some goddess, he was going to be severely let down. He was going to leave me like all the rest did. My voice cracked as I said, “I’m not perfect—”

  “I’m falling in love with you, Chloe.” He laughed, a bitter sound that cracked like a whip at the back of his throat, and looked up at the stars. “You’re not even really mine and I’m falling in love with you.”

  I opened my mouth to speak, but he pushed his index finger gently against my lips. “Don’t say anything. Please. Unless your response is I love you, too. But I’m not going to stand here and listen to you try to talk me out of it, or drum up all the reasons why you’re not worthy of love. Because you are. I’m falling in love with you because you’re one of the most incredible people I’ve ever known.”

  My gasp was almost silent—almost. But a quick flick of his eyes to my mouth told me he’d heard it all the same. “But—” He didn’t let me continue. Instead, he cut me off with the delicious press of his lips to mine. He swallowed my objections. My arguments were lost as his tongue delved into my mouth, exploring and searching.

  Though perfection may not exist, that kiss came damn close.

  I was terrified for the day that would inevitably come when Liam would no longer see the cheerleader/saint fantasy version of me he’d built up in his head.

  At some point, he would realize I was just Chloe Dyker: Imperfect, messy, and fleeting.

  And I was certain my heart couldn’t handle that.

  32

  Liam

  A week had passed since the party. A full week since I told Chloe I was falling in love with her. A week since we saw Dan and his stupid presence that threw everything for a loop. She could barely dance with me without craning her neck over my shoulder to stare at him and Raina.

  I didn’t want to push her too fast, but I couldn’t keep going like this. It would hurt like hell, but I’d rather rip off the Band-Aid now while we could still be friends and business partners than months or, God forbid, years from now when we would eventually hate each other.

  And if she wasn’t over Dan yet, I didn’t want to be her consolation prize. Based on how obsessed she seemed with him that night at the party? It was a real concern, nagging at the back of my brain.

  It wasn’t until we got off the dance floor and away from him and the party that she relaxed.

  She deserved better than Dan. And I deserved better than a woman who was still pining for her ex.

  The good news was, business was booming.

  Not just a boom… it was like an A-bomb.

  The Dump Truck was selling out of our online orders every morning before eleven—Beefcakes, too. Remy was a fast learner, and I was thankful for the one day off a week—and hopeful that when Neil returned, I could maybe even have two full days off.

  Not to mention, Chloe’s consulting business was growing exponentially. She had six new clients on top of Beefcakes and The Dump Truck.

  Which was why I was back here in the kitchen after having baked hundreds of cupcakes and donuts for our website orders, toasting a tomato-mozzarella pesto panini for Chloe.

  I slipped the sandwich off the press and onto a plate, and grabbed a seltzer water from the fridge before backing my way out of the kitchen.

  I momentarily lost my breath at the sight of her—as I always did. She sat at her usual table by the window. A ray of sunshine beamed in, catching the light of the crystals hanging there, and casted a rainbow hue across her cheek.

  A pink leather laptop bag was resting at her feet and her MacBook was open in front of her; a small lined notebook lay flat on the table with a pen rested in the crevice of the spine.

  Her laugh bellowed through the bakery and Finn nearly slammed into me where I stood frozen, gawking at her beauty.

  “Dude,” Finn scolded me in his childish, kid-brother way. Another laugh ro
ared through the bakery—only this one wasn’t Chloe’s. It was shrill and high-pitched. Both Finn and I cringed at the sound.

  Across from Chloe sat Tanja, sipping a latte. Her overly tanned legs were crossed above the knee, and her yellow-flowered romper left little to the imagination. “Are we allowed to enforce that whole ‘we have the right to refuse service to anyone’ thing?” Finn asked me quietly.

  I rolled my eyes and checked my phone. “Chloe has a meeting at one. I’m sure Tanja will be gone soon.”

  I said that—but truly, I had no idea. Tanja didn’t seem to take hints all that well.

  I took a deep breath, ready to invade their girl-talk. I was pretty surprised to see Tanja here. Last I heard, Chloe barely had a moment to breathe today, let alone have a coffee date with her best friend.

  “So,” Tanja said, “I was thinking, since you’re so good at the PR thing, maybe you could help me manage my career? I read once that Jude Fisher paid a hundred thousand bucks to increase his twitter followers to a million.”

  Chloe tapped her pen and slid a look at her phone… probably checking on the time. “Well, I don’t recommend putting a focus on Twitter. That ship is sinking fast. But I could probably help you grow your TikTok and Instagram accounts.”

  Tanja beamed, but red-hot rage coursed through me. I didn’t like Tanja… at all. She was an abrasive, fair-weather friend, and for as much as Chloe seemed to love her, Tanja only popped up when she needed something. Where was she the night Dan dumped her? Where was she after Elaina went on location with Neil and Chloe felt lost and lonely without her sister here? This “friend” didn’t strike me as ride or die—and that’s what Chloe deserved. She deserved a best friend who would give as much as she would take.

  “Jude also stated in that article that it was the biggest waste of money he’d ever spent,” I said, interjecting. I should know, Neil was Jude’s stuntman in several movies and they were close friends.