by Dani McLean
That. Absolute. Bastard.
The memory of what we’d done played in my mind for the rest of the night, reshaping my image of Sam as the stick in the mud, repressive suit into something compelling. Had I been too quick to judge him in the beginning?
The idea that there was more there called out to me like a moth to a flame. It was probably a good idea to not dig too deep, keep it casual and not get too close.
Too bad I never really liked doing what I “should.”
27
Sam
It should have been a one-time thing. Two, at most. Three, at a maximum.
The problem was, we couldn’t keep our hands off each other.
It had become increasingly difficult to stop noticing little things about her. The way she would hum to the music playing, a sway in her hips, her foot tapping out of time to the beat.
How she would set herself away from the others when she needed to think, creating a quiet little bubble around herself, but would never scowl if she was interrupted, always lighting up any time she talked to the staff.
Tiffany had begun to pop into my head at inconvenient times. I’d find myself staging pre-emptive arguments in the shower, imagining the fire in her eyes as she’d bicker back, those perfectly pink lips and sharp tongue teasing me in more ways than one.
I’d retort verbally or physically, and she’d respond in kind.
Considering the number of times I’d conducted this little routine in the last week, I wouldn’t be surprised if I got a repetitive strain injury in my wrist.
Despite my growing distractions, the plans for the refurbishment were moving ahead nicely. Tiffany’s previous comments about the liquor display had resolved me to go ahead with that plan, although I’d revised the copper to brass, which would match the warm beige that was planned for the remaining walls.
It wasn’t going to be the easiest job. I didn’t want to touch the front and under bar areas, mostly because I’d learned that the building was slab on grade, so any changes to the utilities would be costly (and largely impossible without major reconstruction).
But the back bar was simple enough. The shelving design needed to be pre-fabbed, then installed, but thankfully I’d been given the name of one of the top contractors in the city, and they’d promised me to meet my tight deadline.
Changes to the main room were easier. Removing the booths was a cosmetic job, so if the fabrication of the back bar needed to be delayed, I’d be able to manage that part separately, and the bar would only need to close temporarily for a few days to paint everything.
“Sounds good, Sam,” Harry said from his perch on a barstool. It was mid-morning, long before anyone else was due to arrive, and he’d surprised me with a visit. “I thought it was about time I checked in on my little brother.”
“So far, so good. I still plan on replacing the bar tables, probably something in a dark stain, and there’s a few other plans I have going. But enough about the bar, how are you? How are Imogen and Gracie?”
“They’re both amazing. It’s incredible watching Imogen with her. She’s a natural at all this parenting stuff, whereas I feel like a bumbling moron half the time.”
“I’m sure it’s more than that.” I ducked when he swatted at me.
“I can’t remember the last time I slept for more than four hours. But I can’t describe how rewarding it is.” He proceeded to show me a few hundred photos of Gracie, from sleeping to laughing to playing. I’d never seen him as tired or as happy. It was a good look for him.
“I meant to ask you if you’ve smoothed things over with Pierce yet. Those comments he made about you being kicked out of Vegas were a real fantasy.”
I groaned. Pierce was the perpetual thorn in my side. “It’s clear he’s trying to make it me versus him, but I’m not going to play that game.”
“Good.”
“He came out the other day saying that ‘businesses live and die because of the fortitude of their directors, not because of sensationalism and gimmicks’, which is the most hypocritical thing I’ve ever heard.” I ran a hand through my hair. “But other than that, the press we’re getting is much more positive, especially since business has picked up, and everyone’s really liked the changes.” I smirked, “Mostly.”
“How are things with Tiffany?” Harry asked while I was still smiling at a photo of Gracie in an “I love my mommy” onesie. He was trying for casual, but he failed. Miserably.
“Fine.”
His laugh told me he knew otherwise. I’d never been able to get anything by him. “Tell me you didn’t.”
I felt the need to play innocent when I was anything but. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You did! You slept with her.” I prepared myself for the inevitable lecture. “I thought you said it wasn’t going to be a concern.”
“I know what I said.”
“So, you were lying to yourself? Or just me?” He sat back in the chair, arms crossed, but I could tell he was more amused than upset.
“It’s not anywhere near the same as with Piper.”
“Yes, because this time you’re her boss.”
“Not technically. She quit.” It was a poor excuse. I wasn’t proud of myself for using it.
He laughed, disbelieving. “Oh, in that case, everything’s fine.”
I ran a hand over my beard. He was right, as much as I hated to admit it. This was a bad idea, and yet even hearing Harry echo that fact didn’t change how much I wanted her. That alone should have stopped me from pursuing it further.
“Are you sure you want to be doing this? You and Piper only just broke up a few months ago. I know you’re hurting, but—”
“I am. I was. I loved Piper. Am I sad that it worked out the way it did? Yes. Do I want to repeat that? Definitely not. But it’s not the same.”
“Just be careful, Sam.”
“I am being careful. I know what I’m doing, and I promise you, even if I were about to settle down again, Tiffany would be the last person I’d do it with.” I’d meant to say it, but as I heard the words back, they felt cruel. I didn’t see much of a future with Tiffany—hadn’t ever considered it, to be honest, and who knew how she felt about it—but the truth was, we barely knew each other outside of work and sex. We were only having fun.
And after the last six months, hadn’t I earned a little bit of that?
“Of course, you have,” Harry said when I asked him the same. “Just don’t expect me to stop worrying about you.”
“I know you far too well ever to expect that,” I joked.
The front door opened. “Hey, are we still—” Tiffany paused, smiling when she saw who I was talking to. “Harry. Long time, no see.”
He stood when she reached him, and they shared a half hug before she took up the seat next to him. “It’s good to see you, Tiffany. I hope you haven’t been too hard on my brother here.”
I cleared my throat in warning, but of course, neither of them paid me any attention. Apparently, now that they had something in common—namely, me—they were content to get along better than they had previously.
Her eyes flickered to mine briefly. “I’m only as hard as I need to be.”
He coughed out a startled laugh, which only caused her smile to widen. “That might be too much information for me.”
“What brings you into the city? Are you checking up on him?”
I might as well have been invisible.
“Something like that. Imogen has taken Gracie to a mother’s group, so I had some time on my hands.”
“Can I see?” she asked, expecting him to have the requisite thousand proud father photos on his phone, which he proceeded to show her.
“She’s gorgeous,” she said, handing the phone back before joking, “Pity she has your nose.”
“God, I know. I’m hoping she grows out of it. Or into it.”
Tiffany appraised him. “You look good. Happier. Fatherhood agrees with you.”
“Thank you.
It was a long time coming, so we’re happy. Even if we’re constantly worried that we’ll screw it up somehow.”
“I’m sorry that I didn’t know sooner.”
“I don’t know why. There isn’t anything you could have done. Unless you’re secretly an IVF specialist? Not that that would surprise me.”
She chuckled, then relaxed. “What is it about you two,” she gestured between Harry and me, “secretly hoarding your senses of humor? All this time, I thought you were a grump.”
“I guess I didn’t feel all that funny when I worked here.”
She looked chastised. “It probably helps not to be dealing with me all the time either.”
“I think Sam is handling you enough for the two of us.”
I delighted in the blush that graced her cheeks.
“Did he show you his plans for the back wall? It’s amazing.”
Something about hearing her praise always surprised me. Not because I didn’t believe her capable of it, but having it directed at me was unexpected.
“He did, although I’m used to him impressing me.”
“I’m sure. It’s no surprise he was named the one to watch by Timeout last year.”
She knew about that? Pride flooded me. Harry shot me a look that I promptly ignored.
“Yes, it’ll be good to see him freshen this place up and not have to share the accolades this time around.”
Damn it, Harry.
Tiffany threw me a confused look. “I think I’m missing something.”
“Nothing important.” I cut in before Harry could open his big mouth again.
However, my effort was in vain. “Ask him about Piper sometime.” I loved my brother, and I didn’t throw this word around lightly, but fucking hell, Harry.
Tiffany looked shrewdly between us, weighing up her options. Then, after a beat, she said, “I think I’m going to leave that one alone. If Sam wanted to tell me, he would have.”
And I knew my brother enough to see that he was impressed by that. As was I.
He pocketed his phone, standing. “I better get back home, but it’s good to see you both again.”
The air was thick after he’d left, and I could tell that Tiffany wanted to ask, but she didn’t, and it was appreciated. Piper was a mistake that I had difficulty discussing even with my brother, and though I trusted her not to judge me—and when the hell had that happened?—now was neither the time nor the place.
“You know I was thinking,” Tiffany started, interrupting the silence that had gone on a little too long, “about your sours idea. With some interesting pre-made infusions, you could turn something simple into something more exciting.”
It wasn’t that it was a bad idea. If I’d thought about it, I would have realized that there was something there.
But Harry’s comment had left me on edge. Piper was still haunting my mind, memories of her helping me plan my first bar a ghost over the conversations I’d had with Tiffany. Was I doomed to keep making the same mistakes with different women?
His insinuation that I could be walking the same path now nagged at the back of my mind. It might be one thing to indulge in a physical relationship, but I couldn’t let Tiffany get too close. It would never lead to anything good.
“I’m not planning any further changes to the menu.”
I ignored it when I felt her eyes on me and heard the softness in her tone like she was treating me with kid gloves. “Sure, I mean, it’s your bar.”
“Exactly,” I said, feeling like an ass.
Her words imprinted on my mind. Your bar. It was a sentiment I’d pushed many times before, and yet it was starting to sound less like a good thing and more like a dictatorship.
Just because I wanted to protect myself didn’t mean I needed to be an ass about it.
When Tiffany turned to leave, I reached out, my fingers grazing her forearm. “Wait. I’m sorry.”
“No, I am.” There was genuine concern there, and I recognized the same regret she’d shown when she spoke to Harry. “You can just let me know when I’m overstepping, you know. I know I have a loud opinion, but I don’t expect that you’ll always like it or agree with me. You can just tell me.”
Immediately, the guilt clawing at me grew, making me feel even worse. She wasn’t even wrong about the damn sours, and now I found myself stuck having to choose between my pride and what I knew to be the better choice.
If I weren’t plagued by the same errors in judgment that had brought me back here, I would have explained myself, but Piper was a sore subject. Tiffany didn’t need to know the extent of my stupidity. Let her keep the small sliver of respect I’d manage to earn from her in recent weeks.
Not trusting my words, I smiled, but it felt false.
“Guess I’ll get to work on prep unless there was something else you wanted to do?” Tiffany asked, a glimmer in her eyes.
I considered it, but my past felt too close to the surface. It wouldn’t take much to uncover it, and Tiffany was all too talented at getting under my skin. Allowing her to see me like that was a step too far. A boundary I wasn’t ready to cross.
“Maybe later.”
I closed the office door behind me as I entered, wondering why it felt cold and all too quiet.
28
Tiff
“Ok. Who are you and what have you done with my friend?” Audrey said with a yawn as soon as she opened her door. We had been spending Saturday mornings together for the last few years, but usually, it was Audrey standing at my door with two coffees in hand, and not (to our mutual surprise) the other way around.
Until today.
What could I say? That I’d been having such incredible sex lately that I found myself waking up excited to start every day?
Yeah, even I thought it was ridiculous.
“It’s too early in the morning for jokes. Now, is pretty boy decent, or do I need to walk in blindfolded?”
“Jackson has a shoot this weekend, so he’s already gone.” She ushered me inside with another long yawn. It didn’t take a genius to guess what had kept her up last night. Strange, I was sleeping better than ever lately.
“Damn. Remind me never to become an actor.”
“What are you doing here anyway? I thought I was coming to yours? Not that you’re not welcome, but …” She took a sip of the coffee I offered her. “You’re right; it’s too early.”
“Late night with the fiancé?”
As expected, she blushed. “Something like that.”
“Yeah, okay, let’s get going before I fall asleep.”
I already regretted this.
By our third florist, I was so over hearing the words “floral journey” and “special day” that I was about ready to scream, but I wasn’t here for me (thank fuck), and Auds really did deserve the best, so I bit my tongue and didn’t throw the very perky girl speaking to us into her display of peonies, even if I really, really, wanted to.
“Please tell me that was our last stop,” I asked Audrey as we walked out.
“You’re lucky. I have at least three more to see this afternoon, but Sarah’s going to meet me there.”
I said a silent thank you. Sarah, Audrey’s future sister-in-law, just got bumped up to lifesaver status in my eyes. I’d met her a handful of times in the last year and a bit that Audrey and Jackson had been together, and I was glad we got along, seeing as we were Audrey’s two bridesmaids.
Luckily for me, Sarah also loved weddings and had gladly wanted to share planning duties with me.
“Sorry, Auds. I just don’t know how you do it.” Just because I didn’t get over-excited about this stuff didn’t mean I wanted to ruin the experience for my best friend.
She made a face at me. “Are you kidding? I love having you at these appointments. Just because I’m getting married again doesn’t mean I love all things wedding all of a sudden.” She let out a laugh. “Oh, God, the look on your face when she said ‘authentically organic’! I almost laughed in her face.”
�
�Fuck, don’t remind me. I mean, what’s the alternative? Falsely organic? I wanted to stuff those damn ranunculus’ down her throat.”
It had been a long morning, and we were now hungry and (in my case) a little hangry, so we treated ourselves and ordered pizza while we settled back at my apartment.
“So, now that you’ve quit, have you started looking for another job, or are you too busy getting busy?”
“Getting busy, Auds? You sound like my mama.” I chuckled before taking a bite. “Actually,” I swallowed, “I was thinking of contacting my friend at The Tribune.”
“Diego, your ex?” Ex was probably a strong term for someone I’d slept with a handful of times a year ago. He was a great guy, and we’d stayed in touch, mostly texting each other gifs and memes every once in a while.
“One and the same. He’s mentioned before that they could use a guest writer for insider tips on where to drink, the industry, at-home recipes, all that. Said I should capitalize on the whole ‘four time bartender of the year’ thing. Figured I could at least do that while I worked out what was next.”
“Do you think he’d still be able to help?”
I devoured another piece, wondering why we hadn’t gotten more than one. I adored leftover pizza, probably more than the fresh stuff. Maybe Sam did have a point about my eating habits. “I can’t see why not. It’s not like we ended badly, and he’s always been a sweetheart.”
“That’s great news, Tiff. And how’s the bar going?”
My eyes narrowed. “You’re not as sly as you think you are, Auds.”
She laughed. “Ok, fine. How’s Sam?”
“Virile,” I said, just to get a reaction.
“Oh, my god, don’t tell me that! I have a meeting with him next week.”
I bent over, laughing at the full-faced flush she was sporting. “You asked.” Not to mention it was true.
Her face was buried in her hands, trying to shake out what I guessed was a mental image of Sam and me. “Right, ok. I guess I set myself up for that one.”
She tried again a few minutes later once her blush had faded. “So, is it just hate sex?”