Rum and Notes

by Elise Faber

  I bit my lip, eyes dropping to the bar top.

  How was I the object of a bar confrontation?

  Me?

  I hadn’t written it. I’d lived it. Me. Brooke MacAlister. I hadn’t gotten lost in my head and I’d actually lived something. Lips twisting up, I met Kace’s eyes. His were warm and warmed further at what was no doubt wonder in mine.

  But seriously!

  I hadn’t plotted and thought and written and . . . all the other convenient excuses I gave to avoid life. I’d just been in the moment and I’d said something snarky, paired with a finger wave.

  Snark and a finger wave.

  Holy shit. Who was I?

  My smile turned into a full-blown grin.

  “Inspiration?” Kace asked.

  My grin faded, and I bit my lip. “For once,” I murmured softly. “No.”

  He couldn’t have understood what I meant, but something flashed behind his eyes before he turned to look over his shoulder at Brent. “I’ll be back,” he called.

  Brent glanced at me then Kace before nodding. “I got this.”

  Disappointment slid through me, and I picked up my glass, sucking back a sip to temper my excitement with alcohol. Kace couldn’t understand that I had done something that evening that I hadn’t done in years.

  Probably because Kace had made me do it before.

  In the hall. In the office that morning.

  Tonight.

  Getting me out of my head.

  Kace did that.

  He just couldn’t understand how important it was to me. From his perspective, I was probably just a normal, perhaps a little on the quiet side, woman who’d gotten comfortable over time.

  But I wasn’t that.

  I didn’t get comfortable. Not ever. I kept people at a distance, and I was really, really good at it. Aside from my writing, it was one of the few gifts I possessed. Rather pathetic, now that I thought about it as I lifted my glass, started to take another sip only to have it snagged from my grasp. “What—?”

  Warm fingers laced with mine, tugged me up from the stool.

  “I—”

  Kace didn’t say anything, just tugged me again until my side was plastered against his, and led me from the back room.

  Maybe I shouldn’t have said anything. Maybe this was me getting kicked out.

  But then we were in the hall and instead of Kace leading out to the front, he turned in the direction of the office, yanked me inside, and slammed the door.

  He was breathing hard and standing really close. Close enough for me to smell him—spice with a hint of sweat that probably should have been gross but was instead incredibly intoxicating. Close enough for me to feel the heat of him sinking in through my T-shirt. Close enough that our lips were only a hairsbreadth apart.

  “Kace,” I murmured.

  “What, babe?”

  “This is crazy.”

  He leaned closer so that his next words brushed against my mouth. “What’s crazy?”

  The power of Kace being what it was—his ability to draw me out of my head, to have me living and reacting in real-time even though I didn’t even know him—had me blurting out something I never would have said before.

  “How much I want you.”

  He inhaled sharply.

  “Kiss me, Kace.”

  Eight

  Brooke

  Kace inhaled again, a sharp little suck of air that seemed to draw my lips closer. “Babe,” he murmured, leaning into me. “I—”

  My hands wove around his neck, one of my legs around his waist. My spine was flush against the hard surface of the door, but I didn’t notice, not when all of the good hard of Kace was pressed to my front.

  “Your mouth,” I said, heart pounding. “Please, let me have it.”

  “Fuck,” he growled.

  And then he let me have it.

  His lips slammed against mine, tongue shoving into my mouth, teeth nipping, hands sliding up to cup my jaw and angle it. Flames were swirling in my stomach, expanding in all directions, engulfing me in the haze of a seriously perfect kiss. At least until there was a knock on the door, just above my head.

  I didn’t hear it at first, didn’t feel the vibration of it through the office door.

  Not until the knock turned into pounding.

  Then I realized what I’d been hearing. Then I realized what I was doing.

  With Kace.

  His eyes had darkened to navy, his lips were swollen and red, no doubt the same as mine. Or maybe mine were worse considering I was a redhead and my skin bruised easily on the best of days. Kace’s kiss could also be considered the best—as in the best of my life—but it hadn’t exactly been gentle.

  “Babe,” he murmured, brushing a thumb over the corner of my mouth. “I—”

  The knocking came again, but this time it was paired with a voice.

  With Brent’s voice.

  “Kace, man,” he called through the door. “I’m sorry to . . . well, we got a situation out here.”

  “Handle it,” Kace snapped.

  “I think it’s best that you’re the one—”

  “Fuck,” he muttered. Then louder, though slightly calmer. “One minute, Brent. Hold down the fort for one more minute.”

  “On it.”

  I listened to Brent’s footsteps disappear into the background noise of the bar. Kace touched my cheek, stared deeply into my eyes for a long moment, searching for . . . something I didn’t think I could comprehend. But whatever he was looking for, he appeared to find it because he dropped his hand, turned for the safe, and fiddled with the buttons again, and opened it.

  Then he put my credit card in my hand.

  “My number’s on the back,” he murmured.

  He nudged me out of the way, opened the door, and was gone before I’d managed to turn over the card and see the Post-It with his number secured onto the back of that rectangular piece of plastic.

  Kace had given me his number.

  He’d kissed me.

  He’d touched me with gentleness and heat.

  My lips curved. My heart skipped a beat.

  This living in the real world stuff could be awesome sometimes.

  Nine

  Kace

  I strode out into the hallway, cock threatening to break in half, brain hazy, fingers aching to grab Brooke’s hand and lead her over to the desk, all from one simple kiss.

  A hell of a kiss.

  But also just that.

  No heavy petting, no getting to second base, or even first for that matter.

  Just her mouth on mine, her tongue against mine.

  And it was the best fucking ever.

  Which is probably why I didn’t see who was standing with Brent at the door that led into the back room until I was mere feet away.

  Tabitha.

  Fucking hell.

  Brent was right. I was the only one who had ever been able to contain Tabitha, and that was on the rare occasion that she allowed me to do so. She was a bitch, plain and simple. High maintenance, rude to every other being on the planet, and beautiful, if a man liked an ice princess.

  I had liked an ice princess. Once. When the memories had gotten to be too much, when I’d had two too many shots of whiskey and decided to risk frostbite on my dick. The sex had been exactly what I’d thought it would be when I was sober.

  Selfish on her part. And cold. Almost mechanical.

  I’d been her sex toy.

  Which wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. I could do sex toy, loved being that to a woman. But when I was just that, just a hard cock engaged to get her off, then I didn’t like it.

  I wanted to mean something to someone.

  Look at me with all the feelings.

  I closed the distance between us and nodded at Brent. “Man the bar.”

  He nodded and clapped a hand on my shoulder, muttering, “Good luck.”

  I waited a beat for him to leave then turned to Tabitha. “If you’re here for a drink, get one, sit
your ass on a stool, and then get the fuck out. If you’re here to stir shit up, then skip all that and just get the fuck out.”

  Her outraged breath was loud, her green eyes narrowed. “You—” But her words cut off, calculation coming into her expression. I watched her brightly painted lips press flat before she flicked her ponytail forward over her breasts, a move designed to draw attention to the serious cleavage she was flashing.

  A nice view.

  But because they belonged to Tabitha, they did absolutely nothing for me.

  That move had ended when she’d shown up to the bar “pregnant” just a few days after we’d boned and way too early for me to be the father.

  Beautiful, she might be. Calculating, definitely. Mathematically and biologically inclined, not so much.

  “Well?” I asked when she didn’t say anything further. “If you’re pregnant again, I’d suggest you double-check your addition and avoid alcohol in the meantime.”

  “You’ve always been such an asshole,” she snapped. “I don’t know what I thought I saw in you—”

  “I do,” he muttered.

  A man to be led around by his dick and cater to her every whim.

  “Excuse me.”

  Brooke’s soft voice slid down my spine, warming my back, and it was such a different sensation from what was in front of me that it was almost comical.

  “Staying for one more, babe?” I asked softly, brushing my knuckles along her jaw.

  Her cheeks went pink, and she nibbled on the corner of her mouth. I’d seen her do that a few times when she was working, had barely resisted the urge to lean over the bar top and take a nibble myself. Seeing her doing it right in front of me? Fucking irresistible.

  I bent, pressed my lips to hers for a short, hard kiss that was the second best of my life.

  And only second best because it didn’t have tongue. Oh, and also because Tabitha was there, frosting us out.

  “Seriously?” she snapped as I pulled back. “You’re with that?”

  Brooke stiffened and made as though she were going to rush by us, running again, though this time, I totally understood the need. But this time, it wasn’t going to happen. I wouldn’t let Tabitha make Brooke feel like shit, just because she was a fucking bitch.

  “She’s fat and ug—”

  “Out.”

  Tabitha blinked. “Excuse me?”

  Two women. Same words. So totally fucking different.

  That was the moment I decided I was going to keep sweet little Brooke.

  I snaked an arm around Brooke’s waist, tugged her to my side, and did something I really hated. I repeated myself. “Out,” I said again, though this time I gestured for Tommy, who’d poked his head into the hall. “You can escort this one out.”

  “I’m not leaving!” Tabitha snapped.

  “Or you can call Ben from the PD to come pick her up.”

  “This is a public—”

  “Actually, no,” I said. “This is a private business, and we have the right to refuse service to anyone, but most especially to assholes.”

  Tabitha’s lips parted, but before she got out any further venom, I stage-whispered, “It’s you, Tabitha. You’re the asshole.”

  “I’ve never—”

  “Save it,” I said and nodded to Tommy, who took her arm. “And do yourself a favor. Don’t come back.”

  “I’m not leaving!”

  I pulled out my phone, hit the number I had on speed dial because Ben worked graveyards. “Hey, it’s me. I’ve got trouble at Bobby’s.”

  “Give me five, and I’m there,” Ben said.

  “Thanks.” I hung up, glanced at Tommy. “Five minutes.”

  He nodded.

  “What’s five minutes?”

  I didn’t bother to answer Tabitha, just nudged Brooke in the direction of the back room and to her stool. Then I poured her a fresh rum and Coke, deliberately keeping my gaze off what was happening in the hall.

  I could still hear though.

  In escalating volume.

  Brooke’s fingers trembled when she picked up her glass. “Does she come here often?” she asked quietly.

  Laughter bubbled up in my throat, and I couldn’t stop myself from pressing a smiling kiss to her mouth. “Babe,” I said, loving that she hadn’t given me shit about the endearment all night, that she was letting me in enough to call her that. “You’re fucking hilarious.”

  Pink on her cheeks, blue eyes dropping to the bar.

  Quiet again. Shy again.

  Damn, I liked her.

  But what I would like a lot more would be if she could accept a compliment without getting all embarrassed on me.

  Still, I’d nudged up a corner of that shy, had slid in the barest inch. I could get her there.

  Could get deeper.

  She glanced up at me, nibbled on her mouth again. “I like your laugh.”

  Yes, I was going to get deep.

  Deep enough that I wasn’t going to let her go.

  Her effect was remarkable enough, unnerving enough that none of those thoughts had struck me as the least bit dirty until she stroked one finger down the back of my hand and smiled up at me shyly. “Thanks for sticking up for me.”

  “She’s a bitch.”

  Brooke shrugged. “It’s a common affliction.”

  “Also, you’re beautiful, babe.”

  Her blush darkened and she shifted on her stool, crossing and re-crossing her legs.

  Yeah, I was going to get deep in there, too.

  Deep in her mind, her heart, and deep between her thighs.

  But first I had to get my customers settled, tell Brent to back off, and then I was going to keep pushing my way past those walls until I got to the sweet, soft center of Brooke.

  Then I was never leaving.

  Ten

  Brooke

  What the fuck was I doing?

  I like your laugh?

  God, I was the biggest nerd in the history of all nerds.

  But then there was the other, the one I wasn’t allowing myself to think about.

  Also, you’re beautiful, babe.

  Simple as that. An easy compliment, freely given. Except that his eyes had heated when he’d said it, telling me that while it had been freely given, he wanted more. More with me.

  How was this my life?

  Sexy, gorgeous, protective men weren’t interested in me. I just—

  A shadow crossed in front of me, and I realized I’d been staring at the bar top for quite some time trying to sort out my head. I glanced up, saw that Brent had come over. He rounded the counter, plopped himself on the stool next to me.

  “Still on for dinner, darlin’?” he asked. “I get off in an hour.”

  I glanced at my phone. “That’ll be two in the morning.”

  He shrugged. “Something is always open.”

  I smirked. “In San Francisco, maybe. But in this town? Bobby’s is out.”

  Brent laughed. “Maybe. But we do have a twenty-four-hour McDonald’s.”

  “Barf.” I chuckled, and Kace came over, glaring daggers. “Though, you would be a cheap date, and I love their fries.”

  “And apple pies, darlin’,” he murmured, eyes glinting with amusement. “If I’m remembering correctly, you used to down those.”

  “Not as good as your mama’s,” I said with a laugh. “But I wouldn’t turn one down.”

  He nudged my shoulder with his. “So, it’s a date.”

  “Brent,” Kace snapped.

  Brent didn’t jump, not like I did, almost falling off my stool. He caught my shoulders before I could and raised a brow in question. He didn’t turn toward Kace, staying focused on me, and I knew he wouldn’t move until I let him know it was okay.

  “We’ll catch up another time,” I murmured. “As old friends do, and when it’s not two in the morning.”

  His other brow lifted at the friends comment, but he nodded and his expression softened. “Gonna hold you to that, darlin’.”


  He stood and moved toward Kace. “Seems my friend and I will catch up another time.” A light punch to Kace’s shoulder. “I guess I’ll have to be the one who backs off, huh?”

  Kace grunted.

  Brent shook his head. “Fucking pretty boys. Win every time.”

  Kace didn’t even acknowledge him.

  “Brent,” I said, reaching my hand out as if I could reach across the bar and stop him. He was my brother’s friend, had been mine, and even if I’d only seen him for the first time in a decade that evening, I still didn’t want to hurt his feelings.

  But Brent just smiled at me. “Pretty clear there’s something between you two, darlin’. I figure I should let you sort that out.” His smile widened. “Then I’ll swoop in and—”

  “Close up,” Kace snapped, shoving him hard in the opposite direction.

  “This new management job has gone to your head.”

  Kace rolled his eyes but didn’t say anything further. Probably because Brent headed to the other end of the bar and appeared to begin doing whatever closing up entailed.

  “You know,” I muttered as Kace began stacking glasses. “I may write alpha heroes, but I can’t exactly say I like having a man act like one in my life.”

  He arranged the glasses in a blue plastic tray, not looking up at me. “I’m not acting,” he said and lifted the tray effortlessly, the pale gray of his thermal bunching around his arms and ho mama—part of me thought that if those arms were a side effect of alpha, I’d take it all day long.

  Or night.

  Or—

  “You’re staring, babe.”

  I blinked. “Also, I’m not your—”

  “Nope.”

  My brows drew together. “What?”

  “I’ve used babe with you thirteen times”—he spun, stuck the rack in the drawer that washed the glasses—“now fourteen. You didn’t voice a protest until now, so babe stays.”

  “What?” I asked, aghast. “Th-that’s absolutely ridiculous.”

  “No,” he said, coming around the bar and crowding into me. “It’s Brooke. It’s babe. It’s sweetheart, if I catch you in a weak moment.”

  My jaw dropped open. “I—”

  “Babe.”

  “We don’t know each other.”