Rum and Notes

by Elise Faber

I was close. So fucking close that I could feel my orgasm swirling just below the surface.

  He bent and nipped the corner of my mouth.

  I hadn’t realized I’d been biting down on it, hadn’t realized that little corner could fill me with heat. Not until Kace. His teeth on that spot sent me over the edge, thighs tightening, moan long and loud, pleasure bursting out from my clit and fanning flames throughout my body.

  He stroked into me two, three more times before his own orgasm had him, then we were both sailing down the other side of the precipice.

  I’d known it was going to be good between us.

  I’d known it was going to be the best.

  I just hadn’t known how good.

  Which is why I burst into tears. It was too good, too perfect. I didn’t know how I’d existed in a world without Kace, and I felt so lucky to have him in my life.

  “Babe.”

  I kept crying. Emotional and happy and tears leaking all over the place because that orgasm had stolen my common sense.

  “I love you.”

  My tears dried up.

  What the—

  “Waited a lifetime for this, for you in my bed, and I’m not going to be shy about letting you know.” He brushed the moisture off my cheeks. “You’re perfect, just the way you are.” A beat. “Even if you’re distracting me from really good Chinese and snotting against my chest.”

  I sat up, almost clanking our foreheads together, which would have been really bad for the concussion. “The food!”

  Kace burst out laughing. “Not the snot?”

  I sniffed. “You deserved it, being too sweet and too perfect.”

  “Babe,” he murmured.

  “And you have to know that I love you, too. I didn’t know it until I saw Steven in that hall, until I realized how different you are from him, how different I am when I’m with you.” I touched his cheek. “I’m not awkward, you don’t care what I wear—”

  “Prefer you naked,” he grunted.

  I smiled. “Like that,” I said and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. “And I like you. Thanks for taking me as I am.”

  “Babe.”

  “Now, Chinese.” I started to squirm out from under him.

  “Babe.”

  I stopped. “What?”

  Okay, it was a little churlish, but I’d orgasmed, I’d cried, I’d shared, now I needed some fried rice.

  “Stay here and I’ll get the food.” He pushed out of the bed, slipping into the bathroom for a few seconds to take care of the condom—and then a few more to wash his hands—thank you relationship gods for the perfect man. “Scary movie on TV,” he ordered when he came back through.

  My eyes stung again.

  “No more crying!” he called.

  I sighed.

  I smiled.

  Kace was perfect. Perfect for me.

  “Crying is a perfectly acceptable emotional response to the man I’ve always dreamed of suddenly making an appearance in my life.”

  A beat of quiet, then, “I’ll bring tissues, too.”

  And because I was perfect for Kace right back, I said, “I’ve already got a box on my nightstand.

  “Babe.”

  Epilogue

  Kace, Christmas Eve

  Bobby’s was crowded, my woman was on her stool, typing away, and Brent was handling his end of the bar without giving me too much shit. Patrons were gathered around the bar, clustered around tables, chowing down on wings and guzzling beers, and doing it all with smiles on their faces.

  Best night ever.

  That was mostly because Brooke was there, glancing up from her laptop occasionally and smiling at me.

  But it was also because of the email in my inbox.

  Heather had delivered.

  Bobby’s was fifty percent mine.

  Profits were up, slow times were no longer slow, and—

  I had so much more than I ever could have dreamed of. A job I enjoyed, an apartment that shared a wall with a chainsaw-snoring neighbor that I tolerated because it meant that I could go to bed every night with my woman, and it was close to the bar. But most of all, I had Brooke.

  Twelve months now.

  Twelve months since I’d felt that jolt.

  Six since I’d finally given in.

  Six wasted . . . and yet, not. Because Brooke and I were together, we were happy, and we’d seen the Underwear Guy, whose real name was actually Frank, and he was hilarious, although he was a street performer and not actually on vacation. Still, neither of us could tell if he was serious about that or if it was just another fib to throw us off. Which Brooke absolutely loved, because it gave her a bunch of outrageous material for her novels. Lie or not, I was just thrilled that I finally had good.

  A good woman.

  A good job.

  A good life.

  I’d known shit and so I appreciated the good.

  But I still wasn’t buying Brooke a pet pig, even if it had become her life’s dream since seeing one on a vet show she was obsessed with. Seeming to read the train of his thoughts, Brooke glanced up at him, her expression immediately pleading.

  “Babe.”

  She stuck out her bottom lip. “They’re super smart.”

  “Babe.”

  She pouted.

  “I love you,” I murmured and refilled her glass with Diet Coke she wouldn’t drink.

  “I know.”

  “Still no pig.” A kiss to the top of her head. “Now get to work and hit that deadline. We have important Christmas plans to get to tomorrow.”

  “Like what? Watching action movies and gorging on popcorn because it’s your turn to pick what we put on?”

  “Yes.” I grinned. “Exactly. Plus sex. Lots and lots of sex.”

  She wrinkled her nose. “Your sex is the reason I’m behind on this deadline.”

  “You love me.”

  Brooke sighed. “I do.”

  “And my cock.”

  “Kace!” Her cheeks flared hot and she reached across the bar to smack me, but I stole her hand and pressed a kiss to her palm.

  “Love you, babe.”

  She smiled. “Love you, too, gorgeous.” Then she winked. “All parts of you.”

  I burst out laughing and as I made my way down the bar, filling drinks, pulling bills, adding to tabs, I knew exactly how lucky I was.

  I had good.

  And I was never letting it go.

  Epilogue

  Part Two

  Brent

  I smiled at Brooke and Kace, or rather, Brooke settled into her computer while Kace stared at her like she owned his heart.

  Because she did.

  Still, it was Christmas Eve, last call was done, the bar was empty and clean. Which meant my duties were done. It was time for me to go back to my apartment and go to sleep.

  Pathetic?

  Maybe.

  But I’d gotten used to being alone.

  Better that way.

  I waved to Kace and slipped quietly by Brooke, not wanting to disrupt her flow. Technically, I’d known her longer and I still felt real guilt at not having kept in touch with her after Hayden died. I should have looked after her better.

  But the past was the past and I, more than anyone, understood that it belonged there.

  Sighing, I stretched my aching back—reason one I’d gotten out of the military—and walked away from the bar. I’d just reached the doorway to the hall when a tiny female crashed into him.

  “Oof,” I grunted, instinctively reaching out to steady her. “Easy there, darlin’.”

  She stiffened and pulled back. “I’m sorry,” she said, and my gut clenched from the impact. Her voice was sweet summer peaches, warm honey dripping down fingers. It was the most intoxicating thing I’d ever heard. “I should have been more careful.”

  “You’re fine, darlin’.”

  She nodded, lifting her hand to push her bangs from her face. It was trembling, as was her voice when she went on. “I left my purse. I can’t beli
eve I was so stupid to—”

  “What color was it?” I asked gently.

  “Black with a gold zipper and chain.”

  I nodded. “I have it. Come on,” I said. “I saw it left behind earlier and put it in the office.” I’d seen it on Kace’s desk earlier while on break.

  Her relief was palpable. “Thank you so much. I swear, my whole life is in that bag.”

  “Your whole life?”

  She smiled and it was another punch to the stomach. I had the distinct thought that I wanted to see that smile forever. What? Blinking away the insane idea, I turned and led her down the hall, opening the door marked private and pointing to the desk.

  Her hands came up and she clasped them to her chest.

  “Oh, thank God.”

  “You come here often, darlin’?” I asked and mentally winced at the words, which came out sounding like a lame pickup line.

  “No,” she said. “I just moved to town.”

  “Ah. You going to come back in tomorrow?”

  Her cheeks went a little pink. “Um. You guys are open on Christmas Day?”

  Oh. Shit. Now I’d gone from lame to sounding like a total idiot. “Oh. Um. No, we’re not. I . . . forgot.”

  “You forgot Christmas?” she asked, stepping forward to pick up her purse.

  I shrugged. “No family here. Not a ton to celebrate.”

  “Oh.”

  And now I could add pathetic to the list.

  But then she glanced up and him and I saw warmth in her gorgeous brown eyes. “You could come over to my house. I was going to cook and—”

  The warmth in her eyes died.

  Probably because my face was coming across as shocked. Or maybe a little disbelieving. Who invited a strange man back to their house? Moreover, who invited a strange black man to their house?

  That had happened to me exactly . . . never.

  “Never mind,” she said. “It was a stupid idea.”

  I huffed out a laugh.

  “I’m not stupid.”

  “Inviting strange men you don’t know isn’t exactly smart.”

  “You’re not a strange man,” she said. “You’re the man who saved my life by keeping my purse safe.” Her chin came up and that small show of spine was the third punch to my gut. “Serial killers don’t rescue purses.”

  I snorted. “Whatever you say, darlin’.”

  “I’m new in town and don’t have any family and you seem nice, so I invited you for dinner.” She tossed up her hands. “What exactly is the problem with that?”

  “Because sweet little girls like you don’t invite men like me places.”

  Her brows drew together. “Men like you?”

  I rolled my eyes. “Men”—I pointed at my face—“like me.”

  She disappeared. I literally had no other word to describe it, but one second, she was all fire and the next, she was a blank slate. “Girls like me,” she repeated, and her voice was no longer sweet peaches and sticky honey. It was ice. “I see. Heaven forbid a girl like me ask out a handsome man because a girl like me should be at home knitting or collecting cats or darning my socks.” She sighed and turned away. “Or at the very least, hanging her star on a man who fits her. Someone plain and dumpy and average-looking.”

  Um. What?

  “You’re far from average-looking, darlin’.”

  She winced like I’d punched her.

  But I wasn’t blowing smoke. This woman was small and curvy with delicate features. Her eyes were a deep brown I’d never seen before and her blond hair was lush and thick, hanging in silky waves down her back. Too much sweet in a small package.

  And too much sweet for him.

  “Reading you loud and clear,” she muttered. “Don’t need to hit below the belt. I’m going back to my empty house and back to my imaginary cats.”

  Fuck. Someone needed to save this woman from herself.

  That someone couldn’t be me.

  But that still didn’t stop me from snagging her arm and rotating her to face me. “You live near the city now. You have to be smart.” Her lips parted again, probably to tell me she was smart, but I kept talking. “Street smart. You can’t tell strange men you live alone or invite them back to your place.”

  “Fine,” she said.

  “Fine,” I agreed.

  But I didn’t let her go.

  Her eyes flicked over my shoulder, to the ceiling, and my gaze followed hers, half-expecting to see a giant spider dangling there.

  Instead, I saw mistletoe.

  I glanced back down. She licked her lips.

  And suddenly, I knew she was thinking the same thing as me. Warm bodies pressed together, lips only inches apart, heat filling the space, and a kiss-inducing plant overhead.

  “Mistletoe,” she whispered and licked her lips again.

  Just one taste.

  I could give myself that.

  I bent my head and slanted my mouth across hers.

  Virgin Daiquiri

  Coming June 29th, 2020

  Preorder here.

  Also by Elise Faber

  Chauvinist Stories

  Bitch (March 1st, 2020)

  Cougar (April 5th, 2020)

  Whore (May 3rd, 2020)

  * * *

  Roosevelt Ranch Series (all stand alone, series complete)

  Disaster at Roosevelt Ranch

  Heartbreak at Roosevelt Ranch

  Collision at Roosevelt Ranch

  Regret at Roosevelt Ranch

  Desire at Roosevelt Ranch

  * * *

  Billionaire’s Club (all stand alone)

  Bad Night Stand

  Bad Breakup

  Bad Husband

  Bad Hookup

  Bad Divorce

  Bad Fiancé

  Bad Boyfriend

  * * *

  Gold Hockey (all stand alone)

  Blocked

  Backhand

  Boarding

  Benched

  Breakaway

  Breakout

  Checked (March 29th, 2020)

  * * *

  Life Sucks Series (all stand alone)

  Train Wreck

  * * *

  Phoenix Series (read in order)

  Phoenix Rising

  Dark Phoenix

  Phoenix Freed

  * * *

  Phoenix: LexTal Chronicles (rereleasing soon, stand alone, Phoenix world)

  From Ashes

  * * *

  KTS Series

  Fire and Ice (Hurt Anthology, stand alone)

  About the Author

  USA Today bestselling author, Elise Faber, loves chocolate, Star Wars, Harry Potter, and hockey (the order depending on the day and how well her team -- the Sharks! -- are playing). She and her husband also play as much hockey as they can squeeze into their schedules, so much so that their typical date night is spent on the ice. Elise is the mom to two exuberant boys and lives in Northern California. Connect with her in her Facebook group, the Fabinators or find more information about her books at www.elisefaber.com.