Truly, Madly, Whiskey

by Melissa Foster

  Bear was talking with a thickly bearded guy at another booth. The backpack was fuller than before, and she assumed he’d already gotten the kids’ shirts. She asked the vendor to make her a shirt, and after she paid for it, she waited for Bear to finish his conversation. She held the shirt behind her back, bouncing on her toes, trying—and failing—to contain her excitement.

  Bear turned, his eyes locking on her as he closed the distance between them. When he was a few steps away, she whipped the shirt from behind her back and held it up, watching as he read the gold letters. Dip me in honey and feed me to Bear.

  He crushed her to him, kissing her hard, like a tsunami about to unleash its wrath.

  “Careful, sugar,” he said gruffly. “You’re poking a starving bear.”

  “Maybe I don’t want to be careful. Maybe I like poking my starving bear.”

  Chapter Eleven

  BEAR HAD NEVER spent much time thinking about relationships, but as he and Crystal drove out to the observation deck to watch the wild ponies, all he could think about was that he never knew it was possible to fall harder for someone in just a few hours. He parked at the end of the road and helped Crystal off the bike. She’d put her leggings and jacket on for the ride, and she looked like she belonged on the cover of a Biker Babe calendar. But it wasn’t just how sexy and beautiful she was that had him falling harder with every minute they were together. It was her. All of her. Her sweet, vulnerable side. Her sassy, snarky confidence. Her loving nature, which she’d covered so well for so long. He loved the way she was coming into her own, and there was no place he’d rather be than right there by her side. And it didn’t matter if it took her a day, a week, or a year to embrace their relationship as fully as he had.

  The fact that he felt that way and they hadn’t even slept together yet didn’t escape him. Neither did the realization that he’d felt that way long before they’d even kissed.

  They followed a path to the observation deck, and he couldn’t remember the last time he’d had such an enjoyable afternoon. Crystal leaned over the railing, peering through the trees.

  “Look! There they are.” She pointed through a gap in the branches at a band of wild horses grazing on the grass at the edge of the beach. They were sturdy and shaggy. “Aren’t they beautiful?”

  “Wild and free. Reminds me of a certain someone.” He wrapped his arms around her from behind.

  She pushed beneath his arm, moving beside him. “Thank you for today. The market reminded me of the ones I used to go to with my dad.”

  “I’m glad you enjoyed it. I can’t remember the last time I’ve had such a great day. Thanks for letting me monopolize you. But I have some bad news.”

  Her brows knitted.

  He brushed his lips over hers. “Today has done nothing to lessen my addiction. I think I need another hit.”

  “Lucky for you, I happen to have a huge supply of kisses.” She went up on her toes, and he met her halfway to feed his addiction.

  They watched the ponies until something spooked them and they bolted away, their muscular legs pounding the earth, kicking up dirt in their wake. They rode home as the sun dipped from the sky. In Peaceful Harbor, they passed Whiskey Bro’s, where his brothers’ and Dixie’s bikes were parked out front, along with his mother’s car. The bar wasn’t open on Sundays, but Dixie went in to take care of the books, and a few family members usually ended up hanging out with her. Normally he’d stop by, but tonight all he wanted was to be with Crystal.

  He drove through town and turned off the main drag toward the mountains, winding through tree-lined, narrow roads toward his home. One of the things Bear loved most about Peaceful Harbor was that in addition to all the benefits of the beach, just a few miles away it also offered the seclusion of lakeside living in the mountains.

  He pulled into his driveway and stopped in front of the garage. The property was dark, save for the moonlight slicing through the trees and glistening off the lake down the hill to their right. His mother was always on his back about putting up solar-powered lights so he didn’t come home to a dark house, but no one fucked with a Dark Knight.

  He pushed the garage door button on his key fob and pulled his bike inside. As he climbed off, he imagined Crystal arriving there alone. He was getting miles ahead of himself, but even those few hours apart that morning had driven him crazy. He’d used the time to prepare what he hoped would be a nice surprise, but that hadn’t taken away the longing to have her right there by his side. He made a mental note to put up a few solar lights.

  “I didn’t know you lived by the lake.” Her eyes swept over his partially assembled bike and the metal shelves around the perimeter, which were littered with equipment, tools, and various vehicle parts. A motorcycle crane and old wooden tool chests sat against the back wall along with three workbenches. “And you thought my design studio looked like it exploded. What is all this stuff?”

  “That’s the bike I’m currently building. It doesn’t look like much yet, but it’s getting there.”

  She walked over to it, stepping around his tools and other paraphernalia lying on the floor. “It looks like much,” she said with a smile. “How exciting. I can’t wait to see how it looks when it’s done.”

  She pointed up toward the bikes parked on the loft at the rear of the garage. “And those bikes? Are they your extras?”

  “I designed and built two of them.”

  “You should really take that offer with Silver-Stone. I mean, look at this place. Motorcycles are your life. You said you designed and built two of them. So are those other two extra bikes that you bought?”

  “Those were my uncle Axel’s. I bought this place from him before he passed away. A lot of this stuff was his.” A familiar wave of emptiness pushed through him. “He taught me everything I know about…” He waved a hand. “We lost him to lung cancer when I was twenty-two.”

  She reached for his hand. “I’m so sorry.”

  “It was a long time ago.”

  She took another, longer look at the bikes, and then her gaze dropped to the pictures behind his workbench. She walked closer, her eyes latching on to the sexy pinup calendar that had been his uncle’s. He wondered what she’d have to say about the side view of a naked brunette straddling a motorcycle, back arched, hair hanging over one shoulder, her sultry gaze and ruby-red lips seducing the camera.

  Crystal glanced at him with a glimmer of heat in her eyes. “Maybe we can replace that naked girl with another”—she walked toward him—“more familiar girl.”

  “Sugar, if you think I’ll hang a naked picture of you on my garage wall where my brothers can see it, you’re sadly mistaken.” He took her in his arms. “But I’ll proudly hang that picture in my bedroom.”

  “Mm, the real Bear cave. I’m anxious to see what your house looks like. I picture a bearskin rug and lots of leather.”

  He chuckled and grabbed the backpack. “You have quite an imagination.”

  He led her down the mulched path toward the house, inhaling the scents of pine and fresh water, so different from the scents of the sea. His two-bedroom cedar and stone cabin sat on a ridge about thirty feet from the water’s edge. It wasn’t huge, but in addition to the bedrooms, he had a den and a loft, and the wide front porch and screened-in sleeping deck provided extra living space.

  Crystal stood at the crest of the hill, flanked by tall trees, and gazed out over the lake. Her lace dress shifted with the breeze. He’d imagined her there so many times, he could hardly believe this was real.

  “You wake up to this every morning?”

  “Most, anyway. Today I woke up to a much more gorgeous view.”

  “Biker boy,” she said as they headed up to the house. “You’ve got some pretty good lines.”

  “I’ve got damn good everything.” He loved playing with her like that because it made her smile, and it wasn’t her normal snarky smile or her warm, seductive smile. It was the smile of a girl who was always thinking, trying to process what he wa
s saying. Was she coming up with snappy retorts? Trying to decide if he was really that cocky? He didn’t know, but he loved that look.

  He unlocked the heavy wooden door and pushed it open, following her inside the house he’d considered his second home when he was growing up, and set the backpack on the floor by the door.

  Surprise lit her eyes. “Whoa, this is like the ultimate gearhead bachelor pad. You have a pool table instead of a dining room table? That’s awesome.” She ran her fingers along the polished wood edge, glancing up at the loft that overlooked the living room.

  “Thanks. My uncle and grandfather built the cabin. My brothers and I updated the kitchen, repointed the fireplace, and refinished the hardwood floors a few years ago. No need for a dining room table. I usually eat there.” He pointed to the bar separating the living room from the kitchen. The open living space suited his lifestyle, as did the gearhead furnishings, like the chandelier hanging over the pool table, made from leather, chains, and a wheel that came from a Silver-Stone motorcycle. And the side table his buddy made from old tools, nuts, and bolts.

  “Wait until you get a look at the bathroom.”

  “The bathroom?”

  “I have a feeling you’ll get a kick out of my appliances.”

  She dragged her eyes down his body. “I do love your appliances.” She eyed the sectional sofa. “Do I have to worry about catching a disease on your sex-pit?”

  He cocked a smile at her brazen question. He’d bought the extra-large sectional because of its versatility. But he liked her idea a whole lot better. “That’d be hard, considering I’ve never had sex on it.”

  She gave him a disbelieving look.

  “Sugar, you’ve got the wrong impression of me. My escapades ended a long time ago.” He helped her off with her leather jacket and tossed it on the sofa, pulling her closer. “I don’t want you to worry about my past, okay? You’re the only woman I want, so whatever’s going through your mind about anyone else, let it go. Okay?”

  She nodded.

  “I had a few girls here when I first bought the place, but when I renovated it, things changed. It went from being a hangout to a home, and no woman has been here with me since. Well, other than Dixie, my mom, the guys’ girlfriends and wives, but not with me. Got it?”

  She grabbed him by the vest. “Got it, biker boy.”

  WATCHING BEAR COOK should be like watching the abominable snowman walk through the desert. It shouldn’t fit together. But it did, in a very sexy way. He sliced bell peppers, sausage, and chicken like a pro and threw the meat in a bowl with olive oil and a handful of seasonings without ever consulting a recipe. After covering it, he set the bowl in the fridge, which was full of healthy foods, putting her fridge to shame. He heated olive oil in a pan and stirred in garlic, rice, and red pepper flakes.

  Crystal leaned against the counter beside him. They’d both taken off their boots, and she’d taken off her leggings amid kisses and gropes, and I really did invite you here for dinner, not just to make out. She loved being in his home, and the fact that he hadn’t had a revolving bedroom door spoke volumes about him.

  “You’re really not going to let me help with your secret dish?” He wouldn’t tell her what he was making.

  “Nope.” He gave her a chaste kiss and went back to stirring, mixing in chicken stock and a number of spices and other ingredients. He brought them to a boil, reduced the heat, and covered the pan. His hands circled her waist, and his mouth began a tantalizing exploration of her neck.

  “Mm. I like helping you cook.” She felt him laugh. “Who taught you how?”

  “Same guy who taught me about bikes and cars. When I was growing up, my mom worked shifts as a nurse and my dad was always at the bar. I spent a lot of time at the shop. I’d go after school and follow my uncle around. Sometimes I’d stay with him until close to bedtime.”

  He placed one leg on either side of her. Even his stance was possessive, and she was no longer surprised by how much she liked it.

  “I did my homework while he cooked dinner, and he’d walk me through the steps of whatever he was making. I guess his skills wore off on me. By the time I was a teenager, I was cooking dinners with him, and when he got sick, I cooked for him. Even in his last days, when he couldn’t stomach a thing, he’d ask me to cook. I think he knew we both needed the distraction.”

  Her heart sliced open. “You were with him, here, at the end?”

  He pulled out another skillet, poured in some olive oil and tossed in the ingredients he’d marinated. “My mother cared for him here. She’d pushed for him to go into hospice care, but he was a feisty bastard. Tough till the end.” He cut up onions and put them in the skillet, blinking against damp eyes. Whether it was due to the onions or memories, she couldn’t be sure.

  She reached for him. “I’m sorry you lost someone so important to you. It sounds like you had a special relationship.”

  He hooked an arm around her neck, hugging her in the crook of it. “He was a heck of a guy. When I was in high school, he helped me apply for scholarships and fill out college applications.”

  He washed his hands, going silent while he stirred in the rest of the ingredients. “I wanted to go into industrial design and engineering. I won a scholarship, but then my old man got sick. Bones was in med school. Bullet was on tour with the military.”

  “So you never went,” she said, realizing his loyalty ran even deeper than she’d thought.

  He was quiet for a few minutes before answering. “My family needed me. And when we realized my uncle wasn’t going to beat his cancer, I knew where I belonged.”

  He opened another cabinet and began mixing rum, lime juice, brown sugar, and water in a big pot. Then he stirred a bowl of shrimp into the other skillet, and she realized what he was making.

  “You’re making paella and hot grog.” How could it have taken her so long to figure it out? And after everything she’d confessed that night on the hill, how had he remembered every little detail?

  “For my girl. I hit the store while you were working this morning.”

  A lump lodged in her throat. “Bear,” was all she could manage.

  “That’s my name, babe.” He grabbed two plates from the cabinet and spread the rice onto them and topped them with the meat and seafood mixtures.

  “Thank you.” She opened the drawers in search of silverware. “It smells incredible.”

  “Hopefully it will taste even better.” He reached around her and opened the silverware drawer, revealing utensils that looked like tools.

  She lifted her brows.

  “What? Your forks don’t have box-wrench ends?” He picked up the utensils, showing each to her. “You don’t have spoons with an open-end wrench or a knife with a plier for a handle?”

  “No. I have a Bear with a toolbox.”

  He laughed. “That you do, babe. A very large toolbox.”

  “You should be careful building up the size of your junk.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “What if I’m disappointed?”

  “You’ve felt it,” he said, as arrogant as ever as he reached into a cabinet and withdrew two wineglasses. “I know you like to be careful about drinking, so if you want to skip the grog, that’s cool with me.”

  He’d thought of everything. “No. I’d like some. It sounds perfect.”

  He pulled a shiny silver tray from a lower cabinet near the dishwasher and set it on the counter. There were two circles inside it, one read BLUE HAWK and the other read STAINLESS-STEEL MAGNETIC MECHANIC’S TRAY. He set the plates inside it, and when he put the utensils in, they clinked.

  “You’re seriously using a mechanic’s tray?”

  “A good mechanic always has the right tools for the job.” He swatted her butt and then ladled the grog into a big pitcher. “Do you mind carrying this?”

  She carried the pitcher and he set the wineglasses on the tray. They went out of the kitchen to a hallway she hadn’t noticed when they’d arrived. After standing for so long, she felt
her muscles begin to ache.

  “My legs and butt are sore from the ride.”

  “Don’t worry, babe. I’ll massage all your aches and pains away, and I promise to behave.”

  “Darn,” slipped out before she could stop it. “I mean…Um. Darn.”

  He laughed. “You lead, and I’m happy to follow.”

  “I like the sound of that.” She stopped to look at a series of pictures on the wall. She studied a photograph of three adorable, long-haired shirtless young boys and a girl with tangled red hair. They were sitting on a concrete step. The little girl was leaning forward but looking back at the boys, like she didn’t want to miss a thing. Crystal spotted Bear easily, all elbows and knees, holding a cat on his lap and watching the other boys.

  “Is this you and your brothers and Dixie?” she asked.

  “Yeah. Taken at my parents’ house.”

  She moved to the next picture, where a honey-eyed boy with thick black hair, who could only be Bear, peered beneath the hood of a car. Beside him a thin, bearded man stood with one arm around Bear’s shoulders, pointing to something on the engine.

  “Me and my uncle Axel,” Bear explained.

  A pang of sadness swept through her as they moved on to the other pictures.

  “This was my first bike.” He nodded to a picture of him as a young man standing next to a shiny black motorcycle. His father stood beside him, hands on hips, looking at Bear, but Bear was grinning proudly at the camera.

  He motioned toward another picture. “This is Bullet, as you can probably tell by his size, and that’s me over his shoulder.” Bullet faced the camera with an angry scowl, holding Bear’s legs. Bear’s fisted hands were caught midair, as if he were pounding on his brother’s back.