Wicked Whiskey Love

by Melissa Foster

  Heat flamed in his eyes.

  “To talk,” she said too quickly. With hope in her heart she added, “And maybe other things.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  AS SOON AS they were in the car, Sarah texted Dixie to check on the kids, and then she took one of the notebooks Bones had given her out of her purse and began writing, leaving him to wonder what she wanted to talk about. Had the shelter been too difficult for her after all?

  “You’re writing again,” he said.

  “Mm-hm. The women I met inspired me.”

  “In a good way?”

  “Mm-hm.”

  She was quiet the rest of the way home as she wrote. Every once in a while she’d close her eyes for a moment, then put pen to paper again. Bones stole glances, enjoying the determined set of her brow, the way she wrinkled her nose, pressing harder with the pen and then smiling and writing with faster, lighter strokes. Whatever had happened in there had definitely struck a chord—or several. They stopped by the restaurant to pick up dinner, and only then did he realize that maybe she said she wanted to talk because it was easier to say that than to say she wanted to jump his bones.

  Now, there’s a thought.

  When he returned to the car with their dinner, she looked up with a troubled expression and said, “I just realized I probably sounded ungrateful about dinner, and it was rude of me to write instead of paying more attention to you. I’m so nervous. I’m sorry if you preferred to eat at the restaurant.”

  He reached across the console for her hand and kissed the back of it. “Don’t be sorry for wanting time alone with me.”

  He drove through town as she wrote, and as he turned down the narrow lane toward his house, Sarah tucked the notebook back into her purse and looked around as if she’d been too lost in her writing to recognize where they were. He took the left at the fork in the road that led toward his house, where they’d turned right to go to the marina the other night. A few minutes later, the woods gave way to his long driveway and a view of his house, sitting high up on a bluff.

  Sarah gazed silently out the window as he drove up the driveway, and when the edge of the bluff came into focus, the endless sea spilled out before them. Moonlight danced on the rippling water, and Sarah said, “I didn’t know you lived on the water. This is gorgeous, and so private. If I lived here, I’d spend all my time staring and daydreaming.”

  He’d known the minute he’d seen the spacious home with the wide wraparound porch and stone front that it was where he was meant to live.

  The motion-sensor lights came on outside the multicar garage where he kept his bike and truck, and the third bay door opened. Bones let the car idle in the driveway for a moment, not wanting to deprive Sarah of the view. He parked the car, and as he helped her out, he realized he’d been sure of three things in his life—that this house was meant for him, that he was meant to be a doctor, and that he and Sarah belonged together.

  He grabbed the bags from the restaurant and then they headed inside. “What do you daydream about?” he asked.

  “I don’t know. When I was younger I dreamed about finding a better life. But now…” She shrugged and took her shoes off by the door. She slid her socked toes along the dark hardwood that ran throughout the first floor and said, “I like your house. Bradley would probably make this into a sock-skating rink.”

  He winced as he set the bags on the counter, remembering her boy’s stair rides. “I am sorry for letting him slide down the stairs.” The main living space had vaulted ceilings, with the living room, dining room, and kitchen bleeding into one another. It would make an awesome sock-skating ring. But as much as he loved his home and it had always felt right being there, ever since he’d met Sarah and her children, it had felt like something was missing.

  “That’s okay. Nobody got hurt, and I’m probably too overprotective sometimes. I want to be the best mother I can, and while I trust you to catch him at the bottom of the stairs, I don’t really trust myself to catch him in my current condition.”

  “Then it’s best that he not do it at all,” he said as she walked into the dining room.

  She ran her fingers over the edge of the dining room table. “Are you sure you live alone? It looks like you’re going to host all of Peaceful Harbor or feed an army.” She began counting the chairs around the table. “But maybe you’re just ready for Thanksgiving?”

  “There are twelve chairs, and the table extends to seat twenty,” he explained. “My parents have always hosted holidays at their house because they have the room. When I furnished the house, I realized our family has grown to include Tru and Gemma and their kids; Quincy; Crystal and her brother, Jed; Finlay, and her sister, Penny; and of course Izzy is Finlay’s best friend and has become like a sister to us, so we can’t leave her out.” He smiled and said, “It’s a good thing I went big, because now we have the lovely Beckleys joining us for Thanksgiving, too.”

  “You’re amazing. You’re one guy and you plan for everyone else.”

  “Family, darlin’.” They walked into the living room, and he said, “At the end of the day, family is what it’s all about.”

  “That’s what I want to instill in my children. Kindness, love, and the importance of being there for one another.” Her gaze trailed up the stairs to the loft that ran the length of the house. “Your house belongs in a magazine.”

  “It’s nice, but the only thing that makes it magazine worthy is seeing you in it.”

  She wandered through the living room, checking out the fireplace and bookshelves. “Smooth, Dr. Whiskey. What’s upstairs?”

  “Three more bedrooms, and I speak the truth, Ms. Beckley.”

  “Ms. Beckley makes me feel old, whereas Dr. Whiskey is sexy. So, tell me, Dr. Whiskey, are there bedrooms down here, too?”

  Damn, he loved the way she snuck sexiness into the conversation. He wondered if she even realized she was doing it. “A guest bedroom and my office are back there.” He pointed to the hallway adjacent to the sofa.

  She ran her fingers along the back of the couch, walking slowly from one end to the other. “You like leather.”

  “I do.” He wrapped his arms around her from behind and kissed her neck. “After you have the baby, I’ll buy you a leather jacket and leather pants so you can ride my bike with me.”

  She craned her neck to the side, giving him better access. “You think you’ll still like me after I pop out this little one? Fair warning, that means more puke, dirty diapers, and for me, sleepless nights and probably even more stretch marks.”

  He nibbled on her ear. “Mm. Sounds perfect.”

  “You’re a sick man,” she said with a sweet laugh. “I’ve never ridden a motorcycle. You’ll have to teach me.”

  “I’ll teach you how to ride.” He turned her in his arms, sliding his hand down her back to her ass. She had a great ass, a delicious neck, and an enchanting mind that blew him away. “But maybe we should start with something simpler.”

  “Like…?” Her eyes darkened as he held her tighter against him.

  He’d been careful with Sarah, taking things slow, but lately when they kissed, when they touched, she was as aggressive as he was. Tonight he wasn’t going to hold back. He hadn’t been with another woman since they met, and he was wound as tight as a rocket ready for takeoff. He dipped his head beside her ear and whispered, “Like riding your man.”

  She stilled, staring wordlessly into his eyes. Silence stretched between them for so long, he wondered if he’d completely misread her. He opened his mouth to apologize, and she put her finger over his lips, shushing him.

  “I think we should eat and talk and then see if you still feel the same way afterward.”

  He slipped her finger into his mouth and swirled his tongue around it, loving the way her eyes darkened and her lips parted. He pulled her finger from his mouth and pressed a kiss to her palm. “Anything you want, darlin’. But nothing will change how much I want you.”

  “Can you give me that in writing?�
� she asked as they made their way into the kitchen. “In blood, please?”

  “I don’t sign in blood. But my word is worth its weight in orgasms.” He tugged her back into his arms, earning a smile.

  “Be serious.”

  “I am serious.” He kissed her then, slowly and longingly, until she went soft in his arms. “Let’s eat and talk. After you’re done stripping for me as an apology for not believing my feelings are real, I can devour you for dessert.”

  She froze, eyes wide, mouth closed.

  He brushed his lips over her cheek and said, “Don’t worry, sweetheart. You don’t owe me anything.” When the tension in her body didn’t ease, he said more seriously, “I was kidding. I want to hear what you have to say, but the desire to love every inch of your gorgeous body, to cherish you the way you deserve to be worshipped, will still be there after we talk even if we don’t act on it.”

  She pressed her hand over her heart and said, “Now that there’s zero chance of me thinking straight…”

  “Come on, let’s get dinner. Maybe if you’re well fed you’ll find your rational brain.” He reached into the bag and then realized what he’d said. “Actually, you finding your rational brain won’t work in my favor, will it?”

  “If you keep looking at me like I’m Little Red Pregnant Sexpot and you’re the Big Bad Wily Wolf, we’ll skip talking, go straight to naughty stuff, and then we’ll have to start all over on our next date.”

  He waggled his brows.

  “No,” she said adamantly. “We have to talk.”

  “That sounds ominous,” he said as they dished their dinner onto plates—roasted vegetables, salmon, rice, and whipped sweet potatoes.

  “Just…let’s eat. This smells amazing,” she said appreciatively, but it was shadowed by the weight of whatever she wanted to talk about.

  “So do you.” He winked and pulled a bottle of iced tea out of his fridge. “Gluten free. Okay?”

  “Sounds great, thank you.”

  He patted her ass and kissed her again, before pouring them each a glass of tea. “Do you want to eat at the table or out on the veranda? I’ve got a fireplace, blankets, and—”

  He reached for her, but she slipped away, carrying the plates and walking quickly toward the back door. “Outside. Forget the fire. I need air. Cold, cold air.”

  Bones followed her out. He lowered the bamboo blinds on the sides of the veranda, leaving the view of the water unimpeded while blocking the wind. He dimmed the recessed lights and said, “Sure you don’t want a fire? It’ll only take a few minutes.”

  “First, I’m certain, because every time you look at me I get hot all over. And second, you’re making me feel spoiled, going to all this trouble.”

  He draped a blanket over the extra chair and sat beside her at the table. “It might feel like being spoiled because you’ve never been adored. It’ll be my pleasure to teach you the difference.”

  “I’ve never been taken care of like this,” she said a little uncomfortably.

  She pushed her food around on the plate, which made him wonder if he’d totally misread her. He took her fork and set it beside her plate, then scooted his chair closer and took her hands in his, gaining her full attention. “Sarah, I’m sorry if I misread you earlier. I thought talk was code for fool around.”

  “I do want to fool around,” she said a little too quickly.

  He cocked a brow, knowing there was more. “Maybe so, but did something happen at the shelter that you want to talk about?”

  “Not really at the shelter.” Her face became inescapably troubled. “At first,” she said softly, “I had a bit of a panic attack when I tried to talk to Tracey. But I got over that pretty quickly.” She curled her fingers around his.

  “You should have asked Sunny to get me. I hate that you went through that alone. What brought it on, being at the shelter?”

  “I think so, just bad memories. I wasn’t expecting it, so my reaction surprised me, but then I realized I wasn’t around people who wouldn’t understand what I’d gone through. And I wasn’t alone in that shelter, facing my own awful life, like I was all those years ago. That made it easier to get out from under the panic. Tracey and the other women had gone through just as much as I had, and talking with them helped me to be able to talk to you about what I need to.”

  Her beautiful eyes took a slow stroll over his face. “A few months ago, I didn’t know people like you and your family and friends existed. I knew there were good people in the world, like Susan, Reagan, and a few more, but they’re not like you. Trusting is hard for me, as you know, so I hope you will forgive me for not telling you everything the other night.”

  “Sarah, you don’t know everything about me and my family yet. It could take years to get there, and that’s okay. We have plenty of time.”

  “But what I have to say might not be okay. And I can’t take years to tell you because the guilt of not telling you is eating away at me.”

  “You can tell me anything,” he reassured her.

  “I want to believe you. I’m just not sure where to start—at the things I’m most ashamed of, or the parts that led me here, which I’m also ashamed of.”

  He had no words to soothe the pain in her voice, so he did the one thing he knew he needed and hoped it would help her, too. He wrapped his arm around her and held her, breathing her in as she clung to him.

  “Can I just stay right here and never tell you the truth?” she whispered.

  “Sure, darlin’.” He held her for a long time before drawing back and gazing deeply into her eyes. “You need to do what feels right to you, because your babies need your attention, and there’s no room for guilt or shame when raising children.”

  “‘As long as we’re honest with ourselves, shame has no place in our lives,’” she said, eyes trained on her lap as if she’d said it to herself.

  “Sunny shared my thoughts?”

  “She did, and she was so nice and easy to talk to. I really like her.” Her gaze flicked out at the water, around the room, to the table, looking everywhere except at him.

  He placed his hand over hers and said, “There’s no pressure to tell me anything. Being honest with yourself doesn’t mean exposing your secrets to others.”

  “But…” She finally looked at him. “If you met a guy who was reminding you of all the hopes and dreams you had as a young girl and made them seem possible, the dreams that helped you survive a horrible time, wouldn’t you want to be honest with him?”

  Bones got a little choked up knowing he did that for her and tried to lighten her worries. “If I met a guy who did those things, I’d have to rethink my entire world. But the fact is, I met a woman who is doing that to me on a daily basis. A woman whose children feel like an extension of myself. So yes, I’m trying to work up the courage to be completely honest with you, too.”

  “You haven’t been honest with me?” she asked carefully.

  “I haven’t lied, but we all have things that have been buried deep for so long, it’s difficult to separate the decayed memories from the truth.”

  “I WISH MY memories would decay until they disappeared completely,” Sarah said, trying to ignore the mounting apprehension making her hands sweat. It was unfair that she’d had awful parents, that her brother had had to leave, and that she and Josie had lost touch. So much of her life felt unfair, and she finally had a chance at something real and wonderful, but she had to spill her shitty life on this, too. How much ugliness must she wade through to prove herself worthy of happiness?

  “People shouldn’t grow up with only bad memories,” she finally said, frustrated with everything—the oppression of her secrets, the unfairness of life, and the reality that Bones might walk away from her, ending the only good relationship she’d ever had. “The truth is…” Her tone was a little too angry, and she forced herself to rein it in. “Until we moved here, most of my memories were pretty awful. I told you about working in a salon and eventually meeting Lewis, but what I didn�
��t tell you was that living on a shampoo girl’s salary was impossible or that Reagan had worked as a dancer at a nightclub and she suggested I join her.” Shame formed a cold knot in her stomach.

  “A dancer…” he repeated, jaw tight. He sat up a little straighter, putting a fraction of space between them.

  Although she tried not to react, her heart sank, but she forced herself to go on. “I fought it at first, but after almost two years of eating only one or two meals a day because I had no money for groceries, I gave it a try. It seemed like an easy gig, you know? A few hours a night, however often I wanted to work. I earned more in one night than I did all week as a shampoo girl. Although I kept that job too, because when I started dancing, I realized I needed to save every penny to pay for cosmetology school so one day I wouldn’t have to keep dancing. And honestly, it made me feel like I wasn’t such a loser to have something normal and acceptable in my life. I could pretend during the day that I wasn’t”—stripping sounded too awful to say out loud—“taking off my clothes at night.”

  Her voice wavered, but she needed to go on or she’d never get it all out. “I’m so ashamed of what I did, Bones. My parents called me all sorts of things growing up—slut, whore, worthless tramp—and what did I do?” Tears spilled from her eyes. “I went out and proved them right. I took off my clothes for money because I had no idea what else to do to keep a roof over my head—”

  Sobs stole her voice, and she turned away, curling into herself as shame and sadness racked her body. She heard him moving and opened her eyes. He was kneeling in front of her. Through the blur of tears, she saw anguish in his eyes. He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to the crest of her belly before cradling her face and touching his warm lips to hers.

  “It’s okay, darlin’.”

  “I’m sorry,” she cried, tears tumbling down her cheeks.