Speakeasy

by Sarina Bowen

  “Please, girl. I have spies.”

  “You’re terrifying.”

  “And you’re holding out on me. You didn’t say he was a tall, cool drink of water with a smile like a young George Clooney and beautiful manners.”

  I smile in spite of myself. “That’s not far off.”

  “Hookups don’t take pretty girls to their AA meetings.”

  That is absolutely true. “Be that as it may, I’m trying to take it slowly. My family is still terrified that I’m going to screw up. And I don’t trust myself.”

  Rita makes an impatient noise. “That is the truest thing you’ve said yet!”

  “Tell me how you really feel.”

  “Look, May. Nobody is better at steps eight and nine than you.”

  I don’t even know what she’s getting at. Steps eight and nine are figuring out who you harmed due to your addiction and making amends. “What does that have to do with Alec?”

  “Plenty. It’s really important to make amends. And you’re young, so your list of injured parties was a tad shorter than the rest of us have.”

  This is true, up to a point.

  “But steps eight and nine don’t ask you to live the next decade of your life in a state of permanent atonement.”

  “I know that.”

  “No, I’m not sure you do. It’s great that you care about your family and what you may have put them through worrying about you. But you’re doing really well, and now it’s on them to realize it.”

  “They do. I think?”

  “You always mention them to me,” she points out. “They didn’t like Daniela. They worry about you. Now, spending ten months of your life on a bitchy girlfriend wasn’t the greatest idea, but it didn’t harm anyone but yourself. So stop apologizing for making ordinary mistakes.”

  I don’t even know what to say.

  “And that means grabbing that nice man by the balls.”

  “That sounds a little violent, Rita.”

  She laughs in my ear. “I’m lousy at metaphors. But do you love him?”

  “I…” Rita has made a few good points. The truth is I don’t feel like I’ve earned Alec. So it’s hard for me to admit my feelings. “I could easily love him. He’s very lovable.”

  Rita sniffs. “Then get off the phone and go do it. You don’t need anyone’s permission to love a good man who treats you right. Does he support your sobriety?”

  “He does,” I say easily. “He doesn’t understand it, though. He doesn’t know what he’s getting into.”

  “How’d he do at your meeting?”

  “Great. He didn’t say much afterward, though.”

  “On a scale of, say, one to Armageddon, how was the speaker?”

  I think about that. “A solid seven, I guess. Lots of heartbreak, but without serious consequences. She accidentally killed her boyfriend’s puppy, though.”

  Rita makes a noise of dismay. “A puppy died, and you’re only giving her story a seven?”

  “Okay, an eight? I cried.”

  “You cry about everything. Did Alec cry?”

  “I don’t know. Where is this line of questioning going?”

  “You’re so worried about what he thinks about you and alcohol. I’m trying to figure out if he’s throwing off bad signals, or if you’re just kind of hung up on the idea.”

  I sigh. “That second thing is probably right. Alec is unflappable.” It’s a word I’d chosen for him right off the bat. And he hadn’t really let me down yet. So why didn’t I give him more credit?

  Oh, right. Because I’m wildly insecure, and I’ve never loved someone without it ending in disaster.

  “If he hasn’t run away by now, that’s a good sign.”

  “I guess.”

  “She guesses,” Rita mumbles. “Stop trying to undermine his chances with you.”

  “What do you mean?” That’s pretty harsh, seeing as I just got out of a relationship.

  “You made him a sweater. That’s some serious juju. Are you trying to piss off fate?”

  “Hey! I started that sweater before we began our little arrangement. I thought I was making it for a friend. And how do you know about the sweater?”

  “A little bird told me. I met Alec the other day. He had a legal question.”

  “He did? Why didn’t he ask me?”

  “That’s what I told him to do, and I sent him packing. But try to let yourself be happy, okay? I’m begging here.”

  “I’ll take it under advisement.”

  “I want to come to the wedding.”

  “Rita! Don’t jinx me.”

  She cackles. “I would never. But you made him a sweater, so if it doesn’t work out, don’t look at me.”

  “Goodnight, Rita.”

  “Goodnight, May.”

  Abandoning the movie, I walk slowly upstairs to my room. I still feel claustrophobic here in the farmhouse. But injuring myself has killed off any hope of moving out. I couldn’t manage it right now, and I need to buy a new car first.

  Carefully, I tap out a text for Alec, left-handed. I miss you. And Rita was just quizzing me about the AA meeting. She asked what you thought about it, and I realized I didn’t actually ask you. Because I was afraid of what you’d say.

  It takes him a half hour to reply, because he’s behind the bar trying to make a buck. But when the reply comes, it isn’t what I expect.

  Can’t wait to talk to you. Could you leave the farmhouse door unlocked for me?

  Sure, but there’s also a key under the doormat. Are you coming over later?

  Can I?

  Hell yes. Just be quiet on the stairs. My bedroom is the last one on the right. If you get that wrong, you’re going to scare the shit out of Dylan, Daphne, or Mom.

  See you soon.

  And now I’m filled with excitement. I’m seriously ecstatic just to snuggle with Alec and whisper with him for a little while. I can’t even get him naked because it would make too much noise. But I don’t even care, because he’s coming over, and I like him way too much to pretend otherwise.

  I kill an hour taking a one-handed shower and drying my hair. Then I get into bed with a book, positive that I can’t fall asleep before he shows.

  Sometime later, the book is lifted off my chest by a big hand. And then someone turns out the light. My eyes flutter open in the dark. “Alec?”

  “Yeah, babydoll.” He toes off his shoes, and drops his coat on my chair. “Didn’t have to break in. Dylan’s watching movies downstairs. When I said I was here to visit you, he didn’t even bat an eye. I like him better than Griff.”

  “I bet you do. What time is it?”

  “Two.” Alec is still shedding clothing. I wish I could see him properly. But a minute later he’s nudging me to make room and sliding into my bed. When I reach for him, I’m disappointed to note that he’s still wearing a T-shirt and underwear.

  Ah, well. His arms feel magnificent as he pulls me closer.

  “Wait,” he says. “We need your good arm on top. Roll over.”

  I do, and then I’m being spooned by the hunkiest bartender in Vermont. “Now tell me everything,” I whisper. “Rita says you visited her a few days ago?”

  “Yeah. Real estate question. It can wait until tomorrow, though.” His hand strokes across my belly. “What did you want to talk about?”

  I barely remember. “The AA meeting. What did you think?” Of course the question is bigger than that. I really want to know what Alec thinks of me.

  “It was fascinating. I thought the girl telling the story was brave. Do you ever have to speak like that?”

  “Sure. But not every meeting is one person’s big story. Sometimes there’s a topic chosen, and people share small things that are centered on that.”

  “Like what topics?”

  “Fear. Surrender. Acceptance. Grief. Atonement.”

  “I get it.” He kisses the back of my head. “What kind do you like best?”

  “It depends on my mood, I guess. The speakers gi
ve you a whole narrative. When the speaker is particularly insightful those are my favorite ones.”

  “Are you ever just not in the mood to go at all?”

  “Of course. But usually if I’m feeling that way, it means I need it the most.”

  “Ah.” His hand settles on my stomach. “What else? Do you want me to go with you again sometime?”

  “Maybe,” I whisper. “I guess I just wanted to know if you thought it was stupid, or if you suddenly realized I’m a big drag.”

  I feel him chuckling against my back. “You think I’m never a drag?”

  “No. I think you invented fun. I always have fun when we’re together.”

  “But that’s not me, that’s us. You and I are just a naturally fun combo. Like peanut butter and chocolate.”

  “Like popcorn and butter.”

  “Like Cheetos and milk.”

  I crane my head and peer at him. “Now you’re just fucking with me.”

  “No, I like it. Three snaps in the shape of a boob.” He snaps his fingers three times while circling his hand around my breast.

  “If you keep being so amazing, I’m going to fall for you a little harder.”

  “That’s a risk I can live with.” He yawns suddenly, and I realize he’s just worked for eight hours and then driven over here.

  “I’ll let you sleep now,” I say. “Do you have enough room?” I wiggle further toward the wall.

  “Sure,” he says, pressing against me again. “Goodnight, babydoll. Love sleeping with you. Makes my long week worth it.”

  I crane my neck around to kiss him, just once. He smiles at me, and my heart flips over.

  Alec gets quiet, but I can’t sleep. Every point of contact between us distracts me. I can feel his strong thighs against my legs, and his hand on my ribcage. I can’t believe he’s right here, and it feels as though he’s crawled into my heart as well as my bed.

  I like him here.

  After a while I realize that there’s a nice hard erection pressing against my ass. So I arch my back a little just to check.

  “Mmm. Don’t do that again unless you’re serious.”

  I reach back and stroke a hand over the straining fly of his boxers.

  “Aw,” he whispers. “I don’t know that I can fuck you with your mother in the next room.”

  “It’s my sister who would hear us,” I whisper. “Mom is at the front of the house.”

  “Does your sister like to embarrass you?”

  “Unfortunately,” I say.

  “Then we’d better behave.”

  “Okay.” I sigh.

  Neither of us says anything for a couple of long moments. But then Alec drops his hand to the elastic of my sleep shorts. He slips his palm down my belly until his fingertips tickle the juncture of my legs.

  “You’re a tease,” I whisper.

  “Am not. Just stay quiet.”

  He kisses the back of my neck as his fingers slide slowly between my legs. I relax for him, making it easier for him to touch me. Hot kisses massage my sensitive skin, while long fingers slide luxuriously over my sex.

  It’s not long before I’m clenching my thighs around his hand, asking for more.

  “Lift up your hips,” he whispers right into my ear. When I comply, he yanks my shorts down in one smooth pull. “Now hold still,” he says.

  There’s some movement behind me as he takes off his clothes. When Alec settles in behind me again, he’s lifting my knee and sliding his cock between my legs until I can finger the tip of him.

  “Mmm,” he breathes. “I want all of this. I want the whispered late-night conversations. And the holidays where we have to touch each other quietly in a bed that’s too small so we don’t become one of your grandfather’s jokes at the table.”

  My heart flutters even as I grin at the wall in front of my nose. But he’s not done.

  “I want to wake you up in the middle of the night to talk. And I want to wake up and see your bedhead and drink coffee together when we’re too tired to talk. It won’t always be a party, but it will always be us,” he says.

  My eyes get wet. Of course they do. “You’re making me cry, you know.”

  “That will happen sometimes, too,” he whispers. “I already know you’re not always fun, May. Because nobody is. And I still want to be with you. I can’t promise that it will be all sunshine and rainbows. But you have to trust me enough to know I’ll try.”

  “I do trust you,” I say slowly. “The hard part is trusting me.”

  “Will you please trust you, too?” He kisses my hair. “Take it easy on my girl, will you? She’s had some problems lately, but it’s nothing we can’t handle.”

  A tear runs down the bridge of my nose and plops onto the pillow. “Okay,” I say shakily. “If you are, then I’m all in, too.”

  Alec’s thumb gently swipes a tear from my face. He wraps his arm around me and just holds me. I take several deep breaths and relax.

  It works. Mostly. But because I’m me and he’s him, neither of us can quite forget that we’re mostly naked with some of the important bits touching. So after a while, he begins to move his hips in tiny thrusts. His cock is hard between my legs. I can’t resist squeezing my thighs together and grinding against him.

  Eventually we give up the charade as Alec lifts my knee and fills me. He goes slow, trying to stay quiet. But we’re too hungry for each other, and everyone else is probably sleeping.

  Hopefully.

  But love is messy, unpredictable, and occasionally loud. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Alec

  I wake up alone in May’s bed. Bright light is streaming in through the windows. When I sit up and locate my phone, I find that it’s already nine thirty.

  The scent of coffee is wafting up the staircase, so sneaking out is probably out of the question. Ah, well. I’d better prepare for my grand entrance.

  I dress and then locate the bathroom to try to make myself at least baseline presentable. I tuck in my shirt, as if that’s going to convince the Shipley clan that I’m not the slutty bartender everyone expects me to be.

  When I walk downstairs, there are voices in the dining room. I poke my head in and find May at the coffee urn, pouring a cup one-handed. “This was for you!” she says, giving me a brilliant smile.

  The conversation stops. Griffin’s face goes from shock to disgust at a rapid rate. Audrey just smiles. And Daphne snickers.

  “Good morning, Alec,” Ruth Shipley says calmly. As if appearing in her dining room at breakfast time is a normal thing to do. “Please make yourself a plate in the kitchen. May would do it for you but it’s easier two-handed.”

  “Here, follow me,” May says, setting the coffee down. She steers me into the kitchen with her good hand. Once we’re in the other room, she stops and presses her face against my chest.

  When I wrap my arms around her, she’s laughing quietly. “Did you see Griffin’s face?” I whisper in her ear.

  She giggles into my neck. “I was going to bring you some coffee upstairs and warn you that he and Audrey were here to run payroll with Mom.”

  I gather her hair in one hand and smooth it down her back. “I don’t intimidate easily.”

  “I know.” She lifts her face and smiles at me. “Let’s find the waffles.”

  I make up two plates, each with eggs, sausage, and waffles. The Shipleys believe in eating a good breakfast. At least if Griffin pulls out that shotgun he keeps to scare off coyotes, I’ll be well fed before I die.

  “Morning, son,” Grandpa Shipley says as I set our plates down on the table. “Don’t remember seeing you at dinner last night.”

  “No sir,” I say, taking a healthy sip of coffee. “I was working then and came over later.”

  “Like a thief in the night!” he says with glee.

  “Grandpa.” May sighs.

  I take a bite of wonderful food. “The sausage is terrific. Do you guys make it yourselves?”

>   “We sure do,” Daphne says. “Apparently May likes sausage as well.” Then she cracks up.

  It’s really a struggle, but I manage not to crack a smile.

  “Come over anytime,” Ruth says, while Griffin scowls.

  “Now what is this real estate question you had for me?” May asks. She’s trying to cut her sausage one-handed with the side of her fork.

  “The real estate thing is a long shot,” I say, relieving her of the fork. I pull her plate a little closer to me and use a knife to cut the sausage into bite-sized pieces for her. “Before he died, Hamish and I had an agreement for me to purchase his building. But Tad probably won’t want to honor it.”

  Griffin’s coffee cup stops halfway to his mouth. “Seriously? You two had a deal?”

  “Yeah,” I say after chewing another bite of my food. “And their lawyer called me last night while I was tending bar. His voicemail didn’t say why. I need a strategy, but I don’t have a signed contract in the traditional sense. So I’m wondering if I even have a leg to stand on.”

  “What were you going to pay for the place?” Griffin asks.

  “Alec, don’t answer that!” May yelps. “Your lawyer doesn’t want you to reveal the terms of the sale to competing parties.”

  Griffin’s eyes bulge. “You’re not his lawyer. You’re my lawyer. And we’re family. Did you forget that?”

  “Breakfast isn’t usually this interesting,” Grandpa says. “Daphne, honey, I’ll have that second cup of coffee after all. Can’t leave when it’s gettin’ good.”

  May shakes her head at Griffin. “I’m not representing you in the acquisition of the Giltmaker tasting room. Lyle uses someone else. And if you think I won’t help Alec discover whether Hamish’s death screws him out of a purchase, think again.”

  Griffin sets his mug down. “Let’s start over. If Alec has a right to the property, I just want to know. I won’t help Lyle steamroll a dead man’s wishes.” Griffin eyes me. “If it’s yours, it’s yours. Lyle will have to look elsewhere.”

  I have to say, those words surprise me. And Griffin sounds sincere enough. He’s known for being Mr. Community. He’s the chairman of the farmers’ market association. He hires local kids at a fair wage. He takes food stamps as payment for produce in season.