Not Used To Cute

by Becca Seymour

  “That Rocky guy?” I asked.

  “Yeah. The guy’s out on bail, awaiting the news of his court date. He didn’t get put on remand like Tom’s brother. His record wasn’t quite as grim.” Drake sighed, looking tired. “You gave the video footage to Linda, yeah?”

  I nodded, relieved we had cameras at the front of the building, a good reminder to add them to the blind spots that had hidden the graffiti incidents from a few weeks back. “Yeah.”

  “Good. We’ll get it looked at, then will hopefully have enough to make an arrest.”

  “Whole lot of good that did last time,” I said, the words falling out of my mouth. I winced, immediately saying, “Sorry. I know it was out of your hands.”

  Drake’s jaw clenched as he bobbed his head. “I get it. Just as pissed off as you are.” His eyes then travelled to where I knew Seb was sitting. “He gonna be okay?”

  I looked over at the man who’d become such an intrinsic part of my life. The paramedics had patched him up. No stitches were needed, and there were just a couple of shards they’d had to remove. “I’ll make sure he is,” I said. There was no doubt in my mind that Seb and I were a team. He’d have my back just as readily as I had his.

  “That’s good. I’ll let you know as soon as I have news. Be sure to call your sister. I saw the press outside, so she’ll be worried.”

  “Will do.” I reached out and shook his hand.

  After saying goodbye, I looked at the army of bodies in Bar QK, and despite the shattered glass, the fallen chairs and stools, and the red, blue, yellow, green, and purple paint that decorated so many surfaces, I managed a breath of relief.

  The few tourist types had been allowed to leave, and since then, what was left was a handful of locals, the staff on duty, and two more who shouldn’t be here. I expected they’d been called in by someone.

  That was the thing. Bar QK was more than a simple place to come and grab a beer; we’d built a community. And with the familiar faces already in full-clean-up mode, working their arses off to not let a bunch of bigoted pricks get us down, a rush of emotion threatened to floor me.

  “Hey.” Seb’s hand touched my forearm. “You doin’ okay?”

  I huffed out a laugh with a shake of my head. “Says the guy who’s been injured.” The twist in my stomach was visceral, painful when I looked at his wide eyes filled with concern.

  “Hey,” he said again, this time embracing me on his toes so his face could plant firmly at my neck. His voice was quiet, just for me. “I’m okay. This is not your fault, and there’s nothing you could have done to prevent this.”

  His words were soft caresses across my skin, causing goosebumps to ripple across my arms. I sighed into the comfort he offered, not giving a shit that I was in the middle of my bar. I squeezed lightly, finally pulling away after he dotted a kiss to my neck.

  Once settled back on his feet, he offered me a smile. “What do you need me to do?”

  I shook my head. “You need to rest.” There was no way I could let him carry on as though nothing had happened. Shock was a bastard of a thing and could easily creep up on him. And if that happened, I didn’t want him to be in the middle of the room.

  Seb pursed his lips before opening his mouth to speak. I cut him off by tugging him close and bending my knees slightly.

  “I know you think you’re fine, but I need you safe, and you need to decompress. Please,” I added for good measure.

  His gaze roamed mine, questions flickering in their depths. “Okay,” he said finally. “Let me do something though. I need to.”

  There was no doubt he spoke the truth, and I expected the need was so he could busy his mind. “How about you head back to the office with Carla and see what she needs?”

  He bobbed his head. “I can do that.”

  Relief slithered over me. I wanted him close by for sure, and out the back was the safest place for him. I grazed my lips across his, leaning into the kiss for a moment before edging back, eyes now on the room. I spotted Carla and called her over. “Will you head out back and arrange whatever needs to be sorted? Seb will help.”

  Her agreement was immediate. “’Course.” She smiled at Seb, saying, “I’ll deal with the insurance if you can sort a glazier,” as they walked together, leaving for the office and giving me the time to properly take in all that had happened.

  I had to believe that the CCTV had done its job and Drake would arrest the people who did this. With five eight-litre tins of paint that had smashed through the window, this was certainly not a one-person job. Not with the speed at which it had happened.

  But knowing that the final incident to have stopped these shitheads for good—I hoped—had resulted in Seb’s injuries and those of a couple of customers who’d been sliced by flying glass made me sick to my stomach.

  Hate crimes. Just the thought of them sent my gut roiling. It was a fucking epidemic. The past three years, I’d been lucky to have run things relatively unscathed—lived my life focused on the bar and therefore in the bubble of protection it offered.

  There was no way I’d let that bubble deflate. It had been sliced and battered, but hell if I’d not work my hardest to make sure me and mine were safe here. Screw the haters.

  Sixteen

  Seb

  The smile on my face threatened to split. It was at the point of hurting, but there was no way I was willing to pull back my happiness.

  After four months of planning, it was finally showtime, and perfectly timed with the Sunshine Coast Pride Festival too.

  A quick glance around showed a full house. The tables and chairs had been rearranged to allow for maximum capacity while still providing breathing room. And at a nice price per head for admission, it meant we had already raised several thousand for a Queensland based non-profit organisation.

  After the nightmare a few months back, Elijah had charged out like some kind of warrior, determined to expand his own impact, as well as Bar QK’s, on the local LGBTIQ community. We’d all felt it that day, and the days that followed, but Elijah had put the media coverage to good use and made a stand.

  And a few months later, with both of the bigoted idiots serving time—and another given community service and a caution—though admittedly not long enough as far as any of us were concerned, we were here, and the atmosphere was electric.

  Lady Bra Ga was in her element, centre stage and performing so perfectly, the hairs on the back of my neck were standing on end.

  “I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of watching her,” I said to Tom as we stood at the end of the bar, both completely slayed by her performance.

  “She’s incredible,” he said, his voice breathy.

  I glanced over at him and smirked. “It’s sweet that you have such a boner for her.”

  Even in the strobe lighting, I could tell he was blushing. Over the past few months, Tom had become a good friend. The whole shitshow of his family being turds had kicked up my desire to get to know him, as well as pulling him into the fold of the Bar QK family even deeper. “I’m not the only one. She’s so hot.”

  I patted his arm, my sympathy genuine. Lady Bra Ga had a confirmed reputation for being absolutely not interested in settling down, while Tom saw love hearts and absolutely wanted someone to call his. He’d admitted as much to me on several occasions… usually when the good vodka was flowing.

  “Where’s the boss man?” he asked, changing topics completely. The mention of Elijah had the same effect it always did. My heart tumbled over itself, the wings in my stomach taking flight at the possibility of seeing him.

  I craned my neck, scanning the room, my gaze finally landing on him. “He’s with Cole, just off the side of the stage.” They were talking, heads tilted close together so they could hear, both sets of eyes roaming the bar.

  When his wandering gaze settled on me, I felt the heat at the contact. Usually his eyes would widen, even just a little. Sometimes tongue would peek out to swipe at his bottom lip, and almost every time without fail, if
he was close enough, he’d reach out to touch me in some way.

  And despite the crowd separating us, despite the shadows and the flashing lights, it was as if I could feel his touch across the distance.

  “You guys are impossible,” Tom grumbled, but there was no bite in his tone.

  “Uh-huh.” I knew it, so did Elijah, and I wouldn’t want it any other way.

  “When’s the official moving in day?” he asked.

  “Two weeks on Sunday.” I grinned at the memory of how Elijah had asked, how his tender words combined with him giving me head had meant I hadn’t needed any convincing to say yes. I’d already started moving lots of my things over, which wasn’t a hardship since I spent 90 percent of my time there.

  I angled back to Tom, and he bobbed his head. “That’s great, save him from grouching when he’s working that you’re not at his place waiting for him.” He threw me a grin with his words.

  “Ha! Not sure anything will stop his grouchy ways.”

  “Whose grouchy ways?”

  Elijah’s heat registered in time with his words, followed immediately by his hand on my waist. With his presence came the calm I associated with the man who had my heart. It was at complete odds with the impact his heated looks gave, but just as comforting.

  I quirked my brow at him, leaning into his touch. “You really need for me to point out the grouchy one?”

  My words resulted in a pinch of my arse. I laughed. “Hands off the goods.”

  He angled towards me, his breath brushing against my cheek, then neck before he said, “I thought your arse was mine?”

  I grinned and he eased back. “True.”

  “And no take-backs,” he said with a smirk. “Taking back gifts is all levels of tacky.”

  “You’re ridiculous,” I said, my snort somehow hurting my throat when it came out loud and hard.

  “And you’re cute,” he challenged.

  My eye-roll was immediate, as was Tom’s “And I’m out!”

  Elijah took his place next to me at the bar. “You having a good night?”

  I nodded, flicking my gaze to the stage and the dancers as Lady Bra Ga prepared for her next set. “The best.” I forced conviction into my voice when I said, “What you’ve done here tonight is amazing.”

  “And long overdue.”

  I shook my head at him in frustration, hating that he continued to beat himself up. “Let’s stay in the moment while still looking forward, yeah? Tonight is great, and what you have in the works is even better.”

  “It’s exciting, right?” Finally, a look of satisfaction crossed over his features.

  “It is, and I’m proud as hell.” There were a couple of local non-profits we’d been in contact with, looking at events and activities outside of the annual celebrations, including a surfing one that I was psyched about.

  Softness settled in his gaze as he zeroed in on me. “Thank you. I think we can actually make a difference.”

  Rising onto my tiptoes, I angled up so I could be close to his mouth. “Together, we really can,” I said breathily before pressing against him, my mouth capturing his. There was little doubt in my mind that as a couple we’d hold strong, and as a community, we’d continue to work our arses off to help make our home a better place.

  Have you caught up with my True-Blue series? It’s now complete with book five, It’s Not You, which is a stand-alone read in my sexy, low-angst romance series!

  I hope Seb and Elijah made you happy sigh. If you’re looking for more Aussie romances, check out Thicker Than Water, which features a smart-mouthed and delicious wolf shifter. If paranormal isn’t your thing, check out Amalgamated where you can visit the Australian outback.

  Don’t forget about my True-Blue series, starting with Let Me Show You. Plus, Always For You, a stand-alone short in the series, is available for free download to my newsletter subscribers.

  Community Links

  Diverse Voices: http://diversevoices.org.au/

  Diverse Voices is a non-profit organisation that largely relies on fundraising to cover their costs. Please take a moment to check out their sponsor a call campaign.

  Sunshine Coast Pride: https://www.sunshinecoastpride.org/

  Sunshine Coast Pride is designed to help the gay community in the area network, support and band together in mutual celebration, recognition and strength.

  About the Author

  Becca Seymour lives and breathes all things book related. Usually with at least three books being read and two WiPs being written at the same time, life is merrily hectic. She tends to do nothing by halves, so happily seeks the craziness and busyness life offers.

  Living on her small property in Queensland with her human family as well as her animal family of cows, chooks, and dogs, Becca appreciates the beauty of the world around her and is a believer that love truly is love.

  To check for updates head to Becca’s website:

  https://beccaseymour.com

  You can sign up for her newsletter here:

  https://landing.mailerlite.com/webforms/landing/r9f0i4

  Plus, join her Facebook group, which she shares with the awesome Louisa Masters here:

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  Also by Becca Seymour

  Coming Home Collection

  Realigned

  Amalgamated

  True-Blue Series

  Let Me Show You (#1)

  I’ve Got You (#2)

  Becoming Us (#3)

  Thinking It Over (#4)

  Always For You (#4.5 TED & JASON’S STORY - FREE for newsletter subscribers)

  It’s Not You (#5)

  Urban Fantasy Romance

  Thicker Than Water

  Stand-Alone Contemporary

  Not Used To Cute