Whiskey Sharp: Torn

by Lauren Dane

  Both women, mother and daughter, were undergoing a huge change. Cora wanted to deepen her roots professionally and socially.

  Beto approached with his suave-ass smile that charmed oh so many men. He handed Cora a glass. “Vodka and soda with extra lime. Drink up, sweetheart.” He squeezed her shoulder. “You did well with her,” he murmured.

  That made Cora feel better. “I’m trying. Thanks for the drink.” Cora held it up in salute before she took a healthy gulp.

  “The place looks fantastic. You did a great job with everything. Even though most of it was over the phone or internet when you were gone, you still handled it. I do notice. So does Pai.”

  One of her goals was to be sure her father had faith in her leadership of the gallery. She’d needed to hear it.

  Beto tipped his chin to where their parents stood with Maybe and Rachel, who’d been keeping Walda busy so she couldn’t get back to messing with things. “Those Dolan girls are good friends.”

  “They really are. Okay. I need to get circulating. Be nice to Beau when he arrives.”

  Her brother’s eyes widened slightly. “Can’t wait. Not going to lie, Finley and I looked him up on the internet and saw all his modeling shots. He’s not hard to look at.”

  Cora nodded. “Not at all. Naked, he’s like one of those magical things you’re not supposed to look at directly or you get ensorcelled.”

  Beto laughed, leaning in to kiss her cheek. “We haven’t had much time to check in since you’ve been back. I can see you have a lot to say.”

  “I’ve been mulling. I think I might be ready to share. Let’s all have brunch soon. I want to talk to Finley about it too.”

  He nodded and she headed off to do her thing, mask firmly in place.

  * * *

  THOUGH HE’D PLANNED to play it far more cool and make his way to wherever Cora was in a casual, nonchalant cruise, Beau saw her the moment they walked into the gallery and there was nothing but his desire to get to her.

  A dress of midnight blue skimmed from midthigh up over her body in a caress that displayed the curves beneath. The neck was high and it had no sleeves. The combination worked, hinting and showing off equally well.

  With her hair pulled back he saw the lines of her face better, noted even in the lower lights the darker lip and the dramatic eyes. He liked it when she was in jeans and T-shirts, but this dressed-up version was hot.

  When he drew close, he listened to her speak about the artist of a series of pen-and-ink drawings she stood in front of.

  This wasn’t just the boss’s daughter. Cora clearly loved what she was doing, but also had a sound foundation on which to speak about art. She was intelligent and quick-witted. Intuitive.

  She was far more complicated than he’d given her credit for at first glance. Every time he saw her, he learned something new. Something more.

  After the people she’d been speaking to moved on, she looked up and their gazes locked with a sensual punch.

  He cupped her elbow as he leaned down to kiss her. He’d been intending on a cheek kiss but ended up with a brush of his mouth against hers.

  “Good evening,” he said, stepping back but not very far. “You look fantastic.”

  Her smile seemed to light her from within. “Thank you. So do you.”

  “Do you have time to give me a tour?” Beau indicated the gallery’s contents with a wave of his hand.

  “Of course.”

  She led him through the gallery, pausing here and there to show him something or answer his questions.

  All the while, her friends and her mother all watched them with undisguised curiosity.

  “You’re aware your friends and I assume more of your family are clearly waiting for you to introduce me to them,” he asked her when she paused in front of a hyperrealistic painting of a scarlet leaf swirling toward a drain.

  “Finley’s been playing internet sleuth. She and my brother have been looking at your modeling shots online. They’ve all seen your butt and tasteful shots of your dick.”

  He nearly choked on his spit at that but she was amused so he could relax a little. His life had included a period of time when people took pictures of him to sell their products. Clothes, shoes, fragrance, lifestyle based products, he’d done them all. And there were pictures to prove it.

  “If it helps, they both think you looked hot in the pictures,” she told him, a smile on her face. Damn. He wanted to kiss her again and then once more.

  “I’d be lying if I said it didn’t.”

  “You remember that my mother is a kook, right? I mean, look—” Cora lowered her voice “—she might bring up the, uh, way you grew up. I mean, I’m sure my father coached her not to, but, she does what she wants. So. I apologize in advance.”

  Adorable. Good god. This woman was beyond adorable.

  “I’ll be fine. Whenever you’re ready.” But it looked as if one of them was going to bolt and come over to them if they didn’t get a move on.

  She stood taller and gave him a look. “All right then. You were warned.”

  He leaned down to whisper in her ear. “You made up for any potential issues with your family earlier this afternoon if I recall.”

  Her blush charmed him.

  “We’ll see what you think after you meet them.”

  “I’ve met your mother,” he said.

  She snorted. “Dude. You met W. Silvera. Another famous person who lived in the same complex. That woman over there? That’s Walda, my mom and also the queen of this space.” Her tone held a bit of bitterness and it tugged at him. “She’s the gatekeeper, or so she thinks. It’s different.”

  Cora smiled at some people who passed by before turning back to him. He could see that bitterness had been swept aside.

  She was also correct that this time, coming into contact with her parents and siblings was different. Which he’d been in denial about until that moment and now a little anxiety churned in his belly.

  Regardless, he understood Cora enough to know her family was important, and if he meant to be around her, he’d have to accept it. And have them accept him.

  “Ready?”

  “As I’ll ever be,” he said.

  With a smile, she took his hand and they walked over to where the Silveras stood, not even pretending they hadn’t been watching him with Cora the whole time he’d been there.

  “Everyone, this is Beau Petty. Beau, you already know my mom and some of the others, but this is my father, John.”

  Her dad gave Beau a once-over before giving him a firm handshake. Walda gave him a far more imperious look before she held her hand out.

  “It’s nice to see you again. You’ve aged well. Why are you in Seattle?” Walda continued her regal look like that was how everyone met new people.

  “I’m Finley.” A tall, dark-haired woman who shared the same eyes as her little sister stepped forward, interrupting her mother’s question.

  “Nice to meet you. And you’re Alberto?” Beau asked, turning to her brother.

  “Yes.” His handshake was firm, his look assessing but not hostile. “Call me Beto—everyone else does.”

  “You were going to tell us why you were in Seattle,” Walda repeated.

  “I’m in Seattle for work. I’m writing a cookbook, creating my new show around it. And for personal reasons. I have several close friends in Seattle. I find it easy to relax here. There’s a great food culture.” Beau gave Cora a look. “And now I’ve got even more reasons to stick around.”

  “Are you in the market for some art?” Walda asked him.

  She wasn’t his mother so it didn’t poke at him the way it did Cora. He’d been around more than his share of strong, manipulative personalities. His father was a master of the mind fuck. So Beau knew not to engage like that. Better to let the other person either run out of steam, or if the
y continued, he had other ways of dealing. Changing the subject, moving away, pretending to be totally ignorant of the intent because once you gave in and responded in kind, the other person would only think it was all right to act that way in the future.

  No one pulled his strings.

  He chose to be laid-back and easygoing. Chose to be amused, so he said, “I’m told by a very good source that I should always be in the market for some art.”

  “He means me,” Cora said with a smile, relief clear at the edges. “Speaking of being in the market, I see a collector I know over there in front of the watercolors. She definitely needs some new art. I also see Gregori and Wren,” she told him. “Let’s go say hello on the way.”

  Beau tipped his chin at his friends, who headed over. “Not necessary. They’re coming to us. Go and sell the hell out of some art. I’ll be here when you’re done.”

  Cora turned to her mother. “Behave,” she urged before sailing off to do her job.

  She had a way about her, an air of competence and authority. She knew her shit and was confident without being overbearing. Warm and charming. It was sexy just how well she worked the room.

  “Why don’t you model anymore?” Walda asked, breaking into his thoughts. She wasn’t done with her questioning, and while her manner bordered on rude, it was a fair enough question.

  And he wanted her family to like him. He’d enjoyed Walda well enough in the brief interactions he’d had with her. Beau needed to reach a little deeper now that he’d pushed back and established his boundaries with her.

  “It’s a hard life and as my friend Ian likes to remind me, beauty fades. I wanted to have something else to do to diversify my career. Because of the opportunities I was presented with, I found that I really liked to cook. It turned out to be a good pivot. My manager knew someone who was looking for a new face for a cooking show. That’s how I got the first television job. It’s been seven years now and my second iteration ended six months ago so I’m working on version three. I do still model from time to time. Good to keep a toe in and it pays the bills.” It also enabled him to support the different organizations he wanted to.

  She made a sound. If it was good or bad he didn’t know, but then she nodded as if he’d passed some sort of quiz. Not that Beau fooled himself. This was her nature. To be the queen in every room.

  He turned his attention back to where Cora stood, across the gallery, selling the hell out of some rather striking pen-and-ink drawings.

  “You should come by the shop sometime. Have lunch with us all,” Finley said.

  “If you scare him off, Cora is going to peel the skin off your body and rub you in salt,” Rachel replied easily.

  Wren laughed. “I love you guys. No one is going to scare anyone off. Beau is made of sterner stuff.”

  Appreciating the backup, Beau sent a smile Wren’s way before turning his attention back to Finley. “I’d love to come by the shop. I’m thinking on some new ink so that kind of works out. Cora says you’re both really good.”

  “See? Sterner stuff. Charm and good looks.” Wren shrugged with a smirk.

  “We’ll see. There’s no shortage of handsome, charming men around,” Finley said with a lift of one shoulder.

  “I know. Life is pretty damned awesome, right?” Wren said with a wink, setting everyone to laughing.

  CHAPTER NINE

  The shape of your mouth

  A lush, pillowed haven

  Giver of pleasure

  Curved with secrets

  A FEW WEEKS LATER, Beau knocked on her door, knowing he could have easily texted her.

  She opened up, looking sleep rumpled, and he should have felt guilty but all he felt was pleasure at the sight of her. The intensity hadn’t worn off as they slow danced through the first weeks of their relationship.

  “I just...” He paused and then ran a hand through his hair. “I have to fly to LA. My house sold and I need to sign stuff and handle some last details.”

  She held a hand his way. “Do you have time to share a cup of coffee or are you on the way out now?”

  He took it, going into her little town house at her side. “I have time. I’m not flying out until tonight. I woke you up. I’m sorry.”

  “I was still in bed, but awake. Just writing a little, listening to public radio. Sit. I was about to make coffee. Honestly. And even if I wasn’t, it’s not a big deal to make it.”

  Beau watched her, her hips swaying slightly as she measured out coffee and got everything started.

  It had been two days since he’d seen her last. She’d been busy, as had he. And yet, she’d never been far from his thoughts and he found himself making the time, pushing her to the top of his priority list, even if it was to just have a quick lunch or share a cup of coffee. He wanted to spend some time while he was gone to think on that. About how he wanted to be around her on a regular basis.

  But the impact of just how different this attraction to Cora was than anything he’d experienced before still had him a little unsteady.

  “I’ll be back Friday night,” he said. But instead of sitting, he moved to her fridge. “What’s in here?”

  “Look for yourself. I went to the produce market yesterday with Rachel and Vic so there’s all sorts of goodness.”

  Her face was bare of any makeup, she wore flannel pajama bottoms and a long-sleeved shirt, and yet he couldn’t take his attention away from her.

  “What? I brushed my teeth already, I promise.”

  He didn’t resist the urge to cross her kitchen and kiss her silly. Her taste seeped down into him, spreading through his system in a slow, warm tide.

  Recognition. She tasted like she knew him and wanted him anyway.

  “Just wanted to kiss you, that’s all,” he murmured before breaking away to continue poking around to see what he could make them for breakfast.

  “If you like smoked salmon there’s some in the cheese drawer thingy,” she told him. “Vic’s mom makes it fresh, and then sets some aside for me. And there’s some black bread over near the toaster. There were these Danish things called vatrushka, but I ate those.”

  He laughed. “Why’d you tell me then?”

  She shrugged. “Gloating, I suppose.”

  Holy shit did he adore her. “Can we get together when I return?” he asked her as he began to assemble a quick scramble. Step one in his being-with-Cora-more plan was to simply speak his intentions.

  “Yes, of course. I guess...well, I figure we’re in a thing of some sort, right? So yeah, I’d like that. Was the house on the market long?” The coffee maker began to gurgle merrily as she pulled out plates and silverware.

  Relief hit that she seemed as off balance as he when it came to how well they connected. “Luckily for me, the house was in a neighborhood in high demand with really low availability. My broker hadn’t even officially listed it when we got the first offer.”

  “Are you a real estate genius or was that a stroke of luck or what?”

  “Can you toast the bread? The eggs are nearly finished,” he said, and once she agreed, he answered her question. “I bought the house years ago when the market was crap and my accountant suggested it as a good way to diversify my portfolio. The cool factor of the area is the final reason I decided to get out. Constantly surrounded by young, rich fucks who have no jobs, party constantly and race through the streets in Lambos they don’t deserve. I liked it when it was mainly old people. They make less noise.”

  The toast popped up to put a period at the end of that statement.

  “Is the next sentence, get off my lawn?” The giggle at the end let him know she was teasing and it was good-natured. “Want butter?”

  He snorted. “I’ve never had a lawn really. Even at my house, it was more drought conscious so it was rocks and succulents and fire-resistant stuff. I think I might yell at people who walked
on my emerald green lawn if I had one.”

  Her delighted chuckle pleased him nearly as much as the way she went to her toes as she yanked him her way by his shirt. The kiss she followed up with was rousing and comforting at the same time.

  “You’re pretty charming. You know that, right?”

  Beau banded her waist with his forearm, holding her to him. He knew. He’d be a liar to deny it. Usually it was sort of automatic. He’d been trained early on to charm people. Make them like him as a way to get people to come to church.

  With Cora, it was more a desire to please and delight. He wanted to be the one to make her laugh, to bring kisses and her attention. It was one of the reasons he was there instead of texting that he was going out of town.

  “I would very much appreciate butter on my toast, thank you,” he said after kissing her one last time.

  Once they settled at the table, she poured them both a cup of coffee and they dug in, eating in companionable silence.

  “Your life is so quiet here. Even with the super spider lair on your porch and a dozen pumpkins it’s quiet. Peaceful.” It called to him nearly as powerfully as she herself did.

  “The rest of my life isn’t always so quiet. I wanted a place that I could retreat to. There are only six units here. And all of us facing an internal courtyard seems to really cut noise from the street. It’s nice and shady in the heat of the summer and cozy warm in the winter. It’s a good place to be. There’s just one drawback. Or two. Dave and Lani. I call him The Hugger and she’s Nip Slip. They have a hot tub they’re always inviting people to. He’s a close talker, all up in your space. Loves to grab you into hugs while telling you he’s a hugger. Like it’s not obvious. Anyway, their place is two down. Be warned.”

  “Making a note not to walk down that way.” He paused. “I had a good time at the gallery event. I think I forgot to say so that night or the days after.”

  “Yeah? Good. I did too.”

  He hadn’t stayed over after the gallery event, though he’d come home with her and they’d ended up having sex twice more before he shuffled out after two.