by J. M. Adele
“No, you’re not. Those guys will be assholes if they smell fresh meat. I know how to deal with them. Just let me handle it.”
“Chelsea—”
“Grey … are we doing this again? I said I could handle them. Thanks for your concern, it’s real sweet of you. But I’m a big girl.” She started out for the floor before hesitating. “Don’t forget to greet table nine. The customers don’t like to be kept waiting.”
He growled at her hasty retreat. It was tempting to frisbee the plates across the room, taking out the asshole who was still staring Chelsea down. But instead, he put on his game face and did his job. Sometimes, customers were pricks. That was part of the job. But the fact that this guy had asked about her mother … that didn’t sit right with Grey. Matteo wouldn’t want his staff being harassed, and neither did Grey.
The suits were officially on notice.
_____
Chelsea yanked her elbow out of a punishing grasp, and turned to face the asshole attached to the offensive hand. It wasn’t the first time he’d laid a hand on her. It would damn well be the last. His blue eyes appeared murky with alcohol soaked malevolence. She’d have to cut him off soon. His reflexes were slowing, and that had to be an advantage in her court.
“My chicken is dry and tasteless. Take it back, I want another. And I’ll have a glass of your finest whiskey. A double on the rocks.”
His diction showed no signs of overdoing it, each word perfectly pronounced. A perfectly polished act to fool the unsuspecting masses. Chelsea knew better than to let her guard down.
“Certainly.” Asshole.
She noted the guy in pinstripes licking his fingers as he ate the exact same dish of chicken. No way was it fucking dry. She took it anyway, detouring via the bar to order the whiskey. If the asshole wanted to wait even longer until he got to eat, that was his problem. If he was looking to get his meal comped he was shit out of luck. She knew he could afford to pay for the entire restaurant’s meals tonight, and her service had been outstanding despite her picturing various ways to torture him with each visit to the table. Sticking a fork in his eye, pouring hot chili sauce in his lap, flipping his table over so that it accidentally landed on top of him … all fantasies that would never be realized. Such a shame. The asshole deserved it.
Had he known that she worked here and decided to annoy the hell out of her? Probably not, but he’d better not come back.
Grey passed her on his way back from the server’s station. “What’s wrong with the chicken?”
“Nothing.”
“Does someone have his taste buds up his ass?”
“You’re not cut out for service, are ya, Grey? And, no, someone has his head up his ass.”
She collected the glass from the bar, thanking Beau who looked like he was crunching gravel as he told her, “Last one. I’m cutting him off.”
Heaviness jarred each leg as she traveled back to deliver. The asshole was getting under her skin. Her teeth hurt with the effort required to construct a smile for him as she offered the drink. He pulled the whiskey out of her hand before she managed to place it down. Amber liquid spilled over her, and on the arm of the guy sitting beside him.
“Aargh, you stupid girl. What a waste. Go and get me another.”
“I don’t think so. That was intentional on your part.” She sucked the dripping beverage from the back of her hand. “Mm. That’s a good drop. Enjoy your drink. It’s your last for the night.”
“Your mother tried to give me the same line, but I shut her up. Showed her who was the boss.”
Red spots burst across her vision and her limbs pumped with strength, ready to deliver a whupping. “Shut your mouth about my mama. You don’t get to disgrace her name anymore. Get out of my restaurant.”
“Your restaurant? That’s laughable. And your mother did a fine job of disgracing her name all on her own, raising a bastard child.”
Her nostrils flared as she sucked air in and forced it back out. Her arm twitched with the need to slap him across the room, but she held back. Not only because she didn’t want to jeopardize her job, or the restaurant’s reputation, but because she knew he wanted to humiliate her. Years of hurt and anger welled in her eyes, poised to spill and feed this man’s craving for another’s pain. Wrapping her arms around her middle, she prayed for control, blinking back the tears.
“You need to leave.” Grey’s heavy hand landed on the man’s shoulder as his other laid a check presenter on the table. “Here’s the bill. Don’t come again.”
“You must be joking. I’m not paying for anything. The service was atrocious.”
Grey leaned down, baring his teeth and spearing the man with molten metal eyes. “I am half a second away from—”
Beau loomed large on Grey’s other side, spreading a hand on his chest as a warning to back off before he did something stupid. “If you don’t pay we’ll call the cops. And we know who you work for. It’s your choice.”
“Here, take my card.” The guy in the pinstripe suit slipped his plastic into the folder as he stood. “I’m done with this evening. Thank you for the delicious food and excellent service. I apologize for my colleague. It would seem he can’t handle his liquor.”
Oh, he could handle his liquor well enough. It was having his mistakes thrust under his nose that he didn’t like. Some things haunted a person forever, no matter how hard they tried to get rid of them.
_____
Air vibrated in the back of Chelsea’s throat as it whistled through her nose, producing a snore loud enough to wake her. She blinked against the glare coming through the crack in the curtains, and flopped a rubber hand up to wipe away the drool she felt cooling the corner of her mouth. Gross. The scent of alcohol and vomit assaulted her nose, combining with the acid taste on her tongue, and she gagged a little. Tentatively, she tried to stretch out her legs, but found one of them trapped under a leaden weight. Levering her head off the pillow, she snapped her eyes open when she saw a muscled male limb bent over hers. Following it up, she discovered a sleepy Greyson curled beside her, wearing only his boxers.
“Holy shit,” she whispered, desperately searching her foggy memories for a clue as to how he got there.
And why was she only in her underwear? Wincing, she slid out from underneath him, feeling every muscle groan and her stomach protest as she headed for the bathroom. The reflection in the mirror made her clench her eyes shut and whimper. After relieving herself, she stripped down and showered, scrubbing the heck out of her skin before scraping last night off the inside of her mouth. God, she hoped she hadn’t kissed him in the state she was in. What the hell had happened? Last thing she remembered, she was finishing up her tasks and then slipping behind the bar to grab a bottle of Jack, telling Beau to put it on her tab.
Wrapping her body in a towel, she tiptoed back to the room, and found him sitting up and blinking the sleep out of his eyes. Dark, tousled waves framed his scruffy face, caressing his shoulders and chest where they bunched, as he pressed two fists into the mattress beside his hips. His boxer shorts strained where his cock greeted the morning. Her core clenched at the sight of him, and she swallowed down her filthy thoughts.
Tossing her dirty underwear in the laundry basket, she went to her chest of drawers for a fresh set. “Good morning.”
“Morning,” his voice rumbled out, doing delicious things to her insides.
Down, girl.
Hiding behind her closet door, she slipped on her panties under the towel.
“Thanks for bringing me home. I’m assuming you drove.”
She dropped the towel, hooking her bra in place before reaching for a T-shirt and jeans.
“Yeah, I drove.”
Mm, that morning voice. She could get used to hearing that.
“Can I ask what happened?”
“You snore.”
“I do not.”
“When you’re drunk, you do.”
She bit the corner of her lip. He had her there. “What else do I d
o when I’m drunk?”
“I need to wash up first, then we’ll talk.”
We’ll talk. What did that mean? Her mind flashed back to a life she’d rather forget. Most of it a blur, thanks to the annihilation of brain cells by alcohol. She remembered enough of it to regret it all.
Rubbing the goose bumps from her arms, she tamped down the rising shame.
Let go of the blame.
Yeah, I’m trying, Beth. I’m trying.
She hadn’t been drunk since Beth died.
Until last night.
Chelsea had a damn good reason to get shitfaced. But that was done now. Her father wouldn’t be getting through the doors of Abbiocco again. No way in hell would anyone let that happen.
And bless his cotton boxers, Grey had seen fit to make sure she got home safe. He was determined to be her protector. The man was not going to let this go. She had to wonder why she was fighting it so hard when at this stage, it seemed inevitable. If two people were truly meant to be together, wouldn’t they figure out the insurmountable and make it happen?
As she turned away from the closet, she found his heavy-lidded eyes watching her in the mirror across the bed. Shit. She’d forgotten about the mirror. He’d seen everything.
A thrill rushed through her. There was no challenging the need he provoked in her. There was only submission. She let it pull her towards him a step, not knowing how she managed to leave any space between them at all. He adjusted his crotch as he stood, brushing close as he passed her on the way to the bathroom.
Sinking down on the bed, fear, lust, and longing, formed a tossed salad of emotions in her head. Desire for him seized her body into a mass of wild fire. She didn’t know what had happened between them, the lost time blemishing the moment. But, she wanted him now. She wanted to cement their connection in stone.
He entered the room wearing a towel around his waist, and closed the door quietly behind him. Eyes locked on hers, he came to sit beside her, resting a hand behind her on the bed.
“The bathroom smells like you.”
She watched him from the corner of her eye, breathing in the mouth-watering smell of freshly showered man, and checking out the contours of his body. All that smooth, bronzed skin was distracting as hell.
“I’d say you do too, but my soap smells earthy on you, not sweet. Your skin will be as smooth as a baby’s butt now.” She itched to test her theory with a brush from her fingertips. But maybe she’d already done that? “Please tell me you didn’t use my toothbrush.”
“I found a spare in the drawer.”
Oh, good boy.
She spun to face him. “Did we …?”
One dark eyebrow winged up. “You tried your hardest, but I resisted your charms.”
Her spine curved forward. “I was that bad, huh?”
“I prefer my partner to be conscious and in control of her digestive tract when I take her to bed … or in the car …”
“The car?”
“Yeah. You wanted to test out the springs in the back seat.”
I’m sure I did. How ‘bout you put on a shirt before I do something embarrassing.
She sucked air between gritted teeth. Oh, shit. What if I—
“Did I vomit in the car?”
“I grabbed one of the ice buckets before we left. I don’t think Matteo will be wanting it back.”
“Ugh.” She cringed, panic gripping her throat. “Do I still have a job?”
“Yeah, I think you’re safe.” He moved a damp curl off her shoulder, and pinned her with a stare. “So, that guy last night. You said he got your mama pregnant?”
“Oh, I told you that?”
“Is he the devil’s asshole?”
Rubbing her palms on her jeans, she pulled the story together in her throat, preparing to purge it.
“Yes. My … father. He came to town on a business trip and visited the little bakery my mama was workin’ in. She lived in Texas and was only eighteen at the time. He was charming and good looking ... and married. But she didn’t know that. He got her pregnant before he left to go back home to his wife in Alabama.” Peeking at him, she found thunder in his stare. “He came back to town on another trip, expecting to pick up where they left off. When she told him she was carrying me, he got spittin’ mad. He threw a bunch of money at her, told her she had to get rid of me, and that I’d never have his name.”
“And your mama told him to go to hell?”
“I’m sitting here telling the story, aren’t I? She got a black eye and a cracked rib for her trouble. She nearly lost me.”
“I’m guessing that was his plan. Total asshole.”
“Devil’s asshole.”
Grey’s hands curled over his knees. “Do you think he came in to see you?”
“No. I think he’d rather forget I’m alive. That’s how I feel about him. I’m guessing it’s mutual.”
“How did you know it was him? I mean, has he seen you since you were born?”
“Ha. Yeah. He came to town a few times while I was growing up. He’d leave flowers for mama on the doorstep; a bunch of pink roses with their heads cut off. Not that we can prove it. He came to the school a few times and watched me from the parking lot. When mama came to get me, she saw him and freaked out. That’s when I found out who he was.”
“What the fuck? Do I need to worry about him coming back and hurting you?”
“No.” She hoped.
Grey’s gaze probed for the truth behind her mask of innocence. He wasn’t buying it. She wasn’t sure if she was either. She’d become an expert at making herself believe she was okay, when the reality was nothing but shitty. The visit from her father rattled her enough to send her to the bottom of the bottle. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to have someone look out for her. Letting him into her vulnerable center would be so easy, but keeping him at bay was exhausting. Why couldn’t she just let go?
“I’m going to worry no matter what you say. If I see that asshole again, I’ll rip his balls off as payback for the flowers and as a service to humanity.”
“Violence should not be sexy, but damn, you take it there. Especially in that towel. Don’t think I haven’t noticed you’re practically naked.” She flicked a pointed finger at his attire.
“I’ve seen you mostly naked. I think it would only be fair for me to lose the towel.”
Her mouth dropped open so she could drag in some oxygen, and her heart went from a steady thud to a riotous beat.
“Do it,” she dared.
“Lose the shirt, first.” His eyes dropped to where her nipples poked at the fabric.
“I guess I am a ways behind.” She pulled the shirt over her head, dropping it on the floor.
His throat bobbed and the towel twitched in response. Rising to her feet, she moved in front of him, unbuttoning her jeans as he watched, riveted. The heavy fabric slid slowly down her thighs, gathering at her ankles. Gray eyes traveled up her length, and he gripped her by the waist, pulling her down to straddle him so he could capture her mouth in a searing kiss. Her hands memorized the lines of his back and tangled in his hair, tilting his head so she could delve deeper, get closer. Maneuvering the towel away with her knees, his erection sprang into place against her wet panties. His grunt and her answering mewl tangled in their kiss, as his hands sank into the flesh of her ass, grinding her down against him.
The sensations crashing over her flooded her system, until she felt she was drowning in him. How long had it been since she’d seen him at that gas station? Months. Months of wanting and frustration. She was finally allowed to feast on the buffet.
He twisted so she fell to the mattress and he climbed over her, tucking his knees into her sides. Warm hands pulled her bra away and her brows popped in surprise. She hadn’t realized that he’d undone the hooks. She was glad to see the damn thing get flung across the room, as his mouth sank down on one greedy nipple. Her body arched in pleasure, asking for more. He delivered with each stroke of his tongue and grasp of his palms.
/> The fever built, until his hands slowed and his mouth pulled away, his silver-flecked gaze locking on to something deep inside her. Some place no one else had ever touched. Her lungs ceased to work. She scissored her legs and pushed against his chest to get some breathing space, and break the hold he had on her. Moving aside, he let her sit up, his face a picture of concern as he watched her struggle for air.
“I’m … sorry.” She couldn’t look at his eyes, instead focusing on his legs as they slid into his pants.
“It’s okay.”
Dropping her head into her hands, she groaned. “Is it?”
“Yes. Do you want to know why?”
“I don’t know.”
He tugged on her chin, urging her to face him. “It’s okay because I finally see you, and you finally see me. When that doesn’t scare you anymore, let me know, and we’ll finish what we started. But, sweetheart, don’t take too long. I only have so much strength.”
He dropped a kiss on her head, leaving her to wonder if she was the biggest idiot on the planet, or the smartest woman alive. It wasn’t just about getting him out of her system anymore. He pumped through her veins just as surely as her blood did. There was no separating the two. It was about whether she could take the deluge once she opened the flood gates. She feared she no longer had a choice but to brace herself and hope for the best.
Gathering her wits enough to get dressed she found her cell on the desk, blinking with a message from Dane.
How was it? Is it true what they say about cowboys?
Aw, shit. Everybody was going to be talking about her drunken fall from grace. She was right back to where she was as a disgraced teenager. The gossip hounds loved her. She’d relished giving them a scandal back then, and didn’t give a fuck what people would say now. What happened between her and Grey was none of anyone else’s goddamn business.
She tossed the phone down without replying. Screw the boots. She had some packing to do. The trip home to Mama couldn’t have come at a better time.
You’re What?