Taming My Whiskey

by Melissa Foster

  How could she deny an offer like that? “Always. I’ll be right there.”

  He walked into the bathroom, and she grabbed her phone to check messages from last night. She’d missed messages from Jayla, a few from Crystal and Izzy, and one from Bullet.

  She opened and read Bullet’s message first. Did you kick ass today? She typed, I think so. It was fun. Everything okay there?

  She read Jayla’s text next. I LOVED the pics Jace sent during the shoot! You are a natural! She liked all of Jace’s sisters and had texted with them yesterday before the shoot. She sent her a quick response, thumbing out, Thank you! Rush’s advice was perfect. It really helped!

  Crystal and Izzy had sent almost identical messages. Each of them had sent one wishing her luck and another asking how it had gone. As she responded to Crystal, telling her it went great and she’d loved it, another text from Izzy popped up. Never heard from you yesterday. Hope it went well. If you’re okay, send me a—she inserted a thumbs-up emoji. If you need me to send your brothers to kick Jace’s ass, send me a—she inserted a thumbs-down emoji.

  Dixie responded with an eggplant emoji and a smiley face with heart eyes. She texted, Can you still pick me up at the airport? I might need a stiff drink.

  She heard the water running just as her phone vibrated with Izzy’s response. Of course! I need details.

  Dixie sent a quick thank-you to Izzy; then she headed into the bathroom. Jace opened the glass shower door, and steam billowed out. Lord, he looked good dripping wet. He treated her to a rare, genuine smile that was neither seductive nor coy. It was just Jace, and it was the most wonderful smile of all.

  He reached for her and said, “Come here, beautiful. Let me thank you properly for saying you’ll stay…”

  This man, naked and in the mood to give, was a deadly combination. He’d been right to think he had the power to ruin her for all other men, but oh what a glorious ruining it would be.

  AFTER WALKING DOWN to one of Jace’s favorite cafés for breakfast, they returned to his apartment to go over the contact sheets Hawk emailed to Jace. They were in his home office, viewing images on two computers with large monitors. There were sketch pads with drawings of random designs and motorcycles on the desk, the end table, and even the sofa. But she didn’t have time to look through them. Hawk had taken hundreds of shots, as if he hadn’t stopped to take a breath during the entire shoot. He’d even taken several pictures of Jace throughout the day, talking on the phone or with the guys handling the bikes, leaning against the building, or gazing at something in the distance with a faraway expression. Those were the pictures that fascinated her most. Her favorite was a picture of him leaning against a brick wall. One booted foot was on the ground, his other knee was bent, the sole of his boot resting on the brick. His head was tipped back, eyes closed, a bottle of water pressed to his lips. Dixie had been so busy every second yesterday, she hadn’t had time to slow down and admire him. Boy was he worth admiring. He looked like a badass model who should have a calendar all his own.

  Jace sat back in his chair with an incredulous smile, shaking his head. “Well, Dix, if you ever had any doubt that you were born to be the face of Silver-Stone, here’s the proof.”

  She glanced at the images on the other screen. She couldn’t believe she was looking at herself. The woman in the pictures was gorgeous, so unlike the way she saw herself. The gritty background of the warehouse enhanced the radiance of the sleek and shiny motorcycles. But it was the clothes that Jace had helped design that added an unexpected level of elegance to the pictures. She was proud that she hadn’t let him down, but even more than that, she was grateful to have been part of such an important project.

  “I don’t think we need to reshoot any of these. You’re gorgeous in every one of them. What do you think?”

  “Me?” She couldn’t believe he was asking. “All I know is that I want copies of the pictures of you, in my own calendar.”

  He laughed, and it was the best sound ever. He didn’t laugh often, and she’d miss it when she went back home.

  “It’s your company, Jace. That’s your decision. I’m just proud to be part of your project. I still can’t believe that’s me in those pictures. Your bikes and clothes sure do make me look good.”

  “I think it’s the other way around, Dix.”

  “I doubt that. But I’m really glad you talked me into doing the calendar. I’m sorry I didn’t realize how amazing it would be when you first mentioned it. I was thinking pinup girl, and you really were envisioning a work of art. I loved doing the shoot and working with you and Hawk. This was an experience I’ll never forget.” Butterflies took flight in her stomach at that last little reveal, which had as much to do with their private time together as the shoot.

  She was looking forward to spending another whole day and an incredible night in the arms of the man who was more generous, family oriented, and delicious than she could ever have imagined. So why did that chance feel like a double-edged sword?

  He covered her hand with his and squeezed. “I can’t believe I almost settled for Sahara. That would have been a big mistake. I should have come to you in the first place.”

  His eyes lingered on hers, looking deeper than just a friendly glance. She wondered if he meant he wished they’d gotten together sooner, not just for the shoot.

  As if he’d read her thoughts and they’d scared him away, he shifted his eyes back to the screen and let go of her hand.

  “Honestly, I don’t know how we’ll choose from all these pictures,” he said casually. “You’re gorgeous in every one of them. Next week’s merchandising meeting should be interesting. That’s when we’re choosing the pictures for the calendars and other merchandising. Why don’t I reach out to Hawk and my assistant and let them know we don’t need to reshoot? Then we can go out for a celebratory ride.”

  A motorcycle ride was exactly what she needed to break free from the whirlwind of thoughts and emotions inside her.

  IF ANYTHING COULD get Jace out of a fog, it was the wind on his face and the open road, and after drooling over pictures of Dixie all morning, he needed it. The only problem was that the cause of that fog had been molded to his back for the past hour, and man, riding had never felt so good. But that fog still remained, and as he pulled into his parents’ driveway, he ground out a curse, having no idea why he’d driven straight there. Thank God his parents were at work.

  He climbed off the bike and took off his helmet, drinking in Dixie, still straddling the motorcycle in a tight black tank top, her faded jeans tucked into her leather boots. Damn she looked good, like she belonged on the back of his bike. His mind slowed her motions as she took off her helmet and shook her head, her red mane tumbling down her back. He offered her his hand, but she gave him an amused look and climbed off herself, gazing up at his childhood home, a modest three-bedroom Colonial.

  “Whose house is this?”

  “This is my parents’ house, but they’re not home.” Thinking quick, he said, “They asked me to take a look at their kitchen sink. It’s on the fritz, and I figured since we were out anyway…”

  “Cool,” she said as they went to the side entrance. “Did you grow up here?”

  He unlocked the door and waved her in. “Yeah. I used to play football out back with my buddies.”

  “Mm. It smells like freshly baked bread.”

  “My mom has always made bread. It’s kind of her thing. When we were little, she’d pack it in our school lunches. She always said homemade bread would remind us that we were loved. As if we could ever forget.” He opened the bread box on the counter and said, “Make yourself at home. Want a slice?”

  “No, thanks. But that’s really sweet that she baked for you guys.”

  She followed him into the living room, her eyes moving over the couches and coffee table to the Stone Wall of Shame, where his mother had every embarrassing picture ever taken on display. She hurried over to it, pointing to a picture of Jace at fifteen. His hair was long a
nd bushy, and he was dressed in black jeans and a black t-shirt with a black-and-gray flannel shirt overtop and black army boots, the laces hanging open.

  “Was it always your dream to be the lead singer of Pearl Jam?” she teased.

  He laughed and hooked his arm around her neck, tugging her against him. “I went through a grunge phase. Give me a break. It was the nineties.”

  “I see, and when you were little you wanted to be Elton John?” She pointed to a picture of him at seven, wearing a flashy light blue suit and big round sunglasses.

  “You’re a brat,” he said in her ear, and kissed her cheek. “My mom made that suit, and I was very proud of it. My friends and I were in a talent show at school.”

  “What was your talent? Being extra cute?”

  He smiled. “Magic.”

  She turned and wound her arms around his neck. “You have lots of secret talents, don’t you, Mr. Stone?”

  The adoring look in her eyes made his insides go soft. Dixie had a way of turning off her edge and going sweet on him, as she was now, as if standing in his childhood home looking at pictures was the most natural thing in the world. She made him want things he had never wanted before, like sharing pieces of himself he’d never even thought about sharing before.

  “You tell me,” he said, his arms circling her waist.

  He touched his lips to hers, but one tender kiss wasn’t enough, and he kissed her again, slow and deep, feeling her melt against him. He continued kissing her, telling himself the warmth inside him was just lust. But when their lips finally parted, he was swamped with the emotions he’d been trying to outrun.

  “I have a feeling I don’t want to know most of your secrets.” She slipped from his arms and pointed to a picture of him with his sisters. He stood tall and lanky with his arms around all three of them. “How bad were you when your sisters were teenagers? Did you scare off the guys they dated?”

  “Sometimes, if they were dirtbags. But mostly I just watched out for them, stood back until they needed me.”

  “As a sister, I’ll tell you that sometimes we won’t tell our brothers when we need them the most. I went out with a guy once who tried something that I wasn’t into. I got out of the situation, and I should have told Bear, since he was the only one home then. But I never did because I was too embarrassed.”

  “Lucky for the guy. I’m sure Bear would have maimed him. Unfortunately, I know all about those situations. Jennifer missed dinner with me one night a couple years ago. She said she was sick, but I heard something in her voice that told me otherwise. She sounded broken. I went to see her, and she had a bruise on her arm from a guy she went out with. I told you I don’t lie, but I just realized that I have lied to her. I promised I wouldn’t do anything about it. The guy was a teacher at another school and she didn’t want any drama. But I found him, beat the hell out of him, and made him leave town.”

  “Leave town? Isn’t that a little extreme?”

  Jace shook his head. “I gave him a choice. Turn himself into the police or get the fuck out of town so I didn’t have to worry about him trying to get back at Jen. He left town three weeks later, and I contacted a cop buddy of mine in the area where he moved and warned him about what’d happened. He found the guy and told him he’d be watching him. He said if he saw or heard anything he didn’t like, he’d put his ass in jail.”

  “Why didn’t you just have him arrested?”

  “Because he would have gotten out too fast. I wanted him to feel like he was always being watched. Honestly, I wanted to scare the piss out of him so he’d think twice about making another wrong move.”

  “You could have gone to jail for beating him up,” she pointed out.

  “After I took care of him.” He winked.

  “Okay, Knuckles, tell me about this guy right here. Is this your dad?”

  She pointed to a picture of Jace at twelve years old standing next to his first mini bike with his father, smiling like a fool and holding a helmet under his arm.

  “Yes. That’s my old man. He’s an electrician and a really great guy. The best thing about my dad is that he’d rather give you a challenge than tell you no, and he always keeps his word. When I was ten, I asked him if I could get a mini bike. He didn’t want me to ride one. He’s very conservative, and I was a rambunctious kid with a wild streak. I’m sure he saw trouble ahead, but instead of putting his foot down, he said I could get one when I was twelve if I could pay for it myself. Never in a million years did he think I’d make that happen, but I was a resourceful little bugger. I went door to door to all of my friends’ parents’ houses offering to do anything for money. I washed and cleaned out cars for a buck fifty, walked to the corner market and brought back groceries, fed animals when people were away, walked dogs, shoveled snow in the winter. I saved up a hundred and twenty bucks for a ratty old bike. But my old man was so proud of me for having the wherewithal to pull it off, he helped me put a new engine in it, and then he paid a guy he knew from work, his friend Morty, to teach me to ride.”

  “Your dad sounds like a great father. It’s no wonder you turned out like you did.”

  “My old man’s a better man than me.”

  “Why would you say that?”

  He shrugged. “Because he is as selfless as they come. He’s been with my mother since they were teenagers. He raised five kids, put up with all our bullshit, and I can’t remember ever once hearing him badmouth anyone. There’s no comparison between a guy who’s given his life to make others happy and a guy who lives only for himself.”

  “You say you live for yourself, but I’ve seen enough evidence to know that’s not true. Don’t think I wasn’t listening when your sisters mentioned the scholarships and mentorship programs you put together. A guy who only lives for himself doesn’t do those things.” She took his hand and said, “Show me your room, Knuckles. But don’t get any ideas, because there will be no dirty business going on under your parents’ roof.”

  He chuckled as they headed downstairs. “There are only three bedrooms upstairs. My dad and I built a room in the basement, and Jared and I shared it.”

  “That must have cramped your style with the ladies.”

  He looked at her out of the corner of his eyes as he opened the basement door. “I never brought women here. It would have been too disrespectful to my parents.”

  “So, tell me the truth—was your French teacher your first?” she teased. “Did you age yourself up so you didn’t seem like a ballsy kid but really you were sixteen or something?”

  “My sixteen-year-old self wishes. No. My first time was when I was seventeen, with a girl I met over the summer. She was twenty and just passing through town with her friends.”

  “I think it’s adorable that badass Stone didn’t get any until he was almost out of high school.”

  He stopped at the bottom of the stairs and said, “It wasn’t adorable. It was a choice. How old were you your first time?”

  “Twenty-one,” she said without hesitation. “It was right before college graduation with a guy I’d known for three years. We were study partners. He was a total math geek, complete with high waters and thick glasses, and I just adored him. Not in a sexy way, but as a friend. His name was Ritchie Meyers. I didn’t want to come back to Peaceful Harbor without having experienced being with a man, so I asked him if he wanted to sleep with me.”

  “Are you being serious right now? I saw how you looked, and acted, at eighteen. You must have had guys crawling all over you.”

  “Sure I did, but that’s never been a turn-on to me. I told you I prefer real men, and real men don’t chase every tail they see. They only chase the one that means something.”

  Holy shit. That explained a lot, including just how much respect Dixie had for herself. “But you propositioned him?”

  “I did. He was a gentleman and I trust him.”

  “Are you still in touch with the lucky bastard?”

  “From time to time. He’s married and lives in New Hamp
shire.”

  “Well, Dix, you’re even more impressive than I thought you were. Thanks for sharing that with me.”

  He walked through the recreation area and pushed open his old bedroom door, revealing what was now his mother’s sewing room.

  “Aw,” she said with a disappointed expression. “I was looking forward to seeing posters of half-naked women, bikes, and pinup calendars.”

  He laughed. “You’re about a decade too late. My mother took those down as soon as Jared moved out.” He motioned toward the left side of the room and said, “That was Jared’s side. He’s several years younger than me, so I was a teenager when he was still just a boy. He used to drive me crazy asking all sorts of questions about everything I did. He’d steal my cell phone and send goofy pictures to my contacts. He was a real pain in the ass, but man, I’d have killed for him.”

  “Seems like you still would.”

  “You know it.” He pulled her into his arms and kissed her.

  She asked to see the yard, and they went outside. It was a beautiful day, and after much urging on her part, they walked down to the auto shop around the corner to see where he’d had his first real job.

  When they finally climbed onto the bike to head back to the city, she said, “You didn’t look at the sink.”

  Damn. “I’ll do it when I see them tomorrow night for dinner.”

  She cocked her head, studying his face, and said, “You’d never leave a broken sink. Why did you really take me here?”

  He felt a smile tugging at his lips and climbed on the bike in front of her as he said, “I honestly have no idea. I blame it on Whiskey fever.”

  Chapter Twelve

  “I FEEL LIKE I’m in a video game or something,” Dixie said in a hushed and hurried voice, clinging to Jace’s arm as they walked around Times Square. The clouds had rolled in and their sunny day had turned gray, but that hadn’t slowed her down or stolen the delight from her eyes. “All these people are staring at their phones. How do they walk so fast without bumping into anyone? I swear New Yorkers must have invisible sensory antennae, because I’d bump into everyone if I did that.”