by Meghan March
“I’ve never seen you around any of the chamber events before,” he says. “I’d definitely remember you.”
“I don’t have time to get out to these things very often,” I reply with a tight smile. “I work all the time.”
“I know how that goes. My mom is constantly getting after me about not spending so much time at the office.”
“You’re close with your mom?” I ask, because oh Lord, you’re a mama’s boy doesn’t seem polite.
“I live with her. It’s so much easier. That way I don’t have to do my own laundry or cook or clean. No one can press my shorts like Mama can.”
“Uhhh.” I release a sound from my throat that doesn’t quite sound like a word, but he keeps going.
“And her chocolate beignets? Like nothing you’ve ever tasted. You want to come over and meet her? She puts on a great spread for guests. She’d really love having some company this year.”
There’s a lump in my throat, and I’m ninety-nine percent certain I’m going to choke due to shock. I cough twice.
“You okay?”
I nod and reach for my water. He waits expectantly for me to finish coughing.
The awkward silence grows, and I finally speak to fill it. “What’s your name again? I missed it when you sat down.” His name tag has a scrawl that looks like it starts with C. Carl, maybe?
“Crabs.”
This time I do choke. “Excuse me?” I blink back tears from my watering eyes. “Your name is Crabs?”
“Nickname. From college. It stuck. I just go with it.”
“That’s . . . interesting.” I’m not sure what else to say to Crabs.
“It was the only time I ever moved out and had to do my own laundry, but totally worth it. Can’t exactly bring girls home when Mama is waiting on me with a nightcap. Unless, of course, you know, she’s met them during daylight hours and given her approval. She doesn’t like loose women.”
I glance around the room, almost expecting someone to jump out of the corner and yell, Surprise! You’ve been Punk’d! But this guy isn’t joking.
“Interesting,” I repeat, for lack of anything else to say to him.
I want, more than anything, to blurt out something like I like sex clubs, but that’s not something I can say while I’m sitting in my place of work. Or . . . maybe I can and he’ll freak out and run home to Mama?
“How do you feel about BDSM?” I ask.
He stiffens and his eyes widen. He looks so shocked, I’m afraid a few of his remaining strands of hair might fall right out of his head.
“Who told you?”
Oh Jesus fucking Christ. You’ve got to be kidding me.
“Who told me what?” The question comes naturally, but I regret it immediately.
“That I like to be . . . kept. Locked up.” His gaze drops to his lap. “You know, caged. Until my Mistress lets me out to play.”
The buzzer goes off, and I praise everything that is holy.
He offers a card to me. “Give me a call. I’d love to talk more about our mutual interests.”
I smile but can’t make myself nod, even for politeness’ sake.
Another man sits down across from me and smiles with blinding-white teeth. The kind of teeth you see in toothpaste commercials. They must be veneers. They’re just as perfect as his expertly cut blond hair, symmetrical brown eyes, and Windsor-knotted tie.
He offers a hand, and I shake it as he introduces himself. “John Trout. Local cosmetic dentist. I have two golden retrievers. In my free time, I enjoy jogging, history, decaf coffee, and Volvos.”
“Nice to meet you, John. Decaf coffee and Volvos . . . quite the rock-star lifestyle you lead.”
“I like being up front. If you’re looking for drama, unpredictability, and wild times, I’m not your guy.”
“Okay.”
His gaze drops to my name tag. “Temperance. You sound perfect for me, just based on your name. My therapist would approve. Do you come here often?”
I’m not sure if he’s trying to be funny or if he’s trying to flirt, but I laugh. “I work here, actually.”
His expression falls. “I’m afraid we’re ill matched, then. I’m in AA. I can’t have a wife who works at a whiskey distillery.”
“Wife? Slow down, turbo.”
“I don’t do turbos. Too risky,” John says with a shake of his head. “Even for Volvos, which are generally very safe.”
We make the most awkward small talk in the history of small talk until the buzzer sounds again.
He stands. “Before I forget, if you ever quit this sinful business and want to look me up, here’s my card. I’ve included a picture of my penis on the back for compatibility purposes.”
My jaw goes slack, and I wait for him to start laughing. He doesn’t. Instead, he places the card in my hand and moves on to the next table.
I drop the card on the table with a shudder and it lands wrong side up.
He wasn’t joking. I throw up in my mouth a little bit as I swipe the card off the table and shove it in my pocket. I’ll have to remember to burn it later.
There are some things you just can’t unsee.
“You okay?”
A deep voice comes from across the table, and I look up at a man sliding into the seat.
“Yes, fine. I think. Wow. Speed dating isn’t for the faint of heart.”
“No kidding. I’ve already had offers for two blow jobs in the parking lot and to get pegged at the nearest pay-by-the-hour motel.”
“Uh, then it sounds like we don’t need to talk. Your schedule is full.” I’m not sure how I manage to say it with a straight face, but I do.
“The blow jobs I’m down with, but I don’t put anything in my ass. She was barking up the wrong tree. I bet that guy who was just here with you would be cool with it.” He eyes the dentist. “He gives me the closet kink vibe under all that straight-laced, perfect-teeth bullshit.”
I want to tell him about the dick trading card in my pocket, but I can’t bring myself to admit it out loud. “You want to just drink whiskey and not talk?”
The man nods at my proposal. “Sure thing. I’m gonna bang the blonde at the end when I leave, anyway. Already fingered her a little under the table, so it wouldn’t be fair to lead you on.”
I shoot up from my chair. “I need to use the ladies’ room. Be right back.” Never, I add silently.
The only thing I can think of is that I need to wash my hands right fucking now before I vomit.
I practically run to the restroom, nearly colliding with a server and a patron on the way.
“Sorry!” I toss the apology over my shoulder but don’t stop until I’m inside.
Then I scrub until my hands sting.
“Gross. Gross. Gross.”
If this is what dating is like, I’m not interested. Now or ever, and not just because every man pales in comparison to Kane.
I freeze as I reach for a paper towel.
No man can compare to him.
It’s not just a physical thing either. It’s everything. He’s different.
He understands me. What I want. What I need. Even the things I don’t understand. He sees me like no one else has ever seen me before.
And I don’t want to let him go.
With that realization sending me reeling, I push open the bathroom door and charge into the alcove—only to run smack into a hard chest.
“Sorry. I wasn’t looking—”
“Damn right you weren’t, and you’re not gonna bolt like that again.”
I look up into Kane’s eyes. “I’m sorry. It was truly an emergency.”
His gaze sharpens. “What happened? Someone say something to you?” His head jerks from side to side like he’s sweeping the vicinity for predators.
“No. Just . . . the weirdo who shook my hand after he fingered another woman under the table.” Just saying it almost makes me puke for real this time.
“Are you fucking kidding me?”
I shake my head.
“I wish I was.”
“Who was it?”
“Don’t make a scene, please. I’m at work. Also, let’s not talk about the guy who gave me a business card with his dick on it.”
Kane’s nostrils flare as he stares down at me. “Someone gave you a fucking picture of his dick? What the fuck is wrong with these people?”
I open my mouth to reply, but the fire alarm starts blaring.
Fire alarm?
“Fuck,” Kane growls. “Don’t you leave my side. No matter what.”
“But I have to deal with the fire—”
“Not if there’s a chance someone’s trying to cause chaos and grab you. We need to get you out of here.”
“I can’t leave right now!”
“You can and you will.” Kane wraps an arm around me. “Come on. Let’s move. Stick to me like a shadow, got it? If it’s that prick I was watching—” He cuts off as Jules, our restaurant manager, rushes up.
“I’m not sure what’s going on, but we’re going to have to comp all the dinners if we don’t want bad reviews.”
“It’s fine. Just get everyone out.” I shift back to Kane. “You really think this is because of me?”
“I’m not taking any chances. Not with you. Not ever.”
34
Kane
“Have them email all the security footage to you. I want it.”
Temperance relays my order over the phone to her office as we drive back to the warehouse. She put up a fight, but I’m not taking chances.
She’s too fucking important.
Temperance Ransom has never been a job. Even if Mount hadn’t called me, I’d be exactly where I am right now.
I may not have realized that at first, but it’s the truth. I can’t stay away from her. Knowing she’s potentially in danger drives me out of my fucking mind.
When she ran from the room during the speed dating, I almost killed the man at her table where he sat. No questions asked. No hesitation.
Turns out, when it comes to Temperance, I don’t need a contract to pull the trigger. I’ll do it happily for free and feel zero remorse.
The only thing I don’t know is what the hell I’m going to do now that the wheels I’ve set in motion can’t be stopped.
She hangs up the phone and tells me, “I’ll have it by the time we get home.”
“Good.” I keep my tone even, but it’s not the first time she’s called my warehouse home. I like it too fucking much.
“Do you really think the guy you saw had something to do with this?”
“Don’t know, but it’s possible.”
As we hauled ass out of the parking lot of the distillery in my Audi, I scanned for vans or SUVs that someone might have parked close to an exit for a kidnapping attempt. God knows, I’ve done it. One stood out, and I’ve already committed the license plate to memory. I’ll run it as soon as I get back to the bat cave.
See. She’s changing me. Changing fucking everything.
I like that too fucking much too.
“So, what next?” she asks.
I glance down at the beanie on her lap.
“Seriously? Still?”
The frustration in her tone eats at me, and I try to explain. “It’s not because I don’t trust you. It’s because—”
I slam on the brakes when a truck runs a red light, and we both jerk against our seat belts. At least, that’s what I’m telling myself. Not because I almost said something I shouldn’t have.
Once we’re on the other side of the intersection, I turn left to circle around again to check for tails.
“Because why?” she asks.
I glance up at the rearview and see the dark sedan two car lengths behind me turns too.
Fuck. I hit the gas and we shoot onto a side street, and I turn several more times in quick succession before we lose him.
Temperance stares out the back window. “We have a tail, don’t we?”
“Put it on. Please. I promise it’s for your protection and not mine.”
She huffs out a breath but does as I ask. “Someday I’m going to get to see this place, right?”
“Yes,” I say with absolute certainty. “You definitely will.”
“Fine. But then it’ll be my turn to take you somewhere, and you’re going to have to wear the beanie. For months, maybe.”
My chest tightens, and for the first time in years, I feel regret.
35
Temperance
Kane wouldn’t let me see the security footage, and when my phone rings the next morning, I’m still arguing with him about it as we climb in today’s ride.
My phone rings as I buckle my seat belt. I toss the beanie and dig through my purse.
Keira.
“Hello?”
“Hey, how are things going? I heard there was an incident last night.”
I am the shittiest COO in the history of the world because I didn’t tell my boss what happened, and she found out from someone else. Awesome.
I attempt to play it cool. “It was pretty minor. I handled it.” I cringe at the white lie because I was hustled out of the building. “I didn’t want to interrupt your vacation.”
“You know anything like that is never a bother. We’re heading home right now, and I’ll be in the office tomorrow. But . . .” She clears her throat like she’s about to say something she really doesn’t want to say.
“But what?” I prompt.
“I don’t want you to go to the distillery, Temperance.”
My mouth dries up like the Sahara Desert, and I try to make sense of the words she’s saying. “What do you mean?”
“Lachlan would prefer you don’t go to Seven Sinners, so there aren’t any other incidents there. Consider this your free pass to work remotely for a while.” She tries to make her tone cheery, but all I feel is guilt twisting my stomach into a knot.
I wince before I speak, and Kane tenses. “I’m so sorry, Keira. I truly didn’t mean for any of this to happen. It won’t happen again.”
Another voice joins the call. “You’re right, it won’t happen again.” It’s Mount. “Put your phone on speaker. I want Saxon to hear this.”
“Yes, sir.” I fumble to tap the button on my screen to activate the speaker function. “Go ahead, sir. He can hear you.”
I train my gaze on Kane’s knees because I’m too embarrassed to look him in the eye during what I’m sure is to be an ass-ripping. Something I’d rather not have an audience for, but I’m not about to risk disobeying my boss’s terrifying husband.
“Saxon?”
“I’m here.”
“You have a plan?”
“Yes.”
“You’re going to end this?”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
The call ends, and I stare down at the words on my phone screen notifying me of that fact.
I tear my gaze away to look at Kane’s face. “What does that even mean?”
“It means that Mount’s had enough. He’s ready for this to be over, and he doesn’t want it blowing back on Keira or the distillery.”
“So, what do we do?”
“We don’t do anything. I have it handled.”
That statement pisses me off. “It’s my brother who brought this down on everyone. I’m part of this whether you want me to be or not. And now my boss doesn’t even want me at work. Jesus . . . how much more fucked up can this get?”
His gaze sharpens. “Put yourself in Mount’s position. Someone brings trouble to your door, threatens your woman and her work, you would do the same damn thing. It isn’t personal. Besides, you don’t even like your job.”
I jerk back in the seat. “What do you mean? I like my job.”
“You don’t light up the way you do when you’re talking about your art. You don’t smile in your office the way you do with a welding torch in your hand. You don’t laugh in that distillery the way you did when you were digging through a scrap heap and found that riveted sheet metal.”
Just like I realized before, Kane sees me. All of me.
“Because art is fun. It’s not work.”
“And yet you could be putting all your efforts into doing the thing you love to earn a living, but you’re afraid to try.”
I bristle. “I am trying. I have a sculpture to deliver to Valentina as soon as the universe stops getting in the way. But let’s be real—I have bills to pay. I can’t just quit my day job on the off chance that I’ll be able to make a living from art. I need a cushion first. A plan. A safety net.”
“Life doesn’t come with a safety net or a fucking parachute.” He shakes his head. “And it’s too fucking short to wait to go after something that makes you happy. We could’ve been hit by that truck last night—and you might never have gotten the chance.”
“So you’re the authority on my happiness now? On how I should live my life?” I unbuckle my seat belt and twist to face him.
“Maybe not the authority, but I see it more clearly than you do. Open your eyes, Temperance. See what’s right in front of you.”
I swallow and take a leap of faith. No safety net. No cushion. No plan. “My eyes are wide open, Kane, and I see you.”
His entire body tenses. “That’s not what I mean.”
“Bullshit. I call bullshit. You want me to go after what makes me happy—then that includes you. So, tell me, how is that going to work? Because I don’t have a damned clue.”
He looks away.
“What? No suggestions on how to live my life now that I want you in it?”
His response is deafening silence. I grab for the door handle blindly, blinking back the tears that spring to my eyes at the sharp stab of pain in the vicinity of my heart.
“Temperance. Wait.”
“No, I don’t think I will.”
I shove open the car door, jump out, and slam it behind me.
It’s good to know that not all dreams can come true.
* * *
Kane leaves me alone for an hour while I take a page out of Keira’s book and pace-stomp back and forth across the third floor of the warehouse.