by Laura Brown
Oh boy. I was, but that was the nerves. “Under control.” For now.
Dev knew the truth, he’d see through me, but he also accepted my words as fact. “Blake talked with Dad. He’s moving in with Shawn. I’m going to need to find a new place and roommate.”
There it was, the door opened to put all this behind us and continue forward. Together. More importantly, my chance to prove my readiness and accept what he offered. “I still can’t help with the rent, but I could keep you warm at night.”
My cheeks flushed. He had opened the door; I pushed us both through. I bit my lip, worrying over his response. But those lips, they broke into a smile, and my knees nearly jellied.
“I think that’s a fair deal. Don’t forget your cold toes help prevent overheating.”
A tiny laugh bubbled up, but I tamped it down when Dev turned serious again.
He shook out his hands, took a deep breath, then leveled me with his gaze. “I have something for you. Hold out your hand.” I followed his instruction, and he reached into his pocket, pulling out a gold key and dropping the metal into my palm.
“I already have a copy of your key,” I signed with my other hand. Unless he already had a new place?
“I know.” He stepped back, looked at the building beside us. “Remember how Dad had me working with a client, Charlie? I found out that he owns this building.”
My heartbeat picked up. “Deaf owned?”
“Yes. Deaf owned. He bought the place after your Dad died.”
I stared at the key, then Dev. “What did you do?” My hands shook.
He smiled. It wasn’t full and bright but laced with nerves. He took the key from my outstretched palm and slid it into the lock. The door opened.
I placed my hands over my heart. I hadn’t been inside the bar since before Dad died. Dev opened the door wide, and I stepped over the threshold.
Cobwebs hung in corners and over furniture. The air was stale, the floors in need of a good scrubbing. But it was Dad’s bar.
I ran my fingers across the dark wood bar top, leaving trails in the dust. The cushioned barstools needed an update, but I pressed on one, knowing at one point I had sat there. Dad had sat there.
I turned to Dev, who stood by the door. “What does this mean?”
“Charlie hasn’t been able to find a renter. He was really excited about the idea of a Deaf bar. The place is yours, rent-free for a year, negotiable after that. Bring the place back to life.”
I looked around again. The bar. Dad’s bar. My bar. My chest was so full I could barely breathe. I lunged for Dev, wrapped my arms around him. He held me tight, our bodies as one. I closed my eyes, buried my nose in his neck, breathed in his familiar scent. No hug in the world matched Dev’s.
Then reality sunk in. My list. All those details cost money. Even with my savings intact, it wouldn’t be enough unless the bar was stocked. I pulled back. “I still can’t afford it. It costs a lot of money to start up a bar. I need alcohol, mugs, and that’s just the start—”
Dev placed a hand over mine, stopping me. “I mentioned this to Dad and Blake. Dad wants to cosign a loan, help get you on your feet. You’ll be required to give him free beer.” His eyes shifted back and forth between mine, and I knew why. He expected this to be the tipping point. “I know, it’s a little odd—”
I shook my head. “Family helps family.” I felt it, to my toes. But if I wanted this, my dream, a life with Dev, I had to learn to accept help. And right now, the only thing blocking everything I ever wanted was letting down my guard.
Dev nodded, not getting me. “Of course, but he wants to help you too.”
“You and me, we’re family, and everyone else knows that. That’s why he wants to help. That’s why you help.”
He grinned, full out grinned, and it was the most beautiful sight ever.
“Have you thought of a second job?”
His eyebrows lowered. “You think the bar needs more finances?”
He was precious; he’d give me everything, even when I didn’t deserve it. “I need help. You’ve got this accounting degree coming your way. Math is your thing, not mine; you’ll have to take care of my books.”
His face lightened. “I can manage that.”
“And I can’t do this alone. What do you say, be my nighttime and weekend help?”
He stepped into me, a predator’s gaze on his face. “To clarify, do you mean here or at home?”
My body tightened, yearning to feel him again. “Both.”
He studied my face, one last question left. “Where are you in ten years?”
I took a deep breath and glanced around. No denying that I saw it, felt it. The images sprang to life in full color. “Helping kids with homework at the bar.” I placed my hands on my stomach, almost in disbelief at an admission Dev deserved.
Those lips. That smile. “And where am I?”
“Coming here to pick them up.” I held up a hand when he tried to step closer to me. “You understand that’s your future if you do this.”
“I understand. It’s what I want. And I think we have a deal.”
“Good.” I threw myself at him, meshed my lips to his. He wrapped me against him, turning up the heat with his tongue. Him and me. In my bar. I pulled back. “I never got to kiss someone here before.”
“If this place was clean, we’d do a lot more than kiss.”
I laughed and kissed him again. Because I wanted to, because I could. He truly had given me everything. And I’d give him all of me in response.
Epilogue
Devon
I PARKED MY car in the parking lot and stretched my neck from side to side. A nervous energy took over, replacing the stress of a long day. I pushed it aside. Thanks to a late-day home visit, I was at the bar early, and I planned on taking advantage of some extra time without Jas knowing.
I crossed the lot, replaying my last client visit in my head. I had inherited this guy my first day on the job by default for being male. George had a penchant for making the female social workers uncomfortable. Heck, he made me uncomfortable at times, especially when he tried to inquire about my love life. I never gave him any ammunition, and we got shit done. Only now he had a medical issue and a doctor unwilling to provide interpretation.
I either needed to get through to the doctor or find one who wasn’t an asshole.
My hand gripped the handle to the back door of the bar. I finished my planning for George, gave myself a minute to linger in social work mode. The moment I entered, that was it. I left one job for the other.
I opened the door and stepped into the warm bar. The alcohol smells reached even back here, and I breathed it all in as the door shut behind me. I wouldn’t give up my day job for the world, but sometimes it was nice to be in a place where my biggest issue was balancing numbers and filling beers.
I checked the monitor. The black and white screen had most of the bar on view. Instead of some of the more cosmetic upgrades Jas wanted, we’d gotten a surveillance system for the bar. So if either of us were in the back room, we knew what happened out front. There was another monitor behind the bar, ensuring Jas had eyes behind her when necessary.
At this hour, she had a few tables filled and a few patrons at the bar. I spotted her kneeling next to a table, her blond curls always easy to spot on the black and white monitor. She wrote on one of her whiteboards—she had them at each table and scattered across the bar for communication. Through word of mouth, news of a Deaf bar had gotten out, and a fair amount of our regulars didn’t need to write down a thing.
This customer did. Jas wore a pair of jeans and one of her halter tops. Less flirty, more business owner. I checked the other tables, but everyone appeared happy; she had the place under control.
In the office, I pulled out some clothes to change into. Jeans and a tee shirt versus dress pants and shirt. Not that I’d picked them out. After I got a beer stain on one of my khakis, Jas had taken it upon herself to grab a spare change of clothes for me.
Bossy woman. Good thing I was in love with her and knew better than to point out our apartment was ten minutes away. If I wanted to stop home first, I could.
In my bar clothes, I settled down at the desk, running over the end numbers one more time. They’d been strong, and I wanted to make sure I knew how strong. Jas had taken her time getting everything set up to open her business. She knew her shit. And the crowd out front would be overflowing soon, a testament to her success.
Granted, that was due to the celebration. Today marked one year since she first opened.
Which reminded me—I reached into my work pants and pulled out the small gift I had for her, transferring it over to my jeans. Then I forced my head into the numbers game; otherwise I’d never get through the figures.
It took thirty minutes, but I verified what I already knew: she’d closed her first year in the black. And if she kept this up, she’d never go hungry again, with or without my help.
I couldn’t stop the smile, couldn’t stifle the pride. Sure, I’d been here every step of the way. She leaned on me, and I supported right back. But the rest was all her.
The door opened, and Jas shrieked, her hand over her chest, breaths coming fast. “What are you doing here?” she signed.
I gestured to the books in front of me. “I thought I worked here too.”
She scowled, and it was just about the cutest thing. “You know what I mean.”
“I finished early and wanted to get this done.”
She leaned over the edge of the desk, scanning the numbers. I got lost in the hint of cleavage and the way her top molded to her breasts.
“You’re not wearing a bra with that top, are you?”
She cocked her head to the side, curls flowing over her shoulder. “How often do I wear a bra here?”
I licked my lips. She let out a laugh, but two delicious peaks of excitement let me know I got to her. Always did. She angled the monitor, verifying the bar was still quiet. “I don’t have time for you. Keep it in your pants until later.”
“If you wore skirts again, I could have you back on the floor very happy in five minutes.”
She crossed the desk, coming to stand beside me, those dark eyes settling on my lap. I thanked my lucky stars that my hard-on grew in the same direction as the other bulge in my pocket. “You think five minutes is enough for me?”
I grasped her around the waist and hauled her to me for a hot kiss. “Wear a skirt one day, and we’ll find out.”
She shook her head but kissed me again, those warm lips all I ever really needed in my day. Then she angled herself to take in the books. “You planning on letting me know what the result is?”
I pointed to the bottom line. Jas’s jaw dropped open. I tapped it up. “I suggest tackling one of those projects you had to push off.”
“You serious?” She bent over, studying the numbers.
I held my hand out in her line of sight. “Yes.”
She squealed and wrapped her arms around me, holding me tight. Happy Jas. Truly, truly happy Jas. I held out hope that my next surprise made her day even better.
Movement caught my attention on the monitor. I tapped Jas’s shoulder and pointed. She leaned forward, studying the newcomers, then hopped off my lap. “I’ll see you out front soon?”
I nodded, and she left. I cleaned up the books, then checked my pocket. Still there.
A FEW HOURS later, the bar was filled with customers, regulars, and friends there to celebrate the milestone. I manned the bar area, collected orders, and handled the simple things like beers and sodas. Jas did the rest, all but floating around on her sneakers.
I rested for a few minutes near Nikki and Pete. “Tonight, right?” Nikki asked.
I glared at her. Why I shared important plans with my friends I’d never know. “You haven’t let Jas know, have you?”
Nikki whacked my shoulder. “What kind of a friend do you take me for?”
“Excitable,” Pete signed, only to have her switch her dagger eyes from me to him. He settled her down by kissing her.
I glanced around and found that most of the people invited were here, including Connie sharing a table with my parents and Blake and Shawn with a few of their friends. The room was a mix of talking and signing. Somewhere, music played. Blake had set up the dials so we could control the sound without hearing it. And along one wall was a flat-screen television, muted, with the captions on, which was actually pretty standard as far as bars went.
I collected the yin-yang goblets Jas and I had painted and filled a beer for myself and water for Jas. I kept them by me as I caught Blake’s eyes from across the room. I had a little speech planned, and I wanted to make sure even the hearing people understood.
I stood up on a stool behind the bar, waving for attention. Jas shot me a look, clearly wondering what the heck I was up to. She moved nearby, and I forced myself to make sure I had everyone’s attention before beginning.
“As most of you know, today is the first anniversary of Jasmine opening her bar.” I paused for applause, both clapping and hands waving. “It’s been her dream for as long as I’ve known her, and I couldn’t be prouder of her and what she’s accomplished.” I nudged Jas’s drink toward her and picked up my own, catching the momentary surprise on her face. The goblets usually stayed at home, but I wanted them here for this. Once everyone raised their drinks, I settled mine back down to sign. “To Jasmine. To the bar. To many more happy years to come.”
I raised my glass with everyone else, eyes on Jas. There was cheering and drinking, but I didn’t take my eyes off her. She grinned and raised her goblet to her lips, then paused, sputtered, and spit the rest out in the sink.
I knew everyone watched us, but I didn’t dare check—couldn’t, really. She poured the rest of the drink over her hand, catching the item I had deposited in there for her. Eyes wide, she faced me, holding up the sparkling diamond ring, water dripping past her tattoo.
My heart rammed against my rib cage, and I took some comfort in the silent conversation coming from Jas, something along the lines of, You’re doing this now? Which was better than, You’re doing this?
I slid to one knee before her, landing in something wet, but I didn’t give a damn. I looked up at the woman I loved, the woman I would always love. “I’ve loved you since you fell off the swing in kindergarten and scraped your knee from under your dress. I’ve loved you through middle school, when your world fell apart. I’ve loved you through high school, when I wanted you in a very nonfriendly way, but it took until our twenties for us to figure it out. And I’ll love you when we’re old and gray. Because you are my other half, and nothing in this world matters without you in it.”
I held out my hand, took the ring from her. “Will you marry me?”
She bit her lip, but her eyes gave her away, even though she tried to hold it all in. Then she let the lip go, a huge smile crossing her face. “Yes. Of course!”
Cheers erupted around us, vibrations from people stomping on the floor, but I only focused on Jasmine. I placed the ring on her finger, a perfect match. She flung her arms around me, pressing her lips to me, giving me the best present ever: her.
Want more from Laura Brown? Keep reading for an excerpt from her debut novel,
SIGNS OF ATTRACTION
Do you know what hearing loss sounds like? I do.
All my life I’ve tried to be like you. I’ve failed.
So I keep it hidden.
But on the day my world crashed down around me, Reed was there.
He showed me just how loud and vibrant silence can be, even when I struggled to understand.
He’s unlike anyone I’ve ever known. His soulful eyes and strong hands pulled me in before I knew what was happening.
And as I saw those hands sign, felt them sparking on me, I knew: imperfect could be perfect.
Reed makes me feel things I’ve never felt. It’s exciting . . . and terrifying.
Because he sees me like no one else has, and I�
�m afraid of what he’ll find if he looks too closely.
The only thing that scares me more than being with him? Letting him go.
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Chapter One
Carli
THE MINUTE THE professor opened his mouth, I knew it would be a long semester. The muffled sound struck a vein deep inside my skull, vibrating tension destined to trigger one of my frequent headaches. I slid my hand under my long brown hair, scratched my cheek as a decoy, and then ran my finger over the microphone of one hearing aid. Static rang loud and clear, confirming my suspicions. My hearing aids were fine.
The professor was the problem.
His booming voice ricocheted an accent off the walls of the small classroom. An accent I identified as . . . not from around here. Dr. Ashen’s bushy mustache covered his top lip. Students shifted. Pages turned. Pens moved.
I flicked my pen against a random page of my thick book. Words spilled from his bottom lip, and I couldn’t understand one fucking sound. Survival skill 101 of having a hearing loss: blend in. I’d grown skilled at blending, almost mastering the task of invisibility. No cloak required. Take that, Harry Potter.
I always, always, always heard my teachers. Until now.
Big Fuck-Off Mustache + My Ears = Not Happening.
Dr. Ashen glared my way. He tapped his textbook and went right on speaking.
I couldn’t see his book; tapping it didn’t help. Moron. I rolled my eyes and landed on my neighbor’s book. I scanned the words, hoping something, anything, would match. Nothing did. What a waste of a class. I shoved my book and slouched in my seat. No way could I keep up. No chance in hell.
With a sigh, I focused on two women standing by the dry-erase board, both dressed in black, heads close as they chatted. They looked much too old to be students, but considering this was an undergrad/grad class, anything was possible. Perhaps they were assistants to Dr. Ashen. They looked to be following him about as much as I was, but that didn’t mean they weren’t his assistants. They could’ve heard his spiel one too many times before. I wished I’d heard him at least once.