Whiskey and Honey: Can a forbidden fling be real love? (The Empire Records Series Book 1)

by Heather Lauren

  18

  Lyla

  After the hardest, most profound conversation I’ve ever been a part of, we fall back into each other. I feel insatiable with Cole, like I’ll never get enough. Sleep takes me after a groundbreaking, life-changing orgasm.

  “Good morning again, beautiful. Marcus sent us a text saying he won’t be home until tonight. His mom isn’t feeling well either and brunch is off.”

  “It’s probably not good that my best friend not coming home makes me extremely happy, is it?”

  Cole laughs softly. “We’ll figure out a way to tell him together, and it’ll all work out. Won’t even be awkward.”

  I laugh hard at this. “Oh, sure, keep telling yourself that, and maybe, just maybe your dreams will come true.”

  His arms reach for my sides and dig in, tickling me into a fit of laughter.

  “Damn it, Cole, stop.” I laugh and soon he stops but braces his body over mine. He brushes my hair off my face in the most intimate way that makes my insides feel like there might be a caged army of swarming butterflies. Only Cole could ever make me feel so damn girly.

  “I will come up with the perfect speech, and if worse comes to worst, I’ll take all the punches. I promise.”

  This, of course, makes me laugh even though it may be the exact outcome, and then he kisses me, and all thoughts go straight south. Holy shit, this man.

  “I made you breakfast this time.”

  “What? For real?” I ask, honestly shocked. No one has ever cooked for me. Ever. Mom was a total deadbeat; if I wanted to eat, I found the money for groceries and I cooked. Marcus and his family worked so much it was always takeout late at night at their record store. I was always grateful for a worry-free meal, so it never bothered me. This seemingly innocent thing he’s done for me means more to me than he might ever know.

  “Yeah. You always make the most amazing food, and I know my pancakes and bacon won’t be near your status of awesome, but I wanted to and if it’s all terrible you can always drowned it out with your favorite coffee. Freshly brewed.” He looks so genuine and handsome; I can’t stop the megawatt smile even if I wanted to. Which I don’t. I pull him down to me for a kiss just as genuine and hope he can feel how thankful I am.

  Before we get carried away again, he pulls back and helps me out of his bed. I slip into his long-sleeved plaid shirt and notice he slipped on a delectable pair of sweatpants. I am one lucky girl to be following this sweet and sexy man downstairs, and I admire the view the entire way. Pancakes as promised sit on the island and bacon on a cookie sheet on the stovetop. The kitchen is a mess, but I just smile and hop up on the high counter by the coffee.

  “Thank you for doing all of this for me, Cole. It looks great,” I say, reaching up for the plates on the too-high shelf. He doesn’t say anything, so I look over across the island to find him staring at me.

  “Like what you see, baby?” I ask in my best 1-900 voice. His eyes turn dark and he licks his lips, reminding me of our first time together in this kitchen.

  “Where is the honey?” I ask innocently and tap my chin, watching his reaction.

  He drops his coffee cup with a heavy thud, splashing some on the counter. “Open your legs,” he growls.

  It’s an order but one I’m happy to obey. I spread my knees wide across the cold countertop and cock my head to the side. “Like this?” Then I bat my eyes at him as he comes closer.

  I can’t help the smile spreading across my face, and I lift the front of my shirt a little, his eyes never leaving my core. He drops down in front of me, warm hands on my knees and starts kissing my inner left thigh, sending an electric current through my whole body. I’m instantly wet and wanting but before his mouth reaches me, he turns his head and softly kisses my right thigh, building my want and teasing us both. I look down at his sweatpants, rewarded with his gigantic tent.

  Finally, I feel his tongue lick my slit and I let my long loud moan free at the exact same time I hear “What the fuck!” from the front door.

  “Oh my gosh!” I yell, and Cole jumps to his feet and stands between me and Marcus, covering me completely.

  “What the fuck, you guys? I told you not to hook up, so you decide to fuck in my kitchen. I can never unsee that shit, Lyla! Damn it, Cole, she’s not just some lay. You two think this is all fun, but you know this is going to blow up like an atomic bomb!”

  Marcus is blood red, I have never seen him so mad. “Marcus wait, just listen!” I try but Marcus is lit.

  “No! You fucking listen for once, Lyla. I was trying to protect you. Cole isn’t going to be the guy for you for long. This guy moves on to a new girl faster than I do.”

  “Fuck you, man; it isn’t like that. If you would just listen to us,” Cole barks back.

  “No, fuck you! Fuck you both! You went behind my back and disrespected me. The worst thing about you two selfish assholes is that it’s not just our friendships you’re hurting. You think you can keep this going, but soon you’ll be done and my little girl who looks up to you both will be so hurt and confused over why you two can’t be at family dinner or even in the same room together.”

  He turns for the door and just before he’s gone, I try one more time. “No! Marcus, please wait!”

  I’m only met with a slam and part of me feels like breaking. Marcus has always been my best friend, but honestly more like family. The only real family I have, and I just literally fucked it up. Cole turns to me as tears fill my eyes. His hands cup my face and his forehead hits mine.

  “I’m sorry, Lyla. I wanted that to go so differently. I never wanted to hurt Marcus or make it seem like you were just a lay. You know you’re not, right? I’ve been far from perfect; I won’t ever lie to you. He is right about that. He’s never seen me with the same girl twice. I was married, and it didn’t end well so for the last two years I’ve been with more women than I want to admit.”

  He looks so ashamed, but I understand. “I get it. It’s not a deal breaker.” I don’t know what else to say. I’m crushed with the weight of Marcus’ temper and disappointment. “Can we just go back to bed and back to our little bubble and never leave?”

  This gets a smile out of him. “I would love to never leave bed if you’re in it, but the world will still go on. I’ll find a way to make this right with Marcus. I promise.”

  “As hard as that is to believe, I somehow believe you anyway,” I say, and he scoops me up off the counter, and we head back upstairs, no longer hungry. He runs us a hot shower and slowly unbuttons his shirt I’m still wearing. It’s intimate and full of affection but no heat. The fight with Marcus put out the fire that usually burns between us, but something is still there. Something more.

  I step in under the relaxing spray and let the water wash over me and take all the negative with it. I soon feel Cole behind me, but he doesn’t say anything, so I don’t either. He takes my loofah and squeezes a generous amount of my vanilla-scented body wash and lathers it until it bubbles. I turn to face him, still not knowing what to say. He seems to understand and just washes my shoulder and arm, and stepping closer, he crosses my breasts gently but moves on to my other arm and then my stomach and lower.

  This huge giant of a man gets on his knees just to wash my body; how in the world could my best friend not want this kind of devotion for me? Somehow, he has to forgive us.

  Cole climbs back up and in an eclipsing bear hug he moves my hair over my shoulder, his mouth to my ear, and washes my back and even my butt, then just holds me, letting the loofah fall to my feet. We stay in the comforting embrace for a few long moments, and then I wash him.

  We dry off and spend the day in his bed just talking. He tells me more about his marriage and what a godawful cunt of a wife Whitney was—my words not his; the fact he doesn’t say anything cruel about her speaks volumes to his character. Something I can’t help but wish Marcus could see, but then I think maybe it’s more about me. I don’t deserve Cole. He’s a good man and I’ve only ever blown it. Not cock, I mean I c
an’t hold a man’s attention, nor have I ever wanted to. I want this though. More than anything I want to deserve this man, so I open up. I let my walls down.

  I tell Cole all about my whore of a mother who cared more about partying with assholes than providing food and necessities for her daughter. How I was so hungry as a kid I taught myself how to hustle. The real reason Taco Stan seems like family because he fed me when no one else would. How I met Charlie and Marcus at my first real job, Record 39, and how I loved it. How I spent all my money on food, learning how to cook differently and fed them and Stan all my concoctions. I told him story after story. Bad, ugly, and unflattering too. I told him my dreams and when I reached them and they were taken, it left me wondering why I worked so hard for such an empty life.

  He told me he felt the same way about his empty marriage. He had wanted her for so long, it was completely superficial, but he was too young to realize it. How his parents demanded perfection and disowned him when he filed for divorce.

  We ordered takeout and ate in his room, staying in our bubble. We laughed and ate greasy burgers and drank milkshakes all while half naked and totally content. It was an amazing day with an incredible man, and although my life is all kinds of fucked up, I find this bubble to be my happy place.

  19

  Lyla

  Walking into the studio, I’m prepping myself to say all the right things. All the things Marcus needs to hear about Cole. I’m riding a happy high until I’m stopped by Mason five doors down from Marcus’ office.

  “Hey, Lyla, I’m really sorry but Marcus asked me to not let you inside. He’s under a lot of pressure to produce this new album for Simone and with you two fighting, he doesn’t want you here right now.”

  “What the actual fuck Mason?” I am legitimately stunned that he would block me like this. “I just wanted to talk. I want to make up. I don’t want to be fighting right now or ever.”

  “You guys have been tight forever; I’m sure it’ll blow over, but for right now, today anyway, I can’t let you inside or he’ll cut my head off. I’m sorry, boo, I really am.”

  Tears rush to my eyes, but my pride would not let them fall. I tip my chin up high and turn on my heel, rushing for the door to escape this dagger that is slicing through my heart. This isn’t over. I’ll wear Marcus down. I will be back every day after he finishes the album. He will be happy for us.

  I meet Cole at a restaurant rebuild and start going through the motions. I help pick tile and granite countertops, chat up the foreman and introduce myself to the owner. He knows who I am, says he’s a fan. A part of me feels embarrassed of what my reputation has become, but Dane, the owner and head chef, seems to be genuinely happy to meet me.

  We find ourselves in the only working part of the kitchen, and he shows me his soon-to-be menu. He bought the place from the daughter of the former owner who passed away and had big ambitions to make it the next five-star restaurant in San Diego, complete with rooftop bar and lounge. I give him credit; he has great ideas and an appealing menu.

  “This all looks great, Dane, but how’s the food?”

  “Would you try some? Hold this.” He excitedly hands me the iPad he was using to show me his plans. Quickly he whips out a mixing bowl, salmon, a few spices, and what looks to be caviar. The eggs go into a small bowl with sugar and a few other things and the fish is laid gently on the now warm burner. It’s fun watching him work, but I find myself not wanting to join in. For the first time since I can remember, I have no desire to cook.

  My mind drifts to Cole and the retail warehouse project until a plate of amazing smelling food and glass full of wine are put in front of me. The food tastes even better, and I praise Dane to the highest of my ability and promise to be back regularly to enjoy more of his genius.

  When Cole is finished, we head out the door hand in hand.

  “How was the food?”

  “Even better than I imagined,” I replied without hesitation as we walked down the sidewalk.

  “Did you show the kid a few tricks?”

  “Kid? Dane is a year older than we are, and no, I was happy to just be fed.” Smiling up at Cole, he looks skeptical. “I promise, I realized tonight I do miss it, but not the way Dane wants. I don’t want fame or glory. I want simple and small. Maybe someday I’ll open a small deli or something. Warehouse 39 took so much of my life away, and it was all for everyone else. After everything that’s happened, I’m happy right where I am. I was thinking about work and came up with a few ideas to pitch to Sam and Elliott tomorrow. Like maybe breaking down that left wall and creating some kick-ass dressing rooms out of other material like some of the distressed wood you have from the beach shack you did last year. I noticed the scraps on one of your other sites, and one of the guys there said they weren’t going to use it.”

  “Damn, you’re sexy when you talk like that.”

  I laugh as he wraps me under his arm and leans down for a perfect kiss.

  Late that night as we lay in Cole’s bed together, hours after he’s fallen asleep, my mind finally drifts to all the chaos in front of me. I’m happy but my life is still in ruins. I have a great job I love, a man who is beyond anything I could have dreamed up if I had created him out clay myself. Kind, attentive, affectionate, and fucking mind-blowing in bed. He’s the entire package, and yet he’s the reason I’ve lost my best friend.

  Taking a deep breath, I wiggle my way out of his arms. I have no idea what time it is, so I grab my phone and head to the hallway bathroom. I’ve been staying in Cole’s room since the night of the fight, and Marcus hasn’t been back at all. Charlie said he’s been staying in one of the upstairs studio apartments at Record 39 where she lives along with the new artist, Simone. Apparently, she’s a real diva, so he doesn’t have the time to deal with our crumbling friendship. I find no missed calls or texts from him but four from an unknown caller.

  “Time is up, Ms Turner.”

  “You don’t have to answer me. I will find you.”

  Creepy old man. So much has happened I almost forgot.

  “I will have Howard’s blood, or I will have yours.”

  “See you soon.”

  Fuck. My hands shake as I read every message over again three more times.

  “Baby, what are you doing on the bathroom floor? Shit, Lyla, are you okay?”

  Cole rushes down to my side and wraps me in giant arms. Instantly I feel safer, but I hand him my phone, feeling numb. I haven’t told him everything about the trouble I’m in. I guess I’m just now realizing the true danger of my situation. The last thing I want is to involve him, but I don’t know what else to do. I don’t have anyone else. In shock I stare at the toilet, not really looking at it, and just let him read the messages. I can tell he’s reading and rereading like I did.

  “Who’s this from? Howard was your business partner, right?”

  “Yes. And I don’t know exactly. Shortly after I first moved here, I got a call from some old man talking about how he wanted to get ahold of Howard and he didn’t believe I wasn’t in contact with him so he would keep in touch.”

  I could see Cole’s face turn grim even in the dim light, and he pulled me closer to his naked chest.

  “You should have told me. Don’t worry about it though. I’ve got you now, and I will use everything in my power to keep you safe.”

  A single tear rolls down my cheek, and I know with all my heart he would die for me. The problem is I would die for him, and I find myself more worried he would do something crazy.

  He pulls me up and we walk back to bed. We crawl in and spend the next however many hours silently worrying about each other and unable to find sleep. I can only hope this old man is full of shit and I am overreacting. I rack my brain for all the details I remember about Howard, making a mental list just in case I can use it to find him.

  20

  Cole

  The morning is already a bitch with little to no sleep. Lyla was rattled when I found her on the cold floor of the bathroom last nig
ht and she never fell asleep, so I didn’t either. I feel helpless and I fucking hate it. I want her to feel safe. To know without doubt I’ve got her. I would never let some threatening old fuck lay a single finger on her, but she’s still worried which means I have to do more than just tell her I’ll protect her; I’ve got to show her, which might mean finding the scumbag Howard Stapleton my damn self.

  She told me the name of the detective and a few vague details of Howard’s family life, or lack of. She remembered a girlfriend of his and even had her phone number so I’ll start my boy Roger, who’s ex-military and a current PI, on that first chance I can get a minute to call him.

  Today we meet Sam and Elliott at the warehouse for any last-minute details they want for the future retail space. This is the perfect distraction for my girl.

  Handing her a huge cup of steaming black coffee, I listen in on the design details. She’s taking the lead on this one just like I’d hoped.

  “The back wall will be this color of dark teal to match the upstairs loft and have these three works of art from a local artist. The upstairs will be more laid-back and instead of a lot of different clothing items, it will look more like a lounge, and I was thinking of adding cucumber water and a jukebox.”

  I watch her visibly swallow. This was her big idea, but she was so scared to mention it she almost convinced herself it was a bad idea.

  “That way the spouse or loved one that’s waiting will be able to choose the music in the store.”

  Sam starts clapping and bouncing on his toes, clearly impressed just like I knew he would be.

  “Lyla, that is a brilliant idea! I thought we would use that old loft for extra storage. A lounge would set us apart from the other retailers on the block. Spouses will be hurrying the shoppers out of all the other stores and plant it nice and comfy here.”