The Corner of Forever and Always

by Lia Riley

  Brushing her teeth this morning, the last thought on her mind had been that in a few measly hours she might be deep kissing the man who for all intents and purposes found her as annoying as a mosquito singing the song of its people.

  And that wasn’t the only surprise. That same man knew how to kiss.

  Like…really knew.

  Okay. Okay. She needed to stop—stop this, right now!—but it was like stepping into Willy Wonka’s chocolate factory after a long diet of iceberg lettuce and rice cakes. Now she was getting her Augustus Gloop on. Her willpower was too busy saying things like “God,” “yes,” and “more” to be responsible.

  Beau was a contradiction of strength and softness, his body hard even as he held her in gentle arms. His mouth moved with measured confidence, despite obvious hunger.

  This wasn’t black-and-white. Enemies. Lovers. This was a gray space, and who knew the murky middle could feel this damn good?

  She wound her arms over his broad shoulders, lacing her fingers together at the base of his neck. His mouth stripped her of reason, of analyzing, of even trying to make a good impression. There wasn’t style here. Or technique. This kiss was raw, real, and utterly ruthless.

  His mouth devoured hers, and yeah, she’d been ravenous, too. The last time she’d been kissed—no, none of that; Philandering Phil had no place here. Whatever was happening, at least it was honest.

  This kiss existed out of time. A parallel-world kiss. An alternate reality. A whole other dimension. As their tongues tangled, the known universe altered.

  “I don’t want you.” His rock-hard bulge against her lower stomach begged to differ.

  She nipped the indent in his top lip, her fingers digging into his borrowed T-shirt. It wasn’t clear if she was pushing him off or pulling him closer. “I don’t like you.”

  His frustrated exhalation heated her flushed chest. “Then what the fuck is happening?”

  The naked confusion in his uncharacteristically helpless expression heated her blood. “I don’t know,” she whispered. “Wanna try again and see if we can find out?”

  His mouth had an underlying tang like he’d recently eaten an orange. Imagine him feeding her one? Those big strong hands would split the peel, juice dribbling along his thick fingers as he pressed a segment to her parted lips. The thrill between her legs reached the intensity of a flyaway live wire. She writhed, burning in all her good places.

  “Tuesday.” He muttered her name like a prayer. “We’ve got to stop.” Instead, he dipped to suck her neck, and her whole body tightened in a feline arch.

  “I have a group,” she gasped. The children—think of the children.

  “Me too.” His scruff worked in concert with his hot tongue to radiate tingles over her skin. “A VIP group.”

  Funny how “group” sort of sounded like “grope,” and good Lord, she couldn’t leave his biceps alone. She’d never seen him out of a well-fitting collared shirt. The sleeves always hugged his arms, but the professional buttoned-up look never invited touch. The ratty college T-shirt invited teasing finger explorations up his arm. Yum. No give anywhere, just ridge after ridge of hard, tantalizing muscles. He moved lower with a husky groan, his lips dragging over her clavicle, nipping and kissing until she dug her nails in and held fast as leg strength became nothing but a memory.

  “This is crazy.” His close-shaved head roughed the side of her cheek. God. His hands closed on the front of her dress. Was he going to rip it open like a plundering pirate? The idea of his wet, hot mouth getting anywhere close to her—

  A throat cleared.

  They both sprang back as if struck, breathing in harsh gasps.

  Robbie shuffled in the doorway to Madam Magna’s tent, studying the back of his hands. He cracked a knuckle. “I, um, a few of the little girls needed to use the bathroom and I couldn’t take them and—”

  “On my way,” Tuesday said breezily, slipping back into her princess character. It wasn’t hard. Whatever just happened wasn’t reality. What went down in a parallel world stayed in a parallel world. She stepped forward when a hand closed on her upper arm.

  A hand she now knew had the ability to feel roughly calloused but also savagely tender.

  “Your crown, Princess.” Beau’s voice was low in her ear. Her eyes half fluttered before she fought for composure. No! She wouldn’t have an ear orgasm in front of Robbie.

  “It’s a tiara,” she said in her snootiest faux accent, plucking it from his grasp.

  No, she wouldn’t meet his gaze.

  No, she wouldn’t linger.

  And this would never happen again.

  Never ever ever.

  She replayed the words over and over in her mind, faster and faster, until the syllables grew strange and distorted, refusing to hold any meaning at all.

  * * *

  Tuesday Knight had kissed him to the brink of goddamn insanity and all she said afterward was It’s a tiara?

  Oh, hell no.

  For the rest of the day, he led the Tourism Commission around Everland’s other highlights, from the Kissing Bridge to his cousin’s What-a-Treat Candy Boutique to the General’s General Store. All the while he replayed her parting words on repeat, his smile and reserved good humor harder and harder to maintain.

  As the group finally pulled away at the end of the day, the van disappearing down Main Street in the direction of Hogg Jaw, he answered his ringing phone with a bite. “Marino.”

  “Beau! Hey, my main man,” Humph Miller boomed in his unmistakable baritone. “How’s it hanging this fine day? To the left? Right?” He unleashed a phlegmy guffaw.

  Humph had been the fraternity president back when Beau pledged in college. They’d kept in loose contact over the years. Rather, Humph kept in touch when it served him.

  “Humph,” Beau said, shoving a hand into his pocket. “Long time no talk. What can I do for you?”

  “Hey, pal, you know what? I’ve been waiting for the wife to ask me that question since she popped out baby number four.” Humph cracked up at his own joke. “My balls are the size of fucking watermelons.”

  Beau massaged his brow. Christ, what an asshole. “Congratulations on the new edition,” he ground out. “I didn’t even know Merris was pregnant again.”

  “Best part? Her breastfeeding titties are huge.” More gravelly “good ol’ boy” laughter.

  Beau recoiled from the receiver, twisting his mouth in a grimace. Humph was a cashed-up, A-grade bastard. He’d married a society belle and in her company remained the epitome of a loving and chivalrous husband, but the second he stepped out of earshot he was the type to make crass remarks about women two decades younger.

  “Hey, so is there a reason for the call? Because I’m up to my ears in—”

  “Reason?” Humph belted out. “Depends on whether you think Representative Marino having a nice ring to it is a reason.”

  Beau slammed his shoulders back. “Say what, now?”

  “Did I stutter? And we’re talking US Congress here.”

  “Not sure what planet you’re on, but Everland isn’t on any political map. I don’t have the clout to bring in that sort of support in this district.”

  “Yet.”

  He paced. “Going to Washington takes money. I don’t have much in the way of—”

  “You know me. I know people. People with deep pockets. People who like to get things done. Are you a man who likes to get things done?”

  “You know it.”

  “Judge Hogg had been in contention, but, well—after what happened…”

  “An unfortunate episode.” Everland disliked the judge, partly because he hailed from the rival town of Hogg Jaw and partly because he was a human garbage Dumpster fire, a grown man who took pleasure in bullying those he deemed weaker or less important. His bad behavior had finally caught up to him, and he’d been run out of town.

  “Last I heard he was out on the Alabama border catching catfish in the Chattahoochee. Guess that’s one way to handle a destro
yed career. You replace him yet?”

  “Not my jurisdiction, but there are people working on it.”

  “Interesting. Wonder who it’ll be.”

  Hopefully not another whack job. He hooked a hand over the back of his neck and changed the subject. “And where exactly do I fit into this?”

  “We’re looking for someone with common sense, who can get things done.”

  “‘We’ being who?”

  “Classic Marino.” Humph unleashed a wheezy chortle. “Always lookin’ a gift horse in the mouth.”

  “I like knowing who’s buttering my bread.”

  What Humph offered was tempting. Lately a restless feeling had taken hold. The harder he worked, the more it grew. Maybe he was outgrowing the job and a new professional challenge was needed.

  “What would you say if I represented business interests from all the way over in Atlanta?”

  “I’d ask why they cared about Everland.”

  “Populations are climbing out your way. It’s a good, wholesome place to raise a family, with low crime and affordable housing given the proximity to the coast.”

  “All points of local civic pride.”

  Humph scoffed. “Let’s face it. Your shopping options suck balls.”

  Beau bristled. “Our Main Street won—”

  “I know. I know. You came in second in that local business contest and no one is prouder of it than me, but I’m talking real shopping. Discount-Mart style.”

  “Discount-Mart?” Beau stopped in his tracks. Discount-Mart was one of America’s biggest companies and headquartered in Atlanta.

  “They’ve expressed interest in expanding into your market.”

  He looked up at the cloudless sky and rubbed his brow. “This town supports buying local.”

  Humph laughed. “Tell that to a soccer mom who can get her kids school shoes at seventy-five percent off, or the senior who needs one of those lights where you clap your hands and they pop on. What are those called again?”

  “A clapper?”

  “Yeah. Got four myself. Useful thing those, especially after a few beers. Anyhow, they’ve crunched the numbers and there’s a prime piece of real estate ripe for the plucking. Could be expanded into an outlet mall. Maybe even a fancy water park. Already has parking lots paved.”

  “Don’t tell me it’s state parkland because—”

  “That ratty-ass theme park.”

  “Happily Ever After Land?” Beau jerked.

  “Old Joe Wilcox has been hemorrhaging money for years. Sharks smell blood in the water, and the hundred-year lease is up come winter. You broker this deal for Discount-Mart and you can good as count on a sizable contribution for grabbing that seat opening next year.”

  The United States Congress? Beau rocked his head back and rubbed his forehead. He was happy with his role as Everland’s mayor, and more than content doing good work improving the community. But there was no doubt he could get more accomplished if he went all the way to Washington, got a seat on the Small Business committee or Appropriations. He’d been pouring his blood, sweat, and tears into getting the Georgia Tourism Board to designate Everland as a coastal Crown Jewel, but imagine if he could earmark funds on a national scale for the whole district?

  “Folks are mighty leery of outsiders out your way,” Humph pressed on. “But if a familiar, trusted community leader spearheads the deal, then this is as good as done. Think on it, Beau. Let’s get that happy ever after for you.”

  Phaedra1953: I don’t believe a word of it. Not one word. Robbie is a Brown, and you know what they say about the Brown family.

  ScrabbleLuvR: Big-Mouth Browns. But what cause would that child have to lie? I think he saw what he said he saw. Mayor Marino and Tuesday Knight were playing tonsil hockey in Madam Magna’s tent. It looks like the mayor is finally finding romance.

  IdaMayI: No, no, no! Men don’t know their brains from their bologna pony. Tuesday Knight isn’t right for him. They are nothing alike. He’ll only go and get himself hurt again. We can’t stand by. It’s time to investigate her.

  Chapter Six

  “Beau Marino kisses like a devil in disguise.” Tuesday peeled back the lavender eye pillow and regarded her dog. “How is that possible? What planet slipped out of alignment during the last twenty-four hours?”

  J. K. Growling settled her big head on her folded paws with a snort that made her feelings on the matter perfectly clear. Not again.

  Too bad. Because Tuesday needed to process and this bed was her safe space, one place where she could drop all pretense and just be herself. “And he didn’t do any of those alpha tongue jabs either. You know how I hate when a guy mows my face like a bacon cheeseburger. Talk about an instant deal breaker. But this was different. We…we…met in the middle. A give-and-take.” She hugged a pillow. “But how can it feel so right when it’s every kind of wrong? The mayor is nothing like me. He is so…I don’t know, straitlaced, responsible, and pragmatic. I’d drive him nuts. He’d drive me nuts. Together we’d be a Costco-size container of mixed nuts.”

  J. K. Growing heaved a heavy sigh and closed her eyes.

  “Come on. Aren’t you supposed to be a woman’s best friend? Pepper doesn’t need to hear my drama, not when she’s all wound up with her engagement and the shelter and those dogs and…Oh, no! What time is it?” Tuesday sat and checked the digital clock on her phone. Twenty past seven.

  “Shoot. Pepper and Rhett’s dinner started twenty minutes ago. Why didn’t you remind me?”

  The five text messages on the screen ranged from “Ready when you are!” to “Hellllloooooo????” to “That’s it, we’re sending Beau to drag you over.”

  She dropped the phone to her side. “Sending who?”

  Someone knocked on the front door. Three strong raps.

  Panic rose in her throat as she looked about wildly. Her cottage porch light was out. What if she didn’t answer? That could work, right? Hunkering down under a throw blanket might not win any maturity awards, but this was about survival. Her pride was on the line.

  J. K. Growling woofed and barreled toward the door, scratching at the wood.

  “Seriously? This is when you decide to show interest in anything other than dinner?” Tuesday hissed. “Traitor.” No hiding now. She smoothed her hair and gave her reflection a critical once-over in the wall mirror. She’d treated herself to a lavender bubble bath after coming home and had slipped into dark-wash cutoffs and a coral-red cami.

  No bra, but let’s face it, her girls didn’t require much heavy lifting in the support department. Gravity couldn’t affect what wasn’t there.

  The knocking recommenced.

  “Coming!” She ripped her fingers through the knotted tangle on the side of her head. Just because she didn’t want to pursue some big, meaningful relationship with the mayor didn’t mean that she wanted to look anything other than completely irresistible.

  She flung open the door. He dropped his closed fist against his black-denim-encased thigh. Geez Louise. He’d traded his trademark blazer for a well-fitting gray T-shirt and an iconic leather biker jacket.

  Now, that wasn’t playing fair.

  “Hi.” It was a wonder she could manage a squeak when her mouth was drier than Death Valley.

  “Hey.” His mouth clamped as if he refused to allow a spare word to escape.

  “Okay, well, cool, this was fun,” she quipped at last. “Nice seeing you!” She pretended to shut the door.

  “Wait!” He braced his hand, blocking her. “The dinner party.”

  “Oh, right.” Her tone was mocking. “I’m sure you’re all anticipating the napkins with bated breath.”

  “Napkins?”

  “My vital contribution to the evening’s success. What did you get roped into bringing?”

  “Cake.”

  She cocked her head. “You grabbed something from Sweet Brew? I’m obsessed with their death-by-chocolate muffins.”

  “No bakery. My kitchen.”

  “Wait.”
She passed a hand over her mouth, but a giggle escaped, charmed to the tips of her toes by the idea of him in the kitchen, a dusting of flour on the tip of his nose. “You made a cake?”

  He stared at her intently, as if searching for some secret mockery. “What’s funny about that?”

  “Nothing.” She shook her head. “Nothing at all.” The idea was adorable, and humanizing, and made her swoon more than a little. But it wouldn’t do to tell him all that.

  His gaze deepened, probing, studying every inch of her face. She refused to so much as blink or fidget. If this were an improvisation class, she was playing the role of “cool confidence.” “I’m not sure.” Better not to blurt out the best kisser ever.

  “Look.” He rocked on his heels. “About earlier—”

  “Nope,” she said lightly, raising a hand like a cop blocking traffic. “Not going there. I have no recollection of the morning. I appear to have been stricken with an incurable case of selective amnesia.”

  “Suit yourself.” A thread of amusement laced his voice.

  Did he see through her studied nonchalance? Or that her pebbled nipples contradicted her brave statement? “I need to change before dinner.” She gestured at her cutoffs, swallowing thickly when his gaze skimmed her bare thighs. “Come inside a second?”

  “Uh, sure. Yeah. Fine.” He turned toward Pepper and Rhett’s house like he’d rather walk back, but for some reason she wanted him in her space. Her territory. To get a better sense of her than the ditzy princess he had her pegged as.

  “Can I grab you anything? A soda?” She offered a silent prayer of thanksgiving that no wayward bras were draped over the back of her sofa. “Wait. You guys call it Coke here, right? Even if it’s Sprite? Or root beer? Luckily, I have Coke. Well, Diet Coke.”

  “I don’t drink caffeine after noon.”

  “Why do you insist on acting like you’re seventy?” she said with a laugh. “You’re a grumpy old man before your time.”