Spiced

by Jamie Farrell

  He thrust faster, but it wasn’t enough to reach past the grief, to recapture the desire, to find that place where she could still enjoy being a woman.

  “Pepper,” he ground out.

  She squeezed. She squeezed her eyes tighter, she squeezed his ass harder, she squeezed her inner walls around him. “Yes, Tony, yes.”

  He shuddered and called her name again, then groaned from deep, deep within before collapsing on her.

  She wrapped her arms around him and held on.

  Because he was all she had.

  13

  “Uh, boss man, you gotta come see this.”

  He glanced up from the chicken avocado pizza he was taste-testing Sunday morning to find his busboy looking like he was about to swallow his tongue. The kid wordlessly pointed toward the dining room, so Tony wiped his hands and headed to check it out.

  They weren’t open for another fifteen minutes, but there were three people standing expectantly outside his front door.

  Two very important people and one big guy who looked like he knew how to take care of things.

  He flipped the locks and ushered them in. “Lindsey, looking lovely as always.”

  His former divorce lawyer gave him a quick hug. “And you’re looking quite happy yourself.”

  Damn right he was. All his equipment was back in full working order, and he’d left Pepper satisfied from her roots to her toenails. Or so she’d mumbled when he’d kissed her goodbye in her bed just after midnight.

  “Will, have you and Tony met?” She pulled her belly out of the way so he could shake hands with her husband, the legendary Billy Brenton. Will, apparently, when he wasn’t on stage.

  “Not yet, lawyer lady, but I got high hopes,” Billy replied. His grasp was warm and friendly. “You get that avocado yet? I can’t even spell the stuff.”

  Lindsey laughed. “Hush. You can too. And if he doesn’t have avocado, I’m leaving.”

  “Bunch of hipster brides cleaned us out yesterday,” Tony said while he grabbed two menus. “Clean out of kale and leeks too.”

  “Now you’re mocking me.”

  He grinned. Before she’d been his divorce lawyer, she’d been a good customer. He gestured to the wide-open dining room. “Take your pick. I’ve got avocado. Just for you and the eighty other pregnant women in town. What kind of horrible concoction can I whip up for you today?”

  “She really just wants a dessert pizza,” Billy said. “You got that cinnamon kind?”

  “Avocado, artichoke, and anchovies,” Lindsey corrected.

  Even Billy and their bodyguard looked repulsed. “You ain’t feedin’ my baby that.”

  “While they work that out, get you anything?” Tony asked the bodyguard.

  “Bruno wants three live chickens and a lemon chiffon cupcake,” Billy said.

  “Sure, he can eat live chickens,” Lindsey grumbled.

  Bruno’s lips hitched up a millimeter. “Chicken and artichoke,” he said. “And Billy’s taking me to Kimmie Cakes later.”

  “Need me to delay opening here?” Tony asked. If the famous man wanted privacy, he could provide.

  “Ain’t no fun in that,” Billy said with a wink.

  “You’re going to have to quit saying ain’t when the baby’s born,” Lindsey teased.

  “Ain’t no fun in that neither,” Billy drawled.

  Tony knew a good bit about no fun, but today was starting with all the fun.

  And for the first time since he’d opened this place in September, the rest of the day saw packed tables, good tips for his crew, and happy local customers.

  He was nearly dead on his feet by eight, but not so dead he couldn’t send a quick note of thanks to Lindsey. Billy had taken a selfie outside Pepperoni Tony’s on their way home.

  Tony wasn’t stupid.

  He knew where his customers were coming from.

  Our pleasure, she’d replied. Now do your part.

  Wasn’t sure what that meant, but he intended to keep serving good pizza and fitting into this crazy town.

  And having a damn good time with his neighbor for a while too.

  * * *

  Grief reared up and sent Pepper back into anger mid-afternoon Tuesday. She’d been cheerfully helping a sweet bride about her age when the woman touched her belly in that intimate way newly pregnant women did, and she’d nearly doubled over in pain and come back up wanting to hit something.

  She’d left one of her managers in charge and called it a day early. Her staff had given her the sympathetic look of women, assuming she was still drained from Tarra’s wedding drama.

  As if she was the one hurting there.

  Jack was damn lucky he’d left the state.

  And talking to Tarra should’ve been a good reminder that her sister had bigger issues to worry about, but she couldn’t talk to her sister without contemplating that little baby growing in her belly, which sent her down a bad path all over again.

  When she walked into the house, George was doing the potty dance. Gran and Cinna were bent over the kitchen table, and based on their piles of pennies at the side of the game board, they were gambling over Ticket To Ride.

  Gran’s tour of the new seniors’ home—delayed until yesterday thanks to the wedding drama—hadn’t gone well. But she’d come back with caramel corn from a specialty shop in Willow Glen, cupcakes from Kimmie Cakes, and a tin of gourmet hot chocolate from the chocolateria on The Aisle to go along with her massive hug, and her inquisition over the goat at the wedding was forgiven.

  Wasn’t her fault she didn’t know what Pepper had been trying.

  Didn’t make it easy to keep her temper with Gran and Cinna though. “Did either of you walk the dogs today?”

  “Pulled a long shift this afternoon after closing last night,” Cinna said. “So, no.”

  “Too cold for my princess bones,” Gran added. “Storm’s coming too. I can feel it in my left knee. By the way, I called Tony. He’s meeting you and me and Elmer at Suckers in an hour.”

  Her pulse leapt at the mention of Tony’s name. They’d texted a few times since Saturday night, but he hadn’t asked to see her again.

  Nor had she asked to see him, if she were being fair about it. But what were the rules of sleeping with a guy you were only supposed to be pretending to date, when said pretend boyfriend was beginning to feel entirely too real?

  “Elmer?” she said.

  “This nice gentleman I met last night at the seniors’ center. He used to train tigers but had to retire on account of a misunderstanding with his circus bosses.”

  “I have a Knot Fest meeting, Gran.”

  “Not until eight. I checked your calendar.”

  “How—never mind. I’m taking the dogs out.” And texting Tony. Maybe he’d have an emergency come up at work and be unable to make it.

  A girl could hope, anyway. Goodness knew what Gran would be up to tonight.

  But she was grateful for the excuse to talk to Tony.

  She snagged the leashes from their hook near the back door. Sadie crept around the corner, doing her little bunny shuffle while George attacked Pepper’s tights. “Down, or you’re staying home,” she said.

  He eyeballed her with those dark marbles of his, but his wiggly butt slowed and he sat back on his haunches. “And if you terrorize my sweet Sadie, you’re sleeping outside tonight.”

  “Sixteen points!” Gran crowed. “Hand over those pennies.”

  “You haven’t won yet, old lady,” Cinna countered.

  She left the two of them to their game and took the dogs out for a walk in the rapidly darkening evening. She tried calling Tony, whose truck wasn’t in his driveway, but his phone went straight to voicemail.

  Probably just as well. Much easier to meet him at Suckers with other people around. They’d pretend to be dating, pretend they hadn’t had sex, pretend they were both normal.

  Grief snuck into her chest again, another wave of agony squeezing her lungs and trying to suffocate her heart.

>   Nope.

  She wouldn’t let it win.

  Miracles happened every day. She’d been trying too hard, and the doctors were wrong. She could have babies. Women had babies later and later all the time. Forty wasn’t too old to be a mom. Her body would work out its own kinks, and she’d be a mother when she was supposed to be a mother.

  Wouldn’t she?

  She was surrounded by death out here in the twilight. The grass in her neighbors’ yards was dead. The trees were dead. That streetlight ahead was dead. The blow-up goat, still crinkled and airless and now shoved deep in her closet, was dead. The inky sky seemed dead.

  And her ovaries and uterus were dead.

  That thick knot of pain clogged her throat again. She forced it down and tried to count her blessings.

  Hot chocolate. She could have all the hot chocolate she wanted now. An entire strawberry cake. Ice cream. As much pizza as she could eat.

  Pizza.

  Sex.

  More sex with Tony. At least until it was his turn to call things off. Three weeks and five days until his niece’s wedding.

  She pulled on George’s leash when he tried to sneak around her to jump Sadie. “Keep that thing to yourself,” she growled at him. “Didn’t Gran have you fixed?”

  George turned an injured doggie pout up at her, and her shoulders sagged. Yes, the dog was a terror, but he couldn’t help himself. He’d been trained by Gran. And it wasn’t his fault Pepper was…broken.

  More streetlights flickered awake down the street. A hint of smoke hung in the air, and bare branches rustled in the winter wind.

  Two blocks down, she turned a corner. George lunged, yipping his head off at the silhouette of a couple approaching with a dog even smaller than he was.

  “Down,” Pepper ordered. She held the leash firmly and stepped aside, poor Sadie cowering behind her again. “Sorry,” she called.

  A familiar laugh bubbled out of the darkness. “Don’t mistake silence for weakness,” Dahlia called. “Ringo here can take it. Mikey’s been teaching him self-defense. We need to get him a job.”

  “Mikey, or the dog?” Pepper called. There. That was normal.

  “Both.” Dahlia stepped under a streetlight, and her massive pregnant belly took all the light. Pepper’s breath caught again.

  “I have a job,” Mikey said. “I take care of you and help you invent ice cream flavors. How’s it hanging, Pepper?”

  The couple owned the ice cream shop around the corner from Bliss Bridal, and they lived on the block behind Pepper. Mikey had grown up with Will, played drums in the Billy Brenton band, and still wrote songs with his old pal, as far as Pepper knew. Usually, she would’ve been happy to see her friends.

  “Perfect as always. How about you two?” The words left a trail of acid in her mouth, but she forced a smile anyway.

  All of her friends had taken all the fertility in Bliss and left none for her.

  “Waiting for this to be over.” Dahlia was a cute girl, shorter, with brown hair that she’d stopped dyeing with streaks of red during pregnancy. She rubbed a gloved hand over her belly, still smiling, her eyes enlarged by her glasses. “But I’ll miss the excuse to sample so many more of the goods at work.”

  Ringo growled low and slunk toward George. Mikey bent his long frame to pick up the rat terrier. “Eat all you want, baby,” he said to Dahlia. “Kid still has to eat after he’s born.”

  Pepper tugged on her own dogs’ leashes. “Let me know if you need anything,” she said to Dahlia. “I should get these two home.” And find her happy place before this date with Gran and Tony and Elmer the tiger trainer.

  Maybe she could move up the Knot Fest meeting.

  Or maybe she could simply enjoy the distraction of keeping Gran out of trouble for one more night.

  * * *

  Tony hadn’t been to Suckers much since moving to town—once for a take-out dinner while he was getting Pepperoni Tony’s set up, and then again on Super Bowl Sunday. Bars weren’t really his scene, but since Gran had made a point of coming by at lunch and threatening not to leave until he agreed to meet her and Pepper for a double date tonight, here he was.

  Eagerly looking forward to seeing Pepper again. Hoping for a chance to touch her. Kiss her. Invite her over to his place after her Knot Fest meeting tonight.

  And the raw nerves eating at his stomach could go fuck themselves.

  He might not have believed in casual relationships before getting married, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t figure out how they worked now.

  Inside, the crowd was so-so. Neither Cinna nor CJ appeared to be working tonight. Pepper was seated near the end of the curved bar, sipping on a pink drink in a fancy cocktail glass, complete with a pineapple slice on the rim.

  Her thick, dark hair was pulled up off her neck, and she was in an emerald green, shimmery top that made her complexion glow. She didn’t wear heavy makeup. Her jewelry was simple and elegant, much like her wardrobe. Her lips were pursed, her gaze somewhere off in the distance as though she were lost in her own head.

  And she took his breath away.

  If she’d been nothing more than elegant grace and intelligent determination, he would’ve admired her, but she was more. She was warmth. She was strength. And she was vulnerability.

  She wouldn’t admit it—she was stubborn too—but he recognized the chink in her armor, because he’d worn the same chink for so long.

  How had all those other men left her? How could any man?

  He pulled up the stool beside her.

  “Is that an umbrella in your drink, or are you just happy to see me?”

  She turned startled green eyes on him. Her eyes went shiny and her chin trembled, and a chorus of profanity lit his brain.

  She was going to call off their deal. He hadn’t left her satisfied Saturday night. She’d been faking. He was broken.

  This fake-dating shit was for the birds. He didn’t want to fake date her.

  He wanted to real date her. To see if this interest could be something more. He hadn’t been interested in a woman in over a year. Letting her go would be like ripping a bandage off a scab that hadn’t quite healed yet.

  “Uh, if I told you that you have a nice body, would you hold it against me?” He forced a grin, though he knew it probably looked panicked, because let’s do this for real wasn’t an option. Not when she looked ready to bolt. “It’s National Bad Pick-up Line Day. Didn’t you hear?”

  “I—” She shook her head, visibly bucking up and willing back her normal confidence. She took a swig of her drink before meeting his gaze head-on. “If you were a fruit, you’d be a fineapple.”

  “Nice, but your Gran already used that on me today. Try again.”

  Her jaw slipped. He grinned—gotcha—and his heart lit up when she tipped her head back and laughed.

  A real laugh that ended with a playful shove to his shoulder. “You are so obnoxious.”

  “About a lot of things,” he agreed.

  Her amusement faded, and it didn’t take a brain surgeon to see what was coming.

  She wanted to talk about Saturday night.

  “Speaking of Gran,” he said, “where is she?”

  Apparently she was willing to not talk about it too, because she turned her attention to sliding the pineapple around the rim of her glass. “She and Cinna are picking up Elmer.”

  “Cinna’s coming?” Could be good or bad. He liked Pepper—that wasn’t an act, and he wasn’t worried Cinna would see through him. But he didn’t know how much Pepper confided in any of her sisters about her love life.

  Or the disasters therein.

  “Long story,” she said. “Which is pretty much any story involving my family, dates, weddings, baptisms, birthdays, holidays, reunions, or who’s driving whom. Don’t ever get involved in joint gifts. The money is a nightmare, Rika always ‘forgets’ to pay, and Ginger will spend the next two months complaining that she should’ve gotten three more dollars back.”

  “Add in remem
bering who’s related to whom, and you’ve just described my family too.”

  She smiled. Not a fake smile, not a placating smile, but a wide, honest, you-get-it-and-I-dig-that smile. “Ever wish you were an only child?”

  “Still do most days.”

  Her sympathetic laugh settled some of the acid nipping at his nerves. “I’m rethinking having Cinna and Gran both live with me.”

  “We’d miss them if they weren’t here.”

  “Maybe not all of them,” she said with a wink.

  True enough.

  “You okay with your gran?” he asked quietly.

  “She got over boundaries about two decades ago, which I know and accept and love about her. Also, she brought me presents.”

  “Good presents?”

  “The best.”

  The door swung open, and Gran’s entourage paraded in. Gran in her massive winter coat and curls that appeared freshly tightened, Cinna swinging her hips with a grin that spelled trouble, and a relatively young older gentleman in jeans, a button-down plaid shirt beneath an open winter coat, full head of gray hair, and a scar bisecting his left eyebrow.

  Pepper tilted a wry smile at him. “You ready for this?”

  “Ready for time with my favorite ladies? Always.”

  “Better not let your own sisters hear that.”

  “You kidding? Might inspire them to be nicer.” The lady was digging for information. This was good. Interest was good.

  She slid off her stool and squeezed his shoulder. A thanks for being here? An I like you? Or simply a friendly gesture to keep up the charade?

  She pulled her coat and a bright green scarf off the back of her stool and draped it over her arm. But when she reached for her drink, she suddenly froze.

  He glanced back in the direction of her gaze.

  The door had opened again, and Kimmie Kincaid—owner of the best cupcake shop in all of Bliss, he had now confirmed for himself—and her husband were wandering in.

  When he turned back to Pepper, a simple smile adorned her lips. Not fake, but not much warmer than simply pleasant either, which was odd. Tony hadn’t been trying to fit in long, but even he knew only the evilest of the evil people in the world could dislike Kimmie.