Complicated on 5th Avenue: 5th Avenue Romance Series, Book Two

by Abbie St. Claire

I arched in response to his deep position. Soft lips had soothed vigorous bites on my nipple before he marked each of my breasts with passion marks. I wanted him to mark me forever. As he came inside me for the first time, I realized I’d be his for infinity.

  But would he be mine?

  Chapter Four

  The predawn hours were disturbed by the faded beeping of an unknown source off in the distance, and as hard as I tried to go back to sleep, I couldn’t keep from being locked in on it. It took a minute to become fully awake and recall where I was. Tangled in Ian’s arms and legs, I nudged him.

  “Babe, something’s going off.”

  “Hmm, just email. Go back to sleep.” His deep, even breaths told me he’d beat me to dreamland, but the annoying beeps continued.

  Gut feelings often held me back sometimes, but rarely lead me astray—something was wrong. The heaviness of his arms and legs held me hostage as I tried unsuccessfully to peel them from my body.

  “No, don’t.” He griped at me through his sleep, when I tried to pull away.

  I kept moving and freed myself to slip from the bed and explore what was making the distracting noise. Searching through Ian’s clothes, I found his phone in his jacket pocket. It was silenced and not the culprit of the distant beep. It had to be coming from mine, but I had no recollection of bringing my phone upstairs, so I took the steps down to look for my evening bag. I last remembered seeing it on the table.

  The closer I got to the table the louder the beeps were, but when I located my bag and phone, it wasn’t the noisemaker either. I scrolled through my phone just to double check texts and missed calls in order to make sure Elsa hadn’t called about the boys when bright lights flashed through the front windows around the display mannequins.

  There I stood in complete nakedness with firetrucks and police cars lighting me up for the world to see.

  “Ian!” I screamed.

  Fear is so paralyzing and no matter how hard I tried to convince myself I was living a dream, or in my case a nightmare, I wasn’t.

  “Ms. Peterson, it's Mick Stewart, Chief Tanner, and Brent Hodges. We need you to open the door. We’re responding to the alarm.”

  The alarm?

  Although they had a deliberate view of all my glory, the need to cover up took a minute to sink in. A display to my right held new spring skirts and blouses, and I grabbed for the first one I could reach.

  Just my luck the skirt was two sizes too small and the top way too large, but at least they covered my nakedness. They didn’t do shit for my wounded pride, however.

  The large wood door opened with an aged groan, and all I could do was stare at the floor as a flurry of men filed passed me.

  “Are you alone?” Mick asked from a distance.

  “No, my…umm…Ian, my boyfriend, is upstairs. I’ll go get him.” I took a couple of steps toward the stairs, keeping my eyes focused downward. Then I came to a screeching halt when I heard, “What the fuck!”

  I looked up to the door hiding the back stairs, and there stood Ian with his naked torso, but lucky for him, at least he had his pants on.

  “Ian, the alarm is going off!” I yelled.

  “Well, isn’t that just dandy.” He huffed as he passed the men and approached me with open arms.

  “Sir, we need you two to step outside while we take a look. There’s an officer who will meet you with warming blankets,” the police officer said before speaking into his body mic.

  Both of us were barefoot and scantily clad in nothing couture nor in preparation to embrace temperatures in the teens, but at least they provided us some form of warm covering and allowed us to sit in the police cruiser to avoid more cold. Lots of communication went back and forth on the radio between the officers inside and out, and after about forty-five minutes, the officer told us we could go back in.

  “What happened?” I asked Mick while he wrote something on a clipboard.

  He started shaking his head. “A hot mess.” He put his report down and extended his hand to Ian. “Mick Stewart, Fire Marshall.”

  “Ian Briggs.” They shook hands, but Ian sent me a glare I didn’t understand.

  “Alarm company called it in as a fire code. We found no sign of fire, but you’ve got horrible wiring or someone’s been crossing stuff up on purpose. The control box has wires so mismatched this should’ve never passed code. A room entrance sensor was linked to the fire alarm, and that’s just the beginning of it. You need to get a certified electrician in here immediately, and I’m shutting you down for occupancy until you let me know you’re ready for a new inspection.”

  Looking between the two men, it dawned on me what he’d said. “I just closed on the whole building, and there was an inspection report. You came by to inspect, too!” I shook my finger at the fire marshal.

  Mick raised his brows. “One look and that wouldn’t have passed inspection for closing. I didn’t inspect wiring. I inspected doors and windows for required occupation for your permit for remodeling. There’s no need to yell.”

  My voice got louder. “You stand here in the nude while the massive lights of fire trucks and police cars expose every inch of your body and see how upset you get.” In a huff, I started toward the back door.

  Ian grabbed my arm and dug his nails in as I pulled against his grip. Pain shot through my flesh. “Wait, you were nude? You just prance around here with wide open windows without any clothes on for them to gawk at you? Didn’t your mother teach you any better?”

  Without thinking, the palm of my hand blasted the right side of his face with a loud slap that rang out more like a church bell. “Do not ever grab me like this again and don’t you ever talk to me that way about my mother.”

  Jerking my arm free, I hastily snatched my bag from the table and ran out the back door. I didn’t know what to do, so I called Shawna. When she didn’t answer, I kept walking between buildings downtown until I found a place to rest and call Uber for a ride. I stopped at an old building that had long since been closed, but still had a bench outside. In the far quiet of the night air, I heard Ian yelling my name. I prayed the car had come before Ian caught up with me.

  Grateful I’d had a garage door code-pad installed, I punched in the number, ran in the house with my painful bare feet, and locked the deadbolt behind me. Ian would show up I was certain, but he could forget about coming inside. I needed space and distance between one control freak and another.

  My body shuddered from cold and anxiety as I sat down on the edge of my bed. The events flashed through my mind in a vivid replay, and I shook my head in an attempt to clear the humiliating events.

  Honest to God, in my sleepy fog, I’d thought the stupid-ass beeping noise was the phone. I hadn’t planned on getting lit up like a thief in the night in my birthday suit.

  Did those men have any idea how mortifying that was? Ian knew about my insecurities. Did he really think I was naked because I knew Mick was coming and he was cute?

  The whole damn thing was demoralizing.

  Although my phone had been silenced while in the car coming home, I distinctly knew there would be plenty of messages. But to my arrogance, when I checked it, there were none. A fact that shouldn’t have pissed me off…but it did.

  Wait him out or break the ice? Bitchy or nice?

  My text read:

  Let me know the minute my son is awake in the morning.

  No response.

  My eyes hit the clock like a bug to a light. Four-seventeen in the morning. What a fucking night. How does one go from being romantically swooned on a dream date with fabulous, glorious sex to being accused of parading for attention? And to top it all, he insulted my mother?

  Being too mad to cry was dangerous…for him.

  The sun’s rays hit my face at just the right angle to light up my face. When I opened my good eye, my ears perked as well. A man was snoring ever so softly or perhaps deeply breathing beside me. Quickly, I sat up in bed and pulled the sheets tightly around me, baring his naked body. />
  “What the fuck?”

  Ian sat up sleepily and met me face-to-face in the middle of the bed. “Morning,” he replied, rubbing the two-day old scruff on his jaw.

  “What are you doing here? How’d you get in?”

  “The front door.” I’m sure he thought the wink was cute, but it just pissed me off.

  Moving quickly out of the bed, I pointed my finger at him. “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll get dressed and get your freakin’ ass home.” Turning, I headed for the bathroom.

  “If there’s still an ‘us’, you’ll stop and listen.” Behind me, his voice was reverend and pleading.

  Frozen somewhere between the dark angst of the night and the love held in my heart for him, I couldn’t move.

  Chapter Five

  Showered and dressed, Ian and I sat at the kitchen table, drinking the coffee he’d made while I’d been in the bathroom. In front of me, I noticed the word truce written on the chalkboard wall beside the refrigerator.

  I suppose he also etched his call to peace while I washed up.

  “I wished I could’ve talked to you before you got angry and ran away,” he said, his voice humble. With trembling hands, he held one of mine. “Nothing scares me more right now than the thought of losing you.”

  “You talked and it was enough.” My eyes filled with tears while I stared at my coffee cup. When I looked up, the salty beads slithered down my cheeks without control. “You embarrassed me on top of already being humiliated by the situation, and then you publicly insulted my moral compass. Really?”

  With his palm on the side of my face, his thumb wiped at the tracks of my tears. “I’m really sorry. I heard naked, and all I could imagine is you reverting back to being as self-conscious as when I first met you. The way you ran out and your show of anger this morning—” He paused for a deep sigh. “Tell me I’m wrong.”

  The shake of my head spoke volumes for me.

  “I apologized to Mick and he understood. I’m saying I’m sorry right now. I love you trying to hold onto us. What do we do…what do I do to move us past this?”

  My hand shook as I took a sip of liquid courage. The warmth of the coffee was soothing, but the love I felt from Ian was all encompassing.

  Jealous, boy was he ever. “I’m sorry I slapped you in front of the guys. I’ve never hit anyone before.”

  He chuckled. “Did you like it? Get a little rush from it?” His eyes sparkled when they met mine—always the dirty-minded boy.

  Thinking about it, yes, I did experience a rush. “You’re nuts, you know that?” Glancing around the room, I took inventory. No dishes were out of place. Everything was clean, and a fresh red towel was folded on the edge of the sink.

  My controlled, routine life.

  Finding comfort in the blueness of Ian’s eyes, I let my glance trail to his lips and the dimple that won me over. “You shatter all my walls of control. Make me nervous about what I feel for you, but I want to trust that we are a partnership, not a jealous, blaming pair of he said/she said.”

  “We’re together.” He let go of my hand and opened his arms wide for me to climb onto his lap.

  With his scent, his touch, and the hold he had over my heart, I knew I had to move forward and leave my insecurity behind, but life seemed to set me back every time I wanted to move forward. How hard could it be for two people to have a smooth-sailing relationship? And how was Carson going to behave when he realized I’d finally moved on? Was he going to try and sabotage life for me?

  We sat at the table and looked at the report Mick Stewart had emailed over. It delivered a convincing message that someone had deliberately made adjustments to the wiring in the building, but who would do that?

  “When was the contractor planning on starting the renovation for the bistro?” Ian asked.

  “Wednesday, why?”

  “Call him and see if he can start today. Tell him there’s a huge bonus if he can get it done in two weeks because I want us to take a trip with the boys on spring break.”

  “Ian, I…”

  He touched the side of my face with his finger. “It wasn’t a suggestion. For purely selfish reasons, I want this all behind us, so we can enjoy some time away from drama.”

  The look he gave me I knew well. Stubborn meets sexually intoxicated with a plan.

  After a voicemail and an S.O.S. text, Hugh Saunters returned my call. He and his son, Mark, understood the urgency and could meet us later in the afternoon to get the keys to the building and get started immediately. Part of me wanted to keep Ian away from the project, and another part wanted a man to take over and just get it done. But, it was as much my mother’s project directed from heaven as it was mine.

  Allowing someone else to lead would be quitting on something that meant a great deal personally.

  After picking up the boys, we went for a quick lunch. Oliver was more distant than ever, but Ian would never allow him to be rude and corrected him several times. I appreciated the support but struggled with the reason it was happening in the first place. Ian couldn’t force Oliver to love me. Love happened organically.

  Olivia, if I’m supposed to step into his life, I’d appreciate your guidance anytime you decide to share.

  The contractors arrived at the boutique moments after us and went over the fire marshal’s email before doing a survey for themselves. After almost an hour, they returned downstairs and agreed someone had intentionally messed with the wiring, but it wouldn’t take more than a day to repair.

  Who would do such a thing? The contractor Jim had suggested who kept calling me Little Missy? Or perhaps it was the one Carson knew who had done work for his company and had fixed my home alarm when I first bought my house? He was the last one to access the building before I closed the bids.

  Our boys went on a tour of the building, while Ian and I sat down with Hugh and Mark to discuss timing and expectations. Since Mark was a certified electrician and wanted to start immediately, I gave him the keys, put up the closed sign, and left him in charge.

  Control, something I valued and fought to maintain, and slowly, it was leaving me in every direction of my life.

  Before Carson, I was independent at college, living in my own apartment and able to think and do things for myself. Once I married him, he changed. He took over our money, went so far as to make me explain every dime I spent and kept close tabs on me when I was out with friends and he couldn’t be there. At first, I thought it was because he cared, or at least he came off as the ‘Wanting to take care of me’ type. Taking over my mom’s store gave me a bit of independence, but it was long after the divorce before I began to feel good about myself or decisions that I made.

  Chapter Six

  With a stack of invoices in front of me at my desk, I thought about how fast the week had flown by with packing inventory into storage, meeting with food service providers, and interviewing new staff to run the bistro. Deciding to open a bistro for coffee, sandwiches, and pastries took me down roads I never knew existed. I mean my life wasn’t sheltered by any stretch of the imagination, but I hadn’t lived the life of food service other than the constant demand for my cookies from friends and acquaintances. For example, I’d never had a health certificate to handle food for the public before, so each step I took toward the new adventure, I found myself both excited and utterly confused. It was hard work with lots to do, yet I was experiencing a fruitful array of internal butterflies.

  Mom, I hope you’re happy with my decision to give life to your dream.

  “What are you frowning at?” Isabella asked with her hands on her hips and her head cocked sideways. “We’re supposed to be meeting Avery to pick out a final menu for printing and you’re sitting there and having a conversation with your…um…imaginary friend.”

  My grimace subsided when I paused to roll my eyes at her. “I’m frustrated with my own self. I thought I’d ace this online food service test without even reading the booklet, and it tells me I barely passed. I guess I have
homework to do.”

  Isabella laughed. “Sure am glad that’s all on you and the Bistro crew. I can barely boil water.”

  “I know you want to stay focused on managing the boutique, but something tells me you’ll be joining the rest of us next door plenty.”

  Pushing the chair back from my desk, I walked toward the back door where she’s waiting.

  “I think hiring Sabrina as a manager was the best decision you could make. She’s going to be a huge help after working for Panera for two years while she was in high school. She’ll teach you what you want to know, and you’re helping her out too.”

  We got in Isabella’s car in a hurry because a rainstorm was in full force, but she didn’t start the engine. Instead, she gripped my hand as it rested on top of my red handbag. “Sabrina’s little boy is so cute, and with a non-existent sperm donor or any family in the picture, this job is perfect for her. She can still go to school and everything.”

  “You’re sure you’re not going to change your mind about leasing the apartment upstairs? I promised you first dibs, and I don’t want to back out of that.”

  She shook her head. “No, I’ve gone month to month on my lease because I stay almost every night at Mick’s place, and if he doesn’t ask me to move in soon, I can find another place to live whenever I want. It’s more important that Sabrina be able to live upstairs until she gets on her feet. God has a way of showing us what’s most important and the plan that’s supposed to happen. It’s fate. Let’s trust it.”

  I stared at her profile as she drove. She was happy. Instant love looked good on her. “You two had chemistry from the moment you met him. I saw it.”

  “Yep, but he’s an alpha, and in so many ways, I am too. That’s a struggle—a big one.”

  Yep, I understood completely what it was like to love an alpha for sure—a damn sexy one.

  Isabella drove us over to the printers so we could finalize the menus, and for the first time, it felt like “project bistro” or 5th Avenue Alley, as I had at last named it, was finally going to be a reality.