“I’m not usually like this. I swear I’m not. You know I haven’t had sex in forever. I have control. I mean a woman has needs, but I’m not usually this…whatever I am. It’s your fault. You’re all sexy and intense and consuming. I can smell you everywhere. Even after the shower, your scent is clinging to me. How am I supposed to think straight with you all over me all day? I’ll be a mess, spilling and dropping. Then Jordan’s gonna make fun of me for acting like an idiot. So we’ll spend the day bickering which will just fluster me more and I’ll burn the pumpkin bread because I’m staring at your shop wondering if it smells as good as I remember it,” she huffs and then her eyes go wide.
I turned to face her halfway through her rant just to have a full view of her while she went at it. I hate words, but I fucking love it when she spews them like that. Her arms fly around and her eyes flash with determination as she rambles. That glow brightens and her Midwestern drawl pokes through. Sexy as hell.
“At least I don’t have a hammer for this rant,” she says with a shrug.
“Don’t think you’re mad this time, Sugar.”
“No, I’m horny.”
She smashes both hands to her face and shrieks. I can’t help the laughter bubbling up my throat. A grown ass woman embarrassed saying she’s horny is hilarious.
“You have to leave now. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Never. I have never acted like this in my life,” she says it more to herself than me.
“Emily.”
“Yeah?” she whispers.
“Mouth.”
“It needs some kind of plug,” she mutters, walking to me.
I quirk a brow at her, thinking I could plug her mouth and her face flames even brighter.
She stops too far away so I tug her to me with the belt on her robe, causing her to gasp. I take the advantage of her open mouth and dive in. I kiss her until the tension falls from her shoulders and she leans into me, running her hands over my abs. I could spend all day with my mouth on hers and Emily’s hands on me. I’m tempted to do just that until her phone rings, breaking the moment.
I press my lips to hers once more before she hurries to her bedside table to answer.
“Hey,” she says with a happy sigh.
“I’m running late this morning. Can you start the muffins?”
“You’re disgusting!”
“Well, I don’t have to deny something so depraved, Jordan. I’m not you,” she sneers.
“You did not just say that in front of Arlene and Beverly!”
She buries her face in her hands and growls. I tug my shirt over my head and slide into my boots as I watch her get teased mercilessly.
“If I didn’t love you so much, I’d hate you.”
“I’m not telling you that.”
“You’re gonna have to run the stall by yourself today if you don’t let me go. I’m not even dressed yet.”
“Yes, you caught me. I’m standing butt naked in the living room while Garrett devours me and I talk to you. It’s the hottest thing I’ve ever done,” she drones sarcastically.
I lift an eyebrow at her and she rolls her eyes. Her and Jordan have quite the relationship I’m learning. They sound more like brother and sister than friends. I guess that’s why she didn’t want to get physical with him in front of Adam last night. She looked like she was going to vomit when Jordan put his lips on her. I thought I was going to kill him when he moved to touch her tit. So I guess we were both uncomfortable with that situation.
“I’m hanging up now,” she huffs and ends the call. “He lives to torture me. I swear it brings him joy to make me squirm.”
He loves her. I knew that already, but it was more evident last night. Jordan was willing to do anything to get Adam away from Emily. If there were a sword to fall on, he would have. His eyes were feral and his stance was possessive. Beyond the love he has for her, he’s loyal. That gains my respect above anything else. It’s something to be cherished in life because I’m all too aware of how rare it is to come by.
“I just need five minutes,” Emily says running into her bathroom with her clothes in hand.
Music to my ears. I have no desire to be with a woman who says she takes two hours to get ready. I had one of those once in life. It was a nightmare. She was a nightmare. Give me make-up free, comfortable clothes and sneakers any day. It’s not the package I’m looking for anymore. As a twenty-year-old man, I thought the way a woman looked was the end-all. Hard lesson to learn, but I’ve learned it. Never again will I settle for tight dresses, sky-high heels and fake eyelashes. Never.
True to her word, Emily comes racing out of her bathroom a few minutes later looking like a breath of fresh air in an espresso-colored long-sleeved T-shirt, black skintight jeans and her hair in a towel-dried bun at the base of her neck. She looked amazing all dolled up last night, but I prefer this Emily.
Sexy as hell.
“We have to go. Jordan threatened to burn the muffins and put up a sign saying ‘Sorry no muffins today because Emily was too busy getting her muffin eaten to bake you any’. He’ll do it too. Let’s go,” she says, flying out of the room.
I follow her closely and stop her when she grabs her coat, trying to go to her garage.
“I’ll drive.”
“I can—”
“I’ll drive,” I repeat with a little more force in my voice.
“Jordan can drive me home,” she concedes, walking out the front door.
“You gonna lock up?”
“I don’t have a key,” she says dismissively.
I keep my comments to myself. I’m changing her door in an hour anyway. Then she’ll have fucking keys and she’ll use them. We’re not in Mayberry, no matter how attractive Bluffside is.
I open the passenger door for her, waiting for her to settle in before shutting it and rounding my hood. I let the roar of the engine wash over me for a moment and then I pull out.
“This is quite the car, Garrett,” she purrs.
She wasn’t lying about being horny. Though, I’ve found muscle cars make most women wet. I’ll test that out on Emily later.
“When you finish up at the festival, I’ll drive you home.”
“Jordan can take me.”
“I’ll take you,” I grumble.
“You’re busy. Jordan won’t mind.”
“I’ll take you.”
I flick my eyes at her to let her know I’m done talking now and she nods. She’ll figure me out soon. I don’t do compromise well. If I say something, I mean it. I’m not abusive, but I am the classic alpha male stereotype magnified.
“Adam’s not gonna give up,” I state, threading my fingers through hers. Now that I’ve held her, touched her skin, I can’t keep my hands to myself.
“He might,” she responds and I can tell she actually believes that.
“Sugar, he thought he won last night. He made his move. Tried to use your heart against you. He’s not gonna give up because we’re together.”
“We’re together?” she asks quietly.
“That’s what he thinks.”
“That’s what he thinks?” she repeats my statement again, turning to face me.
Do I want this thing with Emily and me to be just a show for Adam? Fuck no. I’ve watched her for half a year and I feel a connection with her because of it. Emily’s working on a few days with me. I know it’s way too fast to stake my claim on her. Fuck if her eyes aren’t asking me to do just that.
“What do you want, Sugar?” I ask softly.
“I thought I made it pretty clear last night and this morning,” she huffs.
“Yeah,” I say with a smirk on my lips.
It’s a foreign feeling that I’m not used to and I’m not sure I like it. Six months of watching her, a few days of interacting with her and one night with her in my arms was apparently the recipe to allow something other than anger course through my veins.
Because fuck me, I feel good right now.
“So you just want me for my bod
y?” I tease her.
I flick my gaze to hers and find her jaw hanging open, embarrassment on her face.
“I’m not some two-bit hussy, Garrett Sharp,” she growls. “I like you. Yes, you’re the hottest thing since the sun, but I like spending time with you. I haven’t spent much; I know that. But I feel good when I’m with you…safe. You weren’t in my bed last night for Adam’s benefit. Were you?” she finishes quietly.
“Fuck no,” I snarl. “You’re safe with me, Emily. I can make that promise right now without hesitation. I’m not doin’ shit with you for that prick’s benefit. Sayin’ that, him thinkin’ we’re together is a good thing. You decide you want this to be real—”
“I want this to be real,” she cuts me off.
I roll to a stop and turn to face her completely. There’s determination in her face along with longing. She doesn’t know me and when she finds out about me, she’ll probably run for the hills. I’ll get at least a day with her as mine. It may be all I ever get, but I’ll take it. I’ll treasure it.
“Okay,” I grunt.
“Okay?”
“Okay,” I say again, brushing my hand across her creased cheek before driving through the stop sign.
“Garrett Sharp’s my boyfriend,” Emily informs the car.
I snort at the word boyfriend. It sounds weird at my age to be a boyfriend. But I’ll take the title if that’s what she wants to give me. I’ll take anything she wants to give me.
I pull up in front of her shop and throw my ride in neutral.
“You want me to walk you in?” I ask, turning to face Emily.
“No. Jordan will make a scene. I’ll see you during the festival.”
She grasps the handle to get out when I growl, “Mouth.”
“He’s probably watching,” she complains.
“I don’t give a shit.”
I tag the back of her head and drag her mouth to mine. She opens before I have the chance to urge her to. I kiss her hard and I kiss her breathless. When I pull back, she’s in a daze. I love that I put that look on her face. Relaxed and turned on. Hot as fuck.
“Bye, Sugar,” I say gently, pressing my lips to her creased cheek.
It feels better than I imagined it would. Tangible joy. Beautiful.
“Bye, Garrett.”
She runs her hand down my stubbly cheek before sliding out of my car. I watch her until she disappears into her shop. I can only imagine what’s awaiting her in there. She takes everything in stride so I know she can handle it. I hope she can do the same when she finds out I’m a murderer.
“Good morning, sunshine,” Jordan says brightly as I enter the kitchen.
I start to threaten him when I get a good look at his battered face.
“Jordan,” I gasp, racing to him.
“I’m fine,” he assures me as I grab his cheeks and study the damage. “Em, I’m okay.”
“I’ll kill him for this,” I snarl.
Jordan’s bottom lip is split and there’s a dark purple bruise below his left eye. His jaw looks a little swollen too. I don’t care if Jordan hit Adam first. Adam had it coming. Maybe not for coming to the house last night, but for cheating on me for two years. I’ve held Jordan back because I didn’t want him in trouble. Now I wish I’d let him pound Adam’s face sooner.
“No, you won’t,” Jordan says with a hint of something sinister in his voice as he pulls my head into his chest. I squeeze his ribs tightly.
“Adam Warren deserves more than a beating if you ask me,” Beverly announces from the marble worktable.
“A lot more,” Arlene agrees.
Both women are more grey than not with glasses and easy smiles. They’ve been friends since kindergarten. They raised their kids and now they watch their grandchildren. They have a soft spot in my heart.
“My hands are washed. I’m here to bake and get juicy details,” Jenna says with flare, walking in the kitchen as Jordan sets me back.
I reach up on my tiptoes and kiss his cheek.
“Love you,” I mutter into his skin.
“Love you too.”
He kisses my forehead as Jenna links her arm with mine.
“I can’t cook for shit. You tell me what to do and I’ll do it.”
“Come over here and fill these muffin cups two thirds of the way up,” Beverly says and Jenna dutifully obeys.
“Okay. I’m filling. Now, how sore are you?” Jenna asks.
“She’s walkin’ okay,” Jordan pipes in, kneading some dough.
“Girl’s got a glow though,” Arlene comments, sliding cookies in the oven.
“Looks good today,” Beverly finishes, helping Jenna a little.
I can’t hide the smile that breaks across my face. I want to be embarrassed or shocked by their questions and comments, but I’m too elated to be anything other than gloriously happy.
“I’m Garrett Sharp’s girlfriend!” I exclaim with a squeal.
“Shut the front door!” Jenna shouts with her jaw dropping. “I thought he was just gonna rock your world and make you forget about that motherfuckin’ piece of shit ex you have. Garrett is a rare breed, Em. Holy shit!”
“BAMF,” Jordan mutters under his breath as a small smile plays at his lips.
Beverly and Arlene share a brief concerned look, but smile when I start to question them.
“Knock, knock,” Clyde says from behind me, rapping his knuckles on the swinging door.
I turn around to greet him, immediately scooped against his broad chest. He smells like motor oil and cigar smoke as he squeezes me tight.
“Turn her loose, Clyde,” Arlene says gently.
“Glad nothin’ happened to you, honey,” Clyde murmurs into my hair, before setting me back.
Jordan approaches to shake Clyde’s hand as they exchange a wordless manly conversation about last night.
I know it wasn’t a good thing, but I’m not freaked out by it. Adam wasn’t going to hurt me. He scared me at first, but after that, I saw his pain. I keep seeing his pain until I look at Jordan’s battered face and then I’m mad.
I hope Adam just leaves this alone now. Leaves me alone.
“Got your stall all set up, Emily. Just wanted to let you know. I’m headin’ to your place now to help Garrett out with the door,” Clyde informs me, striding to Arlene.
He tags the back of her head and kisses her hard before pressing another kiss to her forehead. Arlene lost her husband, George, almost eighteen years ago. She’d known Clyde her whole life and they reconnected when he moved back here around the time George died. Clyde supported her and helped her grieve from what I’ve been told. Eight years later, Clyde moved into Arlene’s house and never left. They aren’t married and I don’t think they ever will be, but he loves her in a way that makes your toes curl when you’re in a room with them.
He comes in for a mug of love from her every Sunday and sips it while watching his woman work. I love it.
“My door?” I ask when Clyde leaves Arlene who’s still a little breathless.
“Yeah, honey,” he answers softly, brushing his calloused fingers down my cheek before exiting the shop.
“Okay, Arlene. I want your juicy details,” Jenna demands with an eyebrow wiggle.
“That man,” Arlene moans and we all laugh heartily.
We finish baking in short order. Jenna doesn’t contribute much other than entertaining all of us. Jordan’s his usual self, teasing and light-hearted. Arlene and Beverly tell us stories about the Fall Festival before any of us were born. It’s the perfect morning for one of my favorite days in Bluffside.
Jordan, Jenna and I load up the stall with everything for the baking raffle just before ten. Arlene and Beverly will man the shop today, serving coffee and hot apple cider. The streets are buzzing when the street blockades are lifted at ten and Crest Street fills to the brim with people instead of cars.
The parking lot has a bouncy house, carnival rides and games. All of the shops have stalls in front of them on the street. Kids
are frolicking and playing, loving the face painting being offered by the salon.
My smile feels broader today than it has in a long time. So long, I struggle to remember the last time I felt this good.
Clyde’s working the Sharp Furniture stall, showing people how to whittle small chunks of wood. I haven’t seen Garrett. I keep staring at his workshop windows, wondering if he’s in there. If he’s thinking about me as much as I’m thinking about him. Being in Garrett’s arms last night didn’t warm me; it scorched my soul. I knew I’d feel safe in his arms. I didn’t know how consuming that safety would be.
I saw Sarah race out of Garrett’s store yesterday, but I didn’t focus on her. I watched Garrett with Clyde. There was love and concern on Garrett’s face as he spoke. It warmed my heart and Clyde’s too based on his reaction.
“Can we do cupcakes?” a little girl in pigtails asks, towing her younger sister up to the stall.
“Of course!”
Jordan helps the girls onto stools as their mom chats with another woman a few feet away. I set them up with a cupcake each and show them how to work the piping bag. It’s a mess, but their little faces are determined as they douse the cupcakes in bright pink icing.
“Momma, look!” the youngest girl yells as she finishes her decorating with a handful of sprinkles.
“So good, Livy!” her mom exclaims and I feel that warm tingle I would get from my own mother as a child. That feeling as if I was the most special thing she’d ever laid eyes on.
Jordan boxes up the mountains of icing for the girls as I clean them up with wet wipes.
“Thanks,” the mom says, taking over for me.
When her girls are clean, she kisses their cheeks and leads them toward the bouncy house.
“Just sayin’, cunt supreme down there better quit shootin’ daggers over here,” Jenna whispers in my ear.
I look over and find Sarah scowling in our direction. Great.
“Don’t worry about her,” I say dismissively before taking money for a few raffle tickets.
“I’m not,” she scoffs, popping a bit of muffin in her mouth with a sly grin on her lips.
Garrett strides out of his store, stopping our conversation instantly. He claps Clyde on the back and then locks eyes with me. His gaze is intense, hungry as he prowls toward me. My knees shake a bit until he rounds my stall and gathers me in his massive arms.
Mugs of Love Page 13