by Jody Holford
He turned and looked down at her, fighting back a smile. “You really have a one-track mind. Can you trust me for a second?”
She let him lead the way again. “You’ve seen you, right? Surely you understand how one ends up on that particular track.”
He laughed and grabbed the fleece blanket off his bed then went to his closet. Opening the door, he gestured for her to go in.
She stared at the open doorway and leaned forward, like she could see around the doorframe.
“Damn, Sophia. Would you just go in? I want to show you something.”
She rolled her eyes and walked forward. “He says as he leads her into a closet with a blanket.”
He chuckled again and knew when she finally figured it out because she stopped and gasped.
“Does this actually open?” She looked back at him and pointed to the window in his walk-in closet.
He came forward and unlatched it. “It’s weird, but yeah. I’m not sure what happened with the design of the house, but it totally hooked me.”
Declan stepped over the knee-high ledge out onto the flat roof. It wasn’t a patio, just a stoop really. He set the blanket down and held out a hand for Sophia. As she came through, he put one hand on her waist to steady her, then pulled the window shut so the cold air didn’t get in.
They sat on the blanket on the roof overlooking the ocean. The moon and the stars glittered in a jet-black sky, and the waves crashed below them. There were lights from other houses giving off a glow. Declan pulled the blanket up and around them, and Sophia nestled into his side so they could share the warmth. He probably should have told her to put on a sweater.
He shifted, putting his arm around her shoulders. This was his spot. The one where he came to get away from shit when it wasn’t making sense. Sometimes, if he couldn’t sleep or couldn’t get the bar off his brain in the middle of the night, he’d come out here and just listen to the waves. It was soothing. He wanted Sophia to have that.
“I’m not in a good place, Dec,” she said over the sound of the water.
His sigh was swallowed up in the wind. Turning his head, he pressed a kiss to the top of hers and hugged her closer.
“Not true. You’re right here, with me. For right this minute, it’s the perfect place to be.”
She tilted her head and looked at him. He could see the soft curve of her cheeks and the slight sheen in her gaze. “That’s not what I meant.”
Declan kissed the tip of her nose, forcing himself to not rush her. Just because he felt like everything he’d been waiting for was curled up beside him, didn’t mean she was in the same place. He’d waited this long, he’d damn well wait until she was ready.
“I know it’s not what you meant. But for right now, is it at least true?”
She nodded and touched his cheek, running her fingers along his jaw. “Yes. It’s very true.”
Chapter Eleven
The next couple of days at the bar were drama free, and Sophia was grateful to fall into a world she knew. She arranged deals with vendors, looked into some branding for Declan and Marcus’s beer, and found three small apartments to check out. The enjoyment of putting together marketing plans and arranging promotions alleviated some of her fatigue but not all of it. Nothing, it seemed, could chase the guilt away.
She knew she needed to talk to her family again and tried to not feel anger over the way they just let her walk away without reaching out. Not once while she was gone had they visited despite her many invitations. Sophia pushed the thought away, and guilt over not telling Declan everything slipped into its place. He was so good to her and made her feel like who she was, what she did, how she felt, was enough. He doesn’t know you that well. According to him, he planned on changing that. The idea both excited and terrified her.
When she came out to the front of the bar at the end of the day on Friday, it was busy. Like all-of-Brockton-Point-was-ready-for-a-break busy. Declan’s laughter rang out, mingling with the sound of the band who’d just started their set. Her feet ached, her lower back was spasming, and she needed about twelve pounds of food. She was Italian—food was part of everything growing up. Sad? Eat some lasagna. Happy? Have some tiramisu. Hormonal? Cannoli with a side of rotini and fresh rolls. Mmmm. Fresh rolls.
Everything faded into the background when his eyes locked on hers from across the room where he was chatting with a regular. Like an invisible magnet pulled them closer, he made his way over to her.
He leaned in because of the music, but her breath still caught in her throat. One man shouldn’t smell so damn good. His breath tickled her ear. “You heading out?”
“I am. The band sounds good. Are they local?” She looked up, giving herself some space so she could think and talk at the same time. Not an easy task when standing in Declan’s circle of yumminess. God, her hormones were so out of whack. She wanted to climb him and cry at the same time.
Declan’s fingers linked with hers. “They are. Dance with me before you go.” He tugged her onto the small dance floor before she even realized what he said.
Other couples swayed around them. She’d never seen the bar this packed and wondered if this was the usual for Friday nights. She stood still when Dec put his hands on her hips and pulled her close.
“You have to move, Sophe. I know you can dance.”
She laughed, unable to remember the last time she’d done it. “I need to go.”
“After one dance,” he said, trying to pull her closer.
It would be too easy to give in, to melt into him and just push everything else away. The depth to which she wanted to do just that, with him, terrified her. She was in no position to have all of these mixed-up feelings crowding her brain and her heart.
Declan slipped his arm around her back, his hand settling just above her butt, on the base of her spine. It was like he’d attached a live wire to her, and her heart short-circuited.
“One dance, Sophe. To celebrate a good week.”
Their ideas of good clearly differed, but she moved in anyway and let the front of her body brush against his, then gave in entirely and rested her head on his chest. He was so damn tall. And sturdy.
His head came down as he snuggled her closer. “That’s my girl.”
Sophia’s head shot up with alarming speed, nearly smacking him in the jaw. Declan’s eyes widened in surprise. “I’m not anyone’s girl, Dec. Least of all, yours.”
His hold tightened. “I didn’t actually mean it like that but, let me just say, ouch.” He grinned, and her heart settled. His forehead came to hers as they moved together, and it was like the rest of the crowd disappeared. “Good to know how horrifying the idea of being my girl is.”
She laughed. “You don’t need a girl. And if you do, I’m pretty sure you have a wide variety to choose from.”
His eyes turned serious. His mouth tightened. “And yet, there’s only one crowding my every thought.”
Sophia’s throat tightened. “Dec.”
He shook his head and pulled her so she rested against him again. “Just dance with me.”
They stayed locked together, her heartbeat matching the heavy, slow tempo of the song. Closing her eyes, she imagined what it would be like if things were different. If Declan was a man she could have. You can’t have and don’t need any man right now. You kind of have a mess of a life to sort out. She didn’t even have her own place. Most of her family wasn’t speaking to her. And she was wrapped around her boss like a teenager at a sock hop.
The music stopped, and Sophia stepped back. “I have to go. I’ll see you later.” She rushed off the floor before he could answer. She hurried through, offering polite nods and waves to customers as she made her way to the office. Her lungs felt empty, and she couldn’t pull in enough air. Lisa caught her in the hallway where the waitress was coming out of the stock room.
Dressed in heels Sophia couldn’t imagine serving in and a top designed for pulling in tips, Lisa was striking.
“I forgot to email you and
tell you I can’t work tomorrow,” Lisa said.
Sophia blinked and tried to switch back into manager mode. “Did you ask someone to cover your shift?”
Steadying the stack of napkins in her hand, Lisa shook her head. “Tried. No one could cover. Good thing we have a manager.”
Sophia stiffened her spine, bit back the retort, and schooled her expression. “It’s your responsibility to cover your shifts. This isn’t new or my policy, Lisa. If you can’t have someone cover your shift, we’ll expect you here at noon like it says on the schedule.”
The band picked up their pace, and the floor practically vibrated with the rhythm. Lisa shrugged. “My understanding of the word manager is that if a problem arises, you manage it.”
Before she could respond, Declan joined them in the hallway. “Everything okay?”
Sophia looked over her shoulder at him and hated the way her heart jumped in response. Had it learned nothing? Stupid heart.
“Fine. I was just reminding Sophia that I needed tomorrow off and asking if she covered my shift,” Lisa said.
Declan frowned. “When did you ask for the day off? You just came back from vacation, and you always work Saturdays.”
Lisa’s expression faltered slightly, but she stood taller and smiled. “Something came up. I’m sure your trusty new manager can handle it.”
“Lisa,” Declan growled.
This was why she’d been hired. She didn’t need him fixing things with the staff for her. She needed to be able to handle herself. And show them she wouldn’t be stepped all over.
“Lisa, you never told me you needed the day off. The shift is yours unless you can get it covered. I’m sorry if you’re unhappy with the changes that have been made, but I’d really like for there not to be tension between us.”
Lisa looked back and forth, then focused on Declan. “Be a shame to lose your best waitress for someone who can’t be trusted to stick around.”
Sophia inhaled a sharp breath. Declan stepped closer to her and put a hand on her shoulder. Lisa’s eyes tracked the movement and narrowed.
“Ahh. I see,” the woman muttered, an unfriendly smile gracing her red lips.
“You need to watch yourself, Leese. I’m not sure what’s going on with you, but you’re overstepping.”
“Declan, let me handle this, please,” Sophia said. Why didn’t people truly trust her to handle anything? Her father’s words popped into her brain: you can manage something.
Declan looked down at her with so much affection that her heart skipped. Actually skipped. But she didn’t need his damn affection right now. She needed his faith that she could do her job without him intervening.
“No, Sophia. This isn’t cool. I own the place, Lisa.” He gave the waitress a hard look. “You don’t like how I’m running things, you know where the door is. I don’t want that. You know I don’t. You’re not only one of my best and longest employees, but we go way back. We’re friends. Still, I won’t have you questioning my choices like this. Sophia’s the manager, and I’m sorry I hurt you by not talking to you first, but that’s not changing.”
Lisa’s lips trembled, and even in the dim hallway lighting, Sophia caught the sheen of tears.
“Lisa! We need you up front,” Tyrell yelled down the hall.
“I should go do my job,” Lisa said, pushing past them.
Sophia let out a heavy breath and stalked away from Declan, going into the office to grab her things. He followed, shutting the door behind him.
“I need to go,” she said, whipping her jacket around her shoulders. She couldn’t look at him right now. Her emotions were an unsteady grenade, and if she locked eyes with him, it would detonate.
“What’s going on? Calm down,” he said, his tone far too reasonable for the emotions and thoughts making her pulse race.
She grabbed her purse from the drawer in his desk and whipped it over her shoulder before trying to walk past him.
“Hey. Wait. Just wait a damn minute.” He leaned against the door and bent his knees, his hands on her shoulders.
Sophia tried to breathe through her nose. “I have to go.”
“In a minute,” he said, his hands cupping her cheeks. “Talk to me.”
She shook her head. Not an easy thing to do when he was holding her face. “I need to go,” she whispered.
“Sophe.”
Letting out a shuddery breath, she stared at his chest. “I don’t know what’s going on, but we work together. You’re my boss. My brother’s friend. You’re on the outs with him, my family hates me, and now your staff is pissed. This attraction between us? It’s an itch we can’t scratch.”
She didn’t have to be looking at him to know she’d said the wrong thing. His body vibrated with emotion. “Look at me.”
Sophia looked up, and if she’d seen anger or frustration, fighting back would have been easy. Welcome, even. Maybe a good argument would be the perfect outlet for the tension taking over her body. But the hurt in his eyes nearly undid her. She bit her bottom lip.
“I don’t know what’s going on, either, but I damn sure know that the attraction between us is a hell of a lot more than an itch to be scratched.” He squeezed her shoulders, giving her a little shake. “I’ve been attracted to women before, Sophia. This is different, and you damn well know it. We can dance around it, ignore it entirely, but don’t fucking diminish it or tell me it’s nothing. It’s complicated as hell for all the reasons you just said, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t real. I don’t know what to do about it—again, for all those same reasons—but you need to know that how I feel about you isn’t ordinary, run-of-the-mill, scratch-an-itch attraction. Tell me you don’t feel it, too, and I’ll back off completely.”
Turned out she really couldn’t lie to him. So, she said nothing.
“I just want to be there for you, Sophia. Don’t shut me out. I want to—”
She stared at him, wondering if he’d finish. He swore and dropped his hands, moving away from her and pacing the tiny office. Sophia took up his place against the door, her body leaning against it as she watched him.
“What do you want, Dec?” Because she was about a thousand percent positive she couldn’t give him whatever it was.
Declan stopped in front of her. Toying with the ends of her hair, his fingers brushed her collarbone, sending shivers through her.
“I’ll probably go to hell for saying it. For even thinking it. But I want you, Sophe. And not for just a night. I was already feeling like I wanted something more in my life. I didn’t expect it to be you, but I feel like it is. You drive me crazy. I don’t have any answers because I know I’m not supposed to want you, but I can’t help it. I can’t help myself. You’re the first and last thing I think about every day. That’s never happened to me before.”
She tried to lighten the mood. “I would imagine the fact that I’m, quote, unquote, off-limits might have something to do with that.”
He caged her in, his hands on either side of her head, flat against the door. “Don’t blow this off. I’m thirty-two years old, Sophia. I’m no saint, though I’m not the lothario you make me out to be. But I know when something’s different. Kissing doesn’t rock my world. It’s nice. It’s a prelude. But remembering the way a woman’s mouth feels against mine? The way it fits so fucking perfectly, it was like it was made for me? That’s not typical. Not for me.”
Her heart went belly up. Jesus. How was she supposed to respond to that? “Dec. We can’t.”
“Can’t what?” His face moved closer. Her body ached to close the gap.
“We can’t do anything. I’m not in a good place.” The thread of restraint was dangerously close to snapping.
His body shifted against hers, and she had to bite back the moan. “You keep saying that.”
“Dec.”
He ran the tip of his nose along the bridge of hers. “Sophe.”
Her brain was misfiring. Her hands gripped his shirt. “There’s too much at stake.”
&nbs
p; “I know. And I want it anyway. Take a leap with me, Sophe. Date me.”
She couldn’t help it. She giggled and looked up at him. He scowled, and she moved one hand up to his mouth, ran her fingers over his lips. “I feel like the great Declan James just asked me to go steady. The teenager in me just flatlined.”
He nipped at her fingers, a smile playing on his lips. “You’re such a brat. But you’re not wrong. Call it what you want. Going steady, dating, whatever. Just don’t say no to exploring this, Sophe.”
She pulled in a deep breath. It would be so easy to jump. She wanted to, maybe more than she’d ever wanted anything. But he deserved more. He deserved so much more. And she didn’t. She didn’t deserve him or the way he was looking at her right now.
“Let me just say, I want to. More than I can possibly tell you. You make me feel things I didn’t even know existed. And I thought I knew everything,” she said with a humorless laugh.
Declan pulled her hand from his mouth, kissed her fingers, and then linked them together against his chest.
“Let me take you out. Away from the bar, my house, your family. We deserve to see what’s here, Sophe.”
She closed her eyes. “You deserve so much.”
“I want you.”
Opening her eyes, she forced herself to hold his gaze and give him the truth. “If it was just me, I’d be all over this. I could deal with my brother and your friendship and work around the staff and you being my boss even though workplace romances aren’t smart.”
He smiled, then, as if he’d weighed her words, he frowned. “What do you mean just you?”
Her throat thickened, and she tried to swallow around the lump. It was time to stop pretending and face the truth. It was time to stop hiding. “Dec, I’m pregnant.”
Chapter Twelve
Declan prepped the vegetables Parker put in front of him like continuing to breathe was contingent on whether or not he did it right.
“If you hate celery that much, we don’t have to use it, man,” Parker said, glancing up at him from across the countertop. He held a garlic press in one hand, and his smirk was more than a little curious. The front door shut, and a moment later, Parker’s husband, Garrett, walked into the kitchen.