by Jiffy Kate
“Half caf,” I counter.
“Deal.”
Walking back around the counter, I get to work on making the best iced fully decaffeinated latte this pregnant woman has ever tasted. What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her.
Avery smiles up at me when I sit her drink down in front of her and sighs after the first sip. I leave her to it and go to help a few more customers before she finds her way back up to the counter. “Give me something to do,” she demands. “If Shaw shows up to get me and I’m on my feet I’ll never hear the end of it, but I have this crazy rush of energy…I feel like I need to clean something or organize something…do something. Maybe it’s the espresso?”
I turn from her, hiding my lying smile.
“Man, I’m telling you, that stuff really is liquid gold,” she continues. “I feel like a new woman.”
Turning back around, I shake my head as I wipe down the counter. The foot traffic has slowed as the evening settles on the Square. At this time of day, most people are at the restaurants eating dinner or imbibing at the bars on Bourbon Street. I used to try and keep late hours, giving people somewhere to hang who didn’t want to bar hop, but it wasn’t very profitable for me and I ended up wearing myself out, burning the candle at both ends even more than normal.
“Here,” I tell her, taking her the tray of coffee syrups and a warm towel, “wipe these down and make it quick. I don’t want to be in trouble for letting a pregnant woman work.”
She laughs, but she knows it’s the truth. If we thought Shaw was protective before she got pregnant, we didn’t know anything. He’s fiercely protective and I honestly love it. No one deserves it more than Avery.
I’m crouched behind the counter taking inventory of paper goods when I hear the door open and the bell chime. My stomach does that weird flippy thing because this is the time of day Shep usually makes his appearance. I both love and hate it all at the same time.
I love it because there’s no one I’d rather see at the end of the day and just the sight of him soothes my frayed edges.
I hate him for the same because I don’t want to depend on him like that.
Temporary.
That’s my word of the week. He’s temporary. I’m trying to redirect my brain and my heart from the path they’ve been on lately, the one where Shep is the destination instead of a pit stop.
When I don’t hear Avery greet anyone, I poke my head up to see a man in a suit, but not my man in a suit. “Hello, welcome to Neutral Grounds,” I greet, wiping my hands down my apron and feeling every hour of the day weigh on my shoulders. Paige has been off for a few days to make up for all of the extra hours she’s worked lately and I can tell.
Before her, the only other person who’d ever helped me was Avery, and that was only for a short time
Again, temporary.
Everyone is temporary.
“Can I get you something?” I finally ask when he doesn’t approach the counter.
“Nice bones,” he murmurs and I think I’ve for sure misunderstood him.
“I’m sorry?”
“Nice bones,” he repeats, his eyes scanning the walls all the way up to the tall ceiling. “The building…it has nice bones, good structure.” His tone is matter-of-fact, like he’s confirming something he already knew and I cock my head in confusion. Don’t get me wrong, I see my fair share of weirdos around here, but most of them are harmless. But this guy? He doesn’t settle well with me.
I glance over at Avery who’s now all ears, an eyebrow quirked in the man’s direction.
“Yeah,” I offer, glancing around at my shop…the metal shelving, odd and end merchandise, art I’ve hand-selected from local artists…everything about it is me and I find great pride in that.
“It’d make great apartments or office space,” he adds. “That’d be a lot better use of this kind of square footage and layout.”
Now, my hackles are up. How dare he come here and pick apart my coffee shop. The audacity of some people. “Well, I think my customers might disagree,” I say, trying to keep a teasing edge to my voice, but I want to tell him to go fuck himself. That’s the great part about being your own boss and the owner. You can do whatever you want. Sure, you’ll reap the consequences, but they’re all yours. “Can I get you an iced coffee or a pastry?” I ask, trying to shift the conversation to a safer topic.
“No,” he says and I balk, crossing my arms over my chest in a defensive move.
“An ice water?” It’s a last-ditch effort, but he doesn’t bite. Instead, he smirks and takes a few steps closer and it’s then I see the resemblance. I don’t know how I missed it, but the nose and hairline are exactly like my Uncle Teddy’s.
When he sticks out his hand, I hesitate for a moment. Not wanting to seem like a brat, I accept it and offer him a tight smile. “I’m Theodore Duval,” he says expectantly, but I don’t give him anything.
He’s going to have to work for anything he gets, including my shop.
“CeCe Calhoun,” I counter.
“I know.” Stepping back, he shoves his hands in the pockets of his pants and he leans back on his heels as he continues to inspect the building, one I’m sure he has some sort of claim on. “Do you know who I am, CeCe?”
He’s now verging on cocky and I don’t like it. I know he’s come here to intimidate me, but it’s not going to work.
“I know exactly who you are,” I reply calmly, coolly—taking a page out of Shep’s handbook. Then I catch Avery’s stare over Theo’s shoulder. I feel her giving me a mental high five and I continue. “If you came here to see if I would back down, you’ve wasted your time, because I’m not going anywhere without a fight.”
The condescending expression he turns on me makes me want to fly over this counter and pummel him. This guy has balls. I knew he did when I got that first letter. Anyone who’d come back to contest a will of his deceased father after never darkening his doors or even having the decency to attend his funeral, is more than ballsy. He’s entitled and that’s worse.
“I’ll tell you what’s going to happen here,” he says, leaning his hands on my counter and forcing me to bite back a snarl that’s begging to escape. “You’re going to waste what little bit of savings you have on attorney fees and court costs and I’m still going to win, and you’ll be left with nothing. Besides that, you’ll be in debt and you won’t have any choice but to go running back to your mama’s double-wide.”
He pauses and I seethe, my breath feeling like fire as it forcefully passes through my nose.
“So, how about you save us all this time and money and cut your losses?” We lock eyes and I know the second he sees the answer to that question. Lifting his hands off the counter, he backs away, a cynical laugh filling the quiet of the shop. The only other person in here is Avery and I’m thankful for her presence. I hate to admit it, but it gives me strength. “Suit yourself.”
I’m so angry, I can’t make my mouth work. My jaw is so tight, it’s locked down, but I can’t let him leave, thinking he got the last word. So, just before the door closes behind him, I call out.
“I’ll see you in court!” Huffing, I blink a few times to get my bearings.
Avery stands and walks over to the counter, gripping my hand in hers. “Hey,” she says, trying to get my attention but I can’t look up at her. I’m too angry, and unfortunately, my anger often presents itself in the form of tears. “He’s not going to win. Do you hear me?”
“I know,” I say to the counter.
“And even if he does,” she adds. “He’ll still be the loser and you’ll always have a place here.”
Her words are both comforting and painful. I can’t even let myself go there—me without this place. It’s part of my identity. I’d hate having to walk by this building, one my Uncle Teddy worked so hard for and see it turned into some office building or whatever.
How sad.
How lifeless.
I have news for him, this place is mine—my job, my livelihood, my bus
iness, my home. Mine. My Uncle Teddy wanted me to have it and somehow, I’ll prove it.
The door opens again and Shaw walks in. “What are you doing standing up?” he asks, more exasperated than angry as he walks up behind Avery and places his hands on her nonexistent waist, pulling her back into his chest.
“She’s been sitting, I swear,” I tell him, finally pulling my eyes up from the counter and trying to let go of the rush of emotions.
“What’s wrong?” he asks, looking down at Avery and then back up at me.
I shake my head, smoothing my hair back. “Nothing, just an unwanted visitor.”
Shaw’s expression grows dark and he turns Avery around to get a good look at her.
“Nothing like you’re thinking,” she says, knowing to talk fast before he overreacts. He’s good at that. “That dickwad who thinks he’s going to take the shop from CeCe stopped by. You just missed him.”
“What the fuck,” he swears, running a hand through his hair, reminding me an awful lot of Shep.
I wish he was here.
I need him.
I want to sink into his warm embrace and forget the whole world exists…just for a while.
He’s the only one who can do that for me. He’s the only one I trust enough to let myself be so exposed and raw with. I know he’ll take care of me.
When the bell rings on the door again, I don’t even have to look, I just know.
“Hey,” Shep says and I’m forced to meet his gaze, his voice is like a locator beacon for me. I have no choice but to heed the call.
“Hey,” I say, my shoulders sinking in defeat. All the walls I’ve tried to erect between us over the past few weeks begin to crumble. I just can’t do it tonight. I need him too much.
“We’re going to go,” Shaw says, drawing me away from Shep and back to the present. “You okay?”
“I’m fine,” I tell him. “Make sure this one gets home and gets some rest.”
Walking around the counter, I pull Avery into a hug.
“Don’t let that asshole get to you,” she whispers but Shep hears.
“What asshole?” he asks, looking from me to Shaw.
Shaw walks toward the door, ushering Avery ahead of him. I’m surprised he doesn’t just swoop her up and carry her. Actually, he’s probably tried, but that would never fly with her. “The asshole that’s trying to contest the will.”
“What?” Shep asks, eyes back on me—hard and angry. “He was here?”
“We’ll see y’all later,” Shaw calls out.
Avery adds, “Call you tomorrow.”
Once the door shuts, I walk over and lock it, leaning my forehead against the weathered wood.
“Why didn’t you call me?” Shep asks, that same hurt from the day he found out I went home and didn’t invite him is back in his tone and it makes me feel horrible.
“He just left about five minutes before you walked in,” I tell him, my attention still turned toward the dark sidewalk in front of the shop. “I don’t really want to talk about it.”
“What did he say?” he asks, persisting.
Groaning, I turn around and lean against the door. “He was just trying to scare me into rolling over and playing dead.”
He closes his eyes and breathes out a fuck under his breath. “Son of a bitch.”
“Literally, from what I hear,” I say, trying to bring some levity to the situation, but Shep’s not having it.
“I’m goin—”
“You’re going to take me upstairs and help me forget this whole day,” I say as I take a few steps toward him, reaching out to grip the hem of his shirt—untucked and totally un-Shep. At least, not like the Shep I met two years ago. But the Shep I know today is a different man…same, but different. He’s lost the shiny persona and perfectly tailored suits. The real him is a little scruffy and unkempt in a white button-down shirt and jeans. He’s not perfect. He’s real.
And even more desirable.
His jaw is still set in a hard angle when I reach up on my tiptoes and kiss his neck, pausing momentarily to appreciate the feel of his scruff before moving up until my lips are on his. It doesn’t take long for him to get on board and his arms come around my waist, pulling me to him.
When our mouths open, taking each other in, we both sigh in relief…gratitude…want.
It’s been a while and it’s obvious we both need this.
The kiss starts slow and languid—tasting, exploring, appreciating—but quickly turns desperate and needy. My stomach leaps into my throat when Shep’s hands leave my back and grip my ass, picking me up and forcing me to latch onto him with my legs to keep from falling.
“Lights,” I breathe out between kisses as we approach the stairs.
Shep stops briefly and swats at the light switch, bathing the shop in darkness and casting shadows over us. In the dimly lit staircase, Shep’s lashes cast a shadow on his cheeks and I can’t help but force his head down so I can kiss them.
The moment turns soft and meaningful as we share breaths in silence.
Words aren’t spoken, but feelings are expressed.
I missed you.
I need you.
I want you.
Please.
Since the first time I had sex with Shep, he’s always known what I wanted before I did, meeting my needs without me having to ask. This time is no different.
Pressing my back against the wall, he uses it to hold me in place while he rips my apron off and pulls my t-shirt over my head. His mouth immediately goes to my breasts—licking and sucking through my thin bra and making every cell in my body stand at attention.
Yes.
When I thread my hands through the strands of his hair, which is longer than usual, I press him closer. “More,” I plead. “I need more.”
Dropping my legs, he unfastens my jeans and pushes them down my legs.
“Step out,” he instructs, his voice thick and gruff, sounding like liquid sex. I do as he asks and am immediately rewarded with his mouth on my sensitive flesh. There in the hallway of the shop, with a perfectly good bedroom just up the stairs, Shepard Rhys-Jones sends me to heaven with his tongue and brings me down to hell with his fingers.
“Shep,” I call out when he’s sucking my clit and pumping two fingers in tandem, playing my body like it’s an instrument and he’s the maestro. When my legs begin to shake under the intense tidal waves of pleasure, I pant his name and feel like crying and laughing all at the same time.
It shouldn’t feel this good. Nothing should. It should be illegal.
“Come for me, CeCe,” Shep says before slipping his tongue back between my folds.
With his words ringing in my ear and his fingers buried inside me—hitting just the right spot—I come hard. It hits me like a freight train and obliterates my body. I can’t even focus as I quake from the aftershock, but do when I hear the unzipping of Shep’s jeans. And then I feel his tight grip as he lifts me up and centers his cock at my entrance.
The tip grazes my overly sensitive flesh and I cry out—not in pain, but in pleasure—begging for it as he teases me, rubbing himself through my wetness. “Please… I need you.”
“You have me,” Shep says. “All of me. Anything you want.”
When he thrusts inside, I exhale in relief. Even though I just had one of the best orgasms of my life, this is what I wanted. Skin to skin. Heat to heat. Me and him. A connection I can’t even put into words, but it’s there and it’s real and it’s us.
I might regret this in the morning, but for tonight, I’m going to take as much as he’ll give me.
Chapter 25
Shep
I wake early with morning wood and an arm I can’t feel. CeCe is curled against me, naked and impossibly beautiful, especially in the pale light that leaks into her bedroom from the street lamps below. I’d love nothing more than to stay and make love to her again before we start our day, but I have something I need to do and there’s reconnaissance to be done before I can make that happe
n.
Plus, I think she might fight me on my decision and I’d rather ask forgiveness than permission for my actions.
I’m still gunning for make-up sex.
Every other type of sex with CeCe has been out of this world, life changing. Whatever last night was set the bar high. Sure, we’ve had more erotic nights together, but last night had a level of emotion and need to it that made me want to open up my chest and allow her to climb inside.
She needed something from me and I hope I gave it to her. I meant it when I said I’d give her anything, including what I’m planning on doing today.
When I slip out of the bed, CeCe stirs and then her fucking alarm clock goes off.
Shit.
“Time to make the donuts,” she mumbles before rolling over and searching the bed for me.
I can’t help but chuckle. She’s so fucking adorable in the morning with her raspy voice and sleep-mussed hair. The way it falls into her eyes, covering half her face is basically morning porn. It makes me want to flip her over and take her from behind, gripping that wild mane of hair in my fist.
Another day.
We’ll have plenty of chances for that.
“Where are you going?” she asks, sitting up and letting the sheet fall to her waist, exposing the creamy white skin of her bare breasts and making my mouth water.
Clearing my throat, I shake my head and continue buttoning my shirt. “I forgot to tell you that Finley showed up yesterday.”
“What?” she asks, rubbing her eyes and sweeping her hair out of her face, trying to get awake. “Here? Did you know he was coming?”
“No,” I tell her, searching for my shoes and then remembering I kicked them off by the door. “I was actually on my way to see you when he knocked.”
“Is he okay?” She’s always so perceptive, always worried about other people. It’s a shining quality in CeCe Calhoun, one I’d like to rub off on me. She makes me want to be a better human.
Turning to her, I kneel on the bed and cup her face in my hands, kissing her lips lightly, slowly. Neither of us have time for more, so I keep it as innocent as possible while still getting my morning dose of CeCe. “He’s fine, but my parents fired Maggie,” I say quietly. “He didn’t have anywhere else to go and he also wanted to warn me about some plan my father claims to have.”