by Quinn, Taryn
I frowned as more shavings came pinging over his shoulder.
What was he doing?
I dared to creep a little closer. It seemed like a lot more delicate work than just a regular corner finishing. I was well-versed in Gideon’s woodworking capabilities. Brewed Awakening was full of his innovative shelves and benches.
He didn’t take the time to do intricate work very often. Every once in a while, I caught him doing something special, but he was often rushing to do five different jobs in and around town. The citizens of the Cove kept him very busy.
“Well, come on. Take a look then. Damn woman, always ruining any surprises.”
I jumped. “Shit, Gideon.”
He glanced over his shoulder. “I told you to keep out of here until we were further along.”
I put my hands on my hips. Now I didn’t want to look, dammit.
Liar. You want to see it so bad that you can taste it.
“It’s my place. I should be able to come in and take a look around.”
He swiped at his forehead with his forearm, leaving behind a trail of sawdust. My lips twitched. And okay, I couldn’t stop myself from trying to see what he was blocking. Too bad his rather delicious ass was throwing a shadow over it.
I did love a man who had a little junk in his trunk. So many didn’t. Not that I had a huge amount of knowledge there, but I’d done enough soul-searching—read, stupid hookups—in my twenties. As thirty approached, I’d become a little more discerning.
Evidently, a lot more. Cobwebs had been growing in my lingerie drawer since I moved to the Cove.
“You trusted me to take on this job, so trust me to finish it.”
I crossed my arms over my traitorous tits. The deep timbre of his voice always activated my stupid nipples. It was like they were damn divining rods to our very favorite water source. “It’s not a matter of trust.”
“Isn’t it though?”
“We open in six weeks, Gideon. I need to train people in here, get the bar set up. I’ve had the liquor license forever and the booze is sitting in my backroom gathering dust.”
Mostly because I’d heard horror stories about the liquor license process in New York. Late night forums and Googling were my life. I didn’t know how to sleep. Caffeine was my friend for more than one reason.
“And if you’d stop sneaking back here every hour and distracting my guys, we’d be further a-fucking-long.” He raked his fingers through his hair and the sawdust doubled.
“If you’d bring me up to speed, then I wouldn’t have to fucking sneak back here.” I knew I was shouting, and I didn’t even care. Frustration and stress had been eating at me for weeks—months—now. Not to mention the tension caused by my ever-growing personal sexual desert.
He stalked by me and whipped off one of the coverings behind me. A darkly stained booth came into shadowy view. He slapped his hand against a panel and a low hanging pendant light flicked on. The booths were obviously not in the right spot yet. His shoulder brushed the stained glass hood and it swayed, throwing light all over the room.
Deep red paint with a super subtle darker stripe coated the walls. The dizzy beam of light threw the corner into relief. There was something akin to blood splatter along the walls. It was a trick of the light with some sort of clear paint to create the effect, but it was breath-stealing. A poster of Dracula leaned against the rich, midnight stain of the bead-board that covered the lower half of the wall. Kickplates were half installed as well as jet black vents piled against the freshly painted trim.
My gaze bounced around the room. The booths matched the stain of the bead-board. It was a simple style, but the high, arched back had a relief carving of a raven. He whipped off another sheet to show the same booth style, this one with a bat mid-flight.
I spun around to get a look at each one he revealed. Some were achingly chilling, some were funny—all captured everything I didn’t even know I wanted.
As always.
I reached out a shaking hand to touch the bat. The light was still dancing since Gideon was stalking around the room, flicking drop-cloths to the floor. Sawdust and other sundry construction dust floated in the pale shafts of light. I was trying to bring it all into focus, and my heart was racing like I’d run down Main Street. It was too much to take in without proper light, but it was even better than I could have ever imagined.
Finally, I turned to him. His hazel eyes were angry and wild. They were bloodshot with fatigue and something else. The thing that always arced between us like electricity from the climax of a vintage monster movie. Dr. Frankenstein and his creation had nothing on us.
It was terrifying and electrifying.
My fight or flight response kicked into gear. Part of me wanted to run, and the other half of me wanted to stay. To demand he finally fucking man up and touch me.
My heart raced, and I dragged in deep breaths. Black dots danced around my periphery. I didn’t know if it was the adrenaline or the shadows being thrown from the little Tiffany pendant light.
As I stepped closer, my pulse tripped at the madness flickering in his eyes. Every muscle bulged in his forearms, shoulders, and all those little ones in between that climbed up his arms. The ones I didn’t know the names for but made my mouth water every time he lifted something heavy.
Jesus, he was fucking hot.
He opened his arms, his ever-present white T-shirt stretching tight across his broad chest. A stub of a pencil was tucked behind his ear, peeking out from the flipped-up ends of his hair.
His chest heaved as he stared me down. “Well? Are you happy now?”
I took another step closer, my heart slamming so hard against the walls of my chest I couldn’t hear anything else in the room. Even the chilling soundtrack from the climax of Halloween couldn’t dent the heaviness vibrating between us.
I grabbed his shirt and dragged him down to me. His mouth crashed onto mine and there was barely a breath of shock before his arms went around me and crushed me to him.
He tasted like my coffee—the special blend of chicory and dark chocolate I’d created just for him. That I brewed for no one else. That maybe, just maybe, I drank when the nights got too lonely. It burned my tongue as he invaded my mouth. His kiss was just as quietly overwhelming as the man himself.
No gentle first kiss between us. Nope. There was only lust unlocked.
And I was fucking here for it in every goddamn way.
Here in the place that I’d been dreaming about since I purchased the dilapidated building last year. Coffee was what I knew. What flowed in my veins, but I wanted more. I always wanted more. I was forever stretching past the boundaries set on me.
Even here in this sometimes stifling town, I wanted to demand more. Make my space more than just a pit stop in someone’s day. Why I pushed myself to create drinks for strangers. To unlock their hearts and make them feel special for a second.
No one knew that but me.
But maybe this man knew a little bit of what I felt. I could see it in the details he’d brought to this project. Maybe it wasn’t just a job.
Hope fluttered in my chest as I savored the long, slow, and dizzying way he kissed me. Like I was the best part of his day.
Then my phone buzzed against his thigh. Insistently.
“Do you have a vibrator in your pocket, Mace?” he asked against my mouth. “I’d figure you’d be less surly if you had a pocket rocket.”
I dug my fingers into his stupidly firm pecs. “Shut up. Ignore it and go back to kissing me like you mean it.”
He laughed into my mouth and cupped my face, but the stupid phone started up again. I was prepared to ignore it. Brewed Awakening was fucking closed.
“Do you need to get that?”
“Nope,” I mumbled against his mouth and pulled my phone out to silence it.
He grinned and looked down. “Shit. Is that the time?”
“Got somewhere to be?” I took a step back. The phone went silent again.
Gideon shoved
his hands into his hair. “Shit.” He dug into his pocket then frowned and went back to the bar. He did something on his phone, and suddenly, it started buzzing and ringing as well.
My little bit of happiness and hope popped like a soap bubble at the way his face went from smiling and sexy to serious.
“Hello? Karen? Is everything all right?” He turned away from me.
Actually, he may as well have planted one of his big boots into my now too tight chest. Something was very wrong. Who the freaking fuck was Karen?
He listened for a second, his big shoulders sagging as he tunneled his fingers through his hair. He shifted around and those worried eyes caught mine.
Dear God, not again.
This could not be happening to me again.
Two
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
No wonder I’d had so much time to work in peace. Only my phone being turned off by some fluke would allow me that respite.
I’d caught one of Karen’s texts as it whizzed by mentioning Dani’s sprained ankle. What the hell?
Goddamn dad guilt was about to choke me. And Macy was waiting for an explanation.
This was exactly what I had not wanted to happen.
Swallowing hard, I pointed at her. “Give me a couple, then we’ll talk.”
Macy crossed her arms and stared at me with fire in her eyes. A different kind than I’d seen pre-kiss. As a wise man, I knew that meant my ears were about to be blistered.
We’d danced around each other for so long that my brain was still trying to understand how we’d even found ourselves in this position. We spent the bulk of our time arguing and exchanging hot looks. A few times, I’d wondered if the heat between us would ever boil over or just fizzle out entirely. If she would find someone and I’d be left with a whole lot of tension in her direction and not much else.
Not all sparks were meant to burn into something significant. Often enough, they just extinguished themselves.
Tonight, all of that had changed. Well, kind of. A kiss was a start. A beginning. Not a stopping point to fight, unless you were us.
Even right now, looking at her with her wild, fraying braid and her narrowed eyes, I wanted to drag her onto that bar.
But we couldn’t, because my daughter needed me. Besides that, I was now the guy who’d lied about having a kid. That was the slot Macy would slide me into. I just couldn’t worry about it right now.
I had bigger priorities at the moment.
Half-expecting Macy to bolt—though this actually being her place helped my cause—I lifted my phone from where I’d pressed it against my shoulder. “Go ahead, Karen, sorry.”
Karen spoke in a frantic rush. She told me about taking Dani to the ER and how she’d called me so many times, as the flurry of text notifications that had scrolled across my screen testified to.
Someday I’d stop feeling guilty. Maybe.
“How is she doing now?” As I asked the question, I was already gathering tools.
I didn’t have to do a ton of cleaning up since this was an ongoing work site, but I didn’t leave my equipment just laying around. Crescent Cove was exceedingly safe, but there was no need to tempt thieves who wanted to make a quick buck. Not to mention that this wasn’t my only job at the moment, although it was the most important.
And not simply because I’d just kissed the proprietress.
Fucking finally.
Hope you enjoyed it. You know it won’t be happening again.
It probably shouldn’t have happened, period. I wasn’t stupid enough to mix business with pleasure.
Except I had. Again. As if I didn’t remember how well that had worked out with Jessica.
There was a slew of noises on the other end of the phone, and I could tell Karen was talking to someone, likely my daughter.
“Karen? Let me talk to Dani, please.”
Behind me, the heavy thud of Macy’s footsteps told me she was either pacing or assembling weapons to use against me. Both ideas were valid. I kept picking up my tools, the leash I had on my impatience shortening by the minute.
“Karen? I need to talk to my daughter.”
Some part of me got a sick thrill out of saying that, despite how I knew it would goad Macy. I shouldn’t be driving the nail home any deeper, but Christ, it pissed me off that it had to be such a thing between us. I hadn’t lied, because I was not usually actively thinking about Dani during the limited time I spent with Macy. Usually, our few moments together were too full of barbs and jabs for me to ruminate on what I was “keeping” from her.
Even if I really fucking hadn’t been holding back anything.
It just hadn’t come up. My daughter spent a good chunk of the summer with her mother, and I worked a lot. I wasn’t trying to hide anything, no matter how Macy would likely spin it.
“Dad?”
“Yeah, squirt, what happened?”
“I was riding my bike, and I hit a groove in the sidewalk. I went flying over the handlebars. Toby said it was so sick, but it hurt real bad.”
I exhaled. I had some choice words for Toby Brentwood. He was just a kid, so of course he would say something shitty like that, but I didn’t need him influencing Dani. Thank God she had a good head on her shoulders.
“How are you feeling now?”
“Better. They wrapped it up and gave me the good drugs. I have a crutch!”
“Good drugs? Where are you hearing this stuff?” I shook my head as I closed the top on my toolbox. “Never mind, I don’t want to know. You shouldn’t be excited to have a crutch. Didn’t you say you wanted to play in Little League this year?”
“I still can, can’t I? It’s just a stupid sprain. I didn’t even have to have the crutch, but it was so sick.”
I hefted my toolbox and set it on the stool in front of the still in-progress bar. Now I’d never work on that intricate bat carving without thinking about Macy dragging my mouth down to hers. I flicked my tongue over the corner of my lips just to catch a hint of the sweet and spicy flavor she’d left behind. Like cinnamon and apples. Fire and ice. Macy in a nutshell.
First and probably last time I’d ever get to enjoy such treatment from her.
“Little League tryouts are next week, so we’ll see how it goes.” I highly doubted she’d be ready to run around a softball field a week after a sprain, but I’d seen stranger things in my nearly thirty-five years.
“If I can’t play softball, I’ll need another after school activity for my resumé.”
“Say what?” She said resumé like the word resume, no accent, but still. The kid was eight. Where was she getting this crap?
“I want to go to college,” she said primly, as if I was just her clueless middle-aged father. Maybe I was clueless. I was batting about zero with the female contingent tonight. “I need to think ahead.”
“Whatever you say, kiddo.”
“It hurts when I have to climb. Can I sleep downstairs tonight? We can build a pillow fort and watch movies. Like there’s that new one The Borg. You know, the oozy swamp thing.” When I didn’t respond right away, she tacked on the always effective kill shot. “Please, Daddy?”
“It’s already late.”
“So? I don’t have school. And I’m hurting.” She sniffled a little, and my stomach twisted. Worst of all, I couldn’t entirely say she was exaggerating, and that made the pang even worse. “We haven’t done a movie night in forever.”
I couldn’t argue there. “Okay, one movie. Then you can sleep on the couch. Let me talk to Karen now, honey.”
My daughter passed the phone to Karen, and she let me know they were heading home. I promised to meet them at our house in a short while, then hung up to face Macy.
Who was still glaring at me.
“So, judging from that, you have a daughter.”
I nodded.
“Other children as well?”
“Just Danielle.”
“And Danielle’s mother? Let me guess. You’re on a break.”
I let o
ut a harsh laugh. “Yeah, for years, and that break began with our divorce papers. She lives on the other side of the country, which is the best thing for both of us.”
Macy frowned. “You’re divorced.”
Her need for me to repeat it said a lot more than she probably realized. My tone gentled. “Yes, for five plus years now. We separated when kiddo was small.”
“You don’t even have a legitimate nickname for your daughter?”
I scratched my scruffy jaw, hoping the extra time would bring some sorely lacking clarity. Women were basically a whole different species. “Excuse me?”
“Squirt, kiddo, honey. Nothing that implies actual thought. Jesus.” She shook her head and marched toward the rear exit. She skirted all the construction debris like a pro, her movements sharp and sexy as fuck.
“You’re just leaving like that?”
When she didn’t answer, I assumed that yes, she intended to split without even another parting shot. Then she whirled back and propped her hands on her hips. “Why would I stay? You’re leaving. I’ve checked on the job and—”
“And kissed the hell out of me, in case you forgot.”
Her lips pursed. “You didn’t seem to mind.”
“I certainly did not.” I stalked toward her and fought every impulse that dictated I solve this by kissing her thoroughly enough that she would know no other woman even existed in my brain. But that wasn’t the way, even if we’d just worked out our frustrations in exactly that manner. “I remember every detail, as I will when I can’t sleep tonight.”
“Listening for your daughter’s cries in the night?”
“She’s eight, not eighteen months. She sprained her ankle tonight, by the way. Thanks for not asking.”
Macy’s face softened. “Is she okay?”
“Yeah, other than some pain. Which she’ll probably call sick tomorrow and confuse the hell out of me. What happened to kids calling stuff cool like when we were younger?”
The corner of Macy’s mouth lifted, and for a second, I thought I might get an actual smile out of her. Then her expression turned as remote as a mask. “You’re a little older than me.”