by Melissa Blue
"Grant," she sobbed.
Her pussy tightened, quaked around him. His breath wrested in his chest. His balls drew up and there went the last of the fight to hold back from coming. He kissed her hard as he jerked inside her until his orgasm was spent.
He untangled his arms from her legs to use both hands to cup her face. He only pulled away to say, "It hurt to be gone from you."
Her gaze softened and she kissed him again. Deeper. More tongue. All the ways. That was a balm he'd take. He'd take it and ignore that she hadn't said she was falling for him, too.
17
H
e couldn't stop touching her. Tasha noted that after the second time they had sex and the third time. She had zero complaints about the way he kept pulling her back to him if she so much as moved an inch out of his reach.
He had said the heart didn't grow fonder with absence, but his actions told a different story. Had he not fallen into a sound sleep, she would have never managed to get ready for work. Still, she left a note for him.
She damn near skipped all the way to work. If not for the new hires occasionally needing guidance either behind the bar or on the floor, her head would have been entirely in the clouds.
He showed up during the last two hours. How could her gaze do anything but follow him? Grant went out of his way to introduce himself to all three of the new employees. And the thing was, Tasha had completely forgotten to update him. Didn't matter. As soon as he waltzed through the doors, his gaze had taken in the pub and the three new faces hadn't gone unnoticed. He worked the room, mostly hitting up the patrons he had often served when a barmaid.
That gave him room and time to introduce himself first to Elery. The young Black enby had fluttered hir eyelashes the entire exchange. Tasha didn't blame hir. The power of Grant’s charm could turn gods into mortals.
Proof of that was Davy. He was quiet and serious but could light up once you really talked to him. By the end of his exchange with Grant, the white college kid was laughing.
At some point, she lost him in the crowd. She was sure he’d eventually make his way to the back and find Anya on dishes. The woman’s thick Trini accent would likely be nothing to a Glaswegian to understand.
Tasha worked the bar as usual, though the night came to an end without her watching the clock. Closing took a fourth of the time with all-hands on deck. She could get used to this.
With only the bank drop left, Elery, Davy, Anya and her split tips and bid each other a good night. Mia and Kincaid didn't kiss at the doors closing, but they found seats to plop in and huddled to talk.
Maybe fifteen minutes later, Grant exited the back room. His gaze fell on his brother. Tasha could practically read his mind. Her...lover…was happy and content as long as the people around him were the same. Mia and Kincaid may have left the honeymoon stage where adorable personality quirks had turned into the very things that annoyed each other, but they were sticking for the long haul.
Grant's gaze found hers. Tasha's thoughts were frothing, ready to spill out in a flood. The sex had been great, but it was just being able to be with him that had her heart full. They had missed each other, hard. They had said it. Okay. She had admitted to it. She was too scared to process what that meant. What next would she do to let herself be vulnerable?
Mia cleared her throat. After drawing their attention, her friend grinned. "I request whiskey."
Given Tasha was behind the bar, she could assume the request was meant for her. "Straight, or on the rocks?"
"You choose."
Her friend, who was head over heels in love, wanted a toast. Straight liquor seemed the wise choice. She filled four glass cups. Without having to ask for help, Grant took all but one she'd lined up on the counter over to the table where Mia and Kincaid sat. With the lone drink, she made her way over to them.
Once seated next to Grant, her friend looked to her fiancé. Kincaid lifted the glass. "The showcase has proven to be...good?"
"Great," Mia added. "We've secured a client. Small restaurant in Inverness, but they want us on tap every night."
"Mia," Kincaid said, a blush working over his cheeks.
"What? You were going to take too long to announce it."
They kissed. For Tasha it was so cute and so annoying. "Congrats," she said anyway.
Grant shook his head then lifted his glass. "May it be the first of many."
Mia practically bounced in her seat but looked to Kincaid. He laughed. "After some deliberation, we've decided to get married on Christmas Eve. Both of our parents will be home or rather here in Glasgow. My siblings will be home because it’s tradition. I don't doubt you, Tasha, will find a way to be here for your friend. You are a force. It's the perfect date for us."
Her brain was already calculating the time. Christmas would be in two months. Sure, she'd told her mother she would be home for the holidays, but plans changed. A friend getting married definitely would excuse her from being home.
And finally, there was a date. She hadn't solely ran to Scotland to make sure her friend walked down the aisle, but she showed up to make sure nothing kept Mia from it. Having gotten to know Grant, she knew this was also what he wanted—his brother happy. Tasha turned her gaze to him wanting to take in the smirk he likely wore.
Her heart and stomach dropped. Grant loved his brother. She never doubted that. But at the news of Mia and Kincaid's wedding date, his jaw was clenched. His brows had furrowed, and his mouth was a tight line. Her gaze caught on his hand wrapped around the glass of whiskey. Had it been anything delicate, she would have put money on the cup shattering from his death grip.
His smile was brittle and almost bitter. "Congratulations," he said, and if she hadn't gotten to know him the past few weeks, Tasha would have believed he was sincere.
Love made one blind because both Mia and Kincaid smiled at Grant and thanked him with the enthusiasm of a couple on the brink of happy nuptials. Her friend and Kincaid chattered more about what was to come.
She tried to focus, smile and nod but worry ate at her gut. There was going to be a shared bachelor and bachelorette party that would involve some kind of murder mystery. They were going to cosplay Sherlock in some way during the wedding because that was how they met.
It all sounded fun and hopeful and everything Tasha wanted for her friend. She wished the details pouring out of them could have drowned out the fact Grant sat so stiff beside her. How could she be the only one to see past his words?
But she could.
This was the moment she’d been dreading, the one she’d talked herself out of all those weeks ago. This was why she’d come to Scotland—to protect her friend. It didn’t matter what had soured Grant’s view of the marriage. The only thing that mattered was she wouldn’t let him ruin her best friend’s wedding.
Her heart threatened to splinter into pieces reflecting Grant in every damn shard. Him laughing. Him looking at her with such yearning and desire it hurt to even glance at the memory. Him saying I'm falling in love with you. Him scraping his nails along her skin when she'd told him no to a kiss. Grant.
She shook her head, punching down every emotion until her limbs were cold. It was her own fault for forgetting that Grant could be a bastard and not in a charming way. That sometimes what he wanted and the actions that followed could screw everything up. Now, she had to do what she'd come to do.
18
T
he moment Tasha locked the doors behind Mia and Kincaid, Grant moved toward the bar before his brain could fully catch up to the action. He hopped the counter then picked up the closest whisky bottle.
A buzz in his head made his scalp itch. His brother had made the deliberate choice to marry when their parents would be in town. He was sure Mia understood the gravity of the choice. Knowing the woman, somewhat, he was sure she gently pointed out their parents should make the effort to come any day and not just when it was convenient for them.
But something about love
had made Kincaid believe in second, fuck, a thousand chances. He was the firstborn after all and would be the first married out of the brood. With their parents that wouldn't ensure they’d show. Yet, Kincaid had kowtowed to their whims.
Grant’s laugh tasted bitter and sharp as glass. He poured himself a generous portion then tried to drown out the taste with whisky. It was probably going to take the whole bottle, if honest.
Movement caught his eye in the pub’s wide mirror that hung behind the shelves of liquor. Tasha. Fuck. He'd forgotten she was there. Worse, wariness shone in her gaze again. He pushed down the hot ball of anger that burned in his chest. It wasn’t his, or even her, fault love had made Kincaid so fucking clueless.
He called on his years as a CFO of compartmentalizing, but there weren’t numbers to cling onto. There were no goals. He was just…disappointed and angry. And heartsick. One of the most important days of his brother’s life would turn to shite if their parents didn’t show. There was nothing Grant could do to stop it.
“Want a drink?” he asked, already reaching under the bar for another glass.
“No, thanks.”
He blinked at the coldness in her tone. He tried to see the situation through Tasha’s eyes. His brother and his fiancée announced a wedding date and he was visibly upset. Something dark, heavy twisted in his gut. Fuck. It was one thing to tell her he had zero intentions of breaking up Mia and Kincaid. Another to see him as he was now after their announcement.
"I can see what you're thinking, lass, and you're wrong."
She closed the space between them and leaned against the counter. "What am I thinking, Grant?"
Her voice was calm, everything he didn’t feel at the moment. He could almost appreciate that, but her words, Tasha herself, was distant. He tried to chalk up his sudden irritation to the wildness brewing inside him and attempted to reel the emotion back. She was asking for an explanation in so little words.
"I'm not angry they are getting married,” he said. “I'm not. Getting my brother's head out of his own arse was the first thing on my to-do list now my attention isn't split."
She tilted her head, confusion clear on her face. "What do you mean since your attention isn't split?"
Aye. Right. They hadn't talked much when he’d come home the night before. "I'm no longer CFO of Scotland International. I resigned. The last week I’ve been hashing over the details of my departure."
Her mouth parted in shock. Eventually, she said, "When you didn’t say anything? I just…That's pretty fucking huge and you said nothing about it, to anyone since you’ve come back?"
Either it was only his imagination or hopeful thinking, he could hear the quiet, “You didn’t say anything to me?” He’d been so busy making up for lost time, enjoying her being vulnerable to him to think about the news he’d left unsaid, but he understood why she would be hurt by being left in the dark. “You probably suspected that’s what I went off to do."
He laughed again, remembering what had spurred him to make that choice. "Mia told me that one of the reasons my brother was dragging his feet on picking a date is that he was worried I wouldn't be there. My work as CFO would get in the way. And she wanted a June wedding."
Tasha pushed her shoulders back. "Don't blame Mia for this."
His head snapped back at her sharp tone, surprised at her vehemence. "I don't,” he said slowly, still confused at her reaction. “I find it ironic that I resigned for myself and to put my brother at ease. And he's bending over backwards for our fucking parents."
He opened his mouth to say more and then stopped, really taking in Tasha. Her fists were balled against the countertop. There was no give in her expression, and she was looking at him as though he was an adversary, not a lover. He tried to process that, but fog filled his brain with roiling emotions.
All he was doing was telling her how he felt, and she wasn’t really listening. All she could see, could hear…
Cold spread through him and froze his heart. All she saw was a man who might hurt her friend. Still.
What felt like minutes ago, he’d told her it hurt to be away from her. After the way she’d looked at him, touched him, been so rarely vulnerable with him he’d thought…
Pushing away the hurt, anger burned a little hotter and became harder to ignore. He lost a bit of a hold of his temper.
"You keep defending Mia, when none of my annoyance is directed at her. I shouldn't have to tell you she's safe from me. You should know me better than that by now. I’m…"
I’m being vulnerable and you’re kicking me in the teeth.
The irony refused to end.
She said, "It sounds like your brother wants your parents at the wedding. It's his wedding."
"You don't understand. Do you know how long Kincaid's been out of the service? Months. Almost a year. They've called him once in all that time. He was off doing God knows what, God knows where. He came back alive. Maybe not whole, but alive. It fell on me, again, to take care of one of my siblings because my parents had something more pressing. Their whims were always more pressing than their children."
"So, what? You're going to rage out and make him uninvite them? Have him change the date because of what you want?"
The questions left him speechless, but only for a second. “Is that what you really think of me? Expect me to do? After everything that has happened between us…What kind of man do you see when you look at me?”
Someone she’ll never love.
He breathed or tried to, but his chest was so tight from anger and hurt.
Tasha hissed. “You didn’t see your expression, Grant. What am I supposed to think? After you hear your brother is marrying the woman he loves, and there you are looking pissed.”
“I expected someone who…” How angry it made him that even now he was protecting her feelings. He had a healthy ego. He may humblebrag as she might say, yet, he knew—suspected she cared for him. He knew how much that terrified her to simply say it out loud.
For a second, all he could do was stare at the glass cup in his hand as he shifted through everything he could say. Finally, he chose. "I am suddenly reminded why I avoid emotions as often as I can. They are always so complicated and inconvenient."
"That's the very nature of emotions. Complicated and inconvenient."
"Aye, right. I've been falling in love with a woman who is standing in front of me, practically accusing me of some nefarious plan to break up my brother's relationship. If that’s not complicated…"
"I didn't accuse you.”
“But you thought it. You acted on that assumption, treating me like someone who deserved suspicion instead of compassion.” He took another, longer drink hoping that would dispel the choking sensation closing his throat. “It’s becoming clearer by the second that maybe you were right.” He nodded, hating himself a little. “We really didn’t know each other. It was too soon to drop the word love into any conversation.”
She spread her hands on the counter. Her hands were trembling. "You looked so upset, just at the announcement of the wedding date. I didn’t put two and two together that you would be upset about your parents. I thought…” Her voice lowered to a whisper, “I’m sorry, Grant.”
He could only nod at that, too, but the damage was done. "I'm not perfect. I never purported to be, but I love my family. I will do anything to make sure they are whole and happy. Sometimes that means shutting up. Even if they are running headlong into a mistake that leads to heartbreak. I can only be there for them when they need me.” She hid behind armor, but he had armor too. “I should…I should focus on that—my brother. My parents are going to disappoint Kincaid in some way. He’s going to need me again. I can’t be…this. How I’m feeling right now."
She looked stricken. He capped the liquor. He had just wanted to vent. He had assumed, maybe, finally, he had someone to listen to him and be the one person he could turn to.
He scrubbed a hand over his face and tried to bo
ttle up any stray feelings wanting to lash out. It would do it no good. "I'm pretty sure Baird will let me crash here. Don't worry about the B&B. It's yours for as long as you're here."
"Grant..." Her voice was brittle.
Don’t hope. Don’t think.
Like the daft, heart in hands man he was, he waited for her to say…something to make it all better. But what could she say? She had been wrong to jump to conclusions. That she saw him, not just the cons she listed weeks ago. None of that would change the fact he had turned to her, his guard down, and she’d lashed out. She’d assumed the worst of him, probably braced for it, because Tasha was nothing if not cautious. She’d guard her heart first, and he so wished he could hate her for it, especially with the way he was feeling. But he’d left his unprotected.
Irony—she’d warned him about that.
Instead of saying something that could take back the last few minutes, Tasha looked away from him, her throat working in a hard swallow. "I hurt you,” she murmured. “I’m sorry."
That was it. That’s all she said. Maybe if she told him I lo—He didn’t know, but her words weren’t enough to plug in the hole she’d dug into him. He refused to allow his face to show a single emotion. He grabbed the bottle and dragged himself up the stairs.
Once there, he planned to drink himself into a stupor and forget that, once again, he was alone, and he would have to pick up the pieces.
19
W
hat have I done?
That question screamed in her head. She’d fucked up. She had been so sure she was in the right she didn’t stop to think.
Tasha pressed her hands to her mouth. Tears burned at her eyes. She knew what it was like to throw your heart into the wind without caution and for your heart to get caught on a bush of thorns.