by Jean Oram
“Get your head checked,” Moe said in disgust. He’d gotten over Kimi just fine.
Marissa sucked in a breath and leaned back, pointing a finger at him. “You used to date her?” She dropped her hands on her knees. “Why didn’t I know that?”
Moe shrugged. He’d dated an out-of-towner a decade ago and it hadn’t hit the gossip circles because the whole relationship had failed to flourish and hadn’t become anything more than a quiet breakup. Not much in the way of news there.
“Heartbroken men don’t like to talk about their feelings,” Lily announced and Moe let out a snort. “So, what does a woman have to do to get a drink in this place?”
“Go drink in your own establishment,” Moe retorted.
“We’re not licensed.”
“Since when?”
“Since they changed the renewal process and I messed up.” She waved a hand. “I’ll have it sorted in a week or two. In the meantime, something girlie with an umbrella, please.”
“It all makes sense now,” Marissa was saying, as though in awe. “You still love her, and are upset because I’m dissing her.”
“She’s a manager and that demands respect,” Moe said, as he began creating a unique drink for his sister. A little root beer. Grenadine. Rum. Splash of lemon-lime soda.
“You should know she’s already asking about Amy like a jealous ex,” Marissa confided.
Moe’s head jerked up, his body going on high alert. “What do you mean?”
“You know, typical can-I-fire-her stuff. She wants to sink her hooks into this business. You, too, if she can.”
“She can’t fire anyone without my authorization.” At least he was fairly certain that was how it worked. Although maybe not. He dropped an umbrella in Lily’s drink and put it down in front of her.
Her lips twisted in disgust. “It’s brown.”
“Yup. I hope you hate it.”
She scowled indignantly, but took a sip, pausing to consider the flavors. “It’s decent, actually.”
“You serious?” Moe stole a sip. It did sort of work. It wasn’t something he’d make again, but wasn’t nearly as gross as he’d hoped.
“Kimi’s the reason for the marriage pledge, you know,” Lily said, taking back her drink. “Moe thinks he’ll never be able to love again.”
“My heart is just fine. Don’t you have food burning on your stove or something?”
“Was it a bad breakup?” Marissa asked Lily, leaning over the counter and resting her chin in her hands.
“I was in South Carolina, so I’m not sure, but he didn’t really date after that,” Lily said quietly.
“Because I realized how nutso the opposite sex is.” He turned to Marissa. “Don’t you have customers to serve?”
She picked up her tray. “I’ve heard about your three-month trial period, and if there’s a way for Kimi to benefit by shooting you down, she’ll find it.”
Moe jerked the soda gun too hard, kinking the hose. “There’s no way for her to benefit if I fail. She’ll get more over the long term by co-managing a thriving pub.”
“Keep an eye on her.”
“Marissa…”
“I know her type, Moe. Watch your back.”
Amy wiped drops of water from the clean bar counter in preparation for opening and tried to focus on work and not the fact that tonight was the night.
The Night.
Moe trailed a finger across Amy’s shoulder blades as he passed, looking way too satisfied with himself when she shivered in response. Today was baby-making day. Moe knew it, and so did every cell in her body.
They’d been going in opposite directions all day, frustrating her to no end. Now they were locked into an eight-hour shift together, and into what was surely going to be an all-too-tempting dance as the tension built between them when they neared closing time.
“If you need to practice, let me know and I’ll meet you in the brewing room.” He gave her a wink as he moved farther down the bar, collecting a stack of cardboard coasters as he went.
“It’s been a while, but I don’t think I’ve forgotten how,” she retorted.
She wasn’t sure if his subtle teasing was to help them cross their “just friends” line after their shift tonight, or if he thought acting like a tease was hilarious because they were still “just friends.” Married friends.
She gestured to the pub’s front doors. “Are you going to unlock the place and let people in?”
“That’s your job.”
“Since when?”
“Since I’m the manager and get to tell you what to do. It’s also your job to turn on the TV.”
“Pulling the boss card?” She didn’t recall him ever going for the dominate role, but now wondered if over the years he’d been holding back, and what might be in store for her tonight. She shook off her thoughts and flipped the dead bolt to unlock the main door. “It’s not as sexy as you think, by the way.”
“It’s sexy.”
“If you hold your managerial position above me and keep teasing me about ovulation-related activities, I swear I’m going to either kidnap you and move us to a new town, with new jobs, or I’m going to take out a loan to pay for in vitro.”
He pretended to be aghast. “You wouldn’t.”
She aimed the remote at the TV, which Moe turned off more frequently than he left it on, stating that customers came to socialize, not watch what they could at home.
“You’ll be celibate for life.” She pointed a finger at him, before realizing that in a way, they both had signed up for that, outside of the few ovulation times when they’d come together. She wrinkled her nose, her shoulders sagging. “That’s actually kind of depressing.”
“Don’t worry, I can platonically snuggle with you, to make you feel less alone in our mutual celibacy.”
She strode across the pub, grabbed the soda dispenser and threatened to spray him with it. He held up a tray as a shield.
“What are you? Captain America?”
He stuck out his chest, adopting a heroic stance. She squirted a thin stream of soda at him.
“Hey! I was striking a pose.”
“Actually, with your short haircut you almost look like him.”
“My hair’s darker.”
“I said almost.” She put down the dispenser and gave him a poke in the gut. His stomach was firmer than she remembered. “Have you been working out?” She made a grab for the hem of his shirt, trying to lift it, but he blocked her with a sweep of his arm.
“I’m not a piece of meat.”
“I’ll be running my hands all over you soon enough,” she said in a sultry tone. “Very soon. Then I’ll know the complete and utter truth.”
She tossed her hair over her shoulder and strutted away, only to find his arms wrapping around her waist, lifting her off the ground. She squealed and reached for something to anchor herself as he pulled her out from behind the bar.
“It’s going to kill us waiting all night,” he growled, sending tingles of anticipation throughout her body. “I think we’d better move quickly in case that ovulation window closes.”
“Does the office door lock?”
“Let’s find out.”
She turned in his arms as her feet hit the ground, kissing him as they made their way into the small office.
The room was a mess of papers and filing cabinets. A small desk. One chair. But it would do just fine for her purposes, as she’d never been so ready in all her life.
Moe backed her against the door as he fiddled with the doorknob.
“It doesn’t lock,” he announced.
“Then I guess we’d better make sure we lean against it.”
“I could lock the pub’s doors.”
“Who’s going to come in this early?” She clutched his face, angling her mouth across his.
Moe gripped her behind the knees, lifting her so she could wrap her legs around his waist as she leaned against the door for support.
This was it.
Baby making time.
She giggled, feeling bubbly inside. She felt light and free. This time, she could let herself go and just be in the moment. Let nature take its course instead of worrying about consequences.
“Are you nervous?” He gave a teasing eyebrow waggle that settled her apprehension.
She’d hesitated, hadn’t she? Thought about things for one second too long, allowing a thin edge of doubt to slip in.
“No.” She locked her lips on his, the kiss firm and demanding. No doubts. They’d planned for this. This was Moe. Her best friend. The most trustworthy person she knew.
Their kisses slowed and deepened before urgency and longing fought to control the pace of their moves. Moe’s hands ran from her hips up to her ribs. She softened against him, moaning as his moves became more insistent.
She’d forgotten how good he felt. How patient and thorough he was.
He had her shirt off before she realized it, his own already gone, their warm flesh touching. This was what she needed. Contact. Release. She tightened her legs around his hips as he leaned into her.
“What if we can’t conceive?” she blurted out as his lips moved down her neck. Her eyes fluttered open. What if after all this she couldn’t bring the dream alive?
“We save up for in vitro,” he said, his lips not deterring from their course.
She laughed and kissed him hard, running her hands over his back, their bodies kicking into high gear.
“I’d stay with you even if we can’t have children,” she murmured, realizing it was true.
He replied by taking her mouth with his own, his kisses impatient, demanding. Her feet slid to the floor and his fingers worked her jeans lower on her hips.
A thump on the door behind her made her eyes fly open. Another thump sounded; from someone trying to enter?
Amy gasped and let go of Moe, hands flying to cover her bra.
His eyes darkened, his jaw tightening as he leaned into the door with both palms.
“Who’s there?” he called.
“Moe? It’s Kimi.”
Both Amy and Moe cursed under their breath, their eyes meeting in mutual panic.
“What are you doing in there?” Kimi called. “You have customers and there’s no staff out front.”
“Just a minute,” Moe answered, his voice too husky to pass as normal.
He kept his hands on the door while Amy dived for their discarded clothing. She scrambled into her shirt, then yanked at her pants to do up the fly, while Moe did the same, turning his back against the door. He was shaking his head and looking ticked off.
Amy straightened her clothes and finally nodded at Moe. “Sorry,” she mouthed.
“Later,” he mouthed back, tapping the end of her nose. Then he gripped the back of her neck and yanked her into a fast kiss, before slipping out of the office, saying, “What’s up, Kimi?”
He closed the door behind him, allowing Amy a moment to herself.
She leaned against the paneling and tipped her head back, trying to slow her heartbeat, her thoughts, her desire.
Those few minutes of kissing had revved her up in a way she’d never been before. Was it the anticipation of baby-making that was acting as an aphrodisiac? Too much time thinking about it, anticipating the moment? Probably.
It couldn’t be Moe, her best friend, her rock.
She took a long, soothing breath, running her fingertips over her tingling lips and wondering how she could sneak off with Moe before their shift was over.
“You have to have someone present up front at all times,” Kimi said, while Spencer marched around behind the bar as if he owned it.
There were no customers and Moe had a suspicion that Kimi had known what was going on behind the office door only moments ago.
“What if someone had come in—someone underage—and helped themselves to some liquor? Who would be liable? My father’s estate is legally responsible for what goes on here, and so am I as a managing partner.”
Moe shifted uncomfortably.
Spencer came over and joined the conversation, arms crossed. “Maybe you’re not fit to be manager. Even with help.”
“Spencer, don’t interrupt,” Kimi snapped, before turning back to Moe. “What were you doing in there?”
“Having a private conversation.”
“With…?”
“Amy.”
Spencer let out a delighted bark, his face lighting up. He nodded and grinned at Moe.
Kimi’s eyes flashed as she demanded, “Where is she?”
“Probably finishing up with things.”
Behind his sister’s back, Spencer gave another grin and nod, along with a subtle thumbs-up.
“She is not authorized to act in a managerial role,” Kimi warned, as though she expected Amy to be in the office hiring and firing people.
“She knows that.”
Kimi went stalking toward the office, her brother following with a self-important swagger. Amy met them in the hall, looking cool and unaffected.
Moe felt affected. Completely. He wanted to push Kimi and Spencer out the door, throw the dead bolt and get busy with Amy on any available surface. Or preferably, all of them. Something had set fire within him and he had no idea where to find an extinguisher.
Assuming he even wanted one.
“Kimi. What a pleasant surprise,” Amy said mildly.
“The two of you know better than to leave the bar unattended.”
“We were talking in the office.”
Moe didn’t dare check Spencer’s reaction.
“With the door closed?” Kimi narrowed her eyes at Amy, her gaze no doubt locked on her well-kissed, pouty red lips. “You’re on the clock. You don’t spend the estate’s time getting intimate with your husband.”
“I knew it,” Spencer announced, receiving a dirty look from his sister.
Amy raised her eyebrows and stepped closer to Kimi. “I’m sorry?”
“This isn’t your personal playground.” Kimi’s head had angled upward in an attempt to match Amy’s height. “You two need to take your responsibilities seriously.”
“I’d say Moe is taking them so seriously he’s likely to have a heart attack because of the way you’re abusing and overworking him.”
Moe caught Amy by the arm and tugged her away. When she shot him a look so dirty bleach couldn’t ever clean it, he gave her a kiss on the temple in a feeble attempt to placate her. She could easily—and quickly—reach the point of no return with Kimi, who was out for power and control. The woman was grieving both for her father and for losing this pub—Marissa was correct about that—and it was coming out in a way that made her nearly impossible to be around. But now was not the time to burn bridges.
“We’ll be more careful about making sure there’s someone up front during opening hours,” he said.
“Don’t you have something to tell Kimi about buying the pub?” Amy asked.
“What did you want to say?” Kimi’s face lit up.
“It’s nothing. We’ve just been hashing out ideas is all.” Moe gave Amy a warning look. She still didn’t know the full story about what would happen if he didn’t buy the pub. The problem was, if he told her, he didn’t think she’d change her mind about him owning and managing the place. He feared she’d fly into a reactionary panic and give up—say the place was going down anyway—and take off on some new adventure instead of staying here, with him, where she belonged.
“And?” Kimi prompted.
“Still just brainstorming. No conclusions yet.”
Amy sent him another cold and peeved look while turning on her heel. “I’m going to go finish what I was working on. Alone.”
As she returned to the office, Moe’s brain stopped working. What did she mean, “finish”? Didn’t she need him to follow? She’d said alone, but he’d been a big part of what she’d started, and he knew she wasn’t talking about work.
He glanced at Kimi. Could he get away with kicking her out, locking the front door an
d running back to Amy? She might be a managing partner, but he was still the one responsible for the spirit in which it was run.
“I just came to drop this off.” Kimi laid a document on the bar. Moe wasn’t sure what it was, but he was certain it could have been emailed.
“I’m still looking into a new jukebox,” Spencer said, as his sister marched across the room toward the outer door. “Think I might have a line on a sweet deal.”
“Great.”
“That soda arrive for you?”
“It did, thanks.”
“Who’s your man?” Spencer shot him a grin. “I am!” he called triumphantly as he headed out into the sunshine.
Moe mentally fist-pumped the air as the two departed and whirled to head to the office. He knocked lightly on the closed door before letting himself in, uncertain whether he’d find an angry Amy or one who needed his help. Intimate help.
She was sitting on his desk, fully clothed.
“I’m sorry about Kimi,” he said.
“Why don’t you just tell her you don’t want this place?”
“Saying no is pretty final.”
“So is yes.” She pushed herself farther back onto the desk so her feet dangled. She gave him a mischievous look, her gaze sending him an invitation.
He began to close the door.
“You better leave it open or we’ll get in trouble from Kimi.”
“How about I lock the front door?”
“You wouldn’t dare.” There was a glimmer of something in her eyes that made his blood pound a little faster. Amy always made him feel alive, but this…this was a challenge that could change his life.
“Maybe I would.”
Kimi wasn’t coming back; she’d delivered her daily dose of you-can’t-handle-this-job. And nobody in town would blink if the pub didn’t open for another few minutes.
“You’re husband material,” Amy said, a hint of daring in her voice, “not Mr. Wild Child.”
“Opening a little later isn’t being wild.”
“What if she returns?”
“Are you afraid of her?”
“Are you afraid I’ll get bored if I have to wait until later?” she asked.