“Do I look like someone who wants to spend the rest of tonight crapping myself?” The cranky man shoved the antipasto platter into my hands. “I told the waiter I needed gluten free. I was very clear about it.”
“I apologize for the mistake, sir,” I said. “Let me get that fixed right away for you.”
“Thank you,” he ground out, his expression far from appreciative.
Whatever.
I hauled ass to the kitchen, where Boyd raised an eyebrow at me. “I need a new antipasto gluten free, please.”
He nodded and got busy. Or rather, as the only chef in the kitchen tonight, stayed busy. Nell had called in sick after vomiting all day, the poor thing. Luckily the Dive Bar was only half full tonight.
God, I hoped I didn’t come down with her virus. The morning-after pill had messed with me enough.
An almighty clatter came from the front counter. I spun around to find Masa standing there, a tray full of glasses shattered at his feet. Ice cubes, lemon slices, and straws, all spread out across the floor.
“Crap,” I muttered.
Masa just made a small sound of despair and dropped to his knees, to clean up.
I grabbed the dustpan and brush, then joined him down there.
“I’m sorry,” he said, hands moving frantically. “This won’t take a minute.”
“Slow down. You cutting yourself on broken glass won’t help anyone.”
He didn’t say anything, but he did calm down. A start.
“What’s going on with you?” I asked, carefully scooping up the remains of a beer bottle.
“What? Nothing,” said the young man.
“Try again.”
He just sniffed.
“Masa, you served mint to the woman with mint allergies, got the gluten-intolerant guy’s order wrong, and told Boyd that the vegetarians at table eight wanted the chicken satay pizza instead of the margherita. And the list goes on.”
He looked at me, dark eyes swollen and red.
“You’re clearly upset and distracted,” I said. “Talk to me.”
He hung his head. “My girlfriend dumped me.”
“Oh no. I’m so sorry.”
“She’s been fucking her tutor for months behind my back.” Masa’s chin wrinkled, his jaw rigid. “They’re in love, apparently. She texted me just before work, told me all about it.”
“What a bitch.”
From over behind the bar, Eric watched us as he poured another beer. He made no move to come over, and communicated nothing with his gaze. So be it. Broken hearts were serious shit. Someone had to act before Masa accidentally set the place on fire while serving Baked Alaska, or something.
“Clean this up, then head home,” I said, handing Masa the dustpan and brush. “I’ll make sure Eric’s okay with it.”
“Are you sure?” He looked worried. As he probably should be.
“Yeah. The dinner rush is almost over. I can finish up here.”
“Thank you.”
“No problem.” I smiled and got back to work.
Gluten-intolerant dude didn’t leave a tip and cleanup took a little longer than normal, but there were no more complaints or catastrophes. I’m pretty sure I spotted the reporter who’d wanted the scoop on my botched wedding lurking out on the sidewalk at one stage during the night. So long as he didn’t actively get in my face, however, I was willing to ignore him. For now.
The Dive Bar felt different after closing, all shadows and quiet. A change from all the bright light and music of business hours. It was nice.
Vaughan was missing in action when I woke this morning. When it came time for me to head in to work, Boyd drove up in a late-model Jeep and honked the horn. I guess Vaughan organized the ride for me. It’s not like Boyd was talking. Ever. I was about to start walking since I didn’t have a phone to call a cab—an issue I’d dared raise with my driver. Boyd kindly stopped at a phone store, allowing me to race in and purchase a cell.
Ah, technology. I didn’t actually miss it, but in this modern world of constant communication, it was a necessity. The first thing I’d done was leave a message for my folks. Not that I really expected a reply before the annual Christmas card. Communication wasn’t their strong-suit. As parents, they fundamentally sucked. It was just a fact of life. People were who they were, yada yada. Hormones and social expectations had a lot to answer for when it came to population growth.
I could still hear Boyd banging pots and pans around in the kitchen. Assuming he was my ride home, I’d be waiting for a while. Which was fine. I’m sure I could find something to do here. Maybe I’d go ghost hunting for Andre Senior Scare the crap out of myself down in the dark basement. To my knowledge, I’d never been in a haunted building before. It could be fun. A once-in-a-lifetime experience.
“Lydia, think it’s time we talked,” said Eric from the bar.
Ruh roh.
“All right.” I wandered on over, untying my apron as I walked. If I was about to be fired for telling Masa to go home, at least it would be in comfort. I climbed onto one of the stools, giving my poor whiny aching feet a break. Actually, they weren’t so bad today. Guess I was getting used to being on them all the time.
Eric set a drink on the bar, served in one of the chunky pretend-cut-crystal, vintage-style glasses. I loved them. He clinked his matching drink against mine, then took a sip. It was an amber liquid. Scotch, judging by the smell. A spiral of orange rind and cubes of ice swam around inside.
“It’s an Old Fashioned,” he said with a smile. “Ever had one before?”
“No.” I took another sniff then dared a sip. Scotch and sweetness and something else I couldn’t recognize. Not bad. “Nice. Thank you.”
A nod. “You told Masa to go home.”
“Yes. He wasn’t feeling well and we weren’t crazy busy, so … given Rosie and Nell have got this virus…”
“We sometimes get large groups coming in late. Friends and other people in the area who know we’re not going to turn them away.”
I took another sip of my drink.
“You really think you’d have been able to handle it on your own?” he asked.
“Having to apologize for the service being a little slow would be preferable to having a customer get puked on, I think.” I didn’t bother crossing my fingers to protect against the lie. Masa could be sick too. You never know.
Eric coughed out a laugh. “Fair enough.”
Phew.
I took another sip of the Old Fashioned, trying to appreciate the scotch. Doubtless it was the top-shelf good stuff. Aged for three hundred years or something. But it was pretty much wasted on me.
Eric’s green eyes studied me from across the bar. His dark hair was tied back and he was wearing a crisp black button-up shirt with rolled-up sleeves. Vaughan wasn’t classically handsome, more of a custom job. Starkly unique and beautiful with his long lean body and angled face. Eric, however, was pure pretty. You could see how growing girls went from obsessing over ponies to boys like him in the blink of an eye. They were both lovely and just a touch wild.
“Saw you reorganized the front desk,” he said. “Cleaned up the reservations book.”
“We were quiet this afternoon.”
“Mm.” He did some more drinking. “Nell says you’re just passing through. That this isn’t your usual line of work. But if you were thinking of staying, we could definitely use someone to be in charge of the restaurant section.”
“Oh.”
“Nell’s got the kitchen under control. There’ll be a new assistant starting next week to help her and Boyd out. And between me, Joe, and Vaughan while he’s here, the bar’s fine,” he said. “We need a manager, or maître d’–type person, to keep the restaurant floor running smoothly, though. The job’s yours if you want it. A month on trial then we consider permanent, discuss suitable money and the rest. I don’t know what you earn selling houses, but we’d make it worth your while.”
Huh. My eyes felt very wide. “I was not expecting that.”
“You were good with the angry customers tonight. Calmed them down without us losing business,” he said, then nodded to my glass. “Drink up.”
I drank up. Given my mostly empty stomach on account of the earlier nausea and cramping, it was going straight to my head. “There are people with far more experience managing a restaurant out there.”
He stared at me for a moment then got busy grabbing a couple of bottles off the wall, pouring out shots into a cocktail shaker. “When we started this place, we just wanted to earn a living and have somewhere to hang out with our friends. Nell wanted to run her own kitchen, cook what she liked. I’d worked behind a few bars, figured it was pretty much just more of the same. We were naive as shit.”
While he spoke, he worked, mixing up something new. I watched, fascinated. Ice went into the cocktail shaker along with the alcohol then on went the lid. Silver flashed back and forth before my eyes as he shook the concoction. Next, out of one of the fridges below the endless shelves of bottles behind him came an elegant frosted martini glass. In went the liquid, poured through the cocktail shaker’s strainer. The drink was off white, cloudy. Eric pierced a single red rose petal, then the fruit of a lychee, with a little stick of bamboo, tied with a knot at one end. He carefully added the garnish.
“Try that instead,” he suggested, sitting the fresh creation in front of me. “Might be more to your taste.”
“Thank you.” First I studied it from various angles. The cocktail was a work of art. If I had my new cell on me, I’d have taken a picture. Not that anyone currently cared what I was drinking for dinner. “It’s beautiful. I don’t think you’d get that at your normal dive bar.”
“You’d be surprised.” He smiled. “But we’re not your normal dive bar. Drink.”
“Right.” I carefully raised the glass to my lips. Ice cold and syrupy sweet. It definitely had lychee liqueur in it and vodka. This mix tasted like heaven served up in a swanky glass.
“Lychee martini.”
“Whoa. Eric, I love it. I want to bathe in it from now on,” I said, only partially joking. “What are you, some kind of clairvoyant mixologist?”
He laughed. “No. I just know women.”
I snorted. “Don’t they all.”
We shared a smile. Though in all honesty it was probably closer to a smirk on both our parts. The battle of the sexes waged ever on.
“How’s things going with Vaughan?” he asked, downing his Old Fashioned. And yeah, my currently nonexistent relationship with my temporary landlord was so none of his business.
“Banged any waitresses lately?”
“No. You’re not interested in me.” The man made flirty eyes at me. You had to give it to him, he had the sexy heated promising looks all locked up. A total professional man whore. “Sadly.”
I drank my drink and otherwise kept my mouth shut.
“I’m having to go further afield to find new partners.” He reached for a bottle of scotch. Top shelf. What did I tell you?
I still had nothing to say.
“Getting back to my point,” he announced. “Nell and I didn’t know a shitload about running a place like this. Pat wasn’t much better. They’d been running the tattoo parlor for a while, but that didn’t involve working as closely with suppliers, managing stock to the same degree. And none of us are really great at schmoozing. But you are.”
“Really? You seem like a people person.”
One side of his lips kicked up. “Hmm.”
“Eric, this is all very interesting. And for the record, just as I told Nell, I think this business is solid and has a good future ahead of it.” I took another sip of my stiff drink. This conversation needed it. “But I don’t see me as being part of that future. I have other plans.”
“Starting somewhere else selling houses.”
“Yes,” I said. “It’s what I know.”
“But is it what you love?”
I shrugged.
He shrugged right back at me.
I drank.
“Well, that’s a shame.” A new Old Fashioned sat by his hand, but he started in on making another cocktail just the same. “Good staff’s hard to find, especially people who fit in here. Someone we can pretty much all get along with. This work, dealing with people all the time and more than occasionally taking their shit, isn’t for everybody. I told Nell I’d try and talk you into staying. Consider yourself talked to.”
“Okay.”
“Drink up,” he repeated. “Boyd will be in the kitchen for a while. I’ll make you a Caipirinha next. See if you like that one too.”
Oh boy. Hangover, here I come.
* * *
Thursday had morphed into Friday by the time I stumbled in the door. Vaughan sat on the sofa, the lone piece of furniture left in the living room since the sad demise of the coffee table and an old sitting chair during the men’s epic battle. Men were such idiots. Meh to them.
“Was starting to worry about you,” he said, strumming away at the guitar on his lap. Andre had been right, Vaughan had gifts. The way he played, his ability to bring out the most amazing beautiful sounds from this instrument, was just one of many.
“Hey.” I plonked myself down on the couch beside him, head only spinning a little. Regular glasses full of water and a bowl of gnocchi with this incredibly delicious cheese and spinach sauce care of Boyd had helped mitigate the booze. A little, at least.
Vaughan picked up the notebook and pen I’d partially planted my butt on, setting it down on the floor. He did not have his happy face on. Thankfully, he didn’t have his blank face on either. His lips were a flat line, his gaze troubled.
“Let me guess, Eric invited you to stay back and sample his wares.” He resumed playing his guitar quietly. “Nell said that’s how he operates.”
“We had a few drinks,” I admitted.
“Did you fuck him?”
“Do you care?”
He licked his lips, wrinkles crossing his brow. “Guess I do or I wouldn’t be asking.”
Grace be damned. I flopped back on the sofa, leaning my head against the cushion and closing my eyes. “Is it the penis that makes you all such abhorrent shitheads? It must be. That bit of anatomy is the one real point of universal commonality between you all, isn’t it?”
Nothing from him.
I opened my eyes, rolling my head in his direction. “Do something for me?” I asked.
“What?”
“If you honestly believe there’s a chance I had sex with Eric tonight, be a good boy and shove that guitar where the sun doesn’t shine.”
His expression hardened. I daresay it matched mine. We were two angry emotional people. One of the main problems with being female, however, is our propensity for tears. Even when we’d rather not, those sucker glands get all worked up, squeezing out the salt water, making us look and feel weak when we’d rather be going medieval.
“Night.” I struggled to my feet, subtly wiping my face with one hand. Or apparently not so subtly because he immediately followed.
“Lydia, wait,” he said as his strong arms turned me, hauling me against his body. I face-planted into his chest, sniveling all the while because I’m cool like that. If only we’d kept our pelvises separated. We got along well before sex became part of the equation.
“I’m sorry,” he mumbled.
“You shut me out last night.”
“I know.”
“You disappeared on me today without a word.”
“Yeah.”
“Then you have the gall to act all entitled and pissed off over Eric?”
He rubbed his face against my hair, squeezing me tight. I had to turn my face sideways to breathe. Even then, his octopus hold made it tricky.
“Who gains entry to my pants is none of your business,” I said, stomping one foot. The foot did not appreciate it, but bad luck. “There’s no commitment here.”
“I know, I know.” A pause. “But you didn’t sleep with him, right?”
I kicked the man in the shin with everything I had. All of my pent-up rage and drunken anger. Bastard was lucky I didn’t try and break his nose. Then I shoved him off.
“Shit, Lydia.”
“Good night.”
I tried to strut to my room with style, but I’m reasonably certain I flounced. It felt like a flounce. All loose limbs and dubious morals. Slamming the bedroom door shut was also quite juvenile, but whatever. I kicked off my shoes. It took several attempts. I only fell over once, though. Go, Team Lydia!
I dealt with my black skinny jeans while still on the floor. Because let’s be honest, odds were I’d wind up back down there anyway. And go, brain, for being coherent enough to work that one out. My drunken ass was on fire, I tell you. On fire!
“What are you doing on the floor?”
I looked up to find him standing there. Uninvited. Ugh.
“Go away,” I said.
Chances were, if I attempted the removal of my work shirt and bra, I’d somehow manage to take out an eye. Best that I quit while I was ahead.
Now, time for some rest. I climbed up onto the mattress and stretched out on my back.
“Seriously, how awesome are beds? Beds are just the best.”
“Are they?” he asked.
“What are you still doing here?” I threw my pillow at him. Which he caught and replaced on the end of the bed. Pity, it was the only pillow I had and the bottom of the mattress was like miles away. Oh well, I’d just have to sleep without it. “Go away, Vaughan.”
“Christ, you’re plastered,” he muttered. “Again.”
“You and your friends are a bad influence on me.”
“Right.” He cocked his head, giving me a long hard look. Idiot male. “Are you going to throw up?”
“No.”
“How many drinks did you have?”
I held up three fingers.
“He make you cocktails?”
“Yes.” I sighed and closed my eyes, linking my fingers over my belly. “I’m not plastered, just tipsy. I drank lots of water, paced myself, and ate. Go away.”
Instead of hearing the door clicking shut, I felt the mattress shifting beneath me. Mostly on my right-hand side. I opened my eyes and sure enough there he was, sitting next to me.
“I had a lot of stuff to do today,” he said. “I wasn’t avoiding you or anything.”
I scoffed.
“All right, I was avoiding you a little.”
“No shit. Well, now I’m avoiding you a lot,” I said, reclosing my eyes. “Go away. And turn off the light on your way out, please.”
Callused fingers stroked my arm, the touch lingering, loving, even. I slapped madly at the hand, doing my best to chase him away. Except of course this was Vaughan so that didn’t quite work. Next thing I knew he was crouched over me, swift fingers tickling my ribs, under my arms, my belly. Everywhere, the bastard. I wriggled and squirmed, getting nowhere.
“Do not tickle me! Leave me alone,” I bellowed. “You suck.”
The tickling continued.
“Get away from me, Hewson. I don’t even like you anymore.”
He lay his long body down on top of me, effectively thwarting my ability to fight back. Of course, the feel of him rubbing himself against me woke up my inner horn dog. The desire to arch into him, to stick my tongue down his throat and get me some was mighty. But no! My girl parts would not be so easily swayed. No sex for him.
By god, the jerk was heavy. Elephants, the Titanic, think that kind of weight range.
“You’re squishing me!”
Warm lips pressed kisses all over my face. “Do you forgive me?” he asked.
“No. You’re the worst. I’ll never forgive you.”
I beat at him with clenched fists, as best as I could. Unfortunately, not only was he heavy, he was strong. The asshat caught my wrists, pressing them down above my head. But I wasn’t done yet. Oh no. Like some fearsome, deadly, half-drunk creature, I waited for my chance to strike. Then … my sharp teeth bit hard into his hot salty skin, holding on. A full frontal attack on the base of his thick neck.
Hahahahaha.
“Ouch,” he bitched.
A hand held the back of my head, almost cradling it, but this was war so it couldn’t be that. Regardless, I bit on.
“Fuck, babe.” He wrapped my hair around his fist and tugged hard. “All right, you’ve made your point. I already said I’m sorry. That’s enough.”
I released the hard flesh between my teeth. Victory was mine. Plus, my jaw was starting to ache.
“Am I bleeding?” he asked, trying to look at the wound.
“No. You’re going to have a doozy of a bruise, though.” I relaxed back against the mattress, taking a deep breath. At some stage he’d taken most of his weight on one knee. So I actually could breathe freely now. “I told you not to tickle me. And if that was you trying to start something, think again. I can get myself off just fine without your help.”
A grunt of much unhappiness. Then he climbed off of me, collapsing onto the bed at my side, making the mattress shake. For a while, we just lay there in silence.
“I thought about you today,” he said eventually.
I didn’t know how to respond.
“I am sorry about leaving you alone last night. I just…”
“You just what?” I asked when it became clear he wouldn’t be finishing the thought on his own.
“It was serious, going to get the pill.”
“Yes, it was.” With a heavy sigh I rolled onto my side, facing him. There might come a day in a thousand years or so when the sight of him didn’t move me. I doubt it, though. He addled my brain and made the butterflies inside me come to life. What effect he had on my heart, I didn’t even want to ponder.
“I think it shocked me.” There was such honesty in his eyes, in his unguarded expression. “I’ve always been careful about protection. Always. Dad lectured me constantly about it and growing up, I saw friends become fathers way ahead of their time. Then there’s all the STDs. But last night with you…”
“You were upset, Vaughan.”
“Yeah.” He stared into my eyes, giving me a sad smile. “You look tired. Lie down, I’ll get the light.”
I didn’t ask him if he was staying or retreating to his own room. Being needy annoyed the crap out of me. We didn’t have that kind of relationship. He rolled off the bed and flicked off the light. Then he wandered out into the hallway. One by one, the other lights in the house disappeared and full darkness crept in. Heavy footsteps came my way and then the mattress squeaked as he sat at the end.
That wasn’t relief rolling through me. It was something else. Something complicated and beyond my control.
The palms of his hands slid up over my bare legs, all the way up to my panties, where they lingered with obvious intent.
“Vaughan.”
“I want to get you off.” He traced delicate lines over my stomach, making my muscles clench with need. “Please.”
“I don’t know…”
“Just you. Nothing for me,” he said, hooking his fingers in my underwear and slowly dragging them down my legs. “Let me go down on you, Lydia. I want to make amends.”
“I’m not sure making someone perform oral sex should be used as a method of punishment. The ethics are a bit icky.” Yeah, I was fighting him hard.
Gently, he pushed my legs open, kneeling between them. “Babe, licking your pretty pussy is a treat. Not getting a piece of you afterward is the punishment.”
I laughed. “Treat. A piece of me. You make me sound like pie.”
Without further ado, he licked straight up my center. From my butt to my clit and back again. An amazing rush, a whole new kind of intoxication, raced through me. My spine arched, jaw falling open. “Fuck.”
“You’re sweet enough to be pie,” he mumbled, fixing his mouth to my labia and softly sucking. His nose nuzzled the area around my clit, hot breath stirring over all of that delicate flesh. Every ounce of blood in me rushed to the call of his mouth. My head spun, my body light, incandescent. He sucked and licked and savored me like a feast.
It was breathtaking.
The man knew his stuff, driving my excitement to scary heights. First softly grazing his teeth over my mound, then circling my clit with the tip of his tongue. Long licks between my lips, over and over again as his hands held me open. He followed no set pattern, I didn’t know what he’d do next. A tender wet open-mouthed French kiss to my opening. Or giving my clit a tongue lashing. Maybe even teasing over my asshole with a light finger. Nothing was off limits in his pursuit of my pleasure.
Had I been mad at the man? I couldn’t remember.
Surely it was all some silly mistake. No one with a mouth so talented and blessed could possibly have behaved like a thoughtless bastard.
A finger eased into me and bent a little, taking on the shape of a hook. It was the only way he could have reached the pertinent areas. Carefully the pad of his finger rubbed over the back of my clit, massaging me inside. My poor wet swollen pussy never stood a chance. The orgasm nearly knocked me out. Bright lights bursting inside of me, a pleasure so keen it was almost pain. I came hard and fast, gasping his name, clinging to the bedsheets as the world turned upside down. It took a fair while for things to come right again.
Someone was mouth-breathing seriously loud. How uncouth. Muscles kept twitching, inside me, in my thick thighs. Poor shell-shocked things. They’d probably never be the same. He’d broken me for all others. I was sure of it. And I didn’t even have the energy to care.
He wiped his face off on the sheet and then pulled me into his arms, spooning me. Getting comfortable and settling in for the night. The scent of my come still lingered on him. His lips were still damp as he kissed my shoulder, the back of my neck. I don’t know if I’d ever been with someone quite as raw. Not vulgar, just open, relaxed, and matter-of-fact about sex and into all of my body.
“Apology accepted,” I said.
“Good.”
“Be warned, though, I’m practicing to become a better feminist.” I rolled onto my back, staring at his luminous eyes in the dark. “The whole Chris thing was a kick to the clit, but I’m working hard to set myself straight now. I own this body. My fate is mine.”
“Okay,” he said slowly, meshing his fingers with mine. “Where is this going?”
“I just want you to know, I will not be falling slave to your devil dick and demon tongue. No matter how good they are.”
“Hmm.” He rubbed his mouth against my shoulder. “Is that your way of saying you like how I fuck?”
“Yes. Basically.”
“Well … I’m glad,” he said eventually. “And I’d like you to know that I consider myself a feminist too. You are more than my equal. But with all due respect, I think maybe you should consider getting some sleep now. This body that you own is probably going to feel bad in the morning. I’m a little worried that you’re fated to have a hangover tomorrow.”
Sadly, the man made sense. I snuggled into him, closing my eyes. “I’m going to miss you when you’re gone.”
A squeeze and another kiss to the back of my neck.
“The town was so pretty as Boyd was driving me home. We went by the scenic route through downtown.”
“Downtown’s in the opposite direction,” he said with a smile in his voice.
“I know, but Boyd didn’t seem to mind and I just felt like seeing it. All of the lights and the trees, the water. It’s all so beautiful, you know?”
“I know,” he said, sounding a little sad.
“I started wondering what it will be like when the trees change color, when it snows.”
“Cold,” he deadpanned.
“You don’t say.”
A snicker.
“At any rate, I got thinking and … I’m not sure I want to leave after all.” I tried to organize my thoughts in a straight line, but my brain was all orgasm- and alcohol-befuddled. It wasn’t easy. “See, part of me wants to spend the rest of my days at least two states away from the Delaneys at any given time. But the other part of me is all ‘you take your problems with you wherever you go.’ The truth is, my issues aren’t really about Chris and company, they’re about me not being happy with my life and making bad choices. That’s not going to change just because my address does.”
Nothing.
“What do you think?”
He sighed. “Honestly, people have long memories. There’s a lot to be said for starting over somewhere new.”
“My parents had that attitude and it never quite worked for me. And here … I’m finally starting to feel like I’ve found the place where I belong.”
Vaughn didn’t answer and a sneaky unwelcome little voice suggested he didn’t want me here. However he felt about the place, it would always be his hometown. He had family and friends here, a history. For certain at some time in the future he’d be back around and if I was still here … well, running into ex-lovers could be awkward as hell.
“You don’t have to make any decisions right now,” he said. “Rest.”
Everything was quiet for a good long time before I heard him speak again. My mind was on the edge of sleep, so it might have even been a dream. A delusion.
“I’m going to miss you too,” a voice whispered.