Chapter Seven
Taylor
I ran down the stairs ahead of Dalton, determined to put some space between us. I opened the door and walked into the refrigerated cooler. Being this close to him was bringing back old memories and feelings, not all of them bad.
“Nice cooler,” Dalton said with feeling as the door closed.
“Eric designed it. We could keep the beer below, and it gave us more space upstairs.”
I walked over to the kegs and grabbed the pilsner. I felt him come up behind me and try to take the keg from me. I held on tightly and pulled it away from him.
“What the hell do you think you are doing?” I rolled the keg over to replace the old one.
“Let me do it.”
“Excuse me. I think I learned how to put new kegs on in the last nine years, Dalton.”
He folded his arms. “Taylor, I’ve already apologized. I wish I could go back and change things. I can’t. But I can try to make up for the things I screwed up and do better. All I’m asking for is another chance.”
“Another chance. We never had a beginning. We had a kiss. A single kiss. That was it. Besides, I’m seeing someone.”
Dalton unfolded his arms. “Who?”
“Joe Brennan.”
“Little Joey Brennan with the massive overbite?”
“Orthodontics helped. He’s sweet and predictable, and you know what you are getting with him.”
Dalton stepped forward. “Sounds vanilla to me.”
“You don’t know him. Besides, you and Courtney tore the family apart. Coming in here like you own the place and bringing up all the bad memories. It just… it isn’t good for Eric.”
Dalton took another step forward. “Not good for Eric or not good for you?”
I turned around and began pushing the keg over to the hoses. I also rubbed my arms, as the temperature was pretty chilly. I realized my chest was revealing just how cold it was and folded my arms.
“You gave me the first kiss of my life on my eighteenth birthday and then disappeared. I had to hear from everyone the next day about Courtney. Courtney ‘Spread My Legs’ Knight. And deal with Eric and his broken hand and heart.”
I sighed and played with my ponytail, a sign of how nervous I was being this close to him. “We had hoped she would change with Eric, but I guess you can’t teach an old bitch new tricks. You showed us that in spades.”
Dalton stepped closer and leaned in. “I’m so sorry I caused you pain. Let me make it up to Eric and you. Please.”
Dalton towered over my five-foot, four-inch slim self. His height was perfect for me. I felt the heat rise between our bodies and stepped away from him and gave my full attention to the keg.
“I don’t care what happened nine years ago. I’m not the same mindless teenager. I have goals, ambitions, and maybe, I don’t want you to be a part of them.”
He stepped closer to me. “Stop it.”
He pulled me into his arms. I pushed against his rock-hard chest.
He stepped back. “I was young and stupid, Taylor. When I left you in the kitchen, your dad was waiting for me outside. He suggested it was time for me to take a break from the family.”
“Pops loved you like a son. It hurt him to do that.”
Dalton smiled sadly. “He also told me why I needed to leave for my master’s early.”
I looked at him for the span of more than a minute, processing this information. “Okay, I give. Why?”
“Because I wasn’t his son, and he wanted me to get some space from the family because he saw where I was going with you, and he wasn’t going to have it. He told me in time, he would ask me to return. He would help pay for my schooling if I stayed away.”
“He never said a word about that. Ever. How do I know if you’re telling me the truth?”
“I have no reason to lie. He had big dreams for his daughter, and I think… he wanted me to get some years behind me before I… before I came for you.”
I sputtered. “Came for me. Like I’m a princess in some fairy tale? That’s bullshit on both of your ends. What the hell was he thinking?”
“I made the mistake of not telling you or calling you. Either of you. And the first person I saw after kissing you and being told to leave was Courtney. I was young, impulsive, and stupid. The hurt I saw in your brother’s eyes told me as much. So, I left. Your dad kept in touch over the years, and he helped me.”
“What do you mean, kept in touch?”
Dalton laughed. “Pops was old school. He wrote to me every week. Phone calls and, of course, letters. Especially when I needed letters so desperately.”
“What do you mean?”
Dalton sighed and leaned back against the cooler door. “It took me a little bit to get over myself after I left. Didn’t get the master’s right away. Got in a fight with a guy over a girl and ended up spending some time in jail. Beat him up pretty bad. Gave me time to think and realize what an ass I was being. I got two years and when I got out, Pops helped me get back on my feet. Told me he would call me when it was time to come home.”
I stared at him, my emotions churning.
“In the meantime, I put my head on straight, started bartending again, and wanted to start my own place. I realized I had a head for it and started buying up dives with my meager savings. For the last six years, I built what I could to make Pops proud. The letters and phone calls had stopped. I called him and left message after message. Never a return call. I wrote him. Never got a return letter. Was going to call again and got busy. I got a phone call from Peggy instead. Last week. I’m sure you know what she said.”
Tears welled up in my eyes. I shook my head.
“She said, ‘It will be too late for him, but he wants you to come back.’”
I walked over to him, and he looked away from me, ashamed.
“We didn’t know.”
“I told Pops not to tell you all. My pride, my fear. I haven’t told Eric yet.” Dalton put his hands on my arm. “I didn’t want any secrets from you.”
He opened his arms, and I stepped into his embrace. His hands wrapped around me as he drew me in closer. As his head lowered to mine, my heart began to pound. I could feel he needed this. He needed me to help reshape him. My heart beat so hard, I was sure it was going to burst through my chest. Once his lips touched mine, I opened my mouth to him. His tongue tasted me, pulled back, and plunged into my mouth. I sucked his tongue back, and he moaned into my mouth.
My knees weakened and, if his arms hadn’t tightened on me, I felt sure I would have ended on the floor.
He pulled back. “Are you telling me you don’t remember that?”
I lifted my suddenly heavy-lidded eyes to his. “I remember. I remember every night when I dream of that kiss in my kitchen. I’ve never stopped thinking about you or what it would have meant.”
He touched his forehead to mine. “Can we start again? Can we at least try?”
I swallowed my fear and pride. Though it went down hard, it went away. I looked into his searching eyes and nodded. Hell, you only live once.
He smiled at me and lowered his mouth to mine again as he picked me up and took to the table on the back wall of the cooler. I wrapped my legs around him and gently chewed on his lips.
“Damn it, woman.”
Dalton kissed me back. His stubble scrapped across my face, but it wasn’t unpleasant. It aroused me even more. I breathed in his musk and felt myself dampen and flower open. I put my hands up under his shirt and felt his core beating against my hand.
He put his hands on both sides of my face and pulled me to him. I felt like my soul was being pulled out of my body to become one with the man I had dreamed about since before I had left for college. Being with Joe had never matched this. Never would. The idea of where we could be now, and the lost time, made me run my hands around his back, gently scratching him.
His hands were on a trip of their own. They made their way from behind my shirt in the back to the front to my breasts and pulled them free of my bra. As his kisses waged war with me, his fingers strummed a tune on my nipples that left me panting and almost in pain.
He leaned me over the table, and I pulled him with me until we were almost laying on it. I wrapped my legs around him and pulled him into me, feeling his need rubbing against mine and stoking the flame. I ran my hands down the front of him, to his waist, and I unbuttoned his pants, wanting him free in my hands.
He was rigid and long through the fabric. I ached to feel more of him. His lips were on my neck, and he pulled my shirt up, lowering his head to my freed nipples. He tasted one gently and sucked and pulled at me, like a thread through the most essential part of my body. I leaned backward and pulled his head toward mine.
The kiss I shared with him was not one of a timid teenager. It was a lover’s kiss, and he trembled with me. I took, and he gave, and we swapped a decade’s worth of loss in minutes.
We were so involved, neither of us heard the door open.
“Holy shit!”