Read on for a bonus, extended sneak peek of the final book in the WHISKEY SHARP trilogy
WHISKEY SHARP: TORN
Available from HQN and Lauren Dane
The deepest love can come as a surprise...
Whiskey Sharp: Torn
by Lauren Dane
CHAPTER ONE
Pointed west home beckons.
Waits for you like a lover.
NOT TOO MANY hours after getting off an airplane, Cora approached Whiskey Sharp—a barbershop and, in the evenings, a bar. The lazily swirling red-and-white candy-cane sign out front was illuminated and the interior lights cast a shine against the gold-toned flourish of the shop’s title on the front glass doors.
Inside, it smelled of sandalwood and amber, two of the more popular scents of the products used in hair and beards. Music played loud enough to feel like an embrace but it didn’t drown out the low hum of conversation from the people knotted around the bar area.
Alexsei Petrov, Maybe’s husband, but also Cora’s friend, owned and ran the place that had become another home for Cora. He saw her come in and smiled, tipping his chin to where Maybe stood, working at her station. Giving someone a shave by the looks of it.
Three months before, her friend’s hair had been platinum blond, but currently the tips were a brilliant teal blue that bled into a wash of purple.
It would have looked absurd on most people, but Maybe managed to make it seem retro and futuristic at the same time when she coupled it with high-waisted gray pinstripe pants and a crisp white button-down shirt.
Rachel stood, her hip resting against the table, a smile on her face reserved for who Cora now recognized as Rachel’s man, Vic, sitting in Maybe’s chair getting that shave.
The weight of the familiar was lovely and bloomed through her belly. This was another one of her places. Full of her people.
“You bitches are still the hottest chicks I know,” she said as she approached.
Rachel looked over, her eyes widening in pleasure and recognition. “You’re here!”
“I told you I’d come by,” Cora said, swallowed up into a hug.
“I know, but you’re here now. Yay!” Maybe took over the next hug, smacking a kiss right onto her lips before stepping back.
Laughing, she got hugs from the wild bearded Russians, as Rachel and Maybe referred to their dudes.
“Everyone missed you. Not more than us, naturally, but still,” Rachel said after Cora’d been loved up on by all her friends. “Three months is way too long to go without seeing you.”
“It’s nice to be missed.” She was pretty sure she’d just finished her last extended trip with her mother. Yes, it was travel for work and she liked to go new places. But these long stints meant she had avoided getting a dog or a cat. It wasn’t fair to have to leave them with someone for weeks and weeks. It meant that aside from one long-distance relationship that had ended two years before, Cora hadn’t really seen anyone seriously.
She wanted more roots. And a dog. And maybe someone to go on dates with.
She’d settle for a drink and some food as she hung out with her crew to start.
“Wren said she already invited you to dinner,” Maybe called out as she began to clean her station up.
“She informed me that one of their friends is cooking and that there’d be cake. So naturally I’m in.”
Gregori—another wild bearded Russian—was Vic and Alexsei’s cousin. He also happened to be a hugely successful artist that Cora had known for years through the local art scene. He and his wife, Wren—an artist in her own right—lived in a loft space above Whiskey Sharp.
“There’s always cake at their place. It’s like a little bit of heaven right upstairs,” Maybe said.
“It’s like what I imagine heaven to be, that’s for sure,” Cora answered.
“If there’s no cake, how can it be heaven?” Rachel said it like a sacred prayer and Cora agreed utterly.
“I can’t wait to hear all about your time in London but Wren said she wanted to hear it too and so not to visit too much without her.” Maybe hooked her arm through Cora’s. “I want to hear it now, so let’s get going. I’m also hungry.”
“You know how she gets when she’s hungry,” Alexsei said with a smirk at the corners of his mouth. Maybe rolled her eyes, but smiled as she did it so Cora knew she wasn’t offended.
And he was right because Maybe was lovely and sweet, but not when she was hungry.
They all headed out and down the sidewalk half a block to the doors leading to the small lobby where the residents of the lofts had their mailboxes and the elevator.
The scent of garlic and onions swirled around her senses as they got out on the right floor. Gregori and Wren’s door was painted bright, shiny red and flew open before they were able to use the doorbell.
Wren, wearing a huge grin, rushed at Cora and hugged her tight. “Hi! Come have champagne and eat yummy food while you tell us all how the last three months were.”
“I can do that. You look fantastic,” Cora told her as they headed toward the kitchen area. “Marriage agrees with you.”
Her friends had come back from an impromptu trip right before Cora had left for London only to announce they’d gotten married along the way. After several years of living together it had been the right choice for their relationship.
“I look exactly the same except for the ring part and the way his mom gives me and then my belly a pointed look every time I see her,” Wren said.
“Welcome to my world,” Maybe said. “Irena has now taken to telling me about all the baby clothes she saw but didn’t buy because she had no grandchildren to wear them. I tried to get her obsessing about Rachel’s womb, but she’s too wily.”
“Mind your own womb. You’ve been with Alexsei longer than I’ve been with Vic. It’s your time to shine, bitch,” Rachel said with a laugh.
“I’m so messed up. I missed you all so much.” Cora hugged each one tightly.
“You’re the perfect kind of messed up,” Rachel said, linking her arm through Cora’s.
This was good. The best, happiest part of her life.
Her stomach growled as she sucked in the scents all around. “I need food.”
“We’ve got that covered,” Gregori called out to them. “Come, I’m pouring champagne.”
“No need to call me twice when there’s booze involved,” Cora murmured to Rachel, who snickered.
Fairy lights and candles made the loft glow. Plus it was the perfect light and her skin would look way better than the jet lag she knew smudged dark circles under her eyes.
“It’s all romantical in here and shit,” Cora said and then nearly swallowed all her spit when she caught sight of who stood at the stove.
CHAPTER TWO
There is wild joy in recognition.
A leap of faith to let yourself be known.
An old magic.
WELL OVER SIX feet of hot-ass ginger celebrity chef, former model and childhood poster boy for a cult—and most notably one of her first really hard crushes—Beau Petty had aged really, really well. He had the kind of face that would only get better as he aged. At seventy-five he’d still be searingly hot because it wasn’t just that he was chiseled and taut and broad shouldered, his attitude seemed to pump out confident alpha male.
He’d been gorgeous when she’d been sixteen and he twenty-one or -two, but seventeen years later, he was magnetic and intense on a whole new level. It made her heart skip a little just looking at him.
Cora had to lock her knees when his gaze flicked from Rachel over to her and his expression melted from surprise into pleasure as he dried his hands on a towel and headed toward her.
And then he hugged her and holy wow it was better than a doughnut. He smelled good and was big and hard and wow, he was hugging her and when he stepped back he said her name.
It seemed as if the word echoed through her, plucked her like a musical note.
Wow.
“It’s really good to see you,” he said as he stepped back, and she had to crane her neck to look up, and up, into his face.
“What an unexpected surprise,” Cora told him.
“We have some catching up to do.”
The lines around his eyes begged for a kiss.
“You guys know each other? I mean, duh. Obviously as you just said her name and there was a hug and stuff.” Maybe smiled brightly, fishing for details in her cheerful, relentless way.
“First champagne and introductions and then we will hear that story,” Gregori said, interrupting Maybe’s nosiness long enough to hand out glasses.
* * *
HE’D KNOWN BACK then that she’d had a crush on him, but she was still a kid. Then. Now? She still carried herself as if a secret song played in her head. But there was nothing girlish about her now.
Her hair—shades of brunette from milk chocolate to red wine—was captured back from her face in a ponytail, tied with a scarf that managed to look artsy and retro instead of silly. It only accentuated how big her eyes were, how high her cheekbones, the swell of her bottom lip that looked so juicy he wanted to bite it.
“Get started, if you’re hungry.” He indicated the long butcher block counter where he’d set up some appetizers. “I was down at Pike Place earlier so the oysters are sweet and fresh. That’s also where the octopus in the salad came from, caught just today. Just a quick grill with lemon and olive oil and pickled red onions.”
“Oh my god, really?” Cora cruised straight over and grabbed a plate.
A woman with an appreciation for food was sexy as hell.
“Update me on your life. What are you doing here in Seattle?” she asked after eating two of the oysters and humming her satisfaction. “So good. This octopus is ridiculous. Is that jalapeno?”
“Good catch. Yes, in the olive oil I used to dress it.”
“I like it. What else are you making? Not that this isn’t really good, but I’m greedy.”
Watching her enjoy his food was a carnal shot to his gut. It set him off balance enough that he focused on the food for a few beats.
“I’m working on a new cookbook so I’m trying out some seafood recipes. Scallop and crab cakes with a couscous salad.”
“Yum! Ah, that’s why you’re in town?”
“I’ve been in Los Angeles for a long time.” Feeling antsy. He had houses, but no home. “I felt a change would be good. A friend who owns a number of restaurants in the area has given me access to his kitchens so I can try my ideas out there as well.” He liked working around other chefs, loved that atmosphere in a kitchen where the whole team loved to cook.
It was a good sort of competitive spirit, it pushed him to up his game, to be better. Far better for his liver and heart than all the drugs and alcohol that’d fueled his early twenties.
“That’s excellent,” she said. “Sometimes a change in surroundings is what you need to hit the reset button. Congratulations on your success. Every time I see your face on a cookbook or on television it makes me smile.”
Back when he’d met her he’d only been out of what his father called a religion but the rest of the world called a cult for three years. Barely more than a legal adult. Modeling and wasting his money on drugs and private investigators, trying to find his kids.
Seventeen years and it had been more than one lifetime. And he still hadn’t found his kids, who were already adults.
He shoved it away, into that well-worn place he kept his past inside. “Thanks. What are you up to these days? I know your mom is still working because I listen to her stuff a lot when I work.”
“I’m still with her. Just got back from three months in London as she finished up a project.”
Rachel wandered over to them. “And she helps run the gallery. Plus she holds the tattoo shop together. And keeps Walda out of trouble. And she writes poetry and takes amazing photographs. Oh and she’s an amazing knitter.”
“I keep books for my sister from time to time. That’s hardly holding the shop together,” Cora said with affection clear in her tone.
“And the marketing. You set up the new network too. So, yeah, holding things together. It’s what she does. How do you and Cora know one another?” Rachel repeated Maybe’s earlier question more firmly, clearly taking his measure.
“At first glance you think it’s Maybe who’s the pushiest. But Rachel is way sneakier,” Cora told him with a shrug. “Beau and I met when he and Walda lived in the same building in Santa Monica. I was fifteen or sixteen at the time. He was a model so Mom kept herself between us. As if he even noticed me when he was surrounded by gorgeous models.”
He hadn’t noticed Walda getting between him and Cora, but Cora had been correct that he hadn’t seen her in that way. For a whole host of reasons, chiefly that she was simply too young.
Then. Not so much now.
“We were there a year so I had a tutor, which, if I recall correctly, Beau definitely noticed.” Cora snickered.
Beau hadn’t learned algebra until he was an adult. Hadn’t read a single classic literary novel until he was twenty-one. Education was a tool, something to dig yourself out of a bad spot—especially if you didn’t have the face and fortune to be a model while you got your education—so he was glad Walda snapped to it when it came to being sure her daughter got what she needed.
He honestly couldn’t even remember the tutor, just the sweet kid who’d grown up well.
“Anyway, that’s how we met and in the intervening years he’s been a supermodel and now a celebrity chef and cookbook author.” Cora smiled at him. “Go you.”
“How do you know Gregori?” Rachel asked once they’d settled in at the long table in the main room.
“He and I were young men with more money than sense in the art scene,” Gregori said. “He was one of the first friends I made here in the US. We’ve been in contact on and off since. I had no idea of the connection between him and Cora.”
“It was a pleasant surprise,” Beau told them with a shrug. “I know many people. I’m friends with very few, so those I like to keep around.”
“I didn’t even know crab and scallop cakes were an actual thing. I vote yay,” Cora said as she put another two on her plate.
In addition, there were brussels sprout leaves roasted with parmesan and walnuts, fruit and cheese with honey, wine, champagne and, at the end, not just one cake, but two.
Not a lot satisfied Beau more than seeing people enjoy food he’d made. Cooking was his way of pleasing others. Of being worthy.
As fucked up as he was, he’d managed to substitute out the most harmful ways of feeling worthy and pleasing others at least. His life was his own now. No one made his choices. He owed no one anything he didn’t want to give.
“You’re having a very intense conversation in your head,” Cora said quietly.
He shrugged. “Not really,” he lied.
She sniffed, like she wanted him to know she saw right through him. Defensiveness raised in his gut, warring with fascination and no small amount of admiration that she would not only see the truth of it, but also let him know she got that he was evading.
A few hours in, Vic and Rachel peeled off. Gregori explained that Vic worked in a bakery, the same one that had provided some of the sweets they’d eaten that night, and had to be up by four thirty.
He realized, as they cleaned up, that he didn’t really want his time with Cora to end. Which was...unusual. Unusual enough that he paid attention to it. She was a gorgeous, creative, interesting woman and an old friend. That was it. Probably.
Still, when she headed to the door, he followed. “Hey, where are you off to?”
“Home. I’ve been up well over twenty-four hours at this point and the travel has just sort of smacked me in the head. Now that my belly is full and I’ve been loved up on by my friends, I’m going to head back to my place and sleep for many hours.”
“Where are you parked? Do you need a ride home?” Wren asked and then Gregori sighed. Clearly he’d noticed the chemistry between Cora and Beau all night.
Cora hadn’t seemed to notice Gregori’s sigh as she replied, “I’m just right around the corner at the lot near Ink Sisters. I’m good. Thank you, though.” Cora hugged Wren and then tiptoed up to do the same with Gregori.
“I’ll walk with you,” Beau said, grabbing his coat. “If that’s cool with you.”
Cora shrugged. “Sure. You don’t have to. It’s not that far.”
“And then you can give him a ride,” Gregori told her. “He’s staying in a flat in the Bay Vista Tower so he’s on your way home anyway.”
Gregori gave him a very slight smile. Beau owed his friend a beer for that little suggestion that allowed him more time with her.
“Ah! Yes, that’s totally on my way home. I can easily drop you off as a thanks for walking with me and defending my honor in case a drunken Pioneer Square reveler gives me any guff. Not that they would with an eleven-foot-tall dude, but you know what I mean,” Cora said.
“There are perks to being tall. And I’d appreciate the ride as I walked over earlier today.” And he’d get to be alone with her in the car where he planned on asking her out.
He shouldn’t. He usually kept himself clear of getting involved with a friend or anyone in his social circle that he might have to see regularly in the wake of something unpleasant.
But she felt like home to him in a way that he couldn’t really put to words. And he really needed home after drifting for far too long.
* * *
CORA LIKED WALKING with Beau. When she stopped to peer more closely and then photograph a wet leaf, he didn’t get impatient. When she wanted to look in a window or pause to stare up at the lights, he paused too. He meandered like she did. Which was something she found herself charmed by.
Certainly there was no denying the way people tended to get out of their way as they came along. Even sauced up patrons who’d poured out of bars and onto the sidewalks parted to let them pass. He was big. Sturdy and broad shouldered. As a short girl, it was pretty freaking nice, she had to admit.
So she told him. Or, well she thought it out loud and then just went with it because it was too late to do anything else.
He leaned closer and the heat of him seemed to brush against her skin. “It’s a novel thing to imagine the world from your perspective,” he said in his voice that wrapped around her and tugged.
“You have a great voice. I figure I should go ahead and tell you that.” She pointed at her car as they came upon the lot where she’d parked. “That’s me.”
Cora didn’t think herself overly concerned with things. But this car—named Eldon—was her not-so-guilty pleasure.
A gift from her mother—because Cora never would have done it for herself and because Walda loved giving extravagant gifts.
It was low slung and sporty and when she got in and closed the door, the world drifted away.
He came to a startled halt. “That?”
Cora was glad it was dark enough he couldn’t see her blush. “Okay. I know. It’s an extravagance. My mom decided I should have it. And I tried to turn it down or talk her to a less, uh, over-the-top choice. But she’s Walda and she does what she wants.”
“I’m jealous. I nearly bought a TTS last year.”
Oh. Well, that was nice. She clicked the locks and he waited for her to get in before he followed suit.
“You’re really tall and I was worried you’d have to bend like a pretzel to fit in the passenger seat. So I’m glad that didn’t happen because you have those jeans on and I don’t want you to have to cut off circulation or whatever.”
Jesus, she just made a thinly veiled joke about his dick getting bent in an uncomfortable way. She’d been hanging out around the Dolans way too long.
He snorted a laugh. “I’ve never been as entertained by a conversation,” he said as she pulled out of the lot.
“Oh. Well. Good because I’m entertaining that way so I’m delighted you can see the benefits. I’m glad you’re in Seattle, Beau. I hope we’ll see one another again before you leave. And wow, this whole segment of our conversation is really just me wandering all around. I’m normally better at this. Really.”
“Still entertaining. Five stars,” he said through laughter. “I’d love to see you again. Me and you. What does your kitchen look like?”
“Uh. It’s a nice kitchen. I like to cook well enough. I decided to take the space from a third bedroom and make the kitchen and the master bigger. Gas stove.”
He nodded and she felt a little relieved that she’d passed a test of some sort.
“Are you free tomorrow night? I’d like to make you dinner and catch up on the last seventeen years.”
He just asked her out. She hadn’t imagined the chemistry between them. This day was pretty fucking great so far.
“Totally free. I’ll be home by six and I can handle the dessert.”
“I’ll be there by six thirty with everything I need.”
A wave of heat washed through her. There was no misunderstanding the way his voice had that husky undertone. That was maybe “I’ll be putting my mouth on you at some point during this date” tone and she liked it. It left her drunk with delight.
She gave him her address as she found a space to slide into across the street from his building. “Okay. So. Um. I’ll see you tomorrow night then.”
He unbuckled himself but before he got out, he leaned close and surprised her when he laid a kiss on her lips.
Just a casual kiss. Quick but not so fast he didn’t slowly drag his teeth over her bottom lip as he pulled back.
“See you then.”
Still tasting him, she watched as he jogged across the street and then made his way into the building.
Cora wasn’t entirely sure what she was getting herself into, but she liked it.
CHAPTER THREE
In a flurry of wind a red leaf skitters
Dances on the air
As summer dies
And autumn puts on her fiery crown
“WHY AM I not surprised?” Cora asked.
Rachel and Maybe stood on her porch with a pink-and-white box holding her favorite doughnuts and bearing big grins as well as coffee.
She opened up. “Get in here before you let out all the warm air.”
“You’re not surprised because we’re predictable and nosy. And because we come bearing coffee and doughnuts.” Rachel kissed Cora’s cheek before she put her things down and hung her coat in the front closet.
“We were sort of bummed to find out you’re alone this morning,” Maybe told her as she popped the lid off the doughnut box and carried it, along with her coffee, to the living room.
Cora snorted. “Don’t you two have to be at work or something?”
“My first appointment isn’t until one,” Rachel said as she chose a chocolate glazed.
“I’m sleeping with my boss,” Maybe told her. “What is the deal with you and sexy chef guy? I know I wasn’t imagining it. Especially when he just about shoved Wren out of the way when he got the chance to walk you to your car.”
“He’s making me dinner tonight.” Cora sipped her coffee.
Rachel grabbed one of the throw blankets Cora kept everywhere and tucked it around herself before saying, “I googled him this morning after Vic left for work. He pretended like he didn’t know I was going to. We like to pretend I’m nicer than I really am. It’s why we’ve stayed together for two years.” Rachel continued after another bite of her doughnut, “But you know Beau’s had quite the colorful life. I mean. Wow. Also the modeling shots alone might have made me pregnant.”
Cora nearly choked on her coffee as she laughed. “Now imagine seeing that when you were sixteen.”
“Dude, I’m absolutely convinced I’d have had no idea what to do with a guy like him when I was sixteen. All the tattoos and the piercings. Super hot.”
“We saw the tasteful nudes. He’s quite gifted. And a natural redhead.” Maybe toasted Cora by holding her doughnut aloft a moment.
“You’re going to have to Heimlich me if you make me laugh like this while I’m eating,” Cora said between fits of giggles. “I missed you two. A lot.”
“We missed you too. When you’re done telling us about Beau, let’s talk about you not leaving for so long again.” Maybe reached out to squeeze Cora’s leg a moment.
“He’s got a complicated backstory, to say the least. But there’s something, I don’t know, genuine about him. He’s...” Cora raised her hands, not finding the right words for how she felt. “Aside from being gorgeous, he’s interesting. It was easy being with him last night at Gregori and Wren’s. And then after. He kissed me. Just a fast thing. Not a peck. No tongue, but he gave me some teeth when he broke the kiss. And he used the sex voice on me. It worked. I mean. Every part of me heard it, like a tuning fork.”
“Zing.” Rachel nodded her head and Maybe echoed the action. “You have zing. I have zing with Vic. Maybe’s got it with Alexsei. Zing is good if it doesn’t, you know, cloud your head because your other parts are too dazed. If you know what I mean.”
Cora batted her lashes and leaned toward her friend. “No. What do you mean?”
Rachel started to reply before narrowing her gaze and flipping Cora off.
Laughing, Cora said, “It’s been a while since I’ve been dazed with zing. It’s not underrated.” She hadn’t had that sort of delicious sexual chemistry with someone in years and she hadn’t realized until then how much she’d missed it.
“Seems to me your priorities are in the right order,” Maybe told her. “Get some.”
Rachel rolled her eyes before adding, “He could get it, no lie. I mean, if I wasn’t head over heels in love with Vic. Literally over the weekend. I need to start stretching before sex.”
Cora and Maybe both burst into giggles. This too, sisterhood, was a sensation she’d missed. The ability to be totally who she was, bumps and scars and flaws aplenty, with these two women in her living room filled her with happiness. Made her more confident.
“Now I’m going to see that every time I see him. Which is often, in case you haven’t noticed,” Maybe managed to say.
Rachel just shrugged. “So you’re going to let Beau get all up in your space. I also found out some details about his personal life. He’s got a reputation. Or maybe had? Anyway, he likes the ladies. And a few gentlemen too. But not for very long. He used to be a favorite on all the gossip sites. Partied. A lot. But you know, some of those pictures from back in the day were with Gregori and we know he’s changed. He’s had the same core group of friends for years. Gregori and Ian Brewster, the restaurateur friend he mentioned both live here in Seattle. Another lives somewhere in Europe. That shows something good about him, I think. He’s loyal once he, uh, commits.”
Cora clapped her hands over her ears a moment, blushing hard. “Oh my god. I should have stopped you sooner but let’s be honest, I wanted to hear it.” She waved a hand, took a bite of her doughnut and thought a bit before she spoke again. “I knew about most of it. I’ve followed his career here and there over the years. I’m going to let him make me dinner. We’ll catch up and have—hopefully—great conversation and then if there’s anything else—smooching, groping, what have you—that’s all good. At some point he’ll take his new recipes and that chiseled jaw away from Seattle. So why not enjoy what I can now? It’s not like I want him to move in or be my boyfriend or whatever. I just want some fun and to hang out with an old friend. Hopefully excellent sex. Also I’d like a dog. I’m really thinking of getting a dog. Not a big one because my little yard isn’t really good for a big dog. Small and smart and not yappy. I don’t like yappy dogs and the neighbors would complain.”
“This conversation is moving at the speed of light. I’m here for it. And another doughnut. We need to start our walks again so I can have more than one doughnut without guilt,” Maybe said and then started to snicker. “Just kidding. I love having more than one doughnut and feel zero guilt about that. But I do love our walks too.”
Rachel said, “Okay, now that you’ve told us about your romantic life, why don’t you tell us the rest. Seeing you so happy about this Beau thing has underlined for me I’ve seen that Cora less and less over the last eighteen months or so. You’ve sounded less and less happy, more and more tired. Don’t you think it’s time to seriously re-think your job situation?”
They knew her so well.
“I love to travel. A few weeks away is one thing, but three months and more? Too much. And, to be totally honest? It’s a lot harder on my mother than it used to be. But she won’t admit it and she doesn’t have an off switch. So things go left and I have to clean up the mess. Then she gets mad at me because she’s not forty anymore. More often than not what I do is make excuses for some terrible thing she’s done to make someone cry and keeping her out of jail or worse. It makes me tired.”
“Fair enough. She’s a big personality. But you’re not her keeper.” Maybe used what was left of her doughnut to stab Cora’s way.
“Ha! I totally am her keeper. It’s turned into a family joke. I’m the Walda whisperer, the keeper of the creative. It’s fucking exhausting and I don’t think it serves her. Not who she is now. Her career is different. The world is different.” Cora shrugged. “Anyway, I used to be content wandering the globe whenever and wherever she needed me. It was wonderful while it was wonderful. I’ve learned a lot. I’ve had a relationship with my mom that is totally unique and wonderful. But it’s also... I’m the mom most of the time.”
“I think it’s absolutely fair that you want to reevaluate the situation now. Yes, she’s getting older, more frail. Especially in the last two or three years.” Rachel paused, looked Cora square on. “Even if none of those things were true it’s still okay even if it was just about what you want. It’s okay even if it’s only about you. You get that you want to build a life that will take you into your future. You want to shift gears, sink roots and make a life that entails a different sort of work,” Rachel said.
“It should be all right for a while. She’s done, except for promotion, which won’t start for three or four months. And even then it shouldn’t take her too far from home. I should encourage that.” Cora grabbed her notebook and jotted a note down to do more radio and podcast interviews and to have them done in a local recording studio instead of traveling.
Rachel looked pointedly at the notebook before focusing on Cora again. “You’re still taking a few weeks off though, right?”
“Well. I won’t be traveling anywhere nonrecreational. In fact I was thinking of leaf peeping and could probably include some birding. Perhaps cap it off with a stop at Samish Cheese? Something for everyone.” Cora grinned at them.
“I’m in.”
“Me too,” Rachel said. “Now, getting back to the question, which was about you taking a few weeks off.”
“Yes I am. From my mother. But I’ll be at the gallery. There’s a new installation coming up so I want to be there or who knows what they’ll do?”
“So now you can finally quit being the Walda-keeper and shift to the gallery full-time. But you can still take week or so. I mean, what did they do for the last three months without you there?” Maybe asked.
The gallery was her baby. Sort of. Cora had spent a lot of time and effort in creating a space that had a voice. A unique voice in a very rich local art scene. “Call me fourteen times a day?” She’d pretty much done the job over the phone and online anyway. But that? That’d felt like it should have. She’d wanted to be involved. It fed her creative hunger in a way few things did.
“Okay then,” Rachel said. “Over the last several years you’ve mentioned here and there that you want to run the gallery full-time. Why not finally make that shift now? Then someone else can handle your mom.” Rachel’s severe look had Cora’s denials dying in her chest. “It’s unfair that they’d expect you to keep on like this indefinitely. Oh sure, they all thank you for doing it—and they should—but none of them has stepped up to help you out. Not on this. Plenty of people can be your mom’s personal assistant/manager/keeper. For the right kind of money,” Rachel added at Cora’s expression. “You’re irreplaceable because no one will be as perfect as you. That’s a given. But Walda’s not the only diva in the world. We can help you find the right solution.”
Maybe leaned over to squeeze Cora quickly. “You want to defend your family. But I promise you we aren’t attacking them. We’re your best friends and it is our god-given right to take your side. And to tell you the truth.”
“So let’s skip the part where you tell yourself you’re selfish for wanting something for yourself. Who but you knows Walda works better when lightbulbs are this or that wattage? Or that she likes nutmeg in her coffee? And so what if you do? She’s a grown woman, not a toddler. She can express her wishes to someone else. It’s not like she’s shy,” Rachel said, deadpan.
No, Walda wasn’t shy. But beneath all the feathers and bright colors and whatever else she did, her mother wanted to be loved.
Of course Cora felt selfish. And guilty.
“It’s on the list of things I’m thinking about,” Cora told them both. “Thank you for caring about me enough to make me face this stuff. But I’m done with facing it for now. Let’s talk about something else. Tell me what’s been happening. How was your show last weekend?” she asked Maybe, who played drums in a punk rock band.
As Maybe excitedly filled her in, Cora leaned back, tucked herself under a blanket of her own and let being with her friends wash over her.
CHAPTER FOUR
That time you walked in
And the universe shifted...
I’ve been falling ever since
OF ALL THE things from his childhood, Beau had come to terms with the way he’d been raised when it came to a usual lack of nervousness. A natural sense of ambition and ability.
But as he wrestled the box with all the ingredients for dinner out of his trunk, he realized the butterflies in his belly were all about her.
It was fucking delicious.
He didn’t even have to look at his phone for the number of her town house because once he entered the circular courtyard he knew immediately which porch was hers. It just had the most life around it. An overflowing planter on either side of the steps framed them artfully.
And on each step, words had been painted.
I am the light of a thousand stars
I am cosmic dust made human.
As he got to the top step, he caught sight of her through her front window. She stretched up to light candles dotted across a mantelpiece. He couldn’t see anything but the grace in the movement, lost his other senses for a bit as his heartbeat seemed to thunder in time with the blood pounding in his cock.
He managed to hit the doorbell and when she opened up to him, her smile lightened his nervousness. She looked at him like she knew him. And wanted to be with him anyway.
“Come in!” she said as she stepped aside to admit him. “You can put the stuff on the table.” Cora indicated a stout, round table in the nook just to the left of the kitchen.
He managed not to rush, no matter how much he wanted to hug her. Beau even managed to get his coat off and slung over the back of one of the chairs before he said hello and pulled her into an embrace.
She hummed, low and pleased, and a shiver rode his spine.
“Good evening,” he murmured as he brushed a quick kiss over her brow.
“You smell good. What are you cooking for me tonight?” she asked him as she started to poke through the crate.
“Thank you. You not only smell good, you look good.” She wore a bright yellow sweater with faded blue jeans and thick socks. Cora looked like a fucking flower. Pretty and fresh and sexy all at once.
She blushed and he found it incredibly appealing.
“So I, uh, do you like pasta? I was thinking linguine with clam sauce for the main. Some bruschetta with mushrooms and parsley and another with roasted and marinated red peppers and garlic.”
“Yum! I like all those things. I have a feeling I’ll be overeating. I grabbed some wine, red and white and some prosecco just for giggles. I wasn’t sure what you’d be making and it’s not like a bottle of wine won’t find another use if I don’t drink it tonight. Oh and there’s beer too.
“I didn’t know what you’d be needing, so I just made sure the counters were extra clean,” she said with a shrug. “Cooking stuff is in the cabinets and under the stovetop there.” She pointed. “Use whatever you find, ask if you don’t see something.”
“Perfect.” He washed his hands while she poured them both a glass of red wine.
“I’m a rebel. I wear white after Labor Day and drink red wine whenever I please.” She toasted him, clinking her glass to his.
“I like a little rebellion. We can have white later with the pasta, if you like. Red would be fine as well. Basically, anything you want because I aim to please.” He tied on an apron and began to get to know her kitchen, setting the oven to get the bruschetta started.
She cleared her throat before speaking. “Can I help in any way or just watch you prepare a feast for me and fantasize about you kissing me?”
He didn’t stop himself from bending down to kiss her. Intending it to be quick but once she sighed softly, he couldn’t keep it quick. Instead he backed her to the counter and settled in, tasting, teasing, sipping at her until his skin felt too tight.
Cora slid her tongue along his as she pressed herself closer, her hands at his waist, fingers hooked through the belt loops of his pants to hold him there.
She was sexy. Sweet and hot. Like nothing he’d experienced.
It rattled him enough to break the kiss, but in two breaths he had to go back for another kiss.
Because he needed it. Her taste was dark and rich and utterly irresistible. He wondered if the rest of her tasted as good.
With a groan, he pulled away when the oven preheat timer dinged.
Cora cocked her head, her smile gone feline and satisfied. “Well, okay then. You can find me available for kisses anytime.” The slight slur of pleasure in her voice was a caress along the back of his neck.
“Now I’m ready to get back to work. You just sit there, keep my wineglass filled and be available for more kisses in case I can’t get along until I have another.”
“Righto.” She hopped up on one of the stools facing him across her kitchen island.
He sliced mushrooms thin as he tried not to stare at her mouth but she made it difficult because she talked a lot, smiled a lot, laughed a lot.
It was really only the fear of slicing into his finger instead of the veggies and herbs that kept him from drooling over her like a cartoon dog.
That made him snort, catching her attention.
“Do I amuse you?” she asked, a teasing note in the words.
“Absolutely. So what did you do today? What have you been up to over the past seventeen years? You only hit the highlights last night.”
“Today I had coffee and doughnuts here with Maybe and Rachel and then I went into the gallery for a few hours.”
“I need to stop by the gallery and check it out. I’m curious and always looking for something new. Up until now, my art guidance has come from Gregori. Fortunately, he knows my taste so he rarely steers me wrong.”
Her eyes lit as she beamed at him. That was when her dimple came out and had him licking his lips for another taste of her.
“That’s such a mistake to reveal to someone who runs a gallery.” She sipped her wine. “I had a meeting with a new artist today. She’s got a show coming up with us and I’m amazed at the stuff she does. We like to focus on regional artists, give them space and a voice. She came here with her family from Cambodia when she was an infant so her stuff, which is mixed media, has this sense of roots and ownership of gender and identity that blows me away. She used to be a chemist for the state department of fisheries and one of her kids encouraged her to take early retirement and give her art more time. And she did. That was three years ago.”
He liked the way she talked about art. A lot like he suspected he sounded when he talked about food. As she described the pieces she planned to put into the show, the passion for what she did seemed to flow from her.
“Sounds fantastic. I’ll definitely cruise by the opening.”
“Oh gosh, please do. Not only do I think you’d like her work, it’s nice to be supported by your friends. The opening should be pretty fantastic, if I do say so myself. Which naturally I do because I’m speaking. Anyway, I throw a good party. I’ll make sure you get an invite.”
Her kitchen was well stocked, but not overdone. The town house wasn’t huge, like the condo he was in. But it was comfortable. She’d made excellent use of the space she did have.
It was warm and accessible, a lot like her so that wasn’t really a surprise.
He found all the tools he needed—which meant he could leave all the stuff he’d brought just in case in the trunk of his car. She kept his glass filled and did an excellent job of rubbing garlic on the bruschetta when he asked it of her.
By the time they settled in at her table, it was nearly eight but he was warm from the wine and the exertion and though he’d snacked as he’d worked, he had quite the appetite for the pasta.
“Would you be weirded out if I took a picture of this? I mean it looks like art,” she said.
Pride filled him. “Not at all. I’m flattered.” And he was.
She went to grab her phone, took a few pictures and then put it away again, giving him all her attention once more.
Mesmerizing.
After she ate and moaned with joy at whatever it was she tasted, his ego was about to explode. That and his dick. He was grateful his lap was hidden by the table.
“Tell me about the words on your porch steps,” he said. “Where’s the quote from?”
“Do you like it?”
He nodded. “Very much.”
“It’s mine. I’ve been writing snippets of poetry since I was a kid. That’s part of a poem called ‘Star Stuff.’ I change it up from time to time.”
“Lots of layers to you, Cora Silvera.”
“Like an onion.”
He stood and began to help her clear the table and clean the kitchen, over her protests that he’d cooked so she would clean up. It also enabled him to be close enough to brush against her as they moved around, wiping counters and filling the dishwasher.
“Come through to the other room for a while. Tell me how long you’re going to be in Seattle.” She took the bottle of white wine along with her into the living room where he joined her, settling on her overstuffed couch.
“I’m here for...well, for the next while. At least a year. Likely more. Love the weather and all the stuff to do outdoors. My friends live here—including you. It’s a food culture I really like. And I’m done with New York and LA. Not for visits—I still love both cities. Both were great for my career. But it’s time for something else. Seattle seems a good place to be somewhere to land. Finish this cookbook.”
“Well, I’m glad to hear it. There’s a cherry walnut cake for dessert but I’m pretty full,” she said, voice lazy as she leaned against the cushions.
“We should do something else until we digest dinner.” He took her hand, threading his fingers with hers and tugged her toward him. “I can think of a few ways to spend some time.”
“Yeah? I think maybe we have some of the same ideas on that.”
“Let’s compare notes.”
Before he knew it she was on his lap. And like he’d figured, she fit him.
Perfectly.
“Let me know when I get too heavy,” she said, her lips so close to his, the heat of her made him a little light-headed.
“When that happens, I’ll get on top. I like being on top.”
With a laugh, she nipped his bottom lip, tugging it sharply. “I’m not surprised by that.”
Look for WHISKEY SHARP: TORN
by Lauren Dane
Spring 2018
wherever HQN books are sold
Copyright © 2018 by Lauren Dane
Keep reading for an excerpt from WHISKEY SHARP: JAGGED by Lauren Dane.