I royally fucked up.
Or so I thought.
It wouldn’t be the first time that I’d let my big mouth get me in trouble. But it would be the first time that I’d screwed up something so fucking big that I wasn’t sure I’d recover from it.
After Grace had stormed out, I’d stood rooted in place, paralyzed with fear that I wouldn’t see her again, that I wouldn’t have the chance to apologize, to take back what I’d said.
I knew that I was more than just a summer romance to her. I could see it in her eyes, the way she felt about me. I knew that it was probably the same way I was feeling about her.
But fuck if I couldn’t get over the shit her grandmother had said to me. And instead of chalking it up to a case of dementia, I’d let it fester, let the words worm their way into my head.
So when she’d shown up, after I’d had a few drinks and a couple hours to feel sorry for myself, the words had flown out of my mouth.
And then she’d walked away, and I’d been devastated.
But then she’d come back.
Like a bat out of hell, she’d come back.
And damn if she hadn’t said all the right things.
It wasn’t the story that she told though. No, it was the parting shot she’d tried to leave me with, calling me out on my ridiculous pity party.
That was the kick in the ass that I needed.
She was the kick in the ass that I needed.
Grace fucking Monroe was a force to be reckoned with. Even after the traumatic day she’d had, and then the shitty way I’d treated her, she’d stood strong and given me the what for that I deserved. She hadn’t run away and cried over her broken heart. She hadn’t let me ruin things between us. No, she’d told me to man the fuck up.
And that was exactly what I was going to do.
“You’re pretty persuasive, you know,” she murmurs while running her fingertips along my bicep.
I chuckle, my chest rumbling. “One of my many talents.”
She pushes up on an elbow, her hair falling around her face. Her eyes are bright, and with more conviction than I feel tells me, “You are amazing.”
Uncomfortable with the praise, I try to joke, “That’s just the post-coital bliss talking.” The joke falls flat, her face unamused.
She shakes her head, her hair brushing across my bare chest. “I mean it, Bronn.”
I prop my head up with my hand. “You don’t know that.”
“Then tell me,” she says simply, her eyes challenging me.
Blowing out a breath, I concede. “Okay.”
She rests her head back on my chest, her body snuggling in even closer to mine, warmth blooming in my chest. The feeling of vulnerability that I swore I would never let myself feel should make me uncomfortable. But with Grace, it doesn’t.
I not only like it, I fucking crave it. The nights without her are long, the days even more so. Every minute that she isn’t physically by my side, my body misses hers.
My stomach is in knots, the thought of revealing the more unpleasant parts of myself to her nerve-wracking. But, I know Grace. She isn’t going to judge me. She isn’t going to be disgusted by things I’ve done. She’s only going to be understanding, her warm eyes shining with acceptance and not disgust.
I squeeze my eyes shut, pulling in a deep breath and count to ten. Opening my eyes, Grace’s beautiful face fills my vision and my stomach flips again, but not from nerves.
Fuck, this woman is beautiful.
Here goes nothing.
“I was ten when my dad was murdered.” Grace sucks in a sharp breath. Her arm flexes, squeezing me close to her. “He wasn’t the most loved man in town, that’s for sure, but he was my best friend. Hell, he wasn’t even a great father, really. He was married to Dani’s mom when he knocked mine up, so it’s not like we were ever this happy family. But that didn’t matter to me, because when you have a mother like mine, anything is better, even a dad that isn’t around that much.” My voice hitches, but I swallow hard, forcing the emotion back down.
Grace lifts her head, her soft eyes meeting mine. “You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to.” Her voice is soothing, a balm to my invisible scars.
I nod. “Yeah. I do. God knows that I’m not making excuses, but you deserve to know what makes me tick.”
Her mouth twitches as she lays her head on my chest. I keep going. “After he was killed, I stopped trying. I barely went to school, never really applied myself. And I didn’t have anyone forcing me to do it. Dani and her mom tried to encourage me, to be there for me, but I just resented them, Dani especially. She’d had my dad for thirteen years. I’d only had him part time for ten. It just wasn’t fair.” I pull my arm from under my head and shift Grace so that we are lying face to face. The sheet on the bed falls, exposing her bare breasts, and for a moment I consider cutting the story short. It’s unpleasant, the pathetic facts of my childhood. But when she makes no move to cover herself, I realize that if she’s willing to expose herself, then I should be, too.
“I carried that bitterness with me for years, into adulthood. I let it fester and grow. I went to jail a lot, over stupid stuff. Hung out with the wrong crowd, got involved with people I shouldn’t. I was pretty much the poster boy for ‘poor kid lost his dad and his mom is a crack head.’ And for a long time, I didn’t care that my life was a waste.” I run my fingertips along her arm. “But then I grew up. Decided I wanted more than the ghetto apartment I was living in with a couple of guys I barely knew. I was tired of sleeping on strangers’ couches, tired of wondering if I was going to have to sleep in my truck that night.” She pushes up on an elbow and her wide eyes meet mine. My heart pounds as I worry that I’ve said too much. Or worse, that she’ll realize that her lunatic grandmother is right. “Red, you remember him?”
She smiles and nods. “Oyster po’boy king.”
I smile back. “Yep. He hired me. No one else would let me within a hundred yards of their kitchen, but Red gave me a chance. Maybe because he and I are cut from the same cloth.”
Red’s story wasn’t much different from mine, and that was probably why I’d responded to him. I respected him because despite my history, he respected me.
“I started adding some dishes to the menu. The regulars started asking for them. Then he told me about Salty’s. The owner was shutting it down, moving south for the winter, and suggested that I buy it. Of course, I didn’t have a pot to piss in. There was no fucking way that I could buy a bar. But Dani could.”
Grace shifts and her hair falls across her face. She reaches up to move it, but I beat her to it, tucking the strands behind her ear. Her hair is soft and shiny, the shades of red subtle. In the right light, like what was filtering through my window as the sun began to rise, it shined brilliantly, almost like rubies.
“That was another reason I was so fucking pissed off at her and her mom. When my dad died, he left his money to them. I don’t think that he had a will—it wasn’t that I was intentionally left out of it. It was just that she was his wife, you know? But I’d made amends with Dani by that point. We were getting closer. I mentioned to her one night what Red said and she jumped all over it. It was less than a week later and she was signing paperwork on the bar. Dani Williams was the proud owner of Salty’s Bar and Grill. And I was the general manager.”
“I thought you owned the bar,” she asks, her brow furrowed.
I shake my head. “For all intents and purposes, it’s my bar. Dani was helping with the paperwork before she opened the coffee shop. But now, it’s all mine. I’m just not the legal owner on paper. Yet.”
“Yet?”
The process of buying a business was a lengthy one when you had the reputation that I did. With a frustrated sigh, I shrug. “People in a small town have a good memory. It’s been a pain in the ass getting the approval to buy Dani out. The bank doesn’t want to give the local fuck-up a loan, and while I can’t blame them there, it still pisses me off.”
Her face darkens and she sits up, the sheet pooling in her lap, her breasts directly in front of my face. “Well, that’s just ridiculous! If you’re profitable and your credit is good, I don’t understand why they wouldn’t approve it!”
Her outrage over my issues is cute, but I can’t stop staring at her perfect nipples that are begging me to pull them into my mouth. Leaning forward, I run my tongue along the underside of her breast, her skin breaking into goose bumps.
“Bronn! Stop.” She giggles, half-heartedly pushing my head away.
When I lick her again she purrs and I take it as permission to continue. With one swift movement, I lay her on her back, positioning her beneath me, settling my hips between hers. After the depth of our conversation, I’m desperate for a distraction, and getting inside her is exactly what I need. I press my length against her and she moans.
“Bronn, wait,” she pleads, my name rolling off her tongue, causing my erection to swell impossibly harder.
Rocking my hips back and forth, I murmur, “Whatever it is, it can wait. I need to feel you.”
Dragging my tongue along the side of her neck, I continue rubbing against her core.
“Please,” she pants. “Just let me say this one thing.”
I growl, pulling her ear lobe between my teeth. “Hurry.”
Her hands have been roaming my back, her nails occasionally scoring my flesh, but she pulls them up and grasps the sides of my head, turning it so that I’m forced to look her in the eye. When she’s convinced that she’s got my full attention, she tells me, “You’ve spent your entire life being told you aren’t good enough. But, that’s bullshit. Your mother failed you. This town failed you. But you haven’t failed you. And you are more than enough. You are fucking everything.”
Her smile is brilliant, her eyes full of emotion, and I swear to God I’ve never felt more whole. My chest swells, the validation that she’s just given me something I’ve needed to hear my entire life.
“Fuck, you’re incredible,” I whisper, still swimming in her eyes. I’m in so deep with her that I don’t think I’ll ever pull myself out, and damn if I would want to any fucking way.
“I’m done talking now,” she whispers, pulling her bottom lip in between her teeth, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears.
“Good,” I growl, entering her with one swift movement. “So am I.”