by MJ Fields
“Nikki. Fuuuuuuuck, Nikki….”
The pleasure hits me so hard. I have no choice but to scream. His own release follows right behind mine, but I can barely understand a word out of his perfect mouth. We slide to the floor together, wrapped up in each other’s sweaty limbs. I’m unsure where I end, and he begins. “Wow,” I exhale, my hair sticking to my forehead.
The sound of applause is unmistakable, hooting and hollering coming from the bar. I hide beneath his arm, my face and entire body on fire.
He laughs, nuzzling my neck. “We gave ‘em a good show, huh?”
I swat him away, embarrassed tears welling into my eyes. “You could have shut the damn door.”
“Hate to break it to you, but door open or closed, they would have heard.”
“Not necessarily.” I sit up, refusing to look at Raff as I grab my underwear and put them back on. I ignore the fact that my inner thighs are soaked from my mind-blowing orgasm and try to pull up my ripped dress.
“Nikki.” He shakes his head, pulling me to him.
I push away from him. “No. How am I supposed to leave? I’m mortified. What if my aunt and uncle hear about this?”
“We’re in a relationship.”
“They’ll think I’m a slut,” I say, grabbing my clothes.
He grabs me and spins me around so I’m facing him.
“I can’t understand how a woman as beautiful, funny, and intelligent as you could ever call herself something so negative. We’ve just confirmed the town’s suspicions that we’re intimate. But frankly, who gives a shit? We’re consenting adults.”
His words warm me, but I still feel...well, I’m not even sure exactly what I feel. But it’s not good. “I like my privacy. This is a small town, and I don’t need gossip. What if this thing between us doesn’t work out? What if we wind up breaking up, or if you leave me, and then I’ll be left as the town’s laughing stock?”
He puts his hands on the sides of my face, looking deeply into my eyes, but I can’t let him speak. I’m not done yet. The way I’m feeling is finally surfacing, and there is no place for it to go but out.
“Breaking up with Townes felt like I’d lost my identity. We broke up, and I was left with nothing other than the clothes I packed. I felt like I lost my entire life...my work, my friends...I thought it was all real and lasting, but it turned out to be nothing but fluff. I can’t go through that again.” I have the decency to drop my face.
Mentioning Townes post-orgasmic bliss isn’t ideal. I thought that I was over that heartbreak, but it turns out it’s still a thorn. I don’t miss him, but the pain of how things went down is still there.
He presses his lips together, wrapping his heavy hand around the back of my neck. “Don’t be afraid, Nikki. Nothing in this life is ever certain. But I can feel it in my bones that we have something real between us. From the first moment I saw you smile, it reached me in a way nothing has in a long, long time. We are taking this slow, as you asked. But I’m in it to win it.”
I smile at his cheesy line, my heart thawing. In a tone as though I’m reading a children’s poem, I tell him, “Slow and steady wins the race—”
“Oh, no.” He laughs. “That just isn’t true. Everyone knows the tortoise should have lost.”
I sigh as I gaze up at him, the tension ebbing, my heart once again warming.
I’m falling, and I will not let Townes failing to be the reason I don’t allow myself to continue doing just that.
Falling.
He sees it in me too, his eyes becoming heated again. A low growl vibrates in his chest as he takes my face in his hands and kisses my forehead with reverence and restraint.
It has been years since someone, anyone, has shown me this kind of care. It’s been years since someone else has put my feelings, ones I didn’t even know I had needed, before their own.
My stomach fills with butterflies. I wrap my arms around his neck, wanting to cry and jump for joy all at the same time. “We may as well just go downstairs and get it over with, right?”
He gives me a wink. “Let’s do this.”
He takes my hand, and I know we’re in this together. There are details to be discussed, but I have faith we’ll figure them out.
Faith I’d not realized until this moment that I’d lost twice before and thought I’d never get back again.
He grabs my weekender that slid down his arm when he dropped to his knees, and we move to his bedroom quickly.
He slides on a pair of light wash jeans and a white long sleeve T-shirt that hugs his lean muscular physique, making his body look almost as sexy as it does naked.
Almost.
I have to turn around to try to focus on getting dressed. I grab a pair of boyfriend-style L’Agence jeans and a cropped black T-shirt out of my bag, and his large, strong, and very capable hands grip my hips. I pause briefly, hoping maybe he’s changed his mind and would rather get naked and sweaty with me again, or rather, he gets sweaty. The truth is, I have yet to do much besides lie there and enjoy every damn thing he does to my body.
Muttering something of a string of curses under his breath, he releases me and steps back.
Walking out the door, still grumbling to himself, I can’t help but laugh inside as he heads down the stairs so I can get dressed.
Once finished, I make my way down and see him drinking a large glass of water. Another glass gets pushed toward me.
After we both drink our fill, he takes my hand. “Ready?”
I exhale. “Let’s do it.”
When we walk out of his office and into the bar, it only takes a minute for the patrons to go silent. It feels as though all of Holiday Springs is staring at us, almost hesitantly. Even Dana, the bartender freezes, two overflowing beer mugs in her hands. That’s when Raff lifts my arm. “Finally got the girl!” he jokes loudly, and the whole place erupts in laughter, claps, and whistles.
And that’s that!
Awkwardness now broken, we sit together at one of the round booths, the bartender brings over two bottles of Blue Moon, and we tap them together, both smiling.
“To us.” He winks.
My mind is fighting less with wonder of where this will go, but my heart, well, the heart wants what the heart wants. “To us.”
Before heading back to my family’s home to talk to my aunt and uncle, Nellie and I meet at Maybell’s restaurant to discuss the finances of the Sweet Spot.
“I’m impressed.”
She pushes the blue binder across the corner table. “Don’t be impressed. It’s not good.”
Although Nellie and I have gotten off on the wrong foot, and the ground is still a bit shaky, I hate the defeated tone in her voice.
Opening the file, I assure her, “Together, we can work through whatever it.” I pause when I see just how tight the profit and loss is for just this month. Every penny that comes in is going out and the only person on the books right now that’s being paid minimum wage is me. My aunt, uncle, and Nellie all draw a salary that doesn’t even equal that.
“Told you,” she says before taking a sip of her coffee.
“We’re in the red, obviously.” I flip back, looking at the previous months until I get to a year ago, November. “But the good news is, you’ve profited enough from October to January, allowing the shop to stay afloat.”
“We’re not staying afloat, Nikki. I’m treading water. So, for the love of God, stop smiling.”
“I know you’re tired.” I don’t add that it’s obviously got something to do with her shitty attitude and behavior since I’ve been back. I can almost see why now. Almost. “And you’re going to be even more so over the holidays and for the next few months while we come up with a plan to make each red month turn black.” I close the book. “So, tell me, if you could do anything you wanted to do, Nellie Winterfield, what would you be doing?”
“If I didn’t love what I was doing, love the shop, I wouldn’t be doing it. I just wish I could be doing it with more help.”
; I hold up my cup and blow the steam off of it, then take a sip. “Then we bust our asses to make it happen, and we do it singing Christmas carols the entire time, just like your parents do.”
“Sounds like a great plan, but you have a big new fancy job starting soon. So I’ll spend from five in the morning until eight when we open prepping, eight until two working the counter, which is what you’re covering, and then come back from two until close, I’ll be—”
“We hire someone from two until close.”
“Great, I’ll be training someone who won’t want to stick around once the holidays start and—”
“We pay above minimum wage, we treat them like family, Nellie, and we—”
“Again, your enthusiasm is cute and all, but stop with the we, would you?” she huffs.
“This week, we find someone, and I will help train them, so you can—”
She motions toward the file. “We can’t afford it, Nikki.”
“We can, Nellie because I won’t be drawing a paycheck, and I’ll be able to pay whoever works those four hours a day, so you can breathe, and your parents can, too.”
“They would never ask you—”
“I don’t have a choice.”
“You don’t have to do that, Nikki.” The hope in her eyes? It shines.
“We’re doing it. You’re going to continue sacrificing, too, for a while.” I set my cup down. “Not only improve business but make you happier?”
She’s hesitant, and I shake my head. “We’re allowed to dream bigger than this, Nellie.”
“I’m not leaving, regardless. Are you?”
I shrug and shake my head. “I don’t think I am.”
“Well, at least that’s not a yes,” she sighs.
“I promise you. We’ll get this straightened out.”
Rule Number Twenty
Always go after what you want
Raff
Sitting on the couch dog tired, I look at my phone again and check the time.
Nikki only left two hours ago, and I managed to clean the scent of our all-night fuckfest out of the flat and did so with regret. The scent and taste of that woman literally drove me mad all night and well into the morning.
Thankfully, she’s bloody insatiable, and that makes me a lucky man. But I also recognized her moving a bit slower this morning so made sure I took it easier on her before she left. Which is not easy to do when I want to crawl up inside her to figure out—aside from the obvious—what the hell it is about her that makes me lose my mind like never before.
Unfortunately, we didn’t hammer out a date when she’d be right next door, where the wall of the loft butts right up against my bedroom wall. It’s going to take every damn ounce of restraint I have not to smash my way through the wall every fucking night. But we certainly did get through outing ourselves to the town. I knew it would be fine, better than fine. It was damn good. I’m glad she knows it now, too.
I’m not going to lie to myself and pretend I’m not apprehensive about how Nellie will act when Nikki meets up with her. Nellie’s one hundred and eighty-degree turn of her treatment toward Nikki is questionable. However, Nikki pointed out that she’s known her all her life, and that there is actually a sweet side to her.
Fucking Nikki….
She’s not only sexy, but she’s also kind. And she’s not only gorgeous, but she’s bloody brilliant, too. Through internet stalking —yes, it’s come to that—I found out she not only graduated from Cornell, but she did so Magna Cum Laude.
What I didn’t find on the world wide web were photos of Nikki. All her social media pages are private. I can appreciate that, however fucked-up my need to see her ex is. To see how I measure up. And shockingly, even Townes Norming is set to private. The only pictures I see of him are in business attire, and I guess you could say he is handsome enough. Still, he looks like a fucking arrogant stiff.
“Top five.” I shake my head as I look up at the picture above the fireplace of Hope, Nathaniel, and me and laugh. “Hell, we did well at Oxford, but not that damn well.”
Is it odd that I speak to Hope like she’s still here?
“Yes, you jackass,” I answer as I know she would while standing up and tossing the phone on the couch. “You’ll always be part of me, Hope, hell, I’m pretty damn sure you’re the one who put Nikki in our path.”
I shake my head, look away from the portrait and head to the kitchen area to check on the roast I put in the oven after Nikki left.
A knock on the door has me stepping away from the oven and hoping it’s Nikki returning with her bags to move into the studio, but that’s highly doubtful since it’s only a few minutes before five, and she’s pretty adamant about meeting with Nathaniel a few times before settling in.
When I open the door, Nathaniel is smiling up at me.
“You knock at your own home now?” I ask, smiling back as I open the door wider.
Almost grinning, he says, “Aunt Faith said we wouldn’t want to interrupt you if you had friends over.”
“Faith,” I growl.
She laughs. “Well, am I right, or am I right?”
“You’re leaving me with little options.” I nod for her to come in. “I made a roast. It’s almost ready. Stay and eat with us.”
“I think I’ll pass tonight.” Faith smiles. “You two boys have a lot to discuss, I’m sure.”
Sitting next to Nathaniel on the couch watching TV, I know I’ve skirted around the issue long enough. “So—”
He erupts in excited question. “Are you dating Nikki?”
I can’t help but laugh. “How long have you been holding that in?”
“All the way through the potatoes, pork roast, and the peas,” he admits.
I laugh. “I see.”
He turns his body and looks at me. “So?”
“We went on a date.”
He shakes his head. “That’s not what I’m asking, Dad. Like, will she be coming over, or is she like the others?”
Before I even have time to think about how to reply, I answer, “She’s nothing like the others.”
He grins. “Do you lo—”
“We’re dating, Nathaniel. We’re going to take it slow.” My lie slips out all too easily. “In fact, she wants to get to know you better before we get too serious.”
“Why? She already knows me.”
“I think perhaps it’s because of how the two of you met initially.”
He rolls his eyes and waves his hand through the air dismissively. “Bygones.”
I can’t help but chuckle. What eleven-year-old uses the term bygones?
“Plus, I know Mom sent her. She was our wish for you, and furthermore—”
“I understand you feel that way, but I’d caution you not to share that with her, as she may find it a bit odd.”
He shakes his head adamantly. “No, she won’t.”
Half of me wants to tell him that he needs to dilute his personality a bit because that could definitely have her running for the hills. The other part of me wants to tell him to go balls out when they meet in a more personal setting. Let her see what she’s in for, but balls out is hardly an appropriate term to use with your eleven-year-old son.
“Dad, she won’t,” he insists.
“I know you may not remember how I treat a woman that—”
“I see how you treat Aunt Faith, every girl that works for you, and—”
“Horrible examples, Nathaniel.” I laugh.
He looks at me confused and then shrugs. “They’re women and—”
“They’re women that I have zero romantic intentions for.”
He covers his ears. “I’m too young to process all that.”
I can’t help but laugh out loud. He shakes his head, rolls his eyes, and sits back.
I really need to get him to stop reading parenting magazines, listening to Faith, and possibly stop the counseling appointments that have honestly at this point become the equivalent of allowing a three-year-old to have a pacifi
er.
He’s good. He’s better than good. He’s happy again.
“Then let me explain what that would mean at an age-appropriate level.”
“Dad,” he groans.
“When you’re dating someone, it’s to get to know them better, not just dive in headfirst into a relationship, but to take it slow.”
And I’m a fucking fraud because I dove in literally face first, then offered her a job and all but begged her to move in here, well, next door.
“Did you and Mom do it that way?”
“We did, but we were young. The more life you live, the more cautious you become.”
“Maybe that’s not a good idea. Maybe you should chuck caution in the air.”
Throw it to the wind, but whatever.
“She’s just moved back here, and she’s very busy. She’s looking for a place to live so she can move out of her family home, and she’s starting a new job next week.”
He gasps. “Then you better make a move quick, or we’ll lose her.”
“Nathaniel—”
“She can live in the drunk tank. She can—”
“Nathaniel, first she’s not leaving Holiday Springs. She’s actually going to work for uncle Beck.”
“In Vail, Dad?” He throws his hands in the air in some sort of exasperation that somewhat shocks me and worries me a bit as well.
“You do know that dating doesn’t mean marriage, correct?”
“Of course, I do.” He flops back and runs his hands through his hair.
“Then why the push?” I half-laugh at his behavior.
He pushes himself up off the sofa and looks back at me. “I’m going to take a bath.”
“Hold up.” I stand, walk around him, and feel his forehead. “Are you feeling all right?”
“Of course I am,” he sighs as he walks toward the stairs. “Maybe I’m just growing up.”
The tone, the sarcasm, Jesus Christ, I need to read those damn parenting books. And here I thought I had until he was a teenager.
