NEVER KISS A STRANGER

by Chance, Logan

  I step closer, my heart slamming against my ribcage. “Do you really?” If she tells me she loves him, and I believe her, I’ll step away and never question her again.

  “Of course, I do. I’m getting married to him. And you’re going to be the best man.” She pokes a finger in my chest, her eyes wide. “You can’t ask me questions like that.” She rushes back inside.

  Fuck. Why did I cross the line and question her about Henry? I want to go after her and apologize, but I know I can’t do that with everyone at the table. I need to get her alone, for like five minutes so I can apologize.

  Guess I’ll be eating cake tomorrow.

  * * *

  Who is the person that decided to have cake at a wedding? I want to personally shake that man or woman’s hand. Because cake tasting is fucking incredible.

  What’s not incredible is the awkwardness that’s settled between Kiki and myself as we sample different kinds of cake. She hasn’t looked me in the eyes since we got here over twenty minutes ago.

  Last night, the rest of dinner I stayed silent, only answering questions when asked. I tried not to rock the boat, as they’d call it. I didn’t need Henry and Kiki to know the inner workings of my broken family tree.

  Or worse yet, the inner thoughts I’ve been having about Kiki.

  But, that all ends today. I’m here for the cake, nothing else.

  Swear.

  The sales lady drones on and on about the different kinds of cake we’re eating, and I kind of wish she’d just go away so I could start my apology.

  “And this last one is red velvet, which most don’t do for a spring wedding. That’s when the two of you are getting married, right? Spring?” The older lady clasps her plump hands together over her heart as she stares at the two of us.

  “We’re not getting married,” Kiki rushes out. “He’s the best man.”

  “Yeah, I’m just helping out.”

  The woman’s head snaps back, like she just made the biggest faux pas in history. “I’m so sorry. But,” she smiles at me, “lucky you, right?”

  I hold up my fork with the velvet cake on the end of it. “Yep, lucky me.”

  When she finally walks away, I turn to Kiki. “Listen, I wanted to apologize about last night. I shouldn’t have questioned you about Henry.”

  Kiki sets her fork down. “It’s ok. Maybe it is all too soon. I don’t know.”

  I swipe a strand of her brown hair behind her ear. “No, you love him. Don’t let me make you think you don’t. I was wrong.”

  So totally fucking wrong.

  “But, do I love him?”

  God, I want to kiss her again. Is it so wrong that I want to? My heart pounds in frustration at the thought that I can not kiss her. Although, I can’t remove my hand from her hair. “You do.”

  “Do I?” Her eyes search mine, as if I’m going to give her the correct answer.

  I’m not. I don’t even remember what we’re talking about. All I can remember is this is so utterly wrong. “Kiki…” I pause, because I should fucking stand up and walk right out of this heavenly little cake shop, but come on, you know I can’t do that.

  This girl holds some sort of spell over me, making me unable to move. I’m completely frozen.

  “What?” she whispers back. Her voice sounds like sex. Like she wants it more than I do, which is physically impossible.

  Keep it together, Ellis. Keep your fucking shit together. “Yes, you love him.” That was by far one of the hardest things I’ve ever said to anyone.

  She nods her head, and I drop my hand. “Right, of course.” But she doesn’t look so confident from my words. Hell, even I’m not sure if she loves the guy.

  “How long have you two been together?” I ask her, right before taking a bite of the red velvet.

  “A little over a month.”

  I nearly choke on the cake.

  I was not expecting that. I figured at least six months.

  Although, if I met a girl like Kiki, I’d put a ring on her finger before anyone else could too.

  I glance at her diamond, and her eyes follow my path. “I can’t stop thinking about poop when I stare at it,” she says. I laugh. “I feel like I’ve washed it so many times. Did I tell you the goat that swallowed it even looked like Henry?”

  I laugh again. “He looked like Henry?”

  “Yes, I took a picture.” She pulls out her phone and taps at the screen and then thrusts it into my face.

  A little goat smiles for the camera. “Great picture.” I study it, a little closer this time, and fuck, she’s right. “He may resemble Henry a little.” I can’t agree with her and tell her she’s marrying a guy who looks like a goat. “But, it isn’t an exact replica.”

  She takes her phone back and plops it into her handbag. “Well, I didn’t say he was an exact replica. I, well...never mind.”

  Oh, I need to know the rest of her sentence. “What?”

  She shakes her head, grabbing her fork and piercing the cake with it. “I can’t. It’s too mean.”

  She’s piqued my interest. “You know I can keep a secret.” Obviously. I’ve never told anyone I’ve kissed her. Well, except my brother, but he doesn’t count.

  “Promise you won’t tell Henry?”

  I cross my fingers over my chest. “Yes.”

  “Well, every time I look at Henry…” she sighs, “now, all I see is the goat.”

  This is bad. This is way worse than what I thought she was going to say. “I’m sure that will go away with time.”

  “What if it doesn’t?”

  “It will.”

  “But, what if it doesn’t.”

  I can’t not let her marry Henry because he resembles a goat who ate her ring. Seriously, I can’t make this shit up. But, it still doesn’t change the fact I can’t be the one held responsible for breaking up this wedding. Even if I’ve tasted the bride's lips and can’t forget the sweet flavor.

  I need to find some faults in this woman, and right now I can’t find a single one. I don’t like to say things are perfect, because I feel like that’s just asking for something to go wrong, but she makes me almost believe in perfection.

  But, I can’t think this way. “Kiki, you’re getting cold feet. It’ll go away. Henry is a person, not a goat.” I can’t believe I’m actually having this conversation.

  “What if it doesn’t?”

  She looks so distraught, I want to make it all better. “I promise you, baby, it’ll go away.” And that baby was just a figure of speech.

  Her eyes widen. “You shouldn’t call me things like that.”

  “I know.” My heart bashes inside my chest, making my breathing erratic. “I know, Kiki.”

  Silent, we stare at each other. I should look away, but I can’t. Her caramel-colored eyes call to me, like a siren calling to a long, lost ship.

  And then I do stand. “I forgot, I’ve got to meet my brother at the brewery.”

  But, like she doesn’t want this moment to end, she stands too. “Brewery?”

  “It’s my family’s brewery. It’s not too far from here.” And then I say something I’ll most likely regret, “Want to come?”

  She smiles. “I’d love to.”

  TEN

  Kiki

  Never waste a beer…

  Confession: I’m a beer girl. I’m realizing in the whirlwind romance that took place with Henry, I somehow forgot that. Maybe because the fancy places he frequents would probably frown upon me ordering a beer.

  I order the vanilla cake with buttercream frosting before we leave, and then we make our way to the Bearded Goat Brewery a few blocks over. A thought hits me on the way over about Ellis saying he’s more of a beer guy. This is what he meant.

  “I can’t believe you own this,” I say, as we enter the iconic brewpub.

  “My father started this brewery, and now my brother and I run it.”

  “That’s so interesting. Can I tell you a secret?”

  “You don’t like beer?” He
smiles.

  I shake my head. “I don’t. I love it. Your I’d Tap That double IPA is my favorite”

  He gives me a lop-sided grin and grabs my hand, sliding our palms together. “Let me show you around.”

  My hand feels tiny in his—and right. I can’t tell you how confused I am about everything. The cake tasting made me a million times more confused about my life. I thought I always wanted to get married. And that’s still a dream. One day, I do want to be married with some kids and such but being around Ellis makes me think maybe marriage is too big of a step for me. Maybe I should date more people. People like him, preferably. Ugh, I did not just think that. But what would a date with him be like?

  Is it bad that I kind of want to find out? Yes, yes, it’s very bad. Got it. I promise, I won’t think that thought again.

  He shows me all the cool things about this place, and trust me, it is very cool. I mean, the way the machines pump liquid gold really gets my adrenaline flowing. Or maybe it’s the way Ellis leans against the stainless-steel tank, arms crossed, and green eyes stuck to me.

  “This is where the magic happens,” he says.

  “How exactly do you make beer?”

  “Well, it starts with barley. We use a mixture of barley and wheat and then throw a little oat into the mix. Shh, old family secret.”

  “My lips are sealed.”

  “Then we add hot water over here.” He shows me the machine where it all begins. “It’s almost like porridge.” His knowledge makes him more attractive. He’s not just a pretty face, dammit. “Once the mash is at the right temperature the sugar is extracted. Then from there we add hops and there’s a little more to it, but that’s the gist of it all.”

  “Very impressive.”

  For the next thirty minutes, he leads me around, explaining all the different types of hops and beers they make.

  “So, that’s the whole place. There will be a quiz to see if you were paying attention,” he jokes.

  At least I think he’s joking, until he continues, “What’s the name of this tank?” He thumbs over his shoulder.

  “Bob?” I guess.

  He laughs. “Someone wasn’t paying attention.”

  He slips his hands into his pockets, and how can you pay attention to someone when all you can think about is that same person putting their hands all over you? Hard to do, huh?

  Well, that’s me. My whole brain is all disjointed, and all the normal thoughts I should be having about boilers, kettles, and kegs are replaced with sexy images of Ellis while he pours beer over me and his tongue drags down my neck, licking it off.

  “Sure, I was,” I pipe out.

  “We also have a little pub around front. Want a drink?”

  “Yes,” I say, a bit too eager. “I could really use one.”

  He leads me back through a door and down a narrow hallway. “What do you think of the place?”

  “I love it.”

  He opens another door and leads me into a dimly lit pub with a few people drinking at the bar.

  When I turn to head in the direction of the bartender, Ellis touches the small of my back, gently, and leads me toward a secluded booth in the back.

  With sweaty palms and a racing heart, I slide into the padded leather bench seat. “It’s really nice here.”

  “Let me get you a beer. I have one I think you’ll love.”

  He heads toward the bar, and moments later returns with two foaming mugs of beer. My mouth waters as he places one in front of me.

  “It’s a tropical pale ale. Similar to the I’d Tap That, but it has passion fruit and grapefruit peel with an earthy kick to make it melt in your mouth.”

  I take a sip, savoring it. “Ah, this is amazing.”

  “It’s all in the hops,” he says with a wink. “It’s called Luau.”

  “It’s delicious.” He sits across from me. “Why don’t you work here?” I’m guessing it has to do with his father, but I want to know more. I want to know it all.

  “I run the packaging and distribution in Atlanta.”

  “And you love it?” I sound like a twitterpated school girl.

  He takes a swig. “I’ve been making beer before I was old enough to drink it. My father used to bring me and my brother here when we were kids, and we’d watch him.” He looks out at the large space. “Of course, back then, this place was a lot smaller.”

  “Your dad did good.”

  “Back then, my father was such a hard worker. He loved the business and everything about it.” He takes a drink. “And we idolized him.”

  “I’m sorry it all changed.”

  “It’s fine.” He shrugs it off, like a coat that’s not needed. “So, this is the dream my father built.”

  “Is it your dream?”

  His beer halts on the way back to his perfect mouth. “What do you mean?”

  “Well,” I take another sip of liquid courage before continuing, “your father started this place. Is it something you want?”

  His brows rise, and I may be overstepping my place here. “Damn,” he murmurs, “no one's ever asked me what I want before.” He leans in. “It’s probably not a good idea to tell you the answer.”

  “What do you want, Ellis?” I press, my voice dropping a few octaves—not of my own volition. It’s the beer's fault.

  He doesn’t answer, but the flames of desire climb to a cataclysmic level inside me. I can’t break away from his gaze.

  “You,” he finally breathes out.

  My thighs clench together as if they can stop what’s happening. I am irrefutably turned on.

  By another man.

  I drain the rest of my beer, so I can keep my mouth busy and stall a bit before responding. It is so, so wrong that I liked hearing him say he wants me. Even though it can never go anywhere. “You can’t say things like that to me, Ellis.”

  He trails a finger against the lacquered wood of the table. “I know. I just can’t seem to help myself.”

  “Well, try,” I half-ass say, because I’m sure failing at it. “Henry is your friend.”

  He scrubs a hand down his jaw. “Maybe we should call this a day.”

  I force myself to stand. “I think we should. Thank you for everything today.” Even though no part of me wants to leave right now, I urge my feet to move. “I’ll see you.”

  I need to get home, where I can relax and think.

  I need a bath.

  I need a cigarette. Just kidding, I don’t smoke, but if I did, I’d probably smoke a whole pack right now.

  I just need an escape.

  I walk away, not even waiting for his goodbye.

  * * *

  My hot bath is not helping me get rid of this tension coiling my muscles into pretzels. Bubbles are bubbling all around me, and I’ve even lit a few lavender scented candles, but I’m unable to relax.

  No matter what I do, I can’t get Ellis’ hooded green eyes out of my mind. The way he stared at me, shooting flames of heat in my direction when he whispered, ‘you.’

  It sends chills skating all over my heated skin every time I think about it. I shouldn’t be engaged.

  I was so sure about everything when Henry asked me to marry him, but now I’m not so sure about anything anymore. What’s wrong with me?

  Halp. I’m falling for the best man in my wedding.

  I sink under the water, letting the silence encase me, thinking about everything I want in my life. What do I want?

  Expanding my business.

  Happiness.

  Ellis.

  Pure and simple. That’s about as long as I can hold my breath, so I emerge from the water, like a phoenix ready to be born again. Like a woman with a purpose.

  “Kiki, are you home?” Henry’s voice calls from the front door. I jump, sloshing water onto the tile. “I used the key,” he says.

  I grab the plush white towel from the railing and hit the lever to drain the water. My heart beat hammers away inside me, giving me new courage to face the things that will b
e most troubling.

  Like facing Henry.

  “I’m just in the tub. I’ll be out in a minute.”

  After a quick dry of my hair, I dress in blue-pajama pants and a black tee. It feels like an elephant is standing on my chest. I can barely breathe, but I have to do this. There’s no way I can continue to plan a wedding if I’m not sure I even want to get married. When he asked, I definitely wanted to, but now I know I don’t.

  Why is life so hard?

  I wish I was a dog.

  Life is so easy for them. Look at Georgia. She didn’t care if she married Ace or not. It’s hard being a human. There’s just something inside me that won’t let me go through with the wedding. Is it because of Ellis?

  I don’t know.

  But, what I do know is I’m not calling off my wedding for Ellis. I still have no intentions of dating him. I mean, what would be the point? His life is in Atlanta, and mine is here in Florida. Sometimes, they say people are brought into your life to help you find your way.

  And I think that’s all Ellis is for me.

  A compass.

  One thing I know for certain—I can’t go through with this wedding. Ellis or not.

  Henry isn’t the one. I don’t love him.

  I take a deep breath, knowing I’m doing the right thing.

  “Henry,” I call out, padding down the hallway. “We need to talk.”

  I find him in the living room, sitting on my couch, one arm resting along the top. He flips through the channels on my TV. “What’s up?” he asks, raising a brow.

  I sit next to him. “Henry, you’re a great guy,” I say softly, as if that will somehow keep him from shattering like thin crystal from the heavy blow that’s coming. “When you asked me to marry you, I was thrilled. I thought it was everything I’d ever wanted. I believed you and I could be happy. That I could make you happy.” I pause, clutching his hand in mine. “But, I don’t think I can make you happy, Henry.”

  “Wait.” He lets go of my hand, so he can run it over his goatee. “What are you saying here?” His eyes grow wide, like he’s just figured out exactly what I’m saying. “Are you breaking up with me?”