by Erin Bevan
Oh, hell. Don’t think about it.
He moved his glance away from Kit and back to Ace. “Good work today, man.” Brant stepped beside his employee, slapped Ace on the back, and walked with his bartender down the restaurant toward the door.
“Thanks, boss. Tomorrow’s going to be awesome. I can feel it.” Ace wiped his brow.
“Yeah, I hope so.” Brant stared at the man’s face, his coloring a bit ashen. “Say, Ace, you feeling okay?”
“Oh, yeah, boss. Just a bit tired is all. I’ll be good as new for tomorrow.”
Brant’s stomach plopped. Ace knew every drink on the menu better than he did. If he didn’t show up tomorrow, he’d have to step in as bartender. He’d cross that bridge when and if he had to. No sense in worrying now. “Very well.” Brant faked a smile and held the door open. “Good night, man. Get some rest.”
“Night, boss. Night, Kit,” Ace hollered over his shoulder.
“Goodnight, Ace.” Kit waved, still sitting on top of the bar.
That was a sight every man alive would want to be witness to. And his good time was about to end when he told her the truth. Damn it. Brant’s grip tightened on the door handle as he locked the door behind Ace then squared his shoulders. He could do this. She deserved the truth.
He pivoted and marched down the aisle toward her. She pulled bobby pins out of her hair then shook her head, her long locks framing her face. Holy hell. He swallowed, his spit feeling more like knives going down his throat than any kind of reprieve. All he wanted was to position himself between her thighs, not tell her something that would push her away.
No choice. He had to.
Start with your mom.
“Kit, do you mind if I share something with you?” He walked around the bar and grabbed two glasses.
She followed him with her gaze. “Sure, but first, what do you think?” She held her hands up like one of those game show beauty queens at the flower arrangement.
“Looks great. This whole place looks amazing. Your little touches really placed everything over the top.” She’d added flower arrangements, votive candles, picked a more lux linen napkin than he would have. Used every bit of her time researching the era and the feel of the bar, even offering a couple of drink and food suggestions for the kitchen staff and the bar staff. While he had provided the cake, so to speak, she had provided the icing. Just the things he needed to take his bar from good to great. His stomach churned. He should have listened to Harry, the bartender, when he had the chance. This confession was really going to suck.
Reaching for a bottle of Johnnie, he poured himself a drink. “Want one?”
“Sure.” She hopped down and sat on the barstool instead.
He poured two glasses and pushed her one, then walked around the bar and sat next to her. This scene eerily reminding him of the one two weeks ago, except this time without the tears. He preferred her this way. “Cheers.” He held up his tumbler.
“Cheers.” She clinked, and took a slow sip, her face contorting at the slow burn of the alcohol.
That slow burn proved just the thing he needed to tell his story. No time like the present. He reached for two paper coasters and handed her one. “Betsy was my mom.” He placed the disk on the bar and stared into his glass. “She was the one I got my love for history from.”
“Really.” Kit positioned her tumbler on the coaster. “You said was. I’m guessing—”
“She died seven years ago. Car accident.”
“Oh, my. I’m so sorry.” She reached out her hand and rubbed his forearm, their shoulders bumping.
His arm tingled at her touch again. Something he hadn’t felt in nearly two weeks since the last time she’d touched him. Feeling it again, he realized it was a wonder he survived this long without it. He needed the energy she provided him. The jolt she gave him. And damn it if another part of his body didn’t give a little jolt as well.
Cool it, jack ass. She’s just being nice.
“Thanks.” He glanced at her hand before he stared into her eyes.
“I’m sure you miss her.” Her voice, her features, even the way she still held him, were so full of compassion and concern. He let the feeling of her care wash over him before he moved on.
“I do. You know, it was my mom who encouraged me to follow my dreams. When I was sixteen, I didn’t have Playboys hidden under my bed like most boys.”
She cocked an eyebrow and gave him a cat-like smile.
“Okay, maybe I did. One.” He held up a finger. “But, what I would sneak up to my room to read wasn’t a dirty magazine.”
“What? Did you have a dirty movie under there too?” she teased.
“No. That I actually didn’t have, but I did have an old box of love letters.”
“Love letters.” Kit sat up straighter. “A teenage boy had love letters under his bed? Whom were you pining over?”
“Don’t act so surprised, and it wasn’t anyone I was pining over but a time.”
“What do you mean?”
“My great-grandmother was a woman of the twenties. She spent her early twenties as a flapper. She met my grandfather at a speak easy, and the rest was history, as they say. He was a solider. He went off to war, but before he did, he married my great-grandmother. She hung up her tassels for more matronly attire, and popped out a son before my great-grandfather made it back from war. During the time he was away, they wrote endless love letters to each other.
They spoke of the times they shared together, although brief, before he left. The letters covered every emotion possible: love, hope, fear, sorrow. My grandfather would write about losing a beloved friend in the war, and my grandmother would talk about life, raising their son without him, and every once in a while they would write an erotic letter to each other, but each letter they would end with I love you, my dearest. And a part of me just consumed it all. Over and over again.” He glanced over at her. She held a soft smile on her face. One, he knew any man would get lost in, and he could understand how his great-grandfather allowed a flapper in the soft lights of a bar to woo him over.
“I would think what it must have been like for them, what the town they lived in would’ve looked like, what the bars would have been like, the women, the booze. All of it. And after reading that box, multiple times, I knew history was something I wanted to major in.”
Kit placed a hand to her chest and a tear formed in her eye. “Oh my, that’s so romantic.”
“You’re not going to cry on me, are you?” He bumped her shoulder.
“I might.” Her cheeks blushed from her confession.
“Don’t cry. I hate when you cry. I just wanted you to know.” He grabbed a tissue out of a napkin dispenser and handed it to her.
“Oh.” She grabbed the tissue, then dabbed her eye. “Thank you. I’m glad you told me.”
“No problem.” He smiled at her, but instead of meeting his gaze, she stared down at her drink. He’d made her uncomfortable somehow.
Shit.
He took a swig of his Johnnie.
She balled the tissue in her hand. “I’m surprised you majored in history and not business.” She finally turned her gaze back to him, her eyes clear of tears.
“I did both. My mom, she influenced me to take on a double major. Also, while in college, I dabbled in the hobby of beer making. So this place,” Brant held out his hands and glanced around as he leaned back in his chair, “this place was all because of my mom encouraging me to do what I loved. Figuring out a way to make money at something I enjoy.”
“That’s beautiful, Brant. Your mom, she must be sitting in heaven so proud. And your dad, he’s still around, right?”
Oh, great. Here we go.
Brant brought his hands back to his glass. “Yep.” He held his drink to his lips and said, “Dad’s still around,” before he took another swig.
“Is he coming tomorrow? I would love to meet him. He must be proud, too.”
You already have.
“No.” He shook his h
ead. “He’s not coming. Funny thing, my dad and I, we aren’t on the best of speaking terms.”
“Oh.” Kit sat up straighter. “I’m sorry to hear that. May I ask why?”
“There are a couple of reasons. He, uh… he isn’t really thrilled about this adventure of mine. He always wanted a different route for me. To follow in his footsteps so to speak. And if that weren’t enough, about six months after my mom died, my dad went and married her best friend. The same woman who happened to be in the car accident with my mom.”
“Oh, Brant.” Kit held a hand over her mouth then placed both palms flat on the bar. “I’m so sorry. I can’t even imagine what that must have been like for you.”
“Yeah, well, it’s over, and they’re still married, so I suppose there must be love there. It just makes me wonder, ya know?”
“If they were doing something before your mom died?”
She did know. She understood him. “Yeah. Something like that.” He let out a breath. Now. This was his time. He’d led her up to the dad conversation. Time to tell the truth.
He opened his mouth.
“You know, if it makes you feel any better, me and my dad, we aren’t that close either.”
Shit. He’d lost his opening and now she wanted to talk about herself, and truthfully, he’d much rather listen to her talk than him. He wanted to know all about her.
“Yeah?” He raised an eyebrow. “May I ask why?” He tossed her question back at her.
“Oh, I just didn’t prove the most responsible in college. I was on the long-term plan so to speak. I changed my major a few times, joined a sorority. It was when I was in the sorority that I realized I like planning events, so I started taking some business classes. Decided that maybe one day I would open up my own party planning business or something.”
“Yeah?” He leaned back. “You’d be great at that.” But that would allow her to leave him.
“Thanks, but it turns out you need capital to start a business.”
“Yes, I’m familiar.” He nodded.
“And event coordinators aren’t in crazy high demand. I mean, every company needs one, but a lot of places pawn the tasks off on their other employees. Finally getting my foot in the door at City Hall was a dream come true. I mean, everyone in the town passes through there at some time or another. I figured it would give me a great chance to make connections. But I will say, I’m enjoying this job much better.”
His chest swelled. She liked being with him, which meant if she liked her job there would be less chance she would quit. “I’m glad to hear that, but I have to point out, there is social media. Have you thought about going that route? That’s free.”
Why in the hell I am encouraging her to leave me?
Because she needed to follow her dreams just like he did.
“True. I could set up a Facebook page or something. Start that way, and I might when the time is right. I want a little more experience first before I go solo, and unfortunately, my reputation here in Stony Brook isn’t the best right now. I hope that tomorrow I can redeem my name.”
“You will. Tomorrow is going to be fantastic. I know it.”
“Yeah, I think so, too.” Her face turned sad.
“What? What is it?”
“I am a little worried though. I know you offered me a salary position, but what’s going to happen after tomorrow?”
“After? What do you mean?”
“I mean, what’s going to happen after this event is over and you realize you don’t need me anymore?”
Damn, her features: so sad, so concerned. The same sorrow covered her face like it had their first night in Jake’s together. His heart pounded, and he now understood why he had jumped in to rescue her. He reached out and touched the delicate skin behind her ear, her hair weaving between his fingers, while a soft wave of her perfume, the one he’d learned so well in the past two weeks, lingered in the air around them, sweet and silky like her. Catching her attention and her gaze as she stared at him, he leaned closer as the words tumbled from his lips, “I’ll always need you, Kit. Always.”
He saw the breath hitch in her chest as he leaned in even closer. “Kit,” he whispered. “I’ve wanted to kiss you since the head fell off your bunny suit and I stared into your deep blue eyes. Being so close to you, and not touching you, it’s killing me.”
God, it was out there. He’d admitted his feelings. If she were going to run, he hoped she did now. Before he completely lost himself in her.
“Really?” she whispered, leaning closer and placing her hands on his thighs. “Because I wanted to lick the icing off you the first time we met.”
Oh…damn.
He slid out of his chair, and in a moment, had his hands on her hips hoisting her back on the bar. Bad idea, a voice in his mind shouted as his gaze landed on the buttons of her blouse. He was only a few little snaps away from seeing what hid underneath that shirt and a few tugs away from having his way with her. Right there on his bar.
Hell.
Every one of his fantasies lay seconds away from coming true. His shaft hardened on his zipper as she ran her fingers through his hair before pulling his head toward her. Their lips met, and his tongue quickly sought entrance to her mouth.
He used his stool and climbed on top of the bar, pushing her back against the granite countertop. In one swift whoosh, he knocked their drinks out of the way, the glasses shattering on the tile below.
“Oh, those were so nice.” She panted against his skin as he reached for the buttons on her shirt.
“Not as nice as this is about to be.” His fingers shook as he unsnapped each clasp, a lacy black bra greeting him with a seductive hello. The sight was better than any fantasy he ever could have imagined, and her breasts pushed high and pert ready to be devoured. He slid on finger under a black shoulder strap, allowing his fingertip to graze her skin.
“I’ve been thinking about this for two weeks,” Kit moaned as she leaned up, allowing him to taste the nape of her neck.
Her skin felt so soft and silky as her hair flew wild over the top of the bar. He lowered his hand to her breast, taking his fill as she frantically pulled his shirt out of his pants, reaching for his belt. There was no going back. The minute she’d placed her soft blue eyes on him, a piece of him had belonged to her.
And now, on the bar top of his dream, his second fantasy became another reality.
Chapter 7
She’d done it. She’d slept with Brant. After two weeks of dancing around him, doing her best not to touch him, not to breath in the scent of his spiced aftershave every time they were near, she’d thrown all her inhibitions to the side and allowed him to devour her on the bar, and again in his bed, and again in his shower. And if that weren’t enough, they’d spent the rest of the night hanging out in front of the television, her in his old T-shirt, watching whatever stupid movie came on at two a.m. and eating leftover pizza out of his refrigerator.
Now, curled up next to him in his bed, the morning sun peeked blindingly through the bedroom blinds. “Oh, man.” Kit tossed a hand over her eyes. “What a wake-up call.”
Brant pulled her in closer, his large hand wrapped firmly around her midsection. “I know, it’s annoying, isn’t it? It’s about the only thing that’ll wake me up though.”
She scooted in closer to him. “Well, I’m not ready to wake up yet. We don’t have to be at the bar for another two hours. Let’s sleep some more.”
“Good idea.” He squeezed her closer to him, his palm pressing into her stomach as he nuzzled his mouth into her hair. The sudden pressure against her tummy had her stomach rolling. She turned slightly, causing his grip to ease. Unfortunately, the unsettling feeling still rolled. She took in a deep breath and wished the feeling away.
“I’m thinking we need to do a repeat of last night. What do you say?” Brant asked, his lips now nuzzling her neck, unaware of her stomach discomfort.
“I say.” She took in another deep breath, the feeling subsiding. That was
weird. “I think what we did in the wee hours of the morning was a bit better than last night, don’t you?” She moved her hand to his hair, pulling the brown strands upright. The spikey bed-head look he rocked was definitely one she would like to see on more than one occasion.
More than one occasion? What was she thinking?
Dread settled in her gut, sending it in another unnerving spin. What the hell had she just done? Sleeping with the boss—she was a moron who apparently wanted to lose this job, too.
“Oh, yes, especially that thing you did in the shower. I wouldn’t mind practicing that again,” Brant teased, wiggling his eyebrows. Thirty seconds ago, that would have sent her head spinning for a whole different reason. Now…
“Yeah, well, maybe on second thought…” She pushed his arms off her and sat up. “Maybe we should get ready for work. We have a big day today, and…” she shot off the bed and searched for her clothes.
“Kit?” Brant sat up, the sheets falling to his midsection showcasing a chest so sculpted even the statue of David would be jealous. “What just happened? I saw the change in your eyes.”
“Happened? Nothing happened.” She grabbed her skirt and shirt, searching the floor for her underwear as she used her other clothes to shield her. Damn, why did that sun have to be so bright? It was one thing getting naked in front of him in the complete darkness, but being naked in front of him in the day was like trying on clothes in a dressing room with florescent lighting overhead. He could see all her imperfections in one quick glance.
He got to his knees, and scooted to the end of the bed, completely, scrumptiously, butt-ass naked. The sun did nothing but help him, dammit. Her breath caught as she noticed he happened to be aroused again, and she searched the floor for the rest of her clothes instead of looking at him and at that.
She stepped to the left and he gripped her arm before pulling her closer. She closed her eyes a second, her stomach churning, still using her other clothes as a shield and a barrier between their naked bodies.
