by Dani McLean
“Pushed me away because it was easier than dealing with it.”
“Yes, and I’m sorry. It’s not enough, but I want to make it up to you. What bothers me the most is that I didn’t tell you what I should have before.”
“And what is that?”
“You’re important to me. More important than the bar.”
“Sam,” I said, suddenly breathless. It felt like a question, but I had no idea what I was asking for. Just that I wanted it. I wanted this to mean what I thought it meant.
“What do you want, Tiffany? When I asked you why you didn’t take the job, you said what you wanted was here.” He continued to close the gap between us, and though my heartbeat was racing, my feet were stuck in place. “What do you want?”
My voice came out shaky. “You know what I want.”
“Tell me.” Another step closer, a dare in his eyes. Teal pools that I couldn’t look away from. I’d almost forgotten how pale the color was. A shiver ran through my body, and I ached to reach out now, feel the warmth of his chest under my hand and the strength of his heart beneath it.
He took another step forward, now within reach. Convulsively, I pressed my palms to my thighs. It was either that or touch him.
Saying nothing else, Sam stood there, solid and stubborn, waiting. And I was done. I was so over being patient. Of holding back all the things that I’d been wanting to say. Weeks. Weeks of waiting. I should have won a fucking award for all the patience I’d shown.
But even I had my limits.
My hand reached out, slipping easily into place around his neck, and something settled deep inside of me. “You. Ok, you silly, stubborn asshole. I want you. God knows why when you drive me this fucking wild.”
His lips broke into a smile. “If it helps, I’m not sure why either. I’m not—”
My hand slipped down to his chest as I cut him off, still high on the adrenaline of finally letting my feelings out. This dam had burst, and he was going to hear it, whether he liked it or not. “Not what? Enough? Perfect? Bullshit. I’m not going to say it’ll be easy, Sam. We’ll fight. We’ll need space. But for the first time in my life, I have someone I want to choose over and over again. Who takes everything I am and amplifies it. Who makes me want to learn and grow and fucking compromise. And honestly, it would be great if you felt the same, but frankly, you can’t change the way I feel. I’m going to love you no matter what. So, deal with it.”
He captured my hand where it had landed over his heart, intertwining our fingers. “Why didn’t you say anything before?”
I met his eyes, feeling laid out before him, anchored only by his grip in mine. “We both know you didn’t want to hear it.”
“When has that ever stopped you?”
With a mock scowl, I pressed our hands into his chest. “I’m trying something new. Sue me.”
Watching his smile curl wider brought a fresh wave of butterflies. “The one time you don’t speak your mind.”
“Would it have changed anything?” I asked, but we both knew the answer. When he brought our hands up to his lips, l watched transfixed, the brush of his kiss scattering a burst of electricity through my body. Every inch of my skin felt alight. It wasn’t enough. I needed more.
“Sam,” I ventured softly, my eyes glued to the deep pink of his cupid's bow as it raised off my knuckles. “You have to tell me.”
“It’s difficult for me to express my feelings.”
“Understatement of the century”
“I’m trying to tell you I’m in love with you. Do you have to interrupt?”
“Hmm. Not quite sure I caught that. Can you tell me again?”
“I don’t quite remember it now.”
“Sam,” I said impatiently, slipping my hand out from his. Incredibly, it worked. Or maybe we were both just too far gone on each other.
“I’m in love with you.”
My lips were on his before he’d finished speaking, catching him off guard, but I felt his grip close on my waist, pulling me in as I pressed closer, threading my fingers into his hair so I could deepen the kiss, hungry for him after our time apart. When I felt the tip of his tongue tease mine, I responded in kind, eagerly licking into his mouth, swallowing his soft groans as he stole the breath from my lungs.
“I’m in love with you, too,” I finally said when we parted. Giddy, a laugh bubbled up out of me, light as air. Sam rested our foreheads together. “What?”
“Are you sure? I’m not an easy person.”
He chuckled. “I know that. I’m not either.”
“Yes, but which one of us pissed Pierce off?” I punctuated my statement by tapping my finger to his collarbone.
“I think that would be both of us now.”
“Ok, I’ll give you that one.
“Any other points you want to make, or can I go back to kissing you now?”
I gave him a look. “Sam—”
He pressed his lips to my cheek, “I know what you’re going to say. And I’m, surprisingly, not going to disagree with you. Neither of us is easy. We’re probably going to be wrong or argue or get sick of each other. But we’re also going to understand each other and support each other and care for each other.”
I bit back a smile. Honestly, I’d made my mind up the minute I saw him on the other side of the door, but I really liked watching him try to convince me. I’d always enjoyed the benefit of Sam’s focus when it was directed my way, and now that I was hearing all the words I’d hoped for, I was hardly going to stop him.
“Whatever the future holds, I want to face it together.” With that, he finally opened the envelope and held out a stack of papers, eyes hopeful but unsure.
Taking them with trepidation, I felt my breath catch when I skimmed the first page. Co-ownership extended to Miss Tiffany Young … I didn’t read any further and thrust the papers back at him. “Sam, no. I can’t take this. It’s too much.”
“You wouldn’t be taking it. I’m offering.”
“This is by far the dumbest thing you’ve ever done.”
“Excuse me?”
“This?” I said, waving the papers in his face. “What made you even think I would want half of your business?”
“The two most important things in my life are you and this bar. What is so wrong about me wanting to combine them?”
I dropped my forehead to his shoulder with a groan. What a sweet, irrational, irresistible man. “This is your idea of a big romantic gesture, isn’t it? Gifting me half of a bar that I don’t want.” Lifting my head, I let the papers flutter to the floor.
Sam’s hands, those warm, soft fingers that I’d become so familiar with, cupped my face. “Everything that I want, I want with you.”
“Dammit, Sam. You can’t just say shit like that.”
“Why not?”
“Because it makes it hard to say no to you.”
“Then don’t say no.”
“You’re impossible.”
“I know. I think it’s what makes us perfect for each other.”
“Sam,” I groaned, but he only smiled wider. He knew he was getting to me, picking away at my resistance. “There’s so much to work through. Talk about. We shouldn’t rush into this.”
This, finally, stopped him. “I don’t think I ever imagined hearing those words from you.”
“Trust me, I know. But it’s your fault for teaching it to me.”
“You’re right. We should talk. We can talk all night if you want. I’m not going anywhere. But you’re not going to change my mind on this. I want this, and I want you. And if you feel the same way, I don’t know why we would let anything stop us.”
“You’re starting to sound like me.”
“We make a good team.”
I looked at the paperwork again. Noticed the name. “Your Bar?”
He shrugged. “I know it’s a bit on the nose, but ... I like it. Like a mission statement. I want people to know that this is for them, a place of community, of enjoyment. It’s not going
to be like ‘nothing they’ve ever seen before’, but it’ll be a comfort, a home, a common ground where all are welcome.”
“You’re such a sap,” I said fondly. “But it’s a good name.”
“The second choice was ‘complete fool’, but I thought that might sound too self-referential.”
I barked out a surprised laugh. “No, for that to be true, you’d have to call it stubborn bastard.”
“I deserve that.”
“Yes, you do.”
My eyes skimmed over the words. I was in awe of what I was holding in my hands. At how monumental this gesture was. Just the thought of it, of what Sam was saying with it, overwhelmed me. I didn’t need it. I didn’t need anything but him, but I was tempted. I just needed time.
Catching his eye, I passed the papers back to him, pressing through when I saw the disappointment show on his face. “I’m not saying no, but I need to think about it.”
He swallowed, nodded slowly. “Okay. Anything you need.”
Once he’d taken back the contract, I stepped closer, tentatively reaching up to caress his cheek. “As for us, there’s no question for me. I’m all in if you are.”
“Without question,” he said, turning his head to kiss the palm of my hand. “I love you.”
I pulled at the collar of his shirt, tugging him closer, speaking against his lips. “You love me.”
Our smiles met, making hard work of our kisses, but neither of us caring. “More than you know.”
“Oh, I’d say I’ve got a pretty good idea. But how about you show me.” I hauled him towards me, walking us backward to my bedroom. “And don’t spare a single detail.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it.”
Epilogue
Tiff
I didn’t sign the papers in the end. Not when I knew how much it meant to Sam to have something of his own. We were currently discussing opening a second bar, something we both had a stake in, and I was excited about that. Excited for all the possibilities of our future together.
We made a great team, something I delighted in reminding Sam at every given opportunity. He usually responded by sending me another five links discussing algorithms and analytics. I typically sent them back explaining in explicit detail what he would get if he read them and gave me the cliff notes instead. It worked about fifty percent of the time. The other half, he would bring me food (a proper meal, Tiffany) or a coffee with a promise of his own if and when I read them. I’d never had so much fun learning about statistics and growth ratios.
Outside of the channel, which was growing slowly, I’d started guest bartending at various bars around town, working with Audrey and Quinn to stage themed events which gave me the opportunity to craft unique one-off recipes. It had started small, but we were now consistently selling out, and I’d found my subscriber count rising as a result.
As for the channel, it probably helped that Wes, Liv, and Jackson had all volunteered to be taste testers on an episode series I had started, where I trialed new recipes on unsuspecting guests. Between sponsors, Patreon, and my bartending side gig, I was comfortable.
Above all else, I loved all the time I got with Sam. After a few weeks of commuting back and forth (and some persuasive arguments on my side), I moved into his apartment. Of course, he’d been very gracious about it, saying, “If that’s not something you want, if you don’t want to give up the freedom of your own space, I’ll respect that.” He then offered to move into my place instead.
Of course, I’d told him, “And make you trek across town every day for work? Sam, you’re the smartest person I know, but sometimes you’re a real dumbass. I want to be with you. Now, shut up and help me pack.”
Moving my things in hadn’t taken longer than a weekend (with some help), and I’d since turned the spare room in his apartment into a recording studio, and he would migrate downstairs to his office while I filmed or edited.
As for the bar, it was doing better than ever. Sam had expanded on my original idea and actually improved it (because, of course, he did). Using one of the recipes we’d created, he went to work with Audrey and one of her local suppliers to collaborate on “at-home cocktails,” which let people purchase online a pre-mix of cocktail ingredients and the steps to make it at home. He’d even gone as far as sending free packs to a handful of online creators, some of whom loved the idea so much, he barely had to do a thing to promote it—it was spreading like wildfire.
But the best part was that the profits finally paid the way for his renovations, and now Your Bar was the sexiest damn drinking spot in town. I was not biased in the least about this.
We co-existed very well with my work and his work, living in parallel, and always choosing each other.
Sam, for his part, was getting better at taking my suggestions (though I still hadn’t convinced him about the saffron).
Of course, some things didn’t change at all.
“Would you like a coffee?”
Sam’s voice carried through from the living room, and I paused the video I was editing to answer him. “Do you mean now or in five minutes when you remember you haven’t made them?”
I heard him chuckle from the other room. “Now.”
“Then, yes.” Stretching, I ignored the mewl of protest from Luna, who had staked her claim on my lap. My back ached from at least two hours of editing, and while I hated to evict Luna from her cozy perch, I needed a break. Besides, I could picture Sam out there, hair rumpled from running his hand through it, probably wearing those glasses that made me want to jump him.
Fuck, had it already been a few hours since I’d kissed him? That absolutely needed to be remedied ASAP.
But first, coffee.
Six minutes later, Sam was so engrossed in his reading that I was certain he hadn’t noticed the fact that I’d been standing in the kitchen, waiting for the coffee to brew but mostly watching him. The late afternoon light streaked through the window, adding a warm honey glow to his skin, catching on the soft whiskers of his beard and the unkempt ends of his hair.
Everything about him, from his gray sweater to his bare feet, looked relaxed and inviting. Sometimes, like now, I would catch myself lost in the wonder of him, of how much I loved him, completely in awe of how fucking happy we were.
It wasn’t always easy, but it was always worth it.
Cup in hand, I finally made my way over to the couch, leaning over his shoulder to get a look at what had kept his attention all this time. “Actually, that study was disproven already. It’s only twenty-five percent.”
Sam startled at my presence. Fuck, he was adorable. “Huh?” He turned back to his screen, then did a double-take at the cup in my hands. “Shit, I’m sorry. I completely forgot.”
I smirked, “It’s ok.” After another sip, I reached forward, tapping the screen of his laptop. “And this is just flat out wrong. What are you even reading this for?”
“Research,” he replied, not taking his eyes off of me. I kept my eyes on the screen. “Did you make me a coffee?”
“Of course,” I said, offhand, enjoying a long, drawn-out pull. “I’m drinking it.”
When he reached for it, I considered moving it out of reach, but even I wasn’t that cruel. However, he surprised me, taking it and his laptop and placing both on the coffee table before him, then laying his glasses on top before turning back to me and pulling me down into a kiss, the momentum carrying me over the side and on top of him. One of my favorite places to be.
“That coffee is going to go cold.”
He kissed me again. “I don’t care.”
It was dark outside when my phone rang, and I debated ignoring it (I was busy, after all), but a devilish idea seized me, and I rose off of Sam to answer it, chuckling at his protesting groan.
“Hi, Auds, can’t really talk right now. We’re a little tied up.”
Sam groaned again, pulling against the bindings on his wrists, the wooden slats of the headboard creaking under the familiar pressure.
“Do
I even want to know?” Audrey asked.
“Probably not. What’s up?”
“I was just making sure that you two were coming because we’re all waiting outside.”
I watched my fingernails trail over Sam’s flat chest, saw him biting his lip as they caught on a dark nipple. “Oh, we’re definitely coming.”
“Tiffany,” Sam growled.
I chuckled, enjoying myself way too much.
Audrey cleared her throat, embarrassed. “You know what? We’re all gonna get a drink down the street. Call me when you’re done with … whatever you’re doing.”
Tossing the phone away after she’d hung up, I looked down at the incredibly sexy man under me. “Hmm …” I reached up to pinch Sam’s nipple, then followed the move with my teeth and tongue because I adored the feel of him arching against my lips. “The way I see it,” I purred, lapping at the salt of his skin. “You have two choices. Come now, or wait until later.”
“I can wait, but I don’t think you can,” he said, his voice rough.
“Oh, really? Because I think,” I said, using my thighs to slowly lift myself until just the tip of his cock was inside me, then holding myself there, “I think you’re close. I bet I can last longer than you.”
“You like losing, then.” Each word was strained, and he pressed against the mattress, raising his hips in an attempt to get deeper, but I simply moved with him. He sagged back, moaning in frustration. Damn, he looked good like this.
“You seem to be struggling with something. I could help with that. If you wanted me to.” My thighs were burning in this position, but I held firm, squeezing my pelvis around him, little pulses to tease and torment.
