Braxx

by Cara Bristol

  My heart swelled in my chest to see her this way—to know I brought the smile to her face. This had to be an omen from the Fates.

  “So what were you thinking?” she asked.

  “I have something important to ask you.”

  “Important, huh?” She closed her hand around my erection and pumped.

  It would be so easy to allow myself to be distracted—already my focus wavered. I covered her hand and held it still. “I do not wish merely to boink with you. I love you. There will never be another female for me. I wish for us to be together forever and always. Will you be my mate?”

  She widened her eyes in shock then sprang to a seated position. She tugged the rumpled sheet over her chest. “You took me by surprise. I wasn’t expecting—” She didn’t say no, but she was shaking her head.

  My stomach dropped to my toes, and I cursed my impetuousness. Why hadn’t I waited? Why had I assumed the union of our bodies would be enough to forge an emotional bond? What if haste had destroyed the progress I’d made? But I couldn’t withdraw the question; it hovered unanswered in the room. Nor did I really want to. I’d courted her with serious intent. It seemed disingenuous to pretend I desired anything less than a full commitment.

  “Braxx…” she said, and the flicker of yearning in her eyes gave me hope. “My situation about babies—it’s still an issue. You want kids…”

  “It’s not an issue,” I denied. Patience and kitsteps were still the best strategy. I would wait for as long as necessary. Hopefully, it wouldn’t take another year—but tremendous advances had been achieved in a month. She was naked under the sheet, and our coupling scented the air. Her lips were swollen from my kisses.

  “You say that now, but later you might feel differently.”

  “I won’t. You are my mate. Kits—no kits—nothing will change that,” I reassured her. I cupped the side of her face and stared into her eyes. “I want you. Just you.” I would wait as long as necessary.

  “We’ve only been dating for a short while.”

  “But I’ve tried to court you for a year—since I first laid eyes on you. You are the only female for me.”

  “This is crazy,” she said.

  Not crazy, right. Fated.

  “I need…more time. To consider this. It’s a big step. Mating is like marriage on your planet, right?”

  “Yes.” It was the closest approximation, although mating formed a much stronger bond than marriage. From my observation, Earth marriages afforded such weak ties; they were almost no connection at all. Couples pledged a lifetime commitment in grand public ceremonies, vowing to be together “until death do us part,” only to go their separate ways a few years, even mere months, later. Dakonians had no ceremony, only a private ritual of ask and reply, and then the union lasted for a lifetime.

  She bit her lip. “I’m not saying no, but I can’t say yes yet. I need to think about this.”

  “Take all the time you need,” I said. Patience had gotten me this far. I raised an eyebrow. “So…do you want to boink again?”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Holly

  “I can’t believe he proposed when I was hot, sweaty, and naked!” I stomped around Barb’s office. “Who does that?”

  “A Dakonian.” After stowing her purse in her desk drawer, Barb faced me, hands on her hips. Thank goodness Kord had Clemmy today so I could have her undivided attention.

  The second Barb had stepped into the restaurant and started up the stairs, I’d dashed after her. I needed to talk to somebody who would understand how crazy this was. How crazy I was. Despite my ambivalence and turmoil over getting so serious so fast, Braxx and I had spent the night testing the springs of my mattress.

  “How did he take it when you said no? I assume you said no, or the first words out of your mouth would have been, Braxx and I are mated!”

  “I didn’t say no.” I couldn’t because, as insane as it was, I yearned to be his mate so badly I ached. He was an awesome guy. Considerate, helpful, good-hearted, handsome with a rockin’ bod, and between the sheets? Be still my fluttering pussy. It was hard to believe he hadn’t done the deed before. He’d saved himself…for me. His Fated mate, if you could believe in that. It should have been nerdy or weird, but it was sweet and hot.

  I’d begun thinking about a future with him before he’d popped the question, envisioning us moving in together, maybe buying a house in the burbs, grocery shopping and cooking, sharing coffee in the morning, walking the dog we’d get, taking little weekend getaways. Doing all the normal couple things—except planning for a family. But maybe, like Barb had suggested, his work and volunteerism would fill the void.

  Except now we’d lost Anthony.

  No, stay positive. We’ll find him. We’d called this morning and left another message for Tyra.

  Barb blinked. “You said yes?”

  “No. I told him I needed time.”

  “He understands you can’t have kids, right?”

  “Yes. I informed him. Brought it up again last night. He says it doesn’t matter. He just wants me.”

  “So, what’s the hesitation?”

  “What if he changes his mind about the kids? And it’s so fast…”

  “Fast? The man’s been stalking you for a year.”

  “We’ve only been going out for a month.”

  “You’ve spoken to him every day since he started coming into the restaurant. Married couples don’t spend as much time talking as you do.”

  Except our conversations went something like:

  “Why do you keep coming here?”

  “You’re my mate.”

  “Stop saying that!”

  “So you think it would work?”

  “If you can be as happy as Kord and I are, grab him and don’t let go. You deserve a great guy who loves you. I always thought you two could have something special if you would allow it.”

  A heady excitement fueled by possibilities rose up inside. What if? What if I just went for it? Yes, I’ll be your mate. I practiced the words. My heart pounded, but I liked the way they felt, the way they sounded.

  Why wait anyway? We had only been a couple for a short time, but we had known each other for a year. There’d been a resurgence of “mail-order” brides—some women married without ever dating their spouses. Sometimes the first time they laid eyes on them was at the altar. If you looked at it that way, we weren’t rushing into it at all.

  I would love to wake up next to him every morning. To come home to him after work. To know he belonged to me, and I belonged to him. To be secure in his love and our relationship. To be his lover, his friend, his significant other, his…mate.

  I want to be his mate. There—I’d said it. To myself. Now I had to say it to him.

  My pulse raced as I gazed out the window overlooking the floor. The dinner crowd dribbled in; soon the restaurant would be bustling. We hadn’t planned anything for the evening since I had to work. Would he come for dinner as usual? I assumed he would; he hadn’t missed a night except for the short span when I’d banished him from the restaurant.

  “I’ll work the dining room tonight,” I told Barb.

  “Are you sure? It’s my night.”

  She, as owner/manager, and I, as assistant manager, alternated supervising the floor. We had a good staff, and everybody knew what needed to be done, but a visible management presence forestalled problems and made handling the ones that did arise easier. It was also good PR to stop and chat with the customers, ask them how they enjoyed their meal. Steer them away from the tofurkey—although the waitstaff was pretty good about doing that.

  “I’m sure.”

  “Gonna talk to Braxx, huh?” she asked with a sly grin.

  “You don’t need to look so smug.”

  “After all the crap you gave me about holding out on Kord?”

  I’d told a few little fibs to nudge them toward one another, and I’d participated in the secret restaura
nt staff pool to pick the date when they’d come to their senses and admit their attraction to one another, but I wouldn’t call that crap. Concern. Caring. Friendship. Besides—I’d guessed wrong on the date and didn’t win the pool.

  “I’ll tell you what crap is. Barb, you have to do something about the tofurkey.” I redirected the conversation to a business matter. “The customers don’t like it. They order it and send it back.”

  “We’ve had requests from vegans.”

  “How many vegans? Two who wandered into the restaurant by mistake? Barbecue means meat. Vegans aren’t our target market.”

  “Who says they can’t be? Maybe no one has addressed their needs. And it’s not just vegans. Vegetarians and dieters are other markets.”

  I sighed. Barb had a heart of gold and sought to please everybody, but this stubbornness and refusal to admit she’d goofed didn’t make good business. Well, she’d find out the hard way.

  “I’m going now,” I said.

  After leaving her office, I ducked into the kitchen to check on Slade, our main cook. “How long is Barb gonna keep tofurkey on the menu?” he said right off the bat.

  Everybody but Barb could see tofurkey was a turkey. How could someone as smart as she be so dumb?

  “Until the vegans go home,” I replied. “Unfortunately, she printed a new set of menus.”

  “Hey, I’m just the cook, but tofurkey is a total a waste of money. The plates come back full, and I end up cooking something else. Besides the cost of the extra food, there’s a time factor. While I’m fixing someone a replacement meal, someone else’s food gets delayed.”

  “I’ve talked to her! I even mentioned it a few minutes ago. Do the best you can and track the send-backs.”

  I left the kitchen. The dining room had filled up; the only open tables were those claimed by reservations. Walk-ins crowded the waiting area. It didn’t appear tofurkey had hurt business—probably because most customers had no interest in ordering it. Barbecue meant meat!

  “How’s it going?” I asked Carrie, the hostess.

  “Busy as usual,” she said. She glanced at the full waiting area. “It’s already a forty-five-minute wait for people without reservations.”

  The door opened, and a couple entered.

  The man could have arrived from the country club, which he probably had. He wore a baby-blue monogrammed polo shirt tucked into crisp khakis. His left wrist sported the latest high-dollar computer watch, while he rested his right hand at the waist of his socialite wife, her figure rail thin, except for the baby bump accentuated by a skin-tight mini. The perfect couple.

  Mr. and Mrs. Addison Smythe stepped up to the podium. His eyes widened in recognition, but then he flashed an over-white Chicklet grin. Someone should have advised him against over bleaching.

  “What a pleasant surprise. I had no idea you worked here,” he said. “I don’t believe you’ve met my wife, Kaydee.” He turned to his baby-maker. “Honey, this is Holly Hansen. She and I go way back.”

  “Pleased to meet you,” she said with a genuine-appearing smile.

  “Nice to meet you,” I mumbled. Faking it wasn’t my forte, but I went through the motions. We had an audience, and I had no beef with her. It wasn’t her fault her husband was an asshole.

  My gaze drifted to her stomach. The bump was baby number two. The spare. The birth of their son had been all over social media last year. I didn’t follow either of them, but people had a habit of sharing, and their “joyful news” had gone viral.

  “We’ve heard a lot of good things about Barbie Q’s and decided to try it,” Kaydee said.

  “Barbie Q’s is very popular. So popular, in fact, I’m sorry to say there’s a two-hour wait.”

  “Forty-five minutes,” Carrie corrected.

  “No, I believe it’s increased to two hours.” I lifted my chin and stared right at Addison.

  His eyes narrowed as he caught on. No one ever told a Smythe he couldn’t have what he demanded.

  I’d been rendered sterile through no fault of my own, and, rather than stand by me, Addison had dumped me like a hot potato. I’d gotten over the heartbreak. I had a great guy who accepted me. Addison had done me a favor. If he hadn’t been such a selfish jerkwad, I would have been tied to an asshole and wouldn’t have met the man of my dreams. If you spun it right—he kind of did me a favor.

  That didn’t mean I wished to see Addison, his $200 haircut, or his glow-in-the-dark grin at my place of employment.

  “We have a reservation,” Kaydee chimed in with a calm smile. “Smythe. Party of two for seven o’clock.”

  “A reservation. Of course.” If I owned Barbie Q’s, I would kick them out, but it wasn’t my restaurant. Barb cut me a lot of slack, but it didn’t extend to running off paying customers. I turned to Carrie. “Show the Smythes to their table.” I looked at Kaydee. “If I may make a recommendation? I highly recommend the tofurkey. It’s one of our most popular dishes. It’s gotten rave reviews.”

  Carrie frowned but pulled a couple of menus from the podium. “Come this way, please.” She gestured for them to follow her onto the restaurant floor. Addison motioned for Kaydee to precede him. She pulled ahead, following Carrie, and Addison grabbed my elbow.

  “Why do I get the impression you don’t want us here?”

  “Because I don’t.” The waiting customers shamelessly eavesdropped, leaning forward in their seats, but I was beyond caring.

  “Kaydee didn’t do anything to you.”

  “No. Your wife has my sympathies. She seems sweet. She has no idea the kind of man Addison Rutherford Smythe III is.” My voice rose on his name so the customers would be sure to hear it.

  “Watch yourself,” he warned.

  “You watch yourself!” I didn’t have a reputation to protect, but he did. No tarnish could be allowed to smudge the esteemed Smythe dynasty. After he had discarded me like yesterday’s trash, his attorney had issued a release to the press explaining the wedding had been called off under “mutual, amicable agreement,” and sent me a nastygram threatening to sue if I contradicted the public statement.

  I straightened my shoulders and flicked a dismissive hand toward the dining room. “Kaydee is probably wondering what happened to you. Go have your dinner. Enjoy it. It will be your last.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Just that Barbie Q’s is very popular. It’s amazing you were able to get a reservation at all.” He never would again. I intended to blackball him and anyone with a Smythe surname. There would never be a reservation open. He could show up and try to wait for an open table, but one would never become available. I’d talk to Barb. She was sympathetic to my history with Addison.

  His face got ugly as he leaned close to me. “You don’t want to mess with me. You don’t know who you’re dealing with.”

  My lip curled. “Oh, I know what I’m dealing with.”

  Our eyes met and held in a clash of wills. His nostrils flared, and then he uttered a curse and stalked off.

  Asshole! Adrenalin pumped through me from the confrontation, but elation and a renewed burst of self-esteem made me feel almost giddy. I’d stood up to a Smythe! I’d achieved closure and marked paid to the past. I did feel sorry for Kaydee. She had seemed like a sweet girl, and she had no idea what was in store. If she ever tried to divorce Addison, the family attorneys would eat her for lunch. She’d probably lose custody of her kids. With all the problems she would have, I felt a little guilty about recommending the tofurkey. But not guilty enough to tell her the truth. Besides, if they had a bad meal and hated it, they wouldn’t come back.

  Carrie entered the vestibule. “What was that all about?” she asked.

  “Unfinished business finally completed.” I dusted my hands. “I’ll tell you about it later”—when I gave the order to blacklist Addison Smythe. First, I needed to confer with Barb to verify I had the go-ahead.

  Carrie checked her tablet. “Sheila, party
of four.”

  Four young women jumped up, the door opened, and Braxx walked in. He spotted me and smiled big and wide. My heart went pitter-patter.

  “Hi.” I smiled. Damn, he looked scrumptious and hot and all mine. I couldn’t wait to give him my decision.

  “Sorry I’m late. It’s been a busy day,” he said.

  Carrie looked at him. “Your standing table is ready. I’ll seat you as soon as I take care of these ladies.”

  “You go on. I’ll seat him. It’s not like he doesn’t know where his table is anyway,” I said.

  “Right.” She disappeared with the four women.

  Braxx was still beaming. His eyes were crinkled. “I have good news!” he said.

  “I have good news, too!” I beckoned. “Let’s go sit down.” The customers had heard enough of my personal business. The crowded, noisy dining room afforded more privacy. The din would cover our conversation.

  I grabbed a menu and then linked my arm through his, hugging him tight. Of course, I’d always considered him a better person than Addison could ever hope to be, but seeing that jackal again had hammered it home. The contrast couldn’t be more obvious.

  Braxx took his usual chair, and I grabbed the one next to him. “Did you locate Anthony?” I hoped that was his news.

  “Better! I saw him!” he said.

  “You did? Oh my gosh, that’s wonderful!” Relief washed over me. I hugged him. Our lips met, and we kissed, not enough to create a public spectacle but more than a peck. “How?”

  “The social worker called me back. Since I’m on the approved visitor list, she gave me his new address, and I visited him. His new foster mother seemed nice, but…”

  “But?”

  “Overwhelmed,” he said. “She has four fosters and four of her own kits.”

  “That’s a lot of kids,” I said.

  “Yes. Anthony has a phone now, so I can contact him and this won’t happen again.”

  “They gave him a phone?”

  “I gave him a phone.”

  “Is that allowed?”

  He shrugged. “I figured it was better not to ask in case I got a no.”