Two Weeks and a Day (Finn's Pub Romance Book 2)

by R. G. Alexander

  “Speak of the devil’s husband,” Royal booms jovially, and several people turn to see two men walking in the front door, hand in hand.

  The older man has a handsome lumberjack thing going on, muscle-bound and bearded. The younger guy will now forever be the first image I think of when I hear the words millennial hipster. Cute though. He’s definitely cute.

  He has to be Royal’s brother, JD Green. Which means the lumberjack old enough to be the cool uncle I always wanted is his husband, Carter Willis. Royal told me he used to be a drill instructor in the Marines.

  I thought he’d look meaner.

  As Royal introduces them, I realize that while they don’t look like they go together at first glance, as soon as I see them interact—or notice the way Carter looks at JD like he’s the only one in the room—it all makes perfect sense.

  Just like it makes sense that Royal and J.D. are brothers as soon as they start bickering.

  “Hello, lover boy.” JD raises his voice. “How’s your secret affair with Austen Wayne going? Been locked in any more rooms together?”

  When Austen’s sisters look over at us and laugh, I wince in sympathy, but Royal takes it in stride. “Hey, remember when you lived on the other side of the country and never called? Good times, right?”

  JD turns to his husband. “Isn’t he the one who’s started looking for property in our neighborhood? That was him, right?” he says, hooking a thumb towards Royal.

  Carter chuckles. “Okay, let’s take it down a notch. We’re here to be supportive.” He glances at Royal and winks. “And to let JD find out more about your new girlfriend.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Mother Matilda didn’t send me on a recon mission. I’m innocent. Just here to get a free massage and some skin toner.” JD smiles warmly at me and holds out his hand. “Speaking of massages, nice to finally meet you in person, Desperado. I’m hoping you have stories about Royal’s hijinks with broads abroad. I need more blackmail material.”

  I grin back, playing along. “Oh, I have stories.”

  “So do I, friend,” Royal warns lightly.

  Where’s the trust, man? As if I would give his brother any more ammunition after that texting disaster.

  “Carter, let’s get JD a drink while we let Austen know you’re here.”

  Carter gets a nod from JD before letting Royal drag him away.

  “That wasn’t obvious at all,” JD says as he grabs the stool beside me. “I wish Fiona was here.”

  “Fiona?” I ask politely, since I have no idea who he’s talking about.

  “Best bartender-slash-psychologist I know.” He grimaces. “She’s having issues with her love triangle—a Finn and a Wayne, that greedy girl—so she’s decided to take a break from both of them to audit a few classes this semester in sunny California. Meanwhile, I’ve been asked to help you without backup. If she were here, she could take the heat and tell you what you’re doing wrong with your man.”

  I’m not sure I like where this is going. “What am I doing wrong? And who asked you for help?”

  “My brother. The big, irritatingly cheerful one. He’s worried about you.”

  “Why?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. You’re suspended and technically homeless, you’re having sex with your best friend, and now you’re suddenly looking after a complicated teenager and a tiny energetic dog after a lifetime of carefree bachelorhood. Pick your poison.”

  I guess Royal’s mentioned me once or twice.

  JD sends me a sideways glance, his fingers tapping on the bar. “And you do need my help with Miller. It’s early days yet, but he’s already got that look. It’s not a good sign.”

  “What look?” I turn toward Miller, who’s deep in conversation with one of Austen’s sisters. “He looks good. He looks fine.”

  As if sensing my attention, Miller turns to meet my gaze. His smile wobbles for a second before it turns into a full-fledged grin that makes me want to drag him out to that damn Hyundai for more semi-private time.

  “Well that’s good to know,” JD says with a relieved sigh. “You love him, so half the battle is won. It might be a good idea to let him in on it.”

  I know he was right about the bungee cord, but come on. “What makes you so sure I haven’t?”

  JD pushes his hair behind his ears and shrugs. “If you’d told him you love him, he wouldn’t be looking around every five minutes to make sure you haven’t disappeared.”

  Is he doing that?

  “He’s having great sex for the first time ever—I’m just assuming it’s great, since I’m not psychic, but I know you tied him up and I’ve heard stories about you for years. So if I were experiencing this late-blooming love fest with a hot guy I cared about? I would probably be floating around with a soft, fuzzy sexed-up glow. But there’s no glow happening with Miller. He looks worried.”

  I scowl because I know it’s true. Haven’t I been wondering what’s wrong? Why he keeps pushing me away?

  “So you’re saying it’s because I haven’t told him?”

  “What do you think?”

  Honestly? Whether or not it’s fair to him, I think he should know me well enough to have an idea what I’m feeling. I’m here. I helped build the deck. I’ve picked up dog vomit. I’ve taken Fred to a protest and dealt with Diane’s constant glowering.

  But you haven’t told him you want to stay. You haven’t told him you love him.

  There’s been a lot going on. It’s not like there’s been a good time in the last week to…

  Shit.

  “I guess I really do suck at romance.”

  Royal sets a glass down on the bar in front of JD and squeezes my shoulder. “You really do. But you’re getting better.”

  “Don’t patronize him,” JD says.

  “It’s called encouragement,” Royal corrects. “Positive reinforcement. I learned that from my other brother Joey. He’s a professional babysitter,” he adds in a stage whisper to me.

  JD rolls his eyes. “He owns the company.”

  “Whatever.”

  I get to my feet. “I need to go talk to Miller for a minute.”

  Carter smiles and slips his arm around JD affectionately. “Good man.”

  “Wait.” JD’s eyes widen. “You can’t just walk up to him and blurt it out. Not now.”

  “Why not?” Royal asks helpfully.

  Yeah. Why not?

  “Not everybody needs a grand gesture.” Carter gives JD a look. “But there is something to be said for romance.”

  “It’s a good thing you brought barbecue to this party or we’d have words,” JD tells his husband grumpily. “And Brendan doesn’t need to take out an ad in the paper. But he knows Miller better than we do, and if he stops to think about it for a minute instead of barreling ahead without considering the consequences…”

  He leaves his sentence unfinished, but I know where he’s going with it. Miller already thinks I’m impulsive. If I just throw it out there, he’s not going to take it seriously. He won’t understand, or even believe that I want to stay with him once my two weeks are up.

  His belief that this is temporary has come up before, but I wasn’t paying enough attention to put it together.

  “I’m going to make you a Dix Balzack calendar next Christmas. In memory of your short stint as a dog owner.”

  And “The next time you visit, I’ll throw a party on this deck you finished. It’s perfect.”

  “He thinks I’m leaving.”

  “Aren’t you?” Royal said quietly. “Austen’s already pointed out that leaving is kind of what we do for a living. You know I’ve already been thinking about taking shorter trips. Flights that cross the country instead of the pond. But you love those long hauls. You always have. Miller knows that.”

  I do. Or at least I did. Before Miller, I’d never found anything I loved as much as flying. There is nothing wrong with the world when you’re soaring that high above it. It was better than sex. More vital to me than
anything else I could imagine.

  Until recently.

  Miller needs to know that he’s vital to me. That he matters too much for me to let go of what we’re making together.

  I lean my elbow on the bar and force myself to relax, glancing at Royal. “I’m not sure how you survived nine brothers, man. I’m impressed.”

  Royal smirks at JD. “They aren’t all like him. But there were a few years of crazy town that I wasn’t sure we’d make it out of alive. Think Oliver Twist meets Lord of the Flies.”

  His brother shakes his head. “Think Annie with an all-male cast. Our parents are the Warbucks.”

  “I don’t think about musicals that often,” I offer, reaching up to rub my neck absently. “But I get the point.”

  “Brendan?”

  Miller is waving me over, so I straighten. “Duty calls. Thanks for the advice, JD.”

  “Anytime, Desperado. Carter and I are going to bring in that barbecue now. Good luck.”

  I have a feeling Desperado might be my new nickname.

  When I cross the room, Miller takes my hand without a word and leads me down a private hallway.

  “Does she need to bring in any more boxes?” I ask curiously. “I thought we got everything.”

  He puts his hands on my shoulders and presses something that makes me sag against the wall. “Oh, shit, that’s the spot. How did you know?”

  “It’s my job to know. And I needed an excuse to touch you. You didn’t have to come to this.”

  “Yes, I did. Royal told me to.” I pull him close and slide my hands beneath his pants to grab his ass. “I love these sweatpants.”

  And you.

  “Good, because I have about twenty pairs and I’m not giving them up.”

  When he kisses my neck, my dick stirs. “Is it bedtime yet?”

  “It’s your fault I agreed to this, so no. I’ll only be a few hours. There can’t be that many people getting a free massage. Then we can grab Dix and go home.”

  “We could grab dicks right now. No one’s paying attention.” I leer playfully, but not all of me is kidding.

  “Speaking of…” He leans closer and lowers his voice. “Austen might have told me something about Royal. I’m not going to repeat it, because apparently that’s not allowed, but you should know our one attempt at matchmaking? Huge success.”

  I laugh. “Good to know.”

  “No, I’m serious. Huge.”

  I yank him firmly against my erection. “That better be me you’re talking about.”

  He bites his lip, mischief back in his eyes. “I’m not sure, but I think there’s a private office around here somewhere if you want to refresh my memory.”

  We find a storage closet instead.

  “I can’t believe we’re doing this,” he mutters as we close the door behind us and I turn on the bare bulb that’s dangling overhead. “The party is about to start any minute.”

  “You started it,” I tell him, unbutton my jeans with an embarrassing amount of eagerness, since I just had him a few hours ago. The man drives me crazy.

  “That’s right.” He leans against the door, watching my progress avidly. “You were reminding me how big you were.”

  “Huge was the word,” I correct him, taking myself out with a hiss of relief.

  His hand is inside his sweatpants, stroking himself at the sight of me until I stop him. “Didn’t I tell you that was my job?”

  “Then why aren’t you doing it?”

  I let go of my cock, tugging down his sweatpants and boxers until they’re clinging to his thighs. The head of his cock is already wet with arousal and it makes my mouth water. “Quick and dirty. No one will notice we’re gone.”

  I wouldn’t care if they did. The surprised, pleased look Miller always gets in his eyes when he tempts me like this is worth any embarrassment.

  He still doesn’t know he’s irresistible. Something else I need to convince him of.

  I lick my palm and wrap my fist around our cocks, tightening my grip until he moans into my hand. “Touch me, Miller. You can give your magic hands and attention to everyone else in a minute. But right now I need to remind you that you belong to me.”

  When his hands coast over my back beneath my shirt, I exhale roughly. “I love your hands, Millie. I love how hard you get for me.”

  I love you.

  I run my thumb over the head of his cock and revel in the feel of his shudder, reaching up to cover his mouth with my free hand when his moan echoes in the small room. “Quiet now or someone might hear us.”

  He moans louder into my hand as I jack us off.

  “Is your wild streak showing again? I can let go if you want me to. If we had time, I’d turn you around and lick that sweet ass until you were screaming for God again. Is that what you want?”

  He shakes his head, but his eyes are all black with gold edges. Part of him loves the idea.

  “I don’t want to share you,” I whisper in his ear, my hand still over his mouth as I stroke him faster. “Those screams are for me. I’m the first and last one to make you come. Always.”

  Miller whimpers and I feel my climax closing in.

  “Don’t let them hear you,” I warn, releasing my grip and dropping to my knees to take him in my mouth.

  “Fuck,” Miller cries. Then he slaps his own hand over his mouth as I swallow him down my throat.

  Love you. Love you. I’m keeping my mouth busy so I won’t shout it. Won’t spill my guts in a storage closet at a bar.

  Don’t you know, Millie? I’m not going anywhere.

  He grips my head as he comes, his shouts muted by his fist.

  One more stroke of my cock is all it takes for me to join him, then I press my head against his hips as I recover.

  “Wild streak,” I say, kissing his thigh before I get to my feet. “A delicious, salty wild streak.”

  I lick my lips and he flushes, tugging up his pants as he looks around the small closet. “You’re a bad influence.”

  “I don’t know. I’m not the one who keeps suggesting public places to get off in.”

  He whacks my back as I open the door to check out the hallway.

  “All clear,” I say, smiling. As I step out, my phone starts to buzz in my pocket. “Huh.”

  “I bet it’s Royal trying to triangulate our location. Or his brother, the advice columnist.”

  It would have to be. Other than the people in this pub, no one else calls me unless it’s about work or there’s some kind of emergency. “Hold that thought.”

  I pull out my phone and swipe the screen, then stare blankly at the caller ID. “This has been the weirdest week,” I mutter.

  Miller reaches for my hand and tilts the phone so he can see the screen. “Oh.”

  Right?

  For the first time in five years, my father is calling.

  In hindsight, I should have let it go to voicemail.

  Chapter Nine

  Not That Kind Of Happy Ending

  Miller

  “Are you sure you’re ready for such a big commitment?” Phoebe asks, looking worried. “People shouldn’t make decisions like this in the heat of the moment. Britney Spears is the perfect example.”

  For the first time in days, I’m fighting a smile. I think I finally managed to shock the stylists. Three of them are staring at me as if I walked in off the street and requested a penis piercing. Phoebe, the little blonde I asked for a haircut, just looks at me like she’s not sure whether I’m in my right mind.

  Not that boring anymore, am I?

  “This isn’t a heat-of-the-moment decision. I’ve been working here for three years now. It’s about time I indulged myself, don’t you think?”

  Nothing but crickets.

  “Get it? Indulgence?”

  I thought it was funny, but they’re all still looking at me like stylish guppies with their mouths hanging open.

  “I’m free now. I’ll do it.” Betty, the redhead I’ve always had pegged as the ringleader, fina
lly closes her mouth and walks up to me, gently nudging her blonde friend out of the way.

  She lifts her arms to run her fingers through my hair with a familiarity I wasn’t expecting. “I’ve been wanting to get my hands on this for a while now. You don’t dye it at all? No highlights? This is natural?”

  I’d nod if she didn’t have such a vice-like grip on my head. “People have always assumed I couldn’t make up my mind when it came to hair dye, but I swear it’s all mine.”

  She laughs. It’s genuine too, which is surreal. Damn it, do I have to stop calling them Mean Girls?

  “Come into my parlor.” Said the spider to the fly.

  She pats the back of her barber chair. “I’ll give that hobo nest a style worthy of those gorgeous colors.”

  Thank God, the world is still round and she’s still a little catty, or this would definitely feel like a trap.

  I sit down and she swoops a cape over me, snapping it around my neck. It’s tight. I thought these were one size fits all. “I have an hour until my next appointment.”

  “In an hour, you won’t be able to recognize yourself.”

  I think she missed the boat on that because it’s already happened.

  Has it only been a week and a half since Brendan showed up drunk at the pub? So many things have changed since then.

  I hear the slightly ominous sounds of snipping near my ear and the hum of conversation as the other stylists go back to their appointments. Then my personal inquisition begins. “It’s a guy, isn’t it? Why you’re finally getting this done? I hope it’s not to impress him. I always say if a man doesn’t like me exactly as I am, he can go suck a lemon.”

  Once again, not shaking my head. She has scissors. “You’ve also always said I needed a haircut.”

  And new clothes. And a life that included a man.

  Betty snorts as she works on her masterpiece. “True. We have given you a hard time, Miller. But only because we were worried about you. You’ve never looked as good as you will when I’m through with you, but a few months after you started working here, you kind of…” The snipping stops as she hesitates.

  “Let myself go?” I offer helpfully. That was just after my mom died.

  “Yeah.” She sighs and starts cutting again. “I think a prerequisite of this job is being nosy. There’s nothing worse than a quiet stylist, right?”