Bullet lifted his shoulder and went to help a customer at the other end of the bar.
“Shit you can fix?” his father asked.
“Shit someone should pay for.”
“Always do what’s right, son.” His father took a drink of water. “Need to get the law involved?”
Bear’s gut told him yes, but Crystal had told him no, leaving him in a hell of a position. He looked at his father, who was by no means perfect, but he’d lived a fairly clean life, and he’d helped a lot of people. He had accumulated a lot of wisdom in his sixty-nine years.
“The right thing? What if you found out a woman had”—shit; he had to be careful with his choice of words—“been hurt, but she doesn’t want you to take care of it? Would you act on it or let it go? Is the right thing to respect her wishes or track down the asshole and get him off the streets?”
“There’s a whole world of hurt out there, son. I guess it depends on what level of hurt you’re talking about. You’ve seen a lot in your lifetime, so just ask yourself this: When we helped that little boy last week, was your goal to make him feel safe? Or was it to send a message to the bully so he’d never do that shit again?”
“Both.” But it wasn’t that easy, Bear didn’t know who the enemy was other than a nickname used by probably hundreds of guys at college parties.
“Then I think you have your answer.” His father stroked his beard, a sure sign that he also wanted to talk about something heavy.
It didn’t matter that Bear didn’t see any real answer in his father’s response. He knew Crystal was right. Without evidence there would be no justice for what had happened to her. But he’d make damn sure that she was safe from now on.
“I’ve got something else for you to think about,” his father said. “It’s time we expand this place.”
Bear gritted his teeth. His time was maxed out between covering shifts at the bar, handling the shop, and hopefully, spending more time with Crystal. And if he got his shit together and took the offer from Silver-Stone, he’d be working fewer hours at the bar, not more. He glanced up at Bullet, who arched a brow. Bullet was already working more than sixty hours a week.
“What are you thinking?” Bear asked, considering telling his father about the offer and nipping the expansion in the bud.
“I’m thinking that we’ll put our heads together and make it happen,” his father said. “It’s time to shake things up and bring in more customers. I want to leave you kids something of value. A Whiskey legacy.”
Painful memories came rushing back. He’d never forget the devastation in his mother’s voice when she’d called to tell him his father had suffered a stroke, or the fear that had consumed him at the possibility of losing the man who meant so much to him.
“Pop, you’re not going anywhere anytime soon.” He held his tongue about the offer. He couldn’t take away his father’s dream when all he was thinking about was his children.
“Actually, I’m leaving right now. I need to get going before your mother drives out here and hauls my ass home. Love you, boys.” He pushed to his feet and patted Bear on the back. “Church Monday night. We can discuss it then. Start thinking about how you’ll make it work.” Meetings for the Dark Knights were called church.
When he left, Bear and Bullet exchanged a long, stressed look. It was no secret that their father loaded Bear up with responsibility like a Sherpa.
“Dude, you got this?” Bullet asked. “I’d offer, but I don’t know shit about anything other than keeping the place in order and serving drinks.”
“Yeah. I’ve got it. I won’t let him down.” He pulled out his phone and sent a quick message to Crystal in case she was lying awake and couldn’t sleep. He hated the idea of her being alone tonight. Thinking of you. You okay?
“Need help closing up?” he asked Bullet.
“Nah. Get out of here. You look like shit.” Bullet came around the bar and laid a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t do anything stupid.”
Bear shoved his phone in his pocket and headed for the door. “No promises, bro. No promises.”
Chapter Six
CRYSTAL’S APARTMENT WASN’T waterfront. It was barely water view. But if she went up on her toes and leaned just the right way over the railing, balancing with one hand against the brick wall, she could see the water, as she was doing now. She got a little thrill every time she did it, like she was stealing a glimpse of something sacred. Seeing the water helped clear her mind, and she needed that this morning. She lowered herself to her heels, phone in hand, thinking about texting Bear. Last night had been one of the hardest, most emotional nights of her life, but it had also been the most liberating. She’d woken up feeling lighter than ever before, and she knew she owed that to him. And probably to David, for not letting her use him as a crutch, but for supporting her in the very best way he could. By letting her know he was there for her and reminding her that she had done all the right things and had all the tools she needed to have a full life and an intimate relationship when she was ready. He didn’t try to fool her into thinking it would be easy, but he reminded her that she was a smart, capable, emotional woman who could make her own decisions. She didn’t need his permission to be intimate with Bear. She only needed her own.
She clutched the phone tighter. It was a strange feeling, wanting to call Bear and simply hear his voice. Wanting to rely on him. She’d always felt safe with him, but last night he’d taken that even further. He’d become her safe haven, and that made her feel good and a little scared. She hadn’t had anyone in her life that she could truly rely on since her father died.
She scrolled through her messages, skipping the selfie Jed had sent her last night with the caption, The new and improved Jed! She hoped that was true, but she wasn’t counting chickens just yet. She read the thoughtful text from Bear for the tenth time, and the warm and fuzzy feeling she’d gotten the first nine times returned. She’d responded this morning with, I’m okay. Thank you. It was a lame response, but she had no idea what was appropriate. Should she have said the bigger truth? You make me feel happy and safe, and I want to be in your arms again. Can you please come over? She wouldn’t even know how to be the person who texted something like that. But she wanted to. God, she wanted to so badly.
She’d hated telling him she was too exhausted to invite him in last night, but she had been emotionally exhausted, and she was a little afraid to open another door. Getting on the back of his motorcycle had been a baby step, though it had felt enormous. Confessing her secret was like handing him her heart on a platter, and he’d handled it with tender, loving gloves. If she’d allowed him to come in and comfort her, she was afraid of where that might have led—by her doing, not his. And she didn’t want to take that step until he’d had time to process what she’d been through.
But she wanted Bear.
And she wanted to hear his voice.
She sank down to the chair on the balcony, staring at her phone, as if it held her courage. Why is this so hard? It’s a text. Just ask him to come over.
She told herself she wasn’t relying on him; she only wanted to see him.
Exhaling loudly, she knew damn well why it was so hard. Because the people she should have been able to count on, who should have been there for her, had let her down. How could she rely on anyone other than herself?
She set her phone beside her and covered her face, groaning. She needed to think about telling Gemma, too. Gemma’s wealthy parents had showered her with everything other than love and attention. Her dreams had revolved around having children of her own and giving them all the love she’d never experienced, but because of medical issues, she would never be able to bear her own children. When she’d met Truman, he’d had little more than the shirt on his back, two babies he’d rescued from a crack house, and a drug-addicted brother Truman had gone to prison to protect. She knew now what she hadn’t known when they’d met. If anyone could handle her past, it was Gemma. The guilt of having lied to her weighed heavi
ly on Crystal.
Baby steps.
She sat there for a long time, trying to clear her head. They only had two parties scheduled at the boutique today, and they didn’t start until eleven. Plenty of time to get out of my head before going to work. A quick trip to the ice cream store was in order. Or maybe the bakery. Sugar, definitely sugar. She walked inside, grabbed her bag, and threw open her apartment door, nearly plowing into Bear.
“Hi,” he said with a sexy smile.
Startled, she opened her mouth, but no words came. He was holding a box with two large milk shake cups from Luscious Licks ice cream shop in one hand and the cutest calico kitten she’d ever seen in the other. But it wasn’t the sexiness of that smile, or even the adorable kitten in his hands, that had stolen her voice. It was that he had appeared moments after she’d been wishing for him. Like a miracle. It took her a few seconds to push past the void he was quickly filling up inside her and find her voice.
“You’re here? I was just thinking about you. And…” She bit her lower lip to stop her overexcited self from rambling. How had he known she needed him? Her eyes dropped to the precious kitten in his hands. Was there anything hotter than a tiny kitten tucked against a strong, tatted-up arm? Bear’s strong tatted-up arm? She was a little jealous of that cute kitten, allowing Bear to cuddle him so easily.
“Can I…? Is he yours? Can I hold him?”
“She’s yours, sugar. Her name is Harley.” He leaned forward, handing her the snuggly little kitten.
She gasped. “Mine? You got me a kitten?” She rubbed her chin over her soft fur. “Bear…?”
“I hated the idea of you being alone last night.”
Chip, chip, chip. Down came more of her walls.
“That’s…” She felt like she was going to cry. What the heck was going on? She wasn’t a crier. She was a bold, in-your-face woman. But as she stood before the man who had drawn her tears last night and then held her through them, checked on her in the middle of the night, and now was standing right there with her, that bold woman refused to appear. She turned away so he wouldn’t see her damp eyes, and blinked them dry.
“That’s so nice, and this little girl is so freaking cute. Thank you.” She looked down at the kitten and lowered her voice. “What do you think, cutie pie? Should we invite the sexy beast in?” Her stomach went six ways of crazy as she slid her gaze to Bear. This felt more like a jumbo leap than a baby step.
He held up the box with the cups. “I brought you a mango, pistachio, blueberry, lemon milk shake, but don’t worry, no fries for dipping.”
She laughed about the fries. “How do you know my favorite ice cream combination?”
“From the Easter parade with Tru and the kids. How could I forget?” His voice went deep. “I couldn’t take my eyes off of you licking that four-decker cone.”
The parade had been several weeks ago. How had he remembered something so trivial? That now seems meaningful. She remembered the lascivious looks he’d given her, and she turned away again, hoping to hide the heat burning her skin.
“I think I remember Dixie wiping drool from your mouth,” she teased. “Today is like sweetness overload. Thank you.” She kissed the top of Harley’s head. “Where did you get her?”
“She’s one of Big Mama’s litter.”
“Really?” Could her heart get any fuller? She hadn’t been by his shop since Truman and Gemma had moved to their new house and Quincy, Truman’s brother, had moved into their old apartment above the shop several weeks ago. But she’d seen Bear with Big Mama and knew how much he loved her.
“That makes her even more special,” she said.
He followed her in and set the drinks on the distressed wooden trunk she used as a coffee table, beside the candles and the design magazine she’d been looking through earlier in the week.
“I got everything you’ll need for her.” He went back out and carried in a bag of kitty supplies and a cat box, which he must have left in the hall.
“Bear, you didn’t have to do that, but thank you. You saved me a trip to the store before work. Oh gosh, I don’t want to leave her. I’m going to take her with me.”
“Think Gemma will be cool with that?”
“She loves kitties. I’ll keep her in the office. I don’t want her to be alone all day.”
She watched him survey her eclectic, one-bedroom apartment. She’d never had a man in it before, and Bear was so big and broad, he made the space feel a little more confined, but in a good way. A very good way. She liked seeing him there among her things.
“I’ve thought about what your place might look like forever.” He walked over to the bookshelves separating the kitchen from the living room. They were filled with books, plants, glass vases, and of course, a handful of the dolls her father had made for her. She kept her favorites in her bedroom, where she needed to feel safest.
He picked up one of the dolls, inspecting it closely, and the warmest smile appeared on his handsome face. “I love that you have so many of these.” From where he stood, he couldn’t see into the dining room, her design studio, where more worry dolls were lined up on the windowsill.
“Thank you. My father made me a lot of them. It shows how often he traveled.” She watched him looking over her things and felt a bit exposed. But it wasn’t a bad feeling. It was just new. “They’re just yarn, fabric, and twigs, but they carry so many of my worries. They’ve pulled me through a lot.”
“You’ve pulled you through a lot.” He set the doll back on the shelf. “Was this the first apartment you rented here?”
“This is the only place that has ever been mine. I went from living with my parents, to college, then here. When I first rented the apartment, I had no money, and I lived with nothing more than a beach chair and a mattress on the floor for the first few weeks. I didn’t mind, though, because it was mine. Every time I went to buy cheap furniture, I got a sick feeling in my stomach, because they reminded me of the person my mother had become.”
“I’m sorry, babe.”
“It’s okay. Jogs and gaps and all that. I was working at the department store, making next to nothing. But when I started working with Gemma, I worked extra hours, and I hunted for bargains. I found pieces like the zebra-striped rug and that antique dresser at amazing prices.” She pointed to the antique dresser by the balcony. “This was my new beginning. My home. I wanted to love coming home, and I do.” It was her first safe haven.
“I can see why.” He ran his hand over an antique chest, touching each of the colorful candles on top, and glanced outside. “You can almost see the beach. It’s a great location.”
She watched his gaze move over the gray, velvet-tufted couch, which reminded her of the local hipster coffee shop. The wall behind the sofa was red and black brick; the other walls were painted peach. On the opposite side of the room was an overstuffed red armchair with a worn indentation that fit her rear end perfectly, and a patchwork footstool from Pier One. She loved that stool. Behind the chair hung an enormous slate-blue clock that was six feet in circumference, surrounded by pictures she’d collected over the years.
“I like your place,” he said after what felt like an hour but in reality was probably two minutes. “It’s very cool. Very you.”
He approached her with a tender look in his eyes. He was still worried about her, and that made her nervous. She was okay. At least she was okay for now, and she needed him to know that.
“I’m glad you want to take Harley with you. She’s not used to being alone all day.” He scratched the kitty’s head. “She likes you.”
“Of course she likes me. I’m pretty kick-ass. What’s not to like?”
“I can’t think of a damn thing.” His eyes heated as he reached for her, and just as quickly, he gritted his teeth and stopped short of touching her. “Can I give you a kiss on your cheek?”
Her stomach sank. “Bear…”
He raised his brows with an apologetic expression.
“Don’t do that, okay?
Please don’t treat me with kid gloves. I know you mean well, but that will only make me feel weird. I didn’t tell you what happened so you would back off. I told you so we could get closer. I like who you are. And believe it or not, I like that you’re presumptive. Just, maybe don’t be too overly aggressive? At least until I’m able to deal with being intimate like a normal person, which I think I am, but after my reaction to our kiss, who knows.”
He placed a gentle hand on her hip and smiled, a fiercely sexy smile that told her he might be treating her differently, but he didn’t feel differently about her.
“Babe, you are a normal person. Normal people have shit to deal with. I do. Gemma and Tru did. Kennedy and Lincoln will. We all do. We may have different issues, but it’s still there. I’ll try not to be overly aggressive, but I worry that with you, I might get carried away. I’m only human, and being close to you, holding you in my arms. That’s all I’ve dreamed about for months. So if, or when, I get carried away and kiss you too hard, or hold you too tight, or forget that I can’t strip you naked, toss you down on that sofa, and love the hell out of you, please smack me in the head, or bite my tongue, or do something to tell me to back off.” His eyes flamed again. “Wait. Don’t bite my tongue. I might like that.”
She laughed. “You’re awful. Shouldn’t you tell me that you’d never get too carried away or something?”
“Only if you want me to lie. I’ll never push you past your comfort zone again, but if we’re kissing and my hands wander, that’s out of desire, not aggression. I’ll need signals, like a flashing neon light that says, ‘Today you may not go past second base.’”
She rubbed the kitty’s back. “Bear?”
“Yeah?”
“I have no flashing lights, but please kiss me hello.”
He touched his lips to hers in a feathery kiss, and she laughed. “A big-girl kiss, please.”
His strong arms circled her, the kitten cradled between them. Her body tingled with anticipation as his mouth descended on hers in a smoldering kiss. She waited for panic to barge in, but the longer they kissed, the less she worried. Bear’s kisses knocked the strength from her knees, caressed her mouth as much as he possessed it, and just when he eased the kiss and she thought he was going to pull away—No, not yet—he took it deeper, scrambling her ability to think. She’d kissed enough men to know that there were kisses—and then there were kisses. This was different from a sweet kiss, more powerful than a hot kiss. This was an intimate kiss that evoked trust and desire.
Truly, Madly, Whiskey Page 9
