His Champagne

by Dori Lavelle

  “Bringing her here has nothing to do with me liking her or not. I’m the one who is responsible for what the press did to her reputation. I had to do something.”

  “By flying her out of the country.” He laughs. “Come on, you’re not fooling anyone.”

  “Look, I don’t know why I called you.” I rub my temple with my fingertips. “I actually don’t want to discuss this.”

  “But you called me,” Caleb says. “And I will give you some advice. You can decide whether to take it or leave it.”

  “Fine, go ahead.”

  “You already know what I’m going to say.”

  “Forget it.” I lower the bottle of water to the nightstand and lean against the pillows. “My dating days are over.”

  Before Caleb and I can end the call, there’s a knock on my door. At first, I think it’s Linda, but what would she be doing here at midnight? I hope she’s not here to try and convince me again to give Eva a chance. She’s been bringing her up a lot every time we talked. I should really stop being friends with my employees.

  “I have to go,” I say to Caleb. “Someone is at the door.”

  “I wonder who it is. Maybe someone feels the same way you do.”

  “Let it go, Caleb.” I end the call before he can say anything else to try and sway me in the direction he thinks I should go.

  It’s not Linda at the door. It’s Eva and her face is wet with tears. Seeing the pain in her eyes, the walls around my heart melt away.

  “Are you okay?” I pull her gently into the room. “Did something happen?” I pray to God it has nothing to do with me, that I haven’t already broken her heart even though I tried so hard not to.

  “I’m sorry, Neal. I can’t stay in Vienna. I need to leave.” She brushes the tears away with the back of her hand. “I need to go back home.”

  “Does it have to do with what happened earlier?”

  She shakes her head but averts her gaze. “No. It’s my father. I got an email from one of my friends from City Lake.”

  “Is he all right?” I pour her a glass of water.

  “No, he’s not. He’s dead.” Her lips press together as she tries to blink away the tears, but they refuse to stop flowing. “Car accident.” She presses the heels of her palms on her eyes. It’s obvious she’s struggling to keep it together in front of me. “I’m sorry, but I need to leave.”

  “Of course.” Without thinking, I pull her to me and wrap my arms around her shaking, fragile body. “I’m so sorry, Eva.” I hold her for a moment, then I pull back. “I’ll make sure you’re on the next flight to the US.”

  “I guess this is goodbye, then,” she whispers.

  I drop my hands from her shoulders, an ache burning the inside of my chest. “I guess it is.”

  18

  Eva

  When I get to my hometown, everyone starts talking. Everywhere I go, people are whispering and pointing. Even the people I considered my friends are turning their backs on me.

  At least I know Phoebe will talk to me. She was, after all, the one who sent me the email about my father’s death.

  She welcomes me with kindness, but doesn’t get too close, the warmth we used to share cooled by my decision to leave town.

  My father’s car crashed near the church. But what rocked the town and shattered my heart even more was the fact that he was driving drunk. He liked to call alcohol the Devil’s drink. That’s why he was so appalled that I worked in a bar.

  My heart is heavy when I leave Phoebe to visit the house I grew up in. It doesn’t feel like coming home.

  Outside the gate, I stop to take a breath. My gaze takes in the scene I have come to know so well. But nothing is the same, not the way it used to be. The garden my father used to love so much is neglected and full of weeds and the white paint on the outside wall is stained and peeling. It’s not too long after I left, but everything seems to have died with my departure, including my father.

  Stepping through the gate, I’m numb at the thought that he’s gone. For him to drink and drive says a lot about how low he had come. I had disappointed him to the point he decided to throw himself into the fires of Hell than live with the humiliation of having a daughter like me. Does that mean I will meet him in Hell then?

  My body feels heavy as I walk along the path leading to the front door. It’s exactly fifteen steps. As a child, I used to double the number of steps by walking slower to put off going inside as much as possible. The house has always felt like a prison to me. It’s weird to know he’s no longer on the other side of the door.

  I pull out my key and push it into the lock. When I turn it, it doesn’t move. I try again, but the door refuses to open.

  A sudden coldness hits my core. He changed the locks? When he said I should never come back, he meant it. His last words to me come back to haunt me. You are no longer my daughter. He meant every word. I was actually disowned.

  I lean against the door and take a few breaths. Then I ring the bell just in case someone is inside. No one comes to the door, so I walk away.

  Confused about what to do next, I find myself knocking on neighborhood doors. No one lets me in, not even Mrs. Sally Brown, the old woman who used to babysit me as a child, the woman I had come to think of as the grandmother I never had. Even worse, she doesn’t hide the fact that she’s home. She watches me from her kitchen window and allows the curtain to fall when she’s sure I saw her face just fine.

  I’m an outcast in my own hometown. No one wants to let sin enter their home.

  Instead of knocking on more doors, begging people to welcome me home, I head to one of the local motels. Maybe it’s for the best, anyway. I don’t intend on staying in this town for long. Nothing is holding me here anymore. Once the funeral is over, I’ll leave City Lake for good.

  Before I unpack my bags, I pay the local mortuary a visit to inquire about funeral arrangements, but everything has been taken care of. My father had planned his funeral years ago, determined to be in control even in death.

  I get back to my room and the emotions I had been holding back all day crash into me, pushing me to my knees in tears—the pain of being ostracized from my hometown, the pain of my father—my only family—dying before we made peace. Everything comes rushing at me all at once with the force of a hurricane.

  By the time I’m done crying, the sun has set, and I’m still curled up on the carpeted floor. As I drag myself to my bed, I feel completely lost in a place I once called home.

  19

  Neal

  I spot her immediately, a vision in a black dress, but not as sexy as the one she had worn at The Little Black Dress, the one I’d peeled from her body. But she still looks stunning . . . And sad.

  She’s standing a distance away from the other mourners, under the shade of an oak tree. Like before, I can feel her tears without seeing them.

  From what I can see, everyone seems to blame her for the tragedy. They are turning their backs on her, almost literally, making her feel unwelcome at her own father’s funeral.

  I stand at a distance, to give her the privacy she needs to say goodbye to the man she had both loved and hated.

  Twenty minutes later, when everyone starts trickling away, I gather up the courage to approach her, but before I can step out of my car, I see a man with curly, blond hair get to her first.

  From the tension in Eva’s shoulders, it’s clear to me who he must be, the jerk who stood her up at the altar. I want to get out of my car, to drive a fist into his face, to make him feel the pain he caused her, but it’s not my place.

  They both sit on a bench not too far from the grave. Her arms are crossed in front of her chest, her body slightly turned away from him. His desperate hand gestures tell me he’s trying to explain something to her and Eva is rejecting his words, shaking her head.

  After watching them talk for a while, I reach my breaking point and get out of the car at the same time Eva jumps to her feet and walks away from the man who broke her heart.


  She can’t see me as she’s walking in the opposite direction.

  The man runs after her and grabs her arm.

  My protective instinct takes over and I start to run. I hear Eva telling the man to back off, but he grabs her shoulders, forcing her to face him even as she struggles to release herself from his grip.

  “Go to hell, Adrian,” Eva shouts, her voice breaking. “I don’t want anything to do with you.”

  I was right, it’s him. She mentioned his name during our conversation in Vienna.

  “You heard her. Let her go.” My voice is like thunder in my ears.

  Both of them spin around to face me. The man releases her just as I tackle him, the force sending him crashing to the ground in his crisp, gray suit.

  Eva lets out a small scream and covers her mouth with both hands.

  “What’s wrong with you?” The jerk struggles to sit up, eyes filled with horror.

  I’m horrified myself. First, I attacked the reporter in Vegas, now this. I have never been a violent man, but the need to protect Eva is too strong for me to harness.

  “No.” I point a shaking finger at him. “The question is, what’s wrong with you? Leave her alone. Don’t you think you’ve hurt her enough?”

  “This is none of your business,” the man barks and pulls himself to his feet, dusting himself off. “Who the hell are you?”

  I reach for Eva’s hand and pull her to my side. “I’m her boyfriend. Eva has moved on. Maybe you should too. Now get the hell out of here.”

  “Neal?” Eva gives me a questioning glance but doesn’t remove her hand from mine.

  “I’m sorry it took me so long,” I whisper into her ear, my eyes still on her ex, who is back on his feet and dusting himself off.

  “Don’t do this, Eva. Don’t throw us away. I made a mistake, okay? People make mistakes. I love you. I came to your father’s funeral because I love you. I want to be here for you.”

  “You’re too late, Adrian. You made a choice, now you need to live with it.” Her hand squeezes mine. “He’s right. As you can see, I’ve moved on with my life. Please go. It’s over between us.”

  Adrian stumbles back and away as if her words have scorched him, eyes wide with shock.

  When it’s just the two of us, she turns to me. It’s my turn to explain. I hope I won’t make a fool of myself.

  “Why are you here, Neal?” Her damp eyes search mine.

  “I thought you might need a friend. I’m truly sorry for your loss.”

  “Thank you.” She looks away to hide her tears. “The past few days were tough. I feel like a stranger here.”

  I glance at the place her father is buried. “Is there anything I can do?”

  “You’re here. That means more than you can imagine.” She wipes her cheek with the back of her hand. “But I don’t understand. Why do I get the feeling there is more to you being here?”

  “Because there is.” I pull courage from the air around me and breathe it in. “I actually came to ask you out on a date.” As soon as we said our goodbyes in Vienna and she left, an emptiness I had never felt before punched a hole in my heart. I felt so lonely without her, so much so that I canceled the rest of my meetings and flew out of Austria the day after she left.

  Her eyebrows draw together. “But you said—”

  “I changed my mind.” I take both of her hands in mine. “The truth is, since Sonia died, you’re the first woman I’ve wanted in my life for longer than a night. I don’t want to pretend to be a couple. I want the real thing.”

  She places her hands on both my cheeks. “Are you sure? Do you really mean that?”

  I wrap my arms around her waist and pull her close. “I like you a lot and I think the feeling is mutual. Tell me I’m wrong and I’ll go away. I know it’s too soon for you but—”

  “You’re not wrong, Neal LaClaire.” A smile banishes the sadness from her face and her sexy dimples return. “I’d love to go on a date with you.”

  “How does a weekend in Rhodes sound?” A grin creeps up on my face. “Greece is a beautiful country.”

  She tips her head back to gaze into my face. “For a date?”

  “Why not?” I kiss the tip of her nose.

  “It sounds perfect.” She presses her lips to mine.

  I have no idea where this moment in the cemetery will take us, but right now, in this instant, my lips feel right on hers. The decision to move on was long overdue. For the first time in a long time, I feel happy.

  Eva breaks the kiss and gives me a naughty girl look. “I have another secret my eyes aren’t telling you.”

  I raise an eyebrow and tighten my arms around her. “Tell me all your secrets, baby.”

  “When we made love for the first time, I was actually virgin.”

  My mouth drops open. “You’re kidding. Why didn’t you say anything? I wouldn’t have—”

  “Exactly. And I wanted you to. I’m glad we did, or else we wouldn’t be here.”

  I shake my head, smiling. “And here I thought I knew all your secrets.”

  She dips her head to one side, a sexy frown on her face. “Now that you know, I hope you haven’t changed your mind about me . . . us.”

  I answer her question with another kiss and allow her to sweep me into our future.

  Meet the rest of the Cocktail Girls

  His Old Fashioned by Frankie Love

  His Mimosa by Jamie Schlosser

  His Irish Coffee by Jessica Lake

  His Whiskey Sour by Kim Loraine-Author

  His Manhattan by Tracy Lorraine

  His Blushing Bride by Emilia Beaumont

  His Perfect Martini by Angel Devlin

  His Long Island Iced Tea by Roxy Sinclaire

  His Hurricane by Alexis Adaire

  His Sloe Screw by Alexandria Hunt

  His Vegas Bomb by Derek Masters

  His Redheaded Slut by Vivian Ward

  His Gin and Juice by Alexx Andria

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  About the LaClaire Brothers…

  Neal LaClaire is one of the hot as hell LaClaire brothers from the After Hours series. If you would like to meet the other LaClaires, click HERE to buy LaClaire Nights, the first book in the series.

  Connect with Dori Lavelle

  Get in touch

  www.dorilavelle.com

  Dori@dorilavelle.com

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  Also by Dori Lavelle

  The After Hours Series (Contemporary Romance)

  The His Agenda Series (Dark Romance Thriller)

  The Fatal Hearts Serial (Dark Romance Thriller)

  To Live Again Serial (Contemporary Romance)