by Meg Benjamin
Liam Dempsey was a good-looking man. She wasn’t sure she’d ever noticed before, given that she’d only seen him now and then, usually with Bec. His brown hair had hints of red in the dim light. His eyes were an odd shade of grayish-green, with brown overtones.
He took a sip of his beer, his grin widening. “Damn, that’s good.”
“You haven’t tasted it until now?”
He shook his head. “Never had the time.”
She brought the glass to her lips, tasting the slight bitterness of the hops, along with some toasted malt. “Tasty. What makes it red?”
“The grain. The way it’s roasted.”
“Did you get it from Abe Parsons?”
“We get all our malt from Abe Parsons.”
She glanced around the room, as she took another sip. “This is a nice place. Bec’s done a good job putting it together.”
He frowned. “You’ve never been here before?”
“Nope. Bec’s been to my house for dinner, but I’ve never been over here.”
He sighed. “She used to be sort of embarrassed about living in the brewery. Before she met Wyatt, back when the brewery was struggling. This place didn’t start out as an apartment—it was the office. She didn’t even have a real kitchen.”
Ruth gave him a rueful smile. “I remember. I’m the one who gave her the rice cooker after she told me how she was making dinner. She was trying to get by with a hot plate and a toaster oven.”
“That was nice of you. I didn’t know what to get her.” He frowned. “I’m not sure she would have taken anything from me then, anyway.”
“But you got through that,” Ruth said slowly. “You’re friends now.”
He nodded. “We’re friends now. Which is better than yelling at each other the way we used to.”
“Families. They’re like the ice in spring. One false step and you’re up to your ass in water.”
Liam threw back his head and laughed, giving her a great view of tanned throat and a faint brush of beard shadow.
Silence stretched between them for a moment. She had that edgy feeling again, only now it seemed to be localized in her belly. Maybe edgy wasn’t the right word. Maybe it was more like excited.
Which was probably not a good idea. Not for a hardworking, single mom. She took another sip of her ale before setting it on the table.
Liam set his glass next to hers, then ran his hand gently along her arm. She managed not to tremble under his fingers. Good grief, pull yourself together. You’re not a virgin.
“Thanks for being a friend to Bec when she needed one,” he said quietly. “She was alone here for a while.”
Ruth swallowed. “I needed one, too. I still do.”
She studied his face. His changeable eyes seemed to be more green than brown in the dim light of the floor lamp. Such a handsome guy. Probably way too handsome for me… But I’m here.
He leaned toward her slowly, so slowly that she had to fight the urge to grab hold of his shoulders and pull him close. His lips touched hers in a faint brush, the tip of his tongue slipping in to taste her.
She did take hold of his shoulders then, holding him steady while she turned her head to let him plunge deeper. He slid one arm around her waist, pulling her closer so that her breasts pressed against his shirt. Her fingers glided into his hair, letting the smooth strands slip across them like silk.
Heat gathered in her belly, and her hips moved against him, feeling the swell of his arousal. Should she slow this down?
He seemed to be thinking about the same thing, pulling back to look at her. “Is this okay? I don’t want to push you.”
She licked her lips. “Sure. But I’m not really… This isn’t something I do much.”
He drew back a little farther. “It’s all right. We won’t do anything you don’t want to.” He gave her a tentative smile, probably trying to gauge just how skittish she was feeling.
She took a deep breath, centering herself. “But that’s just the thing,” she said slowly. “I do want to. Do it, that is.”
Maybe she shouldn’t. Maybe it wasn’t a good idea. But she really did.
Liam’s teeth flashed white as he grinned. “Good. So do I.”
He cupped her face in his hands, leaning in to kiss her again, his tongue moving deep. She wrapped her arms around his neck, moving closer to him, letting her body touch his as heat spread from her center.
We’re going to do this. I’m going to do this. With Liam Dempsey, the best-looking man she’d been around in a long time. She sure hadn’t planned it when she’d left home tonight. Then again, planning could be way overrated.
…
Liam was doing his best to keep things slow and easy. He had a feeling Ruth was ready to bolt, no matter what she said. And he’d discovered he wanted to make it good for her, too.
He pushed her denim shirt back from her shoulders, sliding one hand under her T-shirt. Her bra unfastened in front, and he took her breast in his hand, rubbing his thumb across the nipple as he watched her eyes widen slightly.
She bit her lower lip, and his arousal spiked another couple of degrees. “That feels really good.”
He tried a reassuring smile. “I think we need to get rid of the T-shirt.”
She nodded. “Good plan.” She jerked it over her head, dropping it onto the floor. The bra followed and he took a moment to look, to enjoy her.
“Lovely.”
She bit her lip again. “Thanks. You know, I think it’s time you joined the party, too.” She reached forward, unbuttoning his shirt with slightly fumbling fingers, pushing it wide. “Oh, my.”
She put a hand on his shoulder, sliding it carefully across his chest to rest on his pec. “You must lift a lot of beer barrels.”
He grinned. “A few. Part of the job.” He reached to unbutton her jeans.
Her breath seemed a little shaky, but she bent to pull off her shoes. Good sign. He hooked his thumbs in the waistband and pulled the jeans down, letting his hand slide along the slender length of her leg to cup her heel. He brought her foot to his lips, kissing the instep, then running his thumb along her arch.
She blinked at him, her eyes slightly dazed. “No one’s ever kissed my foot before.”
“Then they’ve missed something good.” He grinned again, then pulled off his own boots.
Ruth lay back against the couch cushions, one arm bent over her head, her body a cool stretch of light in the darkness. She still looked a little nervous, but she seemed to be settling in. He took that as another good sign.
He started to unbutton his jeans, but she leaned forward again, pushing his hand away to unbutton them herself. She gazed up at him as she pulled the zipper down. “We’re doing this here? On Bec’s couch?”
He nodded. “If it’s okay with you. There are some tables in the brewery and a couple of platforms, but this strikes me as a little more comfortable.”
Her lips curved up slightly. “I haven’t made out on a couch in years. It’s sort of like high school.”
He gave a mock shudder. “God, I hope not.”
He stood for a moment to push down his jeans and underwear and to take another moment to appreciate Ruth. Her dark hair feathered around her face; her chocolate-stout eyes were luminous as she watched him. Her body was slender, with beautifully rounded legs and arms.
He knelt beside her again. “You are gorgeous.” He leaned closer, gathering her breast in his hand and then taking the nipple in his mouth, sucking lightly. Ruth took hold of his shoulders, hanging on tight. He blew on her nipple, watching it pucker, then kissed the soft place between her breasts.
He ran his tongue in a line down the center of her body, rubbing his thumbs along the delicate skin at the joining of hip and thigh. And then he brought his mouth to her folds, letting his tongue dance across the nub of her clit before he nipped with his teeth.
Her hips rose off the couch slightly as she gasped. He brought his lips back to her clit again, as he slid one finger into her depths
, feeling heat and wetness; she was as ready for him as he was ready for her. If he didn’t get it together, he’d probably embarrass himself within the next minute or so.
He fumbled in the pocket of his jeans, pulling out the condom he’d put there. Ruth’s eyes were dazed as she watched him sheath himself.
As he leaned toward her again, she wrapped her hand around his shaft, guiding him inside her body. Her muscles tightened around him as he moved, and he slowed to let her get used to him. She wrapped her legs around him, tucking her heels into the small of his back, then brought her hips against his, pushing him deep. The closeness, the heat, the sight of Ruth’s upturned face, her fingers digging into his back. All of it together was almost enough to send him over the edge immediately.
He quickly considered his usual list of delaying tactics. Beer inventory. State capitols. Gettysburg Address. None of them was enough. Ruth Colbert beat the Gettysburg Address by a mile.
But he was a gentleman, goddammit. And a gentleman always let a lady go first. He brought his thumb to her clit, rubbing lightly while he began to move. He took it slow, easy, bringing her along with him as he gritted his teeth and made himself hold back.
Beneath him she stiffened, her breath speeding up as he increased the stroke. She moaned, her muscles clenching hard around him, her hips jerking up to meet him.
He managed to hang on for a few more minutes, but then he was lost. He drove deep, letting himself go, letting everything go. Heat flowed down his spine, igniting nerves he’d forgotten he had. He groaned in release while he tried not to crush her beneath him.
After what seemed like a long time, he leaned his forehead against hers. What do I say now? Nice sex? Want to do this again? What are you doing tomorrow night, and the night after that, and the night after that?
Because it had been nice. Very nice. More than nice.
He rolled to the side, bracing himself so that he didn’t actually roll onto the floor. Ruth stared up at him with wide eyes. Maybe slightly panicked eyes.
“Okay?” he murmured.
Oh, great pillow talk. Yeah, you da man.
She nodded. “Okay. Yes. Okay.”
He ran his fingertip along her eyebrow, tracing the shape. “Is anything wrong?”
She shook her head. “No. Honestly, no.”
He wasn’t sure he believed her, which worried him. Had he done something bad? “That was good, Ruth. That was really good.”
She nodded. “Oh, yes, it was.”
He wasn’t getting anywhere with this. He almost asked her again if anything was wrong, but that would be annoying. He brushed the hair from her forehead, trying to think of some way to reassure her but coming up dry. Hard to be reassuring when he didn’t understand why he needed to be.
Maybe it was time to change course. He pushed himself up on his elbow. “Want some more ale? I could probably find us something to eat if you’re hungry.”
She blinked up at him, then pushed herself to sitting. “That’s okay. I’m good. Where’s Bec’s bathroom?”
He pointed toward the hall. “Second door on the right.”
“Thanks.”
She stood, one arm stretched across her breasts. Then she turned toward the hall, long legs, beautiful bum, everything you’d want in a woman. But nervous, for reasons he didn’t exactly understand.
“Ruth?”
She glanced back at him, biting her lip again. “Yes?”
He blew out a breath. “Nothing. I’ll top off your beer.”
She gave him a hesitant grin. “Okay. Back in a sec.”
She turned toward the hall, leaving him trying to figure out why something that had felt so right to him didn’t seem to have felt the same way to her.
…
Ruth walked toward her house as the sky began to turn pale over Black Mountain. She’d managed to convince Liam she didn’t need an escort. The last thing she wanted was for someone to see her ambling up Main with Liam Dempsey at five in the morning.
Mistake, mistake, mistake.
Her first mistake had been to go to the tavern instead of staying home, no matter how bored she was. But she could have made it through that error in judgment if she hadn’t started flirting with Liam Dempsey. That had definitely been mistake number two. Flirting with a good-looking guy had consequences, always. Number three had been agreeing to go with him to the brewery to taste some of Bec’s superlative red ale. Number four had been everything that happened after that.
Her cheeks heated briefly, and she gritted her teeth. She hated the fact that she still blushed at thirty-five. Surely she should have gotten over that by now. Of course, the things she’d done with Liam Dempsey at the brewery had definitely been blush-worthy.
You didn’t object at the time.
No, she hadn’t. Her common sense had apparently taken flight, along with her dignity. She didn’t want to think about what she’d done tonight.
You enjoyed every minute.
Until she’d remembered who and what she was. A hard-working cheesemaker and deli owner trying to keep her head above water. The mother of a twelve-year-old, with responsibilities—duties—every hour of the day. She had no business kicking up her heels. She was too old for one-night stands. This was so unlike her it made her head spin.
But you did enjoy it.
She shook her head as she headed up the street toward her house. Even if she did enjoy it, that didn’t matter. None of it mattered. She was thoroughly pissed at herself for losing track of her responsibilities. She wasn’t somebody who could do something like this without a thought.
She needed to return to sanity, to being Ruth Colbert, level-headed, grounded, practical businesswoman. No more nonsense. No more late-night rendezvous with hunky bartenders. No more flings.
But you…
No more. What was done was done, and she’d move on. But this was the end of it. There’d be no more dallying with Liam Dempsey. She needed to return to common sense, to practicality, to rationality.
To being plain old, everyday Ruth Colbert again.
Plain old, everyday Ruth Colbert was boring. And bored.
She gritted her teeth. Boring wasn’t bad. Passion always caused trouble. It was a distraction. And she didn’t need any more distractions in her life.
She was done. Once was enough. With any luck they could both forget this had happened.
Even though she had a feeling that forgetting Liam would be a bitch. And even though the voice at the back of her mind kept telling her it would also be a big mistake.
Chapter Two
Ruth took a long look at the latest sandwich plate from her struggling short-order cook. It wasn’t bad. It definitely wasn’t bad. She couldn’t say it was good, though. The lettuce looked a little bedraggled, and there was way too much mayonnaise. Plus, it was mayonnaise, not the aioli they’d promised on the menu. The meat was okay, although it was sliced a little thicker than Ruth liked. The cheese… Well, it was her own cheese, and in her opinion, it was hard to ruin good goat cheese.
Hard, but not impossible.
She sighed. Barbara Jean had been in charge of lunch for a couple of months now. And her burgers and grilled cheese were decent, even though she was having a little problem with the melted chevre on the latter. But the kind of food the Salty Goat put out was not the kind of food that Barbara Jean liked to cook. And it wasn’t the kind of food Barbara Jean wanted to cook, either. They were well on their way to an impasse.
Sooner or later, it would all come to a head. Ruth would crack and send Barbara Jean on her way, or Barbara Jean would get fed up and head down the road to a diner or a coffee shop that appreciated her talents.
And Ruth would be stuck finding herself another cook. Again.
Ever since her chef, Honoria, had left for a new life in Las Vegas, she’d been struggling to find a replacement. The Salty Goat was a deli—most of the sales were in cheese and meat, with the occasional baguette and chocolate chip cookie. The café only did meal service at noon, al
though the deli did a good business in midmorning coffee and pastries, along with a lot of takeout and desserts in the late afternoon.
Which was another problem, since Barbara Jean was not a pastry cook and had no interest in becoming one. Ruth had been buying pastries from a commercial bakery in Durango as a temporary fill-in. Her regular customers hadn’t said anything, but they could probably tell the difference.
If only she could convince Angel Lomax to bake a few scones and a muffin or two. But Angel’s specialty at her bakery was bread—the wonderful bread they used for the sandwiches that Barbara Jean was currently screwing up, as well as the baguettes they sold in the afternoon.
Ruth sighed again. Her kitchen situation was an ongoing problem, one she undoubtedly wouldn’t solve today. But she was going to have to come up with something soon if she didn’t want to lose her customers or her mind.
Or both.
The front door slapped shut and she turned to see her daughter slouching toward the deli counter. Carol was supposed to be sleeping late. She’d come back from visiting her grandparents in Colorado Springs the night before in a foul mood. Given the way David’s parents indulged their only grandchild, Carol was usually happy to visit, but this time her father was supposed to visit while she was there and hadn’t. It was classic David—promise the moon and then get caught up in another project that absolutely couldn’t wait. When they’d been married, Ruth had gotten used to it, in a certain grim way. Of course, it was also one of many reasons why they were no longer married.
This time, though, he’d disappointed his daughter, who wasn’t used to it yet.
Carol narrowed her eyes as she studied Barbara Jean’s sandwich. “That looks like crap.”
Ruth narrowed her own eyes. “Don’t say crap. Particularly, don’t say it about our food.”
Carol gave her a surly shrug. “Where’s Bec?”
“Bec’s only working half days now. She’s got too much to do at the brewery to work full time.” Ruth felt a quick pang. She missed having Bec around, but she understood the problem. Between cheese and beer, Bec would choose beer just as reliably as Ruth herself would choose cheese. If you had a choice, you went with your heart when it came to an avocation.
