by Vanessa Vale
On a few occasions in the past, I’d offered a little dick on the side. When I first opened the place, I’d been young and horny. Owning a bar was like shooting fish in a barrel when it came to easy pussy.
This customer was beautiful. They often were. But tonight, I gave her a wink and an extra lime wedge and nothing else.
My mind was on Astrid the baker. Why she made my dick ache, I had no idea. I didn’t take her for stupid nor shallow. I wasn’t a dick. Just because she didn’t wear makeup or flaunt the breasts that God gave her didn’t mean she wasn’t appealing.
For some reason, she was too appealing. That was a problem.
I didn’t date. I didn’t have relationships. They were too dangerous. Too clingy. Too… everything. I liked things simple. Easy. No strings attached fun.
Because of this, I was totally fine with being Astrid’s wingman at her family thing. I could handle an ex. I could tackle a crazy family.
Everyone loved me, but I didn’t love in return.
Except my family. No one fucked with them. We Mannings stuck together, but I didn’t want a wife or kids. I had a dog, Maple, and she’d had the kids, a big new litter of puppies that made my niece insanely happy.
That was all the procreating that I’d be a part of.
I had a feeling my brothers would be popping out kids soon. I’d learned Sawyer had been bought at the auction by the preschool teacher who had kneed him in the nuts earlier in the week. Even took her for ice cream after the event instead of heading to the store for an athletic cup. If that wasn’t love, I had no idea what it was.
Huck had been bought by Sarah O’Banyon and yeah, he was whipped. He’d been that way for years, but it seemed the auction had given him a second chance where she was concerned, even if that included breaking his headboard because she’d been scorned enough to handcuff him to it. He had shit to work through where she was concerned, but a second chance wasn’t going to be ignored.
I grinned, thinking about those lovebirds. I refused to be one of them. Alice would have to be satisfied with two out of three of us finding women to keep. I’d say those odds were pretty good results from a charity auction.
“What can I get you?” I asked the next customer, turning and placing a napkin on the bar. When I looked up, it was Astrid. I smiled. “Hey there, sweets.”
She smiled in return, pushed her glasses up. She had on jeans and a green, sleeveless top that matched the color of her eyes exactly. The top had little buttons down the front and three of them were undone. Only a hint of cleavage could be seen, but I couldn’t miss her shape tonight. My mouth watered at those delectable curves. Full tits, a narrow waist and wide hips. She was like an hourglass with lots of dips and hollows that I wanted to explore. For hours. Days.
“Hi. I know this is a busy time.” She glanced around and moved over a little as someone wedged onto the bar stool beside her.
“No worries. I’m glad you stopped by.”
I was glad. She was… refreshing. That sounded fucking stupid, like she was an ice-cold beer after a hot day mending fences. “Isn’t this late for you?”
Nodding, she leaned her forearms on the bar. A little more of her creamy cleavage was revealed. But the fact that she still skipped the makeup and her hair was back in the same braid as the night before meant she wasn’t here for seduction. Although the hint of vanilla I breathed in made my dick twitch, which it hadn’t done for any of the hot women so far tonight. “I finished the last of my special orders and just picked up a batch of raspberries from McMann’s fruit stand. She keeps some on the side for me.”
The sun hadn’t set yet, but if she was up at four as she’d mentioned, she’d been working well over twelve hours.
I cleared my throat. “What can I get you? Drink? Pillow?”
She grinned, then quirked a brow. “Iced tea?”
I nodded, went to pour that for her. Added a lemon slice. When I placed it in front of her, she pulled out her wallet and I held up my hand. “On me.”
She smiled again. “Thanks. I, um…” A rowdy group of guys a few feet down the bar distracted her. “I came to ask you something.” Her voice raised to be heard.
I gritted my teeth at the noise. Astrid shouting to talk to me wasn’t okay. I looked down the length of the bar and got Kelly’s attention. I gave the bar manager a little finger wave to indicate I was stepping away. She nodded and I ducked under the bar flap to get to Astrid. Taking her hand, I said, “Come on.”
We weaved through the crowd to my office in the back. I opened the door, gestured for her to enter first, then shut and locked it behind us. She looked around, took in the desk, chair, and file cabinet. It was far from interesting. Intentionally. I did my paperwork here, got shit done, then got the hell out of the bar. When I craved the outdoors, which was pretty much every fucking day, I went home to the ranch. There, I had enough acreage to get lost, which I did often enough. And when I was ready to crash… alone, I had the barn I’d converted into my own place.
I might be heading to Mexico for the winter, but the ranch was—and would always be—home.
“I have a favor to ask. I’m not used to asking for help, but I need it.”
I leaned a hip against the edge of my desk, set my hands on the edge. “Shoot.”
She bit her plump lip, then looked at me. “I know the auction was for a date and I appreciate you going to my sister’s wedding with me.”
“But…”
She was nervous about asking this favor. Whatever it was, she thought I wasn’t going to like it.
“I’m baking my sister’s wedding cake and I just found out I need to deliver it on Friday before the bachelorette party.”
I shrugged. No issue there. “Okay. I assumed I’d be driving separately anyway.”
She winced. “Yeah, well… My mother paired me with Franklin Pierce since she thought I didn’t have a date and I told her I had one because… I do not want to be paired with him and—”
“Hold up, sweets.” I raised my hand to cut her off. She hadn’t taken a breath through any of that. “What the hell is ‘paired up’?”
“She found me a date for the entire weekend.”
“A former president?”
Her lips twitched and her shoulders relaxed. “I know, right? He’s as bad as he sounds.” Her mouth dropped and her eyes widened. “Oh shit, I’m sorry. I know you and your brothers are named after Mark Twain characters, but I didn’t mean you being bad as you sound. I mean, Thatcher’s a good name. Huckleberry, too, even though I bake muffins named after him… and the fruit.”
I smirked. “It’s okay, sweets. I got it. You don’t have to worry about hurting my feelings. Or Huck’s, for that matter. Ever. I’m good.”
She relaxed and a smile curved her lips, although it wasn’t as bright as when she was talking about McMann’s raspberries.
“Why do you need this ex-president guy? You have a date. Me.”
“Yes, and my mother was very surprised.”
I looked her over trying to figure out why it would be a surprise she was bringing someone.
“Why?”
She frowned. “Why?”
“Why was she surprised? I mean, your ex is the best man so you’ve dated before. It’s not like you just escaped from a convent.”
She huffed, then glanced down at herself. “Look at me. God, is that a raspberry stain?” She lifted the hem of her shirt to inspect a red spot. I didn’t notice that but instead the strip of skin that was exposed when she did so. Soft, pale flesh just above the top of her jeans.
“Is this ex that much of a catch?”
“Edward?” She set her hands on her hips. “If you like being in a relationship with a two-timer.”
I cocked my head to the side and tried to remain calm. “He cheated on you?”
Her eyebrows went up as she nodded.
“Well, he’s an asshole.”
The guy didn’t realize how lucky he’d been. Having a woman like Astrid in his bed but get
ting some elsewhere? He was stupid, too. I couldn’t wait to meet him.
She held up a hand. “Oh, I know it. But my family doesn’t.”
Clearly, this was a hot button for her. Enough of one that she’d bought a date to take with her. There was enough baggage there for an around-the-world trip and I had a feeling there was a lot she wasn’t telling me.
“Your mother doesn’t think you can get a date because you… what, don’t get all dolled up on a Saturday night?”
“Pretty much,” she admitted, glancing down at herself.
“That’s shallow,” I told her.
“That’s my family,” she countered, as if it explained everything.
“Well, they’re wrong.” I pushed off the desk and she had to tip her head back to keep her gaze on mine. “If a guy doesn’t see who you really are because he’s caught on a short skirt and a push up bra, then he’s not worth your time.”
Her mouth fell open, then she snapped it shut. “Says the guy I bought at an auction.”
“Says the guy who’s going to be your date. Friday to Sunday.”
No matter how intriguing I found Astrid, I was probably leaving in a few months. I was settled here in The Bend, but a carefree winter in the tropics? I hadn’t officially decided yet, but I had to give him an answer soon. I had a solid bar manager in Kelly. The puppies would be heading to their new homes starting next weekend. If the auction and the short time since was any indication, Sawyer and Huck would be busy fucking their women.
I wasn’t getting serious with Astrid or any woman, not if I was leaving town. Hell, not if I was staying either. I didn’t do relationships and definitely not long distance. But she was sweet and she seemed as overloaded with work as me. She needed to have some fun at her sister’s wedding instead of it being a chore. For some reason, I wanted to have that fun with her. Besides, it was clear she needed a little help with her family.
“That’s what you’re here to ask, right?”
She licked her lips. “Yes. Mary, the woman who works with me, says I need a wingman.”
If Astrid’s mother put parameters around her love for her daughter like it sounded, then Astrid definitely needed backup. I didn’t know who Franklin Pierce was, but he wasn’t going to get anywhere near her. I doubted I could keep her mother away. That meant I’d have to stick close. Real close.
“I’ll be your date,” I said. “But a guy coming for the weekend is more than just a date.”
Her eyes widened and this close, I couldn’t miss how green they were. “You mean…”
I grinned. “Sweets, I’m your new fake boyfriend. And if we’re going to pull it off, we probably need to practice.”
“Practice?”
“Kissing.”
5
ASTRID
“Um… what?”
He took a step toward me. I stepped back. It was more the predatory, heated look in his eye that had me wary. He wanted to kiss me? Me?
The one with flour on her face, a raspberry stain on her shirt who blurted out stupid shit?
I retreated once more and bumped into the closed door. I wasn’t afraid of kissing him. The opposite, actually. What if I liked it? God, not if. Of course I’d like it. He leaned in, set his forearm beside my head. He was close, so close that every time I took a breath, my breasts brushed his chest. I had to tilt my chin back to look at him and what I saw…
Was he even real? There was something about a ginger, a guy with hair like his. Strands that curled. Untamed, just like Thatcher. His eyes were on mine, mesmerizing in how blue they were. How piercing. The whiskers on his square jaw were more auburn than red and I wondered if they were scratchy. His full lips kicked up at the corner.
“There’s no way in hell anyone would believe I’d be able to keep my hands off of you if you were mine.”
I blinked.
Thatcher Manning hit all the checkboxes.
Gorgeous. Yes.
Seemingly nice. Yes.
A dirty talker. Yes, in that breathy, I’m coming sort of way.
“Or my mouth.”
Oh my God.
“I love that you smell like sugar and vanilla. Do you taste just as sweet?”
I wasn’t a virgin. I wasn’t a prude either. After the auction last night, my vibrator had been put to good use as I thought about Thatcher. Now, I was just… surprised.
A guy like him could have any woman he wanted. Gorgeous ones who left him their numbers on cocktail napkins on a nightly basis. He’d probably collected several tonight alone. And yet he was in his office with the door locked with me.
I’d barely pulled myself together to come here. I’d worked later than I’d wanted and it was either show up… again, without makeup or any kind of cute outfit on my part, or I’d have been too tired to stop by. And I’d had to stop by, to ask if he’d join me for more than Amy’s wedding.
A date was one thing, but a boyfriend?
I swallowed. Wait. He’d said this plan between us was fake.
That meant he was going to kiss me because a guy like Thatcher had needs a girlfriend would take care of. If I was his real girlfriend I’d be more than happy to see to them. Every. Single. One. Especially if it meant he’d taste me.
God, I was stuck on that.
But this was pretend, and I had to stop being flustered and shy around him. He was right. No one at the wedding would buy it. And if they didn’t and learned it was all fake, I’d be even more of a loser to them than I already was.
“Well?” he murmured.
“Hmm?”
“Taste sweet.”
“I—”
He cut me off with a kiss. Holy hell, a kiss.
His lips were firm and warm. Gentle but insistent. When his hand cupped my cheek… I—what?
There were no thoughts. Nothing was going through my head because all I could focus on was Thatcher’s mouth. His fingers sliding into my hair, then wrapping around my braid. The press of his body into mine. The thick prod of his dick in my belly.
I whimpered. Gasped. Made some kind of breathy sound and melted into the door. Thatcher nudged his thigh between mine to hold me up.
I tipped my head back and outright moaned because he bumped my clit.
I’d think about being a wanton hussy later because now I was rolling my hips and riding his thigh, my hands gripping the sides of his shirt and holding him close. A tug on my hair had my mouth opening and his tongue found mine. He didn’t taste sweet. Instead, he was minty and dark and wild and… who cared?
We came up for air eventually, Thatcher tipping his forehead against mine as we caught our breath.
When his hand, which was cupping my left boob, gave a little squeeze, I whimpered. Then his thumb slid back and forth once over my hard nipple.
“That was one hell of a fake kiss,” I breathed.
“Totally fake.”
“Um… the hand on the boob’s part of making it believable to my family?” I wondered.
He was so close I could see the dark flecks in his blue eyes. He grinned. “No. That’s just for me, sweets.”
6
THATCHER
Wednesday
“When can Sandy come live with me, Uncle Thatch?”
I was sitting in the stall that we’d turned into the dog nursery. My niece, Claire, was surrounded by puppies. Maple’d had a litter and everyone had been taking care of them. The puppies were now seven weeks old and starting to eat water-softened dog food. They played and rolled around, climbing on Maple, who was getting tired of being stuck with her children twenty-four/seven. I assumed every mother could understand, even the fact that one of them was currently gnawing on her ear and another climbing over her legs.
I petted her head, letting her know she was a good girl. Claire was going to keep one. Since all of them were yellow labs except a single black one, she’d had a tough time keeping which one was hers straight. I had no idea either, but Huck and Sarah had picked out a little pink collar and Claire had put it on one
of them the other day. Now she knew which one was hers—even though I’d switched it yesterday because the Sandy she’d picked had turned out to be a boy—and was more eager than ever to take her up to the main house.
“This weekend,” I replied.
I had my cell in hand, staring at the text I’d finally gotten back from my friend, Kent. He was the one whose bar I was going to run for the winter in Cozumel.
KENT: Dude, I was in Belize fly fishing. You’re in?
I’d texted him five minutes after Astrid left my office on Saturday night. My text had been simple: I’m in.
I hadn’t heard from him since, until now. In those few days, I hadn’t changed my mind about going. In fact, the kiss with Astrid had been the deciding factor. I’d liked it too much and that was a problem. I had a feeling it could lead to more, and I didn’t do more. One kiss and my balls had ached all night. I’d had to do bookkeeping at my desk to try to get my dick to go down before I could go back and help the bartenders.
Since Saturday night, Kelsey and Sawyer had gotten together and that was a crazy-as-fuck story. Huck and Sarah were a done deal. Hell, she was already living with him in the main house. I was the last Manning brother standing.
And I was going to stay that way. I texted him back, moving my thumbs over the small screen.
ME: Yes. September to February. Book me a ticket. I’ll buy some sunscreen.
KENT: Gonna have to ditch the Stetson.
ME: Not wearing a sombrero.
I smiled at that, and I was reassured about my decision. I’d get away from the lovebirds for a while. I stuck my cell back in my pocket, then reached out and snagged a piece of straw from one of the puppies’ mouths. “Sandy needs a little more time with her mommy and brothers and sisters,” I told Claire.
I leaned against the wood wall, my legs out straight. Horses filled the other stalls in the stable and I’d take one of them out later for a ride.
