by Lynn, Stacey
“Thinking of retiring. Selling the bar.”
“What?”
My hands go to the towel on the bar and twist it in my fist. “But—”
“I want you to have it. If you want it.”
“Dad—”
“You don’t have to. And if you want, I can keep it but frankly, I’m getting too old for this crap and the late nights and the wondering if we’ll keep making it. And I don’t really like the idea of putting that pressure on your shoulders either, but I also can’t stomach the idea of it going to someone else. Or a business who wants to tear this place down. It might not be much, but it’s been mine for over thirty-five years, so I figure it should go to someone who’ll care for it. But if that’s not you—”
“It is.”
I grab the envelope he has without further thought. No way am I letting George’s go. There’s a table in the corner that has multiplication facts scratched into it from when I used to sit and do my homework for goodness’ sake. This is my home as much as it’s a bar.
My fingers tremble as I undo the clasp and slide out a thick stack of legal paperwork and I scan the top page which doesn’t say much except for the name of my dad’s law firm.
“You want me to buy George’s? I don’t have—”
“For one dollar. It’s easier that way. So if you want it, it’s yours.”
“Dad. Why so sudden?”
A rock sinks to my stomach. He’s been on me about this for months, and he’s been more tired lately. “Are you…?”
“Healthy as a horse, butterfly. I promise you.”
A weight falls from my shoulders and yet I’m still shaky, grin wobbling as I inspect him. He seems sad. Older. “Dad, if there’s something you’re hiding from me—”
“There’s not, I promise. I’m just old. Getting older. Slower. Want George’s to go to someone who will love it, but if it’s not you, I’m okay with that, too. Not asking you to decide tonight, but if you’re interested, take your time deciding if it’s right for you. You know I don’t like the idea of saddling you with something that might make you feel trapped someday but if you’re happy here, think you could be happy here, then there’s no one else I’d want more running George’s than you.”
“Thanks, Dad. It means a lot you’d trust me with this.”
“I’d trust you with anything, butterfly. Now come give your old man a kiss before I take off.”
He doesn’t even have to ask. I round the bar and plant a kiss on his cheeks, squeezing him tight. “Love you, Dad.”
“Always love you.”
He unwraps my arms from his waist, because somehow they’ve cemented themselves to him. Thinking of my dad getting old and slowing down makes my heart hurt.
He’s all I have.
When he pulls away, he brushes my forehead with his lips and tugs on one of my braids. “You good for the night?”
“Yeah. Go home. I’ve got this.”
I wait until he’s gone, grabbing his coat from the back office and doing another scan of the bar on his way toward the front door before I reach for the papers again.
Run George’s Bar? Alone?
I’ve never considered, but like my dad said, who else would love it as much as he and I do?
It’s hours later when the bar is closed, I’m exhausted and smelly, curled up on my couch in my apartment with the stack of papers in my hand when my phone dings. My eyelids are heavy and yet I perk right up.
There’s only one person who would text me this late. Or early, depending on your sleep schedule.
Odd how a simple chime of a text tone can make me think of Sebastian.
It’s probably a sign I’m in far deeper than I should be with him.
Taking a chance here since it seems like you’ve blown me off but hoping it’s been a busy week for you. Still thinking about you. Plans tomorrow?
And just like that, I’m rattled all over again. I’ve been able to forget thinking of Sebastian ever since my dad’s announcement.
Now? At three o’clock in the morning and he’s still awake? Thinking of me. My heart does some wild, rapid flutter as the realization settles.
Goodness. I think this guy likes me.
My thumb hovers over the screen. I’ve always been a risk-taker. I tend to act first, think of consequences after… my marriage to Evan the perfect example of leaping before I look. Yet now, I have responsibility.
I have a potential plan for my future that I can see myself loving and I’m not sure where Sebastian fits in.
But screw it.
He’s a pro hockey player. He’ll surely be destined for something more.
I’m probably a rebound for him.
A walk on the “wild” side.
I’m not sure if that excites me or hurts me, but before I can think too much about it, I type out a text.
I’ll be working. But I’d like to see you.
I turn my phone off, toss it onto the coffee table littered with books, and I shove my dad’s papers back into the envelope.
I have time to consider all of this insanity swirling around me.
What I need is sleep and a clear head so I can decide what to do with it.
Chapter Seventeen
Gigi
George’s is hopping tonight, busier than it usually is. I’ve been running on my feet all night. The only break I took was to run upstairs to change out of my jeans and into denim cut-off shorts. I’m a freaking hot mess but thankfully I’ve got Dom behind the bar working with me. He doesn’t work much due to his classes at the University in Charlotte, and our generally slow evenings, but when he’s here, he’s a lifesaver.
I don’t know what in the world it is about the place the last few weeks but we’ve been busier than normal almost every night. While it’s not like me to look a gift horse in the mouth, I’m still wondering why.
Especially when most of our customers tonight are sporting dress shirts and ties, all of which are haphazardly undone and loosened. Perhaps there was a nearby wedding or something.
Most of the tables are full. There’s been a crowd around the pool table and dartboard and I’ve already had to change the toilet paper in the women’s bathroom a couple of times, something much different when we can normally go several days.
All that to say, I’m exhausted. I’m sweaty. I’ve totally forgotten about my text sent to Sebastian last night about working and being willing to see him tonight until I’m pouring two gin and tonics for a pair of younger looking women near the pool table and a hand I’d now recognize anywhere settles itself on the bar across from me.
“Hey you.” I’m already grinning, raising my head to look at Sebastian while I place the drinks on the tray. The expression I see on his face wipes the smile off mine. “What is it? Are you okay?”
“Can we talk a minute in private?”
I scan the bar on instinct. “I’m kind of busy. Can it wait a little while?” Or tomorrow, with the way this crowd is going.
“Not really.”
I swear, beneath his beard his jaw is clenched. “One minute. Won’t take long.”
“I’ve got this,” Dom says, grabbing the tray from the bar. “Take your minute.” His dark brown eyes flicker between the two of us. I know he recognizes Sebastian. Hard not to when I’ve had the televisions constantly on hockey games.
“You sure?”
With Sebastian looking all growly, I’m not sure I want to be alone with him. He seems to understand my hesitancy because he makes a face that makes his features loosen.
“Please, Gigi.”
“Okay. Sure.” I turn to Dom who has the tray in his hands and has now loaded it with six different beer bottles. “Thanks Dom.”
“No problem, Georgia.”
I huff a laugh as he walks toward the bar back. Very few people call me my given name so much so that sometimes it surprises me it’s my actual name. I hold the lift for Dom before following him out.
Sebastian has pushed his way through the small crowd
at the bar and meets me at the end where I take off down the hall. The office is small and messy, and usually smells like stale popcorn. Which is weird. We don’t sell popcorn. My dad has a habit of leaving piles all over his desk and the small leather loveseat is so old there’s barely any padding left in the cushions. There’s a tear on one side of the back I think has been there longer than I’ve been alive.
Embarrassment floods my cheeks at how old and junky it looks. I turn to Sebastian to say something, ask him what he wants, apologize for the lack of space or do something when I realize he’s so close to me, I can make out all the tiny lines on his upper lip.
“What is it?”
His hands fist at his sides and he flexes them. “I want to see how something feels.”
“What?” I jerk back, but I’m stopped by those large palms of his. One at the side of my neck, one on my cheek.
“Sebastian—”
“This,” he mutters, still growling, right before he slides his lips to mine and presses.
And oh my… he’s kissing me. Sebastian Hendrix, my crazy year-long crush has his hands on my face and his mouth pressed to mine and what in the world is going on?
My head spins. I’m so confused I’m still tense when he tilts my chin and changes the angle. I gasp, shocked from everything that’s happening which means my lips part and then his tongue slides inside my mouth along with a groan that seems to shoot straight from his gut.
It’s that sound, the rumble of his chest pressed so firmly against mine that snaps me back to the present with the sting of a rubber band.
My hands find their way to his chest and I shove.
“Don’t ever use me like that again.”
My chest is heaving. The taste of him is on me, inside my mouth, and I wipe my lips to brush it away. “Don’t ever do that again,” I repeat.
“I’m not—”
“Please. I won’t be your experiment to see if you can enjoy kissing women when you’re still strung up about Madison.”
He jerks back. Eyes widening in a swirl of emotions. He gapes at me, closes his mouth. His nose scrunches and lips curl as he takes a step forward.
I step back, bumping my backside to my dad’s desk. Papers go flying and I’m pretty sure I’m sitting on an uncapped pen due to the poking sensation in my left ass cheek.
“That’s not what this was and if you think back to all our interactions in the last few weeks, you’d know that.”
I refuse to believe this. He’s not even divorced yet. Technically, he’s still married and while this wouldn’t make me a homewrecker, it doesn’t feel right.
“Madison—”
“My divorce is finalized. And I’ve spent the last week thinking of what you’ll taste like and you know that because you know what I said the last time you got out of my car. And as for kissing?”
He smirks.
I swear it makes my lady parts tingle. Especially when he leans in closer and that tingle turns to a full-on torment deep in the apex of my thighs. His cologne is woodsy with a light hint of citrus. Edibly scrumptious.
“We’ll be doing that a whole hell of a lot more.”
I still can’t catch my breath. I can’t move. I can only stare at this magnificent, beautiful specimen of a man that I’m pretty sure was hand carved from stone.
“What is happening here?”
My hands curl into the edges of my dad’s thirty-year-old Formica topped and metal desk. There’s a part that’s ripped and torn, and it digs into my palms. Pretty sure I’ll be dripping blood from my hands with an ink stain on my ass by the time I get out of here. None of that is anything compared to the rioting inside my chest.
“I like being with you. I like it when I think about you. I like laughing with you. None of that has anything to do with experimenting with women like I’m gonna start leaving a string of puck bunnies in my wake. That’s not who I am. I kissed you because I’ve been thinking of kissing you since I woke up at your apartment and I wanted to see what kissing you would be like.”
He’s been thinking of this since then? Woah. “And?”
“I want more.”
He’s no longer married. He wants me. He’s single and he wants me. Which means there’s really nothing to do except do what I’ve wanted to do since the first time he sauntered into the bar.
I launch myself at him, hands going straight to the back of his head so I can tangle them in his hair. His beard scrapes against my cheeks and my lips as I kiss him. He doesn’t tense like I did. He doesn’t wait or pause. He opens my mouth with his and he takes over in such a way that I have a very firm and very realistic preview of what this man will be like in bed. Confident.
Dominating.
Freaking incredible and powerful.
He spins us so quickly I lose my footing but his hands are clenched to my waist, digging into the waistband of my jean shorts and then I’m practically thrown against the wall. The door handle digs into my back causing me to mewl in pain but it’s nothing compared to the pleasured whimpers already sliding out of my mouth.
Yes. This. This has been worth a year-long abstinence lull due to not finding anyone interesting besides Sebastian since I’ve been home. Already my core is clenching. Needing.
This is… this is not what I thought he meant when he texted if he could see me today.
Wowzers.
He yanks back, his breath coming in ragged spurts and he presses his forehead to mine. “We should stop. I think this has gone well past the minute I promised.”
“Dom can handle it.” Now that I have him, now that I’ve tasted him, I don’t want to let him go. “Do you have a game tomorrow?”
“Day off.”
“You could…” I slide my hand out of his hair, to his shoulders, down the curves of his chest and lose my train of thought.
His hands cover mine, stopping their exploration. Pity. “I could what?”
“You could wait for me to be done here. We could finish this later?”
My lip finds its way to my teeth. I don’t usually lack confidence. I have no problems asking for what I want, but Sebastian makes me nervous. Him recently out of a marriage to a woman he loves makes me more so. Being a rebound isn’t my thing. And I don’t want to start it with him. Not when my heart is already involved.
“You want that?”
When I look up at him, he’s grinning down at me. Eyes shining with anticipation. Excitement. I do this to him, and man, is it thrilling.
“If you want.”
“I want. And I want one more kiss before we leave here.”
A knock pounds on the door behind me, making me jump. “Need you, Georgia. Getting slammed out here!”
“Be right there, Dom!”
“Georgia?”
I grin up at Sebastian and giggle. “It is my name.”
He shakes his head, laughing in a way I’ve never seen him before. Unguarded. That’s the way he looks right now. “I had no clue.”
“Then I suppose if you wait around tonight, we’ll have lots more to learn about each other.”
His gaze dips and scans. He pauses at my exposed skin between my shirt and shorts. His inspection is so intense even my covered skin flushes and heats beneath him. “Yeah, we do.”
He kisses me again without warning, without tongue, but still hot and heavy and when he pulls back, he has one eyebrow arched.
“That wasn’t so bad, was it?”
I lick my lips and shrug. Reaching for the door handle behind me, I tease him. “Passable as decent.”
“Ouch.” His hand goes to his chest.
“Maybe you need more practice, hotshot.” I wink and flush with happy thoughts as his smile widens. “I’ll see you later?”
“I’ll be the guy at the bar waiting for closing time. Go. If you don’t mind, I need a minute.”
I peek down. I can’t help myself. Not with that innuendo. When I do, he adjusts himself and well, hey there… it looks like there’s a lot to adjust.
�
�Nice,” I say, flashing another wink before I hurry out the door. “Take your time!”
Chapter Eighteen
Sebastian
I’ve spent hours sitting here, drumming my thumbs on the bar top. I’ve only had a few drinks. The last thing I need to do tonight is be too drunk for whatever comes next. The problem is I’ve had hours to figure out exactly what that next step is and I’m uncertain how to proceed.
I’ve had sex with one woman in my entire life.
Before tonight, I’ve kissed one woman—unless you count Macy Johnston in the sixth grade at a pool party during a not-so-innocent pre-teen game of Truth or Dare.
I skipped right over the wild “sowing your oats” phase when the guys in college and early years making pros were plowing through women like they plowed through their millions. It’s never once interested me. And it’s not only because I had Madison.
When I was eleven, I made a girl cry getting off the school bus because I told her I didn’t like her and didn’t want to be her friend. My father found out, sat me down and told me that a woman’s heart is her most precious possession. Her body is the second. As a man, you treat the latter with absolute respect and the first with absolute tenderness.
I was young, but my dad’s a man of a few words, few times of seriousness. It was our first serious, man-to-man conversation, and it stuck.
Which means, I should probably figure out exactly what I want out of this night with Gigi before I charge forward and for the first time, ignore that advice from my dad.
The only thing I’m certain of is that my body wants her. Her lips were softer than I could have possibly imagined. She tasted like fresh life and sweetness.
She felt better than a warm towel wrapped around you right out of the shower when it’s thirty degrees below zero in a Minnesota winter.
It’s closing time and while I offered to help Gigi and Dom clean up and take care of empties, she insisted I sit down, enjoy my glass of water and it’d go faster with me sitting there than it would if I helped.
