French Roast

by Ava Miles

  Dammit, she wanted to call in sick today. If it weren’t for Mac, she’d cuddle up to Brian right now, waking him up in a way she’d only dreamed about. Mouth, hands, tongue. God, she was hot already.

  The sheet twisted around his waist, so she took a minute to admire him. Man, oh man, yards of tantalizing skin and muscles. And he was finally hers. She reached out a hand and ran it down his chest and then snuggled up to him, fitting herself against his body.

  “Good morning,” she drawled, knowing happiness was helping her wake up faster than usual.

  “You chuckle snore.” He slung an arm around her waist without cracking his eyes open. “Kinda cute.”

  “I was exhausted.” God, she’d snored? Wasn’t that the guy’s prerogative?

  His stubble scratched her when she leaned in for a long kiss. She refused to think about morning breath. They both had it. Deal with it.

  “Don’t go. You’ve barely had three hours of shut eye.”

  Nuzzling his neck, she firmed her shoulders so she wouldn’t give into the desire to fit her skin to his. “Lots to do.”

  “I want to have morning sex with you,” he murmured.

  “You’re still half asleep.” Inner delight made her want to do a cartwheel. Morning sex. Yeah! Another check.

  He pulled their hips together and undulated. “Not all of me.”

  Her insides melted, and she was pretty sure her toes curled. Her damn work ethic made her look at the clock. It would have to be a quickie. Did she really want to settle for that?

  Hell, yeah. She launched herself at him.

  She was sore. He was slow, all sleep-eyed and languid, his body warm and relaxed as he guided her to the peak and found his own.

  She wanted to wallow in the afterglow, but she forced herself out of bed instead. She had a reputation to uphold. Mac didn’t strike her as someone who liked waiting. Plus, what would she tell him? Saying she’d gotten banged until she was too sore to move didn’t exactly count as an excuse.

  She sang in the shower. Got ready in record time. When she cracked the door, steam billowing out, Brian wasn’t in bed.

  Bacon’s enchanting scent drew her to the kitchen. He’d pulled on a pair of boxers and was flipping thick-slab bacon onto a paper towel. Talk about a dangerous outfit.

  She wrapped her arms around his middle. “You never get up this early. And you’re cooking for me?”

  “Never say I don’t treat you right,” he replied, scooping the bacon inside toasted French bread from last night. He flipped a sizzling egg on top and dotted it with cheddar cheese. “Thought you might need to eat on the run.”

  She kissed his back again and simply savored the moment. Great sex all night. Morning sex. And now breakfast. Who said the morning after sucked? “I could get used to this.”

  “Yeah, I don’t think either one of us is worried about this being a hardship.”

  “I could have picked something up at my shop.”

  “I know,” he simply replied. “I wanted to feed you.” He gave her a quick kiss. “I like feeding you. Now, you’d better get going before I decide to delay you further.”

  Her mouth dropped open, her gaze flying to his crotch. “Again? What are you? A machine?”

  He chuckled and pointed to the door. “So it seems. Go.”

  “You got inspired by the left-over sausages, didn’t you?” She gave him one fast kiss. Ruffled his hair for measure. “See ya later.”

  Wishing she could share her new sex glory, she talked to Jemma in the car on the way to work. Told her all the details like she would have shared if her friend were still alive. By the time she arrived at the coffee shop, she needed to wipe the tears from her eyes.

  Her morning with Mac went like clock-work. They planned and plotted. He made calls. She made calls. They huddled. When they were a few minutes shy of heading to a meeting, Meredith walked into Don’t Soy with Me.

  She exchanged greetings with a few locals, but moved with purpose toward Jill. “Hey there,” she called, leaning down for a hug. “You’re a hard woman to track down these days.”

  The dig turned up guilt’s clingy roots. Why did family always know how to give you the thumbscrews treatment?

  “I’ve been busy with my new boss,” she replied. “Meredith, meet Mac Maven. Mac, this is my sister, Meredith Hale.”

  “It’s good to meet you,” Meredith said, shaking his hand. “Tanner said he enjoyed talking to you. Of course, we’re all grateful for the help you gave Peggy and Keith.”

  “I‘m just glad I was there.”

  “I heard both of you were over at Peggy’s yesterday.” Meredith’s gaze simply screamed questions about that visit. “She’s feeling a bit better today, and we’re hoping she’s on the mend. Keith is coming to our place after school. This virus has her wiped.”

  Jill glanced at her watch again, hoping Meredith would take the hint. “Yeah, made me want to wear one of those masks you always see in Tokyo. We have a meeting with Kim Ploy. Since it’s our first lunch with a city council member, we don’t want to be late.”

  Meredith smiled, her mouth a flat line. “I understand. This won’t take long. Excuse us.” She grabbed Jill’s arm and all but dragged her to the back.

  “Hey,” Jill protested, but she knew what this was about. The move.

  “You can go nicely or be herded.”

  The entire coffee shop was watching, so Jill gave a breezy wave. “Big sisters,” she called out as an explanation. People laughed. Some rolled their eyes like they knew exactly why Meredith was dragging her off.

  Her sister pushed her into her office and shut the door with a silky rap.

  “You have some explaining to do,” she said without preamble.

  “Okay.” Guilt made her stare at a point over Meredith’s shoulder.

  Her sister’s hands went to her hips. “I heard from our new copy editor that she saw Brian moving things into your house. Like boxes. That’s not a few pairs of underwear and a change of clothes, Jill. What’s going on?”

  At times like these, living in a small town sucked. Jill fiddled with a paperclip. “We’re giving it a trial run. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I didn’t know how.” Plus she knew her family wouldn’t like it. Coming on the heels of the French chick’s arrival, right after she and Brian had started dating, no less, and the Hales would be worried about her getting hurt. Hadn’t they already called Brian out?

  Meredith planted her hands on Jill’s desk, leaning over. “I don’t like this. Mom’s already gotten some calls, and she’s wondering about this sudden move. And don’t even ask me what Gramps said this morning over coffee.”

  The paperclip twisted into modern art with the flick of Jill’s fingers. “I’m sorry I didn’t keep you updated.”

  Meredith slapped her hand down, startling Jill into dropping the metal swizzle. “I’m your sister. I’m not someone you update.”

  A combination of fatigue and guilt made Jill dart around the desk and pull Meredith into a hug. “You’re important to me, Mermaid. You all are. I just need to handle some stuff on my own.” She squeezed her hard enough to crack her ribs. “Things are complicated.”

  Meredith gave her own version of a bear hug. “I know you don’t want us to think any less of him, Jill, but he’s distancing you from our family.” She pulled back. “It’s a dangerous thing to start. I know. I did it with Rick-the-Dick when we got married. Is that really how you want to play it?”

  Jill thought back to how Meredith hadn’t come home or called as often when she’d been married to her loser ex. “It’s not like that with Brian. He’s not Rick-the-Dick.”

  “Isn’t having Brian move in on the tails of his ex’s arrival a little over the top? Seriously, Jill, this looks like you’re going off half-cocked to try and keep him.”

  Jill inhaled sharply. “Are you implying I’m desperate?”

  “I don’t know. Your behavior kinda smacks of it. I don’t trust him right now, Jill, and I’m surprised you’re embraci
ng him with open arms given everything that’s come to light. That just doesn’t seem smart.”

  Having an older sister had many benefits, but not when it involved this kind of talk. “I don’t expect you to understand.”

  “Jill!” Meredith cried. “You’ve always been an open book.”

  She decided she could go for part of the truth. “That was before I started having sex with him.”

  Meredith’s hands dropped from her arms. That shut her up. For a second.

  “This is about more than sex.” Her eyes narrowed. “I don’t mean to piss you off, but don’t you think that’s odd? You suddenly have sex with Brian at a time like this when you were so concerned about waiting for the right moment. Now, he’s already moved in with you? Gramps thinks you’ve lost your mind.”

  She didn’t need a lecture. “Gramps can think what he wants. So can you. It’s my life, Mere.”

  “Why are you fighting so hard to keep us out, Jillie?”

  She was afraid of their judgment, she realized. If she and Brian didn’t work out, she didn’t want them to act like she’d been stupid for not taking their advice.

  “Sometimes you need a little space from your family to find your way. I have things to sort out. With Brian. And the long-term job offer from Mac. A lot of things.”

  Meredith’s face fell. “That says it all then.”

  “I’m sorry!”

  “Me too,” she said and left.

  After kicking her desk until her toe hurt, Jill walked back to Mac and signaled that she was ready to leave. She watched Meredith emerge from the bathroom as they headed to the door, wiping her eyes. She’d hurt her sister. Just when their relationship had grown back into something special.

  But she didn’t need a lecture. She had enough on her hands.

  Chapter 30

  Jill and Brian fell into a pattern over the next few days. She took a nap when she got home so she could stay up late with him, and as soon as he got home from his shift, they tore each other’s clothes off. Their hours were totally lop-sided, but their schedules didn’t seem to matter.

  She was sore and sated, sleep deprived and serene. Who could ask for more?

  Yet the friction with Meredith still grated. And her call with her mother had gone about as well as expected. Even though she loved Brian like a son, all the rumors and revelations had made her question Jill’s judgment. Plus, didn’t she care about her reputation? The whole town was talking about them shacking up right after the French woman’s arrival. She’d tried to defend herself and Brian, but her mother had been on a tear.

  Her grandpa didn’t swing by, but he called to ask if she needed anything. When she asked if he was going to give her the what-for, he said he expected Meredith and her mom had pretty much outlined his concerns. Yeah. They had.

  She knew they’d done it out of love, but it still grated. And hurt.

  Things with Mac clicked like clock-work. Lunches, dinners, even coffees. They were making progress, gaining more votes. The man was a genius at reading people, knowing what to say. Jill liked him more and more and thought she could easily work for him full-time.

  Her mind spun out future scenarios, but none of them stuck.

  Fragrant aromas of onion, garlic, and spiced meat surprised her when she swung into the door after another long day. Mutt greeted her with a drooling smile. She was glad he was back from Pete’s house. Being obligated to Pete was less welcome than shower mildew when she was too lazy to clean.

  “Hey, why aren’t you at work?” she called out.

  Hands on her hips, she waited for her favorite moment of the day—Greeting Time, as she called it. Brian appeared with a dish towel tucked in his snug, worn denims. The navy blue fleece only made his eyes brighter when they met hers. He leaned against the wall, all male nonchalance.

  “I switched shifts with someone,” he responded, gazing from her chocolate brown boots up to her caramel-colored wool skirt to her burgundy sweater wrap, lingering on her breasts. “I told you, we’re like the Broncos.”

  “Who agreed? They can have free coffee for a year.”

  Was he going to pounce on her or draw things out? She never quite knew what he had in mind, but since they always ended up making love, she couldn’t complain.

  “I’ll be sure to tell him.”

  She toyed with her smoky quartz necklace, which had seemed an appropriate choice. She felt smoky lately—and pretty damn happy over how easily they shared the house together. They’d become a unit faster than she would have imagined. Flicking that to the back of her mind, she sauntered forward, but Mutt ruined it when she had to step over his fat brown and white folds. The right corner of Brian’s mouth tipped up, but he didn’t move.

  “I was wondering when you were going to get over here,” he murmured as she twined her arms around his neck.

  She smoothed her fingers through the maple-colored hair at his nape and simply stared at him. “How was your day?” she asked as he pulled her against his hips. She gave a throaty moan. God, she was easy.

  “Shut up.” He fitted his mouth to hers, taking her on a steamy, erotic ride.

  Clothes flew. Being taken in the hallway against the wall was another notch in her Position Belt. When they sank to the floor, she listened to his pounding heart. Panting, she cracked her eyes open. Mutt was breathing heavily too, his saggy eyes staring right at her.

  “I’m never going to get used to having your dog watch us.” She reached for her wrap, squirming.

  “He’s just jealous,” Brian commented, tracing her back. “Besides, since you can’t keep your hands off me, it’s not like I can lock him away all the time. He hasn’t done anything to deserve a stint in bulldog prison.”

  She snorted. “Did we burn the meal?”

  He crossed his arms behind his head, naked and at ease on her floor. “After the other night, I always turn the burners down.”

  “Yeah, having the fire alarm turn on as we were getting off is not something I’d care to repeat.”

  He chuckled. “Thank God you don’t have a security system.”

  The image made her grin, something she’d been doing a lot of lately. “Yeah, I can see it now. The firemen will come in brandishing their hoses, and I’ll say, ‘Fellas, this girl’s already got all the hose she needs.’”

  His shoulders shook as he sat up. “Let’s eat. I’m starving.”

  “Me too,” she said, pulling on the rest of her clothes alongside him and following him into the kitchen.

  When he served the food, she jumped up and gave him a smacker. “You made Indian food!”

  “Well, I know you love it, so I figured I’d give it a try.” He pushed her back into her chair.

  His thoughtfulness made her heart squeeze in a good way. “You’re the best.”

  She dove into the butter chicken and squealed at the steaming naan bread. The sticky rice released a coconut fragrance, calling to mind exotic beaches.

  “If you moan any more, I won’t be able to keep these pants on,” he finally remarked when she served herself a second helping.

  “Take them off then,” she ordered, waving the spoon with rice stuck to it. “This meal deserves a few good moans.”

  He edged the naan closer. “You’ve given off more than a few. It’s like a chorus.”

  She smirked. “Don’t worry. You’ll get a few good moans later.”

  He ripped a sliver of bread. “Can’t wait. So, tell me about your day.”

  Talking about her day wasn’t the mundane recanting she’d feared. The stories could be as dull as dirt, and he would still smile. Ask questions. Laugh when she mentioned something funny. Then she would do the same for him. It was like comedy hour.

  He produced a chocolate mousse for dessert—something non-Indian since they both agreed sweets with rice didn’t work. She moaned some more as the hazelnuts and bittersweet chocolate hit her mouth.

  After they finished eating and cleaned up the dishes, she took his hand and led him into the fa
mily room.

  “Now I’m going to do something nice for you,” she said, unable to contain her smile. This was going to be so much fun.

  His lashes lowered, and he ran his nose along the length of her neck. “I can’t wait.”

  She shoved him back playfully. “Not that—yet.” Walking over to her stereo, she hit the play button.

  Abba’s classic song, “Dancing Queen,” rolled out. Her hips wiggled to the beat.

  He sunk back onto the couch, groaning. “Please tell me you’re at least going to give me a strip tease or a lap dance.”

  Snorting, she grabbed his hands and tried to pull him up. Thankfully, he didn’t resist, but he groaned again.

  “Seriously, Jill. Abba?”

  “You know how much I love them. Plus, this is how I’m going to help you.”

  He stared at her patiently. “By ruining my taste for music?”

  Her hand punched him in the chest. “Hey, you don’t like me making fun of Julia Child, so don’t make fun of Abba.” She looped her arms around his neck. “I got to thinking about the past.”

  His gorgeous eyes narrowed. “Okay…”

  “Every time we went to a school dance together, you put on a horrible exhibition of White Man’s No-Rhythm Syndrome. I’m here to help you overcome it.”

  His breath sucked in. “Are you saying I can’t dance?”

  She tilted her head to one side. “Yes.”

  “Hey, I’ve got moves.” He pulled her to his hips and moved against her slowly.

  “Yes, in the bedroom,” she replied, taking a deep breath and putting more space between them. “Now we’re going to translate them to the dance floor.”

  “No way,” he said and reached for the TV remote.

  Was that a red flush spreading up his neck? “Come on. Show me what you can do.”

  He paused. “Like now? Come on, Jill. Please. ”

  Oh heavens. He was begging? “Bri, I love to dance, and you need serious help. I didn’t feel it was right about intervening back then, but don’t you remember Jemma trying to show you a few things?” Her smile dimmed for a moment at the thought. God, she missed her friend.