Unexpected Gift

by Lively, R. S.

  I’ve never heard of her having a boyfriend before or dating. I wonder how much experience she has. Has she been with another man? How many? Does it matter? No, but the thought of her with someone else besides me, pisses me off.

  Why? I know when I imagine another man’s lips on hers, I want to destroy something. Posie must feel the shift in emotions because she starts to wail. She needs to be fed and changed anyway. It’s a good interruption because another second, and I might start something that will have turned into a bad idea. Molly would have ended up hating me more than she initially does.

  “Can I hold her? I miss her.”

  “Of course, you can, you never have to ask.” I pick up chunky monkey out of the sling and give her a kiss before handing her over.

  “I know it has only been a week, but it looks like she has gotten bigger.”

  “Really? With as much puke as I’ve had in my hair over the last few days, I would argue that.”

  Posie settles a bit when she recognizes Molly, staring at her like she hung the damn moon. “Hey, baby girl. Look at you. You’re getting so big. You look just like your mommy today.”

  “I told her that, too,” I say, a little surprised.

  She starts walking toward the cars, and I tell myself not to look at her ass. I really do, but it is engraved in my DNA to look. I let my eyes wander for a few seconds, appreciating her curves, her structure. She has the perfect shape to hold onto…

  “So, what are we going to do?”

  Her question yanks me out of the thoughts I shouldn’t be having. “Hmm?”

  “The houses.”

  “Right.” Because what else is there to ask about? “You like this house, right?”

  “I do.”

  “Good, because I bought it this morning, with another realtor.”

  She blinks at me as if she didn’t hear what I say. “You did, what?”

  “I know, I shouldn’t have, but I figured if it really didn’t work out, I could sell it. It was too perfect to pass up and tomorrow it might not have been here. So, I took a leap of faith.”

  “You bought us a house!” she shouts.

  “I did.” I take a chance and step forward, wanting to kiss to celebrate our happiness and success. We are taking a step forward, trying to move past the pain we share. The only thing we share.

  “Thank you. I think…I really think we can do this, Caden. We can set aside our differences and make this work for Posie.”

  Like a bucket of ice water, her words snap me back to reality. The reality where her, and I only tolerate each other because of everyone else around us, and now that only includes Posie. But I guess that is still enough for Molly to not to want to let go of those differences that I am fighting to hold onto.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Molly

  “Your last night as a free woman. Are you sure you’re ready for this?” Kenna raises her salt-rimmed shot glass, holding a lime with her other hand.

  I lift my own glass, preparing for the alcohol to numb my brain. “I’m still single, you know. I’m not married or anything.”

  “Right.” She lowers her glass, clinking it against the counter. “How many shots will it take to make you believe that?”

  Ugh, I can’t stand the burn of tequila, but whiskey makes me vomit, so tequila it is! I clink my glass against the counter too, lick the rim, and hold my breath as I shoot the alcohol down my throat. The lime makes me cringe from how sour it is, but it cuts the tequila perfectly, making the shot better. “It could take no shots. I believe that. I’m single, and ready to mingle. I just have a roommate and we are helping raise our niece.” Because that is exactly what Posie is to Caden.

  Kenna signals the bartender, telling him we want another. Oh, I love this bar. He is shirtless, and his skin glistens like he put oil on it, making his muscles shine against the lights flashing in the club. He picks up the bottle, twirling it in his hand before filling our shot glasses again. “Leave the bottle,” Kenna says.

  “It’s going to be that kind of night, huh?” Crap, the hottie bartender didn’t salt the rim. So, I improvise. I lick the top of my hand, wetting it with spit, and sprinkle the salt on top of it.

  “Inventive. I like it.” She tosses another shot back. “And tonight, since you are a free woman and all apparently, we are going to find you a man better looking than Caden.” She scans the crowd.

  Yeah, right. A man better looking than Caden? Good luck with that.

  “What was that?” Kenna asks, pouring herself another shot.

  Crap. I said that out loud. “I didn’t say anything. Other conversation.” I point to the person behind me, blaming the poor schmuck.

  “Am I better looking than Caden?” the shirtless bartender asks, placing a very colorful drink down in front of me.

  Kenna raises her brow but doesn’t say anything as she sucks on a lime without making a face. How can she do that?

  Hottie bartender is on the same level of looks with Caden; I know that easily. He isn’t as tall or broad, a little leaner, and less bulky. He has a defined jawline, high cheekbones, dark brown eyes, and skin. His black hair stands up in spikes, and he looks at me like a desert he wants to devour.

  And I have never been eaten before.

  He has a Native American look about him, foreign, and it is sexy. He has a very confident air about him, and it draws me in. I make eye contact with him and drag the drink he places down in front of me. “What’s this?”

  “Sex on the beach.” He practically purrs, leaning his hands against the bar, flexing his biceps, showing how cut they are.

  My cheeks flush from the name of the drink. Sex on the beach sounds messy and painful. Wouldn’t the sand get all up in there? The thought makes me squirm, but this isn’t the beach, and my toes aren’t in the sand. “And who ordered this?” I take the straw between my lips and sip.

  “Consider it on the house.” He bites his bottom lip and backs away. “I have to sling drinks, but I’ll catch up with you later.” He winks and turns around, leaving me in the dust of his sexy air.

  “Oh, damn. Hottie bartender likes hottie Molly.”

  I giggle around my straw. “Mmm, so this is what sex on the beach tastes like? It is less sandy than I imagined.” I smack my lips together, setting the drink down.

  Kenna tosses her head back laughing, and her colorful hair beams against all the lights. She is wearing a black tank top, and instead of looking all badass, she looks sexy, and all the men are staring at her. She has all the attention in the world, and she doesn’t even know it.

  But no men are coming up to her. She does have that aura about her that seems a little intimidating, but still, how men aren’t flocking to her is beyond me.

  “Still, hottie bartender can’t dance with you. He is working. Our goal is to get your tight little body twirling around with a man that also has a tight body. But who…” she taps her fingers against the bar, checking out each man to see if they are up to par.

  “No one. Really. I want to drink this and dance with you. It’s girl’s night, right?” My nerves start to get the best of me. I don’t know how to flirt with men. Oh god, I don’t even know how to dance. “No. I’m good. Right here.” I hold onto the bar, hoping no one makes me go on that dance floor. “Yep. Right here is good. I like it here. Let’s take another shot.”

  “Oh, no. You are going to get out there and lose yourself a bit. You’re always so uptight. You need to relax. Have some fun before you are locked into a marriage that isn’t actually a marriage.”

  “That doesn’t even make sense.”

  “Yes, it does. You’ll realize it when you are in that house. Anyway, let’s get you that man.”

  “I’ll get a man if you get a man,” I say with a smug grin before taking another sip of sex. She doesn’t take the bait. She doesn’t like talking to men.

  She downs another shot of tequila and slams the empty glass on the bar. “You got it.”

  Kenna hops down from her seat, and be
fore she gets away from me, I reach out and grab her arm, stopping her from leaving me alone. “What are you doing?”

  “I’m going to go dance.”

  “No. You weren’t supposed to actually agree. You weren’t supposed to say yes.”

  She starts to back away, giving me come hither gestures. “What? Afraid, Molls? It’s just dancing.”

  Kenna gets far enough away that I’m not able to keep the grip on her arm. She waves her fingers at me and slides her eyes to a man talking to his friend right beside her. She grabs him by the T-shirt, and for a second, he is shocked, staring at her with wide eyes, until he actually sees her. The tall, dark-haired man wraps his arms around her waist and pulls her close. The little witch gives me a daring expression before turning around and leading him toward the sea of people who sway on the dance floor.

  “Oh, so it’s like that,” I mumble against the glass, cursing her confidence. “I shouldn’t have called her bluff.”

  “You know, I hear if you talk to yourself, it’s a sign that you’re going crazy.” A deep voice says from behind me.

  I cross my legs and turn in my chair, facing a very attractive man. He is tall, blonde, and has green eyes. He also seems like the type that likes to get around. I had never been a part of that statistic for a man. Maybe I should. I should just lose it. I should get drunk and lose my pathetic virginity that I’ve held on to for twenty-seven years, which is kind of sad. No woman is a virgin at my age. Here I am though, and the only experience I have with a man is kissing, and one, maybe two boob grabs.

  Pathetic.

  “Is that, so?” I do my best to flirt, twirling the straw in the drink hottie bartender gave me. Oh, is that wrong? To sip on the drink another man gave me while talking to someone else?

  He leans his elbows against the table and stares at me with his perfectly parted hair, and all I can think about is how it isn’t as thick or wavy as Caden’s. His eyes aren’t the same color, and he doesn’t have the same energy about him. He is so different.

  Which is good because Caden is bad. So different is good. I need different because Caden is about to be my roommate. And that is all it is.

  “Yeah, do you need someone to talk to or something? I’m all ears for a beautiful woman such as yourself.”

  I might be a virgin, but I know a line when I hear one. I sip my drink and flip my hair over my shoulder. “My friend. The woman with the tattoos and dark blue hair, this week, she likes to change it all the time. We had a bet, and she is currently dancing with it.” I point to Kenna, rubbing her butt all over the guy she plucked from the bar.

  “What was the bet if you don’t mind me asking?” He signals the hottie bartender who glares at him. “Can I get another?”

  “Sure. And for the lady?” He smiles at me, showing his perfect teeth. Literal perfection. Not one is slightly crooked.

  “Um, I really like this sex on the beach,” I whisper, feeling that blush take over my face again.

  “Really? Well, if you like that, you’d love a screaming orgasm.”

  “Wow, dude, really?”

  I glare at the blonde… dude? People still say dude?

  “What, afraid she would rather want sex on the beach and a screaming orgasm with me than a dumb jock conversation with you?”

  Oh, this is happening. Two guys are actually going to argue over me? Wow, first time for that.

  The blonde stands to his full height, flexing his muscles in his very tight shirt that my eyes won’t rip themselves away from; still the testosterone suffocates me. “You have a lot a nerve trying to hit on a woman behind the bar. What is she supposed to do? Believe you actually mean what you say? Don’t you hit on women for a living? How else are you supposed to get tips?”

  Huh, I hadn’t thought of that. “Okay, guys. This isn’t about me. It is about you and your pissing contest, which I actually want nothing to do with. So, I’m saying no, to both of you, and I’d really just like another tequila, please. You took the bottle.”

  “Whatever,” the blonde huffs and storms away.

  The bartender seems a bit more ashamed. “I’m sorry about that. I see that guy in here all the time. I just thought you could do better than him. And don’t worry about your tab. It’s on me.”

  “Oh, thank you. But you don’t have to do that.”

  “I do. And just so you know, I don’t flirt with all the women.” He sits my shot down, giving me one last, longing smile before turning and helping other customers.

  I don’t let the alcohol sit there for another second before downing it. I pour myself one more glass before deciding to take matters in my own hands and go on the dance floor. I can dance by myself; I don’t need a partner.

  Straightening my dress, I stand, making sure my ass isn’t showing. “Okay. You got this.” I tell myself, wiping the corner of my lip to get the stray bead of tequila. I start toward the dance floor. The music pulsates through the air, buzzing around body and freeing my mind from all the convoluted thoughts.

  It has been a few weeks since we buried Brandon and Amelia. I have cried, screamed, been angry, felt sad, and experienced what it’s like to be depressed. I have hated them for dying, apologized for hating them for dying, been angry at Posie for keeping me awake at night and been annoyed with Caden for being so damn perfect recently.

  I deserve to dance. I deserve a night of peace—mind and body. I make my way toward Kenna, who has her arms wrapped around the man’s neck as she leans against him, swaying her body against his.

  She locks eyes with me, then rolls her eyes because I came to the dance floor without anyone, which isn’t a shocker to her, apparently.

  I never come to the dance floor with someone.

  She wraps her hands around my waist, and I sway, letting the music take control. I dance with my best friend and her ‘some guy’ and let everything fall away.

  Everything fades.

  A light sheen of sweat covers my body. My long, blonde locks stick to my flesh. The air gets thick, holding the steam from all the bodies on the dance floor. Lights strobe along with the beat of the songs. I taste the tequila on my tongue, numbing my inhibitions.

  A different set of hands settle on my hips, pulling me toward him. I play with the bottom of my lip as I grin, wondering if I should dance with him. He gathers my hair and moves it to one side of my shoulder, placing his lips against the shell of my ear, and even in the heat of the club, my skin tingles.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Caden

  The blonde dancing with me can really move. She has my cock half hard, dying to get to full mast the way she rubs against it over and over again with every sway of her hips. She was dancing with a friend, who is dancing with someone else, but it is so dark, I don’t get a good look at her, but I know the blonde is beautiful.

  The lights flashed across her facial profile for a brief second, and I knew I couldn’t let the opportunity of her dancing alone pass me up. Some other guy would jump in, and I couldn’t have that. Her hair smells familiar, like oranges or something citrusy. It reminds me of something, but I can’t pinpoint what or where I last smelled it.

  It is the night before my life officially changes forever, so I wanted to go out. Amelia’s father is watching Posie. At first, I asked Kim and Todd, Brandon’s parents, but Kim isn’t up for seeing Posie, she says it is too soon. I understand, but at the same time, I don’t. It is a little disappointing that she doesn’t want to see her grandchild because Posie reminds her of Brandon. That isn’t Posie’s fault. But grief differs from person to person, and I know it won’t last forever.

  Damn, this woman can really move. I’m so glad we came out tonight or I would have missed out on this beautiful woman in front of me, letting me experience how good her body feels against mine.

  The song changes to something with a slower, sensual tempo. My hand caresses her curves, dipping at her waist, before curving up to where her breasts stand high and perky. I don’t touch them. I respect my dance partners, no matter
how dirty the dancing gets. I snag the fall of her hair in my hand and slide it across to the other shoulder, ghosting my lips over her ear.

  “Your body is pure temptation,” I whisper in a husky, sex-marinated voice. Sliding, my lips over her earlobe as she hitches her hips, I circle them on my semi-hard shaft. I growl when my eyes lock where we are joined, pelvis to pelvis.

  She doesn’t say anything as she lifts her arms around my neck, bringing my head down to her right shoulder. I spin us around from her friend because I want—no—I need her all to myself. I’ve never felt so attracted to someone in my life.

  People think because I am a good-looking guy who could have any girl he wants—and that isn’t me being vain—I know I can— I have everything a man wants. I have a cushy job, friends, had Brandon and Amelia, and yeah, women.

  I love women. Nothing is better than a tight body writhing under me as I give her pleasure. I love diving in deep, feeling snug walls, and making a woman orgasm. As a man? There isn’t a better feeling in the world than being the one to make my partner climax. It used to be my main purpose in life, right before the shift.

  The shift?

  That’s what I call the moment when Brandon died.

  I have the ability to be a better man, and he always told me that, but I never actually believed him. And when he died, the urge to change hit me like a ton of bricks. I want to be better, but what scares me more? The woman I want to do it for is my best friend’s sister. His damn sister. How the hell am I supposed to do that when we can’t seem to be in the same room for more than ten minutes without arguing?

  I know the feelings I have for her are because of the situation, and the woman I have in my arms has me re-evaluating those feelings real quick.

  She turns in my arms, and her silky blonde hair falls over her face as she removes the space between us and dances on my knee, rubbing her pussy all over it. I wrap myself around her, enjoying her citrus scent and soft skin, and just let it all be.