Easy Does It Twice (Till There Was You Book 1)

by Gianni Holmes

  Silence stretched between us but then he raised his head, and I was relieved. He was responding. Thank God he was responding.

  “Can we just go in?” he asked, staring me in the eyes. “You’re making this weird.”

  I cleared my throat, hurt and disappointed, two emotions I was beginning to associate with him.

  “Okay, then. Let’s go.” He walked ahead of me and every step he took widened the gap between us in more ways than just the physical. At that moment, I wasn’t sure if I would ever be able to get him back.

  Chapter 2

  Beau

  Locking up the front doors of the community center where I volunteered to revive local theater, I slipped the keys into my pocket. The cool night air was refreshing in comparison to the heat of the auditorium. Tonight, I had worked with over a dozen kids auditioning for a role in the play we were hoping to host at the end of the school year. It was the project I had planned to help with when I had signed up to leave my town in France and move to the U.S. My contract was renewable after one year, and I was becoming as involved as possible, so I didn’t have to return home.

  My phone rang, and I dug it from my messenger bag I had draped across my body. My mood instantly shattered when I saw the name displayed on the front. I shouldn’t have answered it. I should have let it ring off to voicemail, but the part of me that still missed him a little, and the part of me that missed home wanted to hear his voice. My God, I was a glutton for punishment. Would I never learn?

  Apparently not.

  “Hello.” That was all I said which was even one word too many.

  “Baby, thank God you answered!”

  “Don’t call me that, Ian,” I said through clenched teeth. I held the phone between my ear and shoulder as I dug the car keys out of the messenger. When I found the keys, I unlocked the door and opened it. I threw the messenger bag inside, on the passenger seat.

  “I can’t believe you’re still mad at me,” he said with a growl. “I thought we’d be over this by now. You know the way I feel about you.”

  “No, what I do know is what it’s like to be stitched up in the hospital because my boyfriend’s anger got out of control. Again.”

  “It’s better,” he vowed. “Just come home, back to England. Back to my home. Or if you want, we can stay at my chateau in France. I swear it. I’ll never lift a hand against you again.”

  I slipped into the car shut the door. “It’s too late for promises, Ian. It wasn’t the first or the second time. Plus, this conversation is all too played out. I’ve to go.”

  “Don’t hang upon me, you ungrateful cocksucker!”

  My eyes burned with humiliating tears, and I hung up on him. I blinked the tears away. Eight months ago, I’d walked away from that life which held no promise for me. I’d made some bad decisions in life, yes, but that was no reason to have been treated the way Ian would handle me sometimes. And to think he claimed he had changed. Once I would have been eager to believe him, so easily dazzled by the British man who had shown me kindness when I needed it.

  Even almost a year after he beat me up and I was hospitalized, I was still humiliated thinking about it. I’d never considered before that I would be a victim of domestic abuse. I was smart. I was educated. None of those things should have happened to me. But I was away now, with a new life. I had a new beginning, and I would make use of it.

  I drove the ten minutes home from the community center but felt too restless to stay in. Even after two months of being here in Louisiana, there was still so much left to explore. Tonight, I knew precisely where I wanted to be though. As soon as I arrived at the two-bedroom apartment on 3072 Main Street, I stripped and headed straight for the shower. From the shower, I padded naked to my closet to find something to put on. I had very little clothes with me in Lacovia, having decided to leave most of what I had back in France.

  After dressing in black jeans, a dark blue shirt with quarter sleeves and a jacket, I gave myself a pass in the mirror. I didn’t brush my hair but ran my fingers through the dark brown locks with blond highlights. I applied some Chapstick to my lips, and then I left the apartment again. I had yet to make any real friends in town. Some of my co-workers were friendly, but I didn’t have a personal connection with anyone.

  Instead of driving to the club, I decided to call a cab. I didn’t party a lot, but I felt disconnected and lonely tonight. I hoped the bar would cheer me up. When I had discovered the only gay bar in Lacovia three weeks ago, I had been ecstatic. While it was nothing like the nightlife back in England and France, it was at least a space where I could engage with other likeminded people and have adult entertainment.

  The cab driver dropped me off at Bottoms Up and turned his head to look at me. “This is a gay bar, you know. If you want a real bar, I can take you to one.”

  “No, no that’s fine,” I told him, opening the car door. “This is exactly where I want to be.”

  I paid him, leaving a decent tip which I regretted as I heard him mumble about gay people taking over the town. I had to admit I found Lacovia to be a little old-fashioned in comparison to the way I had lived in France and England. Very few people in Paris were surprised at seeing same-sex couples. I suspected this was also the same in the larger cities here in the U.S, but Lacovia was small and traditional.

  I entered the pub which had an upstairs with a club, live shows, cabarets and drags performing on different nights. They even had an open mic night. Heads turned as I entered but other than a polite smile when a man tried to get my attention, I didn’t stop until I was at the bar. I had more need for liquor in my system than sharing the night with a man.

  The bartender spotted me and smiled. I suppressed the old habit and didn’t return the smile. Old Beau would have smiled back and taken advantage of the situation. Old Beau would be walking away from tonight without paying his tab. Old Beau was left in France where he belonged.

  “What can I get you there, gorgeous?” White teeth flashed as the man leaned against the counter. He was on the slender side and his black hair had purple highlights. A barbell flashed from his tongue when he spoke. He was a good-looking guy, and I would have probably considered chatting with him if I had been in the mood for bumping cocks. I hadn’t been with another man in the nine months that I had officially broken up with Ian.

  “I’d like a Martini.”

  “You like it dirty?”

  “Yeah, give it to me dirty.” I paused, hearing the words coming out of my mouth. He smirked at me before pushing off the counter to mix my drink.

  He returned in record time. “Enjoy. First one's on me.”

  He didn't give me a chance to respond but moved on to his next customer. I was relieved the bar was busier than usual which kept him occupied. Being hit on by a bartender was a cliché I had no intention of perpetuating tonight.

  I sipped on the martini, and the liquid burned a path down my throat, warming my belly. I could feel my tension from earlier melting away. Ian was a continent away from me. I did not need to give him any thought.

  I surveyed the room, taking in the game of pool a few men were engaged in. They were loud, but they were having fun. I could see others surrounding them to hold a bet. Something moved in my peripheral vision, and I glanced in the direction of the entrance of the pub. The first thing I noted was the shape that materialized from the poor interior lighting. The man who had just entered approached the bar. He was a delicious package in wrapping that the lighting peeled away, the closer he got. My cock twitched, apparently not getting the memo that he wouldn't be on duty tonight. I squirmed on the stool.

  He was similar in height, maybe an inch or two taller. His blond hair was cut short which suited the serious expression on his handsome face. I would bet his muscles hadn't been bought in a gym. He had that rugged look to him of a man who engaged in manual labor. Dressed in a simple gray shirt and an old pair of jeans, he looked to be in an awful hurry to get to the bar. He glanced around, his eyes flittering around. He appeared
spooked like he would bolt for the door at the first sign of trouble. He didn't look like the kind of man to run from a lot in life.

  He was almost at the bar when his eyes flickered over me. The disappointment I felt and which I didn't want to analyze too closely disappeared when he did a double take. His eyes widened in surprise. Fuck, the heat that seared through me flooded to the seat of my pants. This guy sucked the breath from my body, and it wasn't one-sided at all. His cheeks turned ruddy with embarrassment. I watched him hesitate, and I could fathom the thoughts running through his mind. Should he continue in the heat of the moment or bolt for the exit?

  Don't go. Don't go. My best friend Élodie back in France believed if we brain-fucked the universe good it would be pleased enough to give us what we wanted. I hoped she was right because I was giving it all I had.

  Yes, that's it. I silently crowed in delight when he narrowed his eyes and continued to the bar. He stopped right beside me, and I glanced at his side view. He was older than I had thought which gave me pause. The last older guy I'd fallen for had fucked me over good. Still, baby Beau would have envied me my drool. As close as he was to me, I could see the muscular definition in his arms. His wasn't bulky muscles packed on top of each other, but I didn't let that fool me. This guy would be better an ally than a foe.

  The flirty bartender chose that moment to return to my side, rudely ignoring the blond hunk who had yet to place his order. My glass of vodka was still half-full. I decided, after all, I'd rather be sober for certain possibilities of the night.

  “Anything else I can get you?” the bartender asked. “Another glass of martini? Nuts? My digits?”

  An angry customer banged on the counter before I could tell him I wasn’t interested in anything but the hunk who was pretending hard not to notice us. As soon as he turned away to address the angry customer, I inclined my head to the man standing next to me and smiled.

  “I’ll pay for all your drinks tonight if you pretend you’re my boyfriend,” I told him in a half-joking manner. “I’ve a feeling this guy’s going to be hitting on me all night.”

  His grimace matched my own, but at least he turned toward me. “Uh hmm, I’d love to help-”

  Bartender guy reappeared directly in front of me. “You didn’t answer my question about what else I can get you.”

  “I’d like you to take my boyfriend’s order.”

  The man beside me gave a choking sound, and I prayed he wouldn’t let me down. Uh oh, what the heck if he wasn’t gay? I glanced at him, ignoring the way the bartender was assessing my pretend boyfriend. Nope, he was cut from the same cloth I was. He might seem a little jittery, but that chemistry between us was not one-sided.

  “You two are together?” the bartender asked in disbelief. “No offense but I just can’t see it.”

  “Doesn’t matter what you think,” I answered, turned my head to the unnamed man and smiled sweetly at him. “Honey, what do you want to drink?”

  The man stared at me, his face paling. Oh shit, had I given him a heart attack with my crazy idea?

  “Honey?” I prompted him to get into character even though I had no idea why he would even help me.

  “Uh,” he cleared his throat and looked away from me to the bartender. “A cold bottle of Bud would be fine.”

  “Coming right up.”

  As soon as he left, I turned to face the stranger I’d made into a boyfriend. “I owe you an apology,” I told him, extending a hand out for a handshake. “I don’t know why I did that. Oh wait, that’s a lie. I didn’t want him to bug me all night. I came here for a drink, and that’s all, you know? Not to be harassed by a dude looking for a quick romp in my bed. By the way, I’m Beau.”

  He glanced down at my hand and stared at me blankly. My belly dipped to the floor. Shit, had I made a mistake about him?

  Chapter 3

  Gordon

  Just shake his hand. My hand refused to listen to my brain. The man sitting beside me scared me shitless. I couldn’t remember the last time I was afraid of anything that didn’t involve my kids and losing them. But here I was, sitting in a gay bar for the first time in my life and had just about run into the sexiest man I’d ever seen in Lacovia. After the fight I’d endured with Ollie tonight when he neglected to do his chores, I’d needed some distance between us. The gay bar was a relatively new addition to Lacovia, and I’d never been inside before. Not even out of curiosity and there had been times when I was plenty curious.

  I never intended to talk to anyone, let alone have an instant hard-on from the crazy chatterbox beside me who had already paired us off for the night. Crazy much? I glanced at his drink. Or maybe drunk? His didn’t slur his speech when he spoke, so I doubted it was the latter.

  “I’m Gordon.” Hearing my deep baritone, I startled. I didn’t intend to answer him, but now the damage was already done, and his smile grew even wider. I wondered what he would do if I shook the hand he still had outstretched? Get on top of the bar and start stripping? “Nice to meet you.” I gripped his hand, feeling the callouses on my palm against his smoother one.

  “You’ve nice hands,” he said.

  I pulled my hand away from his fast and scoffed. “They’re too rough.”

  “From honest hard labor, I’m sure.”

  The bartender returned with my unopened drink. He expertly removed the cap then moved on, giving the guy beside me one last look of longing. I didn’t fault him. My fake boyfriend was worth a second, heck, even a fifth look. He was the kind of guy you wouldn’t mind waking up to every morning. He was quite handsome with defined cheekbones and hazel eyes I avoided because they’d stunned me when I approached the bar. Being stunned for once throughout the night was good enough for me. It didn’t help that his accent was sexy as hell.

  “Do you come here often?” Beau asked. Was he talking to me because he wanted to or to keep the horny bartender at bay? So much testosterone was in the room that I didn’t think this guy could be interested in me.

  “My first time,” I admitted.

  To give him credit, he tried not to let his surprise show, but his eyebrows went way up north. He raised his glass to his lips and my mouth dried up as I watched him swallow. I pulled my gaze away and gripped the bottle of Budweiser tighter. Thankfully my phone rang, distracting me. I retrieved it from my pocket and checked the number. Eric.

  “Eric, what’s up?” I answered the call.

  “Just checking up on you,” he replied. “I know you were livid earlier. How did things work out with Ollie?”

  “He’s suspended.”

  “Damn. But you brought him in. Why did they suspend him?”

  “We were fifteen minutes late,” I answered, taking a swig of my beer, Beau temporarily forgotten. “They gave him three days and recommended he see a counselor.”

  “The counselor might be a good idea. We have to get that boy of yours straightened out, Gordon.”

  “I know.” I could feel the pressure building up in my temples again, thinking about Ollie. The boy had me twisted up inside with worry for him.

  “Want me to drop by and have a go at talking to him?” he volunteered.

  “You can try. I’m not sure how much that’ll help though. We had a fight again. I had to leave the house because I felt my patience running thin.”

  “Where are you now? Want some company?”

  “Umm,” I hesitated and remembered Beau then. He was pretending he wasn’t listening, but we were so close that even if Beau didn’t intend to, he could still hear my end of the conversation. “I’d rather be alone right now, but I’d appreciate you talking to him. He’s not listening to anything I’ve to say right now.”

  “Okay. I’ll stop by on my way home.”

  I hung up and was about to slide the phone back into my pocket when I saw my screensaver. It was a picture of the kids and me at the celebration in New Orleans, the day before it all went downhill. How could such a great time make such a tragic turn? The kids hadn’t wanted to go to New Orlea
ns and had grumbled all the way there. I’d even wondered if I should take them after all, but sensing the tension in the family, I’d decided to stick to my guns and take them. They’d ended up having a spectacular time. I’d asked a random stranger to snap the shot of us with our faces painted, wearing ridiculous costumes. We all looked so happy in that photo.

  I sucked in a deep breath, as panic rose in my chest. What if I never saw them this happy again? What if I never had the opportunity to connect with my son the way we did on that trip? I’d even trusted him enough to let him drive some of the miles back home, and without lecturing him about any mistake he made. Ever since he crashed his own car a year ago, I’d banned him from driving until he showed better responsibility and competence.

  “Hey man, you okay?”

  I stiffened at the hand Beau placed on my shoulder. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

  He removed his hand, and I was left feeling bereft. “You sure? You know what they say about telling your secrets.”

  I slipped my phone into my pocket. “No, I don’t.”

  “The best person to tell your secrets is a stranger,” he explained with a shrug. “Think about it. You won’t see me again when you walk out of here.”

  Hearing him say that brought a strange ache to my chest. Not seeing him again? He was the first man I’d ever had this slight flirtatious exchange with. Even though it felt a little disconcerting, I wasn’t all set to bolt through the exit like when I’d just stepped in.