by Jiffy Kate
Come to think of it, all of my favorite things have to do with Dani.
Making love to Dani.
Being with Dani.
Washing Dani’s back. And her front.
Feeling Dani beneath me.
Watching Dani above me.
Tasting Dani.
That’s on my to-do list for after the bath.
I mean, if I’m making things up to my girl. I’m gonna do it right.
After helping Dani out of her clothes, I take mine off, dropping them in a pile on the floor of the bathroom. I turn around, expecting her to be in the bath already, but she’s standing there staring at me.
“What’s the matter? Did I get it too hot?” I ask, reaching around her to feel the bath, but she stops me. Holding my face in her hands.
“Look at you,” she says softly, rubbing her thumb over the split on my lip. I lick the spot and still taste blood.
“It’s fine,” I tell her, taking her hands and wrapping them around me, hugging her to my chest. “Don’t worry about me. I’m fine.”
My heart feels heavy knowing she’s worried and that I did that.
“Please don’t fight with Deacon anymore,” she begs. “I hate it. It hurts my heart.”
Those words add to the heaviness and I take a deep breath, letting her and the warmth of the steam rising in the bathroom infiltrate my insides. I want to tell her I won’t fight with Deacon. I want to make everything better, but I can’t promise that. I hate to think it might get worse before it gets better but something tells me Deacon isn’t going to let this one go so easily. And neither will I. However, I will make her a promise I can keep.
“I’m sorry that it hurt you to see us fighting. And I promise we won’t fight in front of you again. What happened today won’t happen again.”
She sighs against my chest and I know she’s reading between the lines of that weak-ass promise, but she accepts it. Pulling away, she looks me in the eyes and holds my gaze for a minute. “Come on,” she says, leading me to the tub.
I climb in the tub and sink into the warm, girly smelling water, making room for Dani. She leans back against me and we don’t talk again, letting the day fade away, reconstructing the bubble of us. Too bad every moment of every day can’t be like this—me, her, and nothing else.
We wouldn’t have fights or disagreements.
We wouldn’t have to deal with our pasts or our futures.
We would just be.
But that’s not reality.
It brings a whole new meaning to we can’t always get what we want. Because I just want Dani. Sure, I want the restaurant in New Orleans. And I want Deacon to see things my way for once. And I also want world fucking peace. But if I had to pick just one thing, I’d pick her.
I’m hoping today isn’t a representation of how the next few months are going to be. I’m hoping today was a fluke. And tomorrow, everything will go back to normal.
I’m also feeling a bit delusional, because Dani is currently rubbing herself against me, causing my dick to be on full alert. He’d done a good job of ignoring the fact that a naked Dani was in close proximity, but when she started moving around, all bets were off.
“You should sit still if you want to keep loungin’ in the bath,” I warn her. My head is tilted back against the edge of the tub, eyes closed, as I try to think of dead puppies. I feel the water slosh around me, letting me know she’s on the move. But I remain still, letting her take the lead. Whatever she needs from me. I’ll give it to her. Gladly.
“I was thinking more along the lines of a full-service bath,” she says, an edge of playfulness in her husky voice.
Whatever you need, Dani.
Her legs straddle my thighs and she sinks back into the water.
“I was thinking maybe you could make me feel better, take my mind off this shitty day, by letting me use you for my pleasure. I feel like you owe it to me.”
I fight the smile.
“Whatever you think, Dani.”
“I know how you hate owing people.”
“I do,” I agree, having to force myself from grabbing her and taking her right here. But this is her show. I hold back, bide my time, and play her game. “I always pay my debts.”
“With interest,” she purrs, leaning forward, pressing her bare breasts to my chest. I love this. Almost as much as I love being inside her. Because there’s nothing like her perfect skin on mine. Since the first time I was with her, I’ve not been able to get enough of her touch, the feel of her. It’s unlike anything I’ve ever experienced. There’s this slight current where our bodies touch, leaving behind a warmth that radiates through my whole body, deep inside to my core, tethering us to each other.
“Always.”
She settles herself over my erection and sinks down, moaning as I fill her.
My head spins on contact. My arms instinctively wrap around her, pulling her down harder, closer. She doesn’t move and I don’t force her to, even though every cell in my body is screaming for friction.
This is what she needs.
Touch.
Contact.
This connection we have where the two of us become one.
Her hooded eyes meet mine and she wraps her arms around my head, pulling me into her chest as she begins to rock her hips.
“I love you,” she whispers.
“More than anything,” I promise.
THE NEXT MORNING, I WAKE up with a lead weight in my stomach.
I don’t want to face Deacon, but I know I have to. Regardless of our differences and disagreements, we still have business to tend to. I know I need to smooth shit over with him, but I don’t know how to do that right now. The best I can do is show up and do my job and try not to let my new endeavors interfere with my current responsibilities.
I leave Dani sleeping and press a kiss to her head before going into the kitchen and setting her coffee to brew in an hour. She’ll be up soon. She has a client she’s meeting later today for a parks and recreation pamphlet she’s shooting. So, she’ll be out on location most of the week. I’ll miss seeing her as much as I normally do, but Dani being gone frees me up to work at Grinders and be in New Orleans as much as possible.
I don’t know how I’ll juggle everything once the remodel on Pockets is underway, but I’ll make it work.
Somehow.
When I park at the restaurant, I expect to see Deacon’s Jeep in its spot but instead, the space is empty. We typically rotate our schedules with one working the lunch shift and the other working dinner, while overlapping in the afternoon. Normally, after Sunday dinner, we come in for a couple of hours to take care of any remaining business from the weekend and to make sure we’re ready to open back up on Monday. That didn’t happen yesterday, thanks to our fight, so I’m surprised my brother isn’t here yet.
It’s not until I’m settled at my desk that I notice how clean Deacon’s is. I walk over to his outgoing box and sure enough, the receipts are all in order and this week’s purchases have been taken care of. I don’t know why it pisses me off that he’s already been here and finished his work, but it does. I understand we both need our space right now, but I wonder how far he’s going to go to avoid me.
There’s not a lot of paperwork left for me to do, thanks to Deacon, and when I’ve finished my part, the opening crew is already here setting up for the day. We really did luck out with some of the best employees in the business. They work hard and do a great job, keeping Grinders running like a well-oiled machine. I can only hope the new restaurant runs this well, and quickly, because the sooner it does, the less time I’ll have to spend there. Don’t get me wrong, I love me some New Orleans, I just don’t want to be away from Dani every damn day.
Speaking of the new place, I need to settle on a name. I have a notebook filled with ideas for names, themes, decor, and menu items and I can’t wait to make some of them a reality. I don’t think Alex really cares about that kind of stuff, as long as the restaurant makes a profit and that’s
perfectly fine by me. I guess I have to run everything by her and Mr. Wells though since they’re, technically, my partners now.
It feels so odd to be doing business with someone other than my brother. I honestly thought we’d be working together forever and there’s a part of me that hopes we still will in some capacity or another, but I don’t know what the future holds for us right now. What I do know is we can’t let what happened yesterday affect Grinders or rebuilding Pockets. Those restaurants are our babies and I’ll be damned if they get ruined by our personal shit.
The lunch rush is pretty busy for a Monday and I’m shutting my computer down so I can get out on the floor and help out for a bit when Kara sticks her head in the open office door.
“Hey, Micah. You about to head out?” she asks.
“Yeah, I was just gonna hang around until Deke gets here so ya’ll aren’t left without a manager.”
Kara starts chewing on her lip and fidgeting with her apron, not making eye contact with me. Something’s up and I’m positive it has to do with Deacon.
“Just spit it out, Kara,” I tell her.
She looks up, startled. Before she speaks, her expression changes to a more questioning one. “What happened to your face?”
My hands instinctively touch my lip and cheeks and I wince. “What, this? It’s nothing. I had a few rowdy crawfish last night and they weren’t goin’ down without a fight.” Kara doesn’t buy my joke but she doesn’t press for more information either.
“Uh huh. Anyway, Deacon just called me—”
“Really? I’ve been in here all day and I didn’t hear the phone ring,” I interrupt.
“He called me on my cell,” she says, pulling the phone out of her apron pocket.
I catch myself grinding my teeth in frustration. “What did he say?”
It’s obvious she doesn’t really want to answer me and I hate that Deacon has put her in the middle of our shit.
“Kara, whatever it is, it’s fine,” I spit out, annoyance thick in my voice. “Just tell me.”
She lets out a deep breath and answers. “He wants me to tell him when you’ve left here for the day, so he can know when to show up.”
That fucking bastard. Not only is he being immature as fuck, but now he’s getting our staff involved. I should kick his ass again.
“Look, Micah, it’s obvious somethin’ is goin’ on between you two, but I really don’t want to be in the middle of it.”
“Kara, don’t worry about it. This has nothing to do with you and Deke shouldn’t have asked that of you. I’m sorry. It won’t happen again, you have my word. He and I need to talk and he’s obviously avoiding me.”
Kara’s cell phone chimes and after she looks at it, she says, “He’s asking if you’ve gone yet.”
“Can I see your phone?”
She hands it to me and I reply “yes” to Deacon’s text.
“I answered his text, Kara, not you, okay? It’s the only way I can get him to talk to me today. I’m goin’ to wait in the parkin’ lot and talk to him outside.”
She looks worried and it only makes me angrier with Deacon.
“I promise we’re only gonna talk. Everything’s gonna be fine,” I assure her.
She nods her head before leaving the office, both of us knowing I’m full of shit.
It’s about thirty minutes later when Deacon parks behind the building. The look on his face is a mixture of anger, dread, and annoyance when he sees me sitting on the tailgate of my truck waiting for him.
He walks to the truck and stands with his arms crossed, glaring at me. I hop down and start laying into him.
“How dare you involve an employee in our shit. You try to get Kara to babysit me,” I seethe, stepping closer to his face. “Are you fucking kidding me? If you don’t want to be here while I’m here, just man up and say it. We can work out a strict schedule and never have to see each other again, instead of acting like babies, going behind backs and making secret calls. I can’t believe you right now. So fucking immature. Maybe you need to take a few days off to lick your wounds and get over it. I can handle things here without you, no problem.”
“Are you done?” is his only question.
“For now, yeah.”
“I’ll make us a schedule tonight and leave you a copy on your desk. Unless it’s business-related or a fucking emergency, I don’t see the need for us to be on speaking terms.” He doesn’t wait for me to respond. He turns and walks toward the back door of the restaurant and doesn’t look back.
If that’s the way he wants to do things, fine. I can be just as bullheaded as he is. Besides, I’m gonna be too busy to worry about his sorry ass.
Fuck Deacon.
ANOTHER DAY, ANOTHER ROAD TRIP.
The first few days after I signed the contracts with Alex were pretty slow. We had to wait on contractors to make time for us, but now that everything’s a go for the remodeling, we’re on their timeline, not our own. That means one, if not both, of us has to be available whenever the crew need us. Sometimes, it’s just a question that can be answered over the phone. Other times, it’s a major decision Alex and I are needed for and it’s not worth playing phone tag, which means me leaving Grinders and driving into New Orleans.
I wish I could put my truck on autopilot and close my eyes for a few minutes. I’m so freaking tired.
Deacon and I have a pretty set schedule now, with me working the first part of the day and him the last part, but once or twice a week, we switch it up and I work the evening shift. Those are the days that kill me. I was at Grinders until about eleven o’clock last night and back up there this morning before leaving a little after noon to get on the road. I refuse to complain, though. This part of the process is harder than I thought it would be but we’re just getting started and I’m still adjusting. Knowing it will all be worth it once the restaurant is up and running is what’s driving me and keeping me focused. Eye on the prize and all that shit.
When I finally pull into the parking lot next to the building, I allow myself to take a moment and just breathe. I’m so ready for this restaurant to be open but I don’t want to rush and miss the little things that mean so much. The neighboring businesses with their brightly-colored shutters and the sounds of jazz and laughter floating through the air inspire and invigorate me. It takes a lot of personal strength to keep myself from running to the front door.
Once inside, my demeanor is all business, no bullshit. Although, I’m absolutely smiling on the inside when I notice how well everything seems to be coming along. Seems being the key word here.
“Mr. Landry, thank you for meeting me here today.” Mr. Arnold shakes my hand before flipping to a page on his clipboard. “My team is ready to go forward with the kitchen remodel but we’re still missing the permits we need for the gas and water. Without those, we won’t be able to hook up the appliances once they’re installed.”
“I thought Ms. Collins had already taken care of all the permits?”
“Not that I’m aware of. We have what we need for the rest of the building, just not the kitchen. Ms. Collins hasn’t been returning my calls lately,” Mr. Arnold admits and I start seeing red. It’s only been a couple of weeks and, already, Alex is starting to fuck things up. Not only has she dropped the ball on some important business, like permits, but she’s also been interfering with family time, including Sunday dinners. The last two Sundays, like clockwork, it’s been something—water leak, supply emergency. Normally, I’d be getting an ear full from my mama over it, but she knows I’m busy and I think she’s trying to let this feud between Deacon and I blow over.
“Well, let’s see if she’ll answer my call.” I dial Alex’s number and take a few steps away from Mr. Arnold just in case I let some cuss words fly. I’m trying to stay cool and professional but, damn, if Alex isn’t making it difficult.
She picks up on the second ring. “Micah, darlin’, how are you?”
“Alex, where are the permits needed for the kitchen remodel?” I
don’t have time for chit chat.
“What do you mean? I faxed them over to Mr. Arnold’s office yesterday.” Her voice is sugary-sweet over the phone and I wonder if she’s with someone she’s trying to impress.
“He says he doesn’t have them. Can you bring your copy to the building?”
“I don’t know, I’d have to look for them. When do you need them?”
I grit my teeth and spit out, “Right the fuck now, Alex,” before looking to see if anyone can hear me. Thankfully, I’m the only one in the area. After I take a calming breath, I speak in a nicer tone. “We need those permits today. Mr. Arnold’s crew is ready to start working but they can’t until they have those papers. Don’t make us lose a day of progress.”
“I just love it when you’re all demanding and serious, Micah. Such an alpha male.” It sounds like she’s sighing into the phone and I’m two seconds away from hanging up on her. Alpha male? What the hell is she talking about?
“If you faxed the papers yesterday, then I’m sure you have your copy. Get the permits over here, now,” I bark out before disconnecting my phone. I’ll show her alpha male.
Twenty minutes later, the front door of the building opens and Alex blows in with the late fall breeze, looking like she just left a spa day with her girlfriends. On daddy’s dime, I’m sure. As far as I know, the only thing Alex does is work for her father and I use the term work lightly. Mr. Collins deals in real estate, just like his father did. I’m sure she sells a few things here and there, but not nearly enough to support the type of lifestyle she leads.
“Micah,” she croons, pushing her oversized sunglasses to the top of her head. Walking toward me, she reaches out and pulls me toward her, like she’s going to air kiss my fucking cheeks, but there’s no air, just kiss.
It’s all I can do to keep my composure, but the contractor is here and I’m trying to be professional. So, instead of rebuking her, I smile tightly and straighten, clearing my throat. “Alex,” I say curtly. “Did you bring the permits?”
