Fall in Love Book Bundle: Small Town Romance Box Set

by Grover Swank, Denise

  It made me feel wild.

  It made me feel reckless.

  I caught the gaze of Viking Man Bun again, and this time, I held it. Calvin had left. Lucia had left. The Viking and I were separated by a throng of people, yet I could have sworn it was just the two of us.

  When he began slowly walking across the patio, empty beer in hand, my breath caught in my throat. I was standing by the table, leaning against the wall, legs crossed in front of me showcasing the platform heels with leather laces that wound past my knees. And I actually felt when Viking Man Bun’s eyes locked on those heels, felt his eyes glide up my ankles, my calves, the sensitive skin near my knees.

  He stopped just short of my thighs (what a gentleman), but now he was looking right at me—staring actually—and a warning sign the size of Texas unfurled behind him.

  When he grinned at me—a little crookedly—that warning sign lit up with fervor, attempting to get my attention. But I would have bet real money that my Viking didn’t heed warnings—no, he’d charge ahead, first into battle, alive with adrenaline and bloodlust.

  And tonight, I wouldn’t heed warnings either.

  Chapter 7

  Gabe

  Compulsion.

  Before tonight, I’d never truly understood the word. But staring at her across that patio, I was compelled to talk to this mysterious tattooed vixen.

  I flashed her a small smile as I got closer. She merely tilted her head, eyes tracking up and down my body. A lioness, bemused at the antics of an antelope, seconds before sinking her teeth into its neck.

  A dozen cool lines flitted through my head, but she didn’t look the type to fall for them. So instead I went with a classic.

  “I’m Gabriel, but you can call me Gabe,” I said, holding out my hand. “Can I make you a drink?”

  “Josefine,” she replied, sliding her hand into mine. “But you can call me Josie. And I’m a beer-with-a-shot girl, which I’m pretty sure I can make myself.”

  She had a voice like midnight with a slight hint of an accent.

  “A woman after my own heart,” I replied, reaching into the cooler for two PBRs and a bottle of Jameson. I held them up and she nodded, smiling now.

  “That’ll do just fine.” Josie sank onto the bench in the corner, directly in front of the fire, and beckoned me to join. She crossed her legs toward me, flashing smooth skin and bright ink. “And I just have to say… I like your bun.”

  I ran my hand over my hair self-consciously, shrugged. “It’s been like this for years.”

  “I’m not teasing,” she smiled. “It fits you.”

  “I like your tattoos,” I said, indicating her bare arms and legs. “They fit you.”

  “Thank you,” she said. She paused then, looking me up and down. “Me gusta tu barba. Vikingo.”

  “I am incredibly handsome.”

  “Big ego,” she said, laughing. “And all I said was that I also liked your beard.”

  “I’m like this all over my body, I’m afraid,” I said, loving the way her laughter lit her up from the inside like a lamp being turned on in a darkened room.

  “Ah, a hirsute hunk?” She asked.

  Who was this woman?

  “Fancy word for hairy. I like it,” I said. Behind me, I heard Calvin’s laughter. I turned to see Lucia leaning in, clearly flirting with him.

  “Are you as intrigued by them as I am?” Josie asked, and I nodded.

  “Absolutely. I’ve known Calvin ever since he moved here, and he’s one of a kind. Definitely deserving of love.”

  “You think that’s what’s happening there?” she asked softly.

  I ran my hand down my jaw. “Who knows? But I’m already rooting for them.” I watched them again for a minute. There was a comfort there, like two lovers meeting after years apart.

  “How do you know Lucia?”

  “She’s my best friend. And I’m also her makeup artist. We met when she was fifteen, on her first set and fucking terrified. I chatted her ear off, attempted to teach her Spanish. Took her mind off of what was happening.” She smiled at the memory. “The rest was history. As often as she can, Lucia asks for me to be on set with her.”

  I looked at Josie, at the tattoos and piercings and beautifully orchestrated color that wandered along her skin. “You’re an artist,” I said, and her eyebrow arched.

  “Yes. Makeup artists are indeed artists.”

  “Of course,” I said, surprised at the passion in my voice. “Your canvas is just different than another artist’s. But it’s still a canvas, right?”

  Her eyes widened a little. “That’s… well, that’s how I feel about it. Because I love it. And it makes me… feel alive.”

  Golden tendrils of light sparked from the fire.

  “I get it, I totally get it,” I said. “I’m a bartender here in Big Sur. At The Bar.”

  “Is that its name?”

  “Well, yes… my grandfather first owned and named it. But no one remembers the name anymore, and it’s really the only dive bar in town, so the name stuck. It’s a place for locals, not a tourist attraction. So I own it, run it. Work the bar most nights. There’s an apartment on the second floor, which is where I live. In fact, my family and I lived there until I turned ten.”

  “That’s some dedication,” Josie said seriously, and I nodded my head. Shifted an inch closer to her on the bench.

  “I got my business degree in Monterey, and the other students were constantly dismissing my profession.”

  “Why?”

  I shrugged. “From their limited perspective, bartenders are uneducated and lack ambition. Except, for better or worse, this is my family legacy. It’s an institution in our community, same as this bookstore. I feel proud to work there. Does that make sense?”

  Josie laughed a little. “Yes… I mean, fuck yes. It’s infuriating when people put down your profession. I used to…” she trailed off. “I was close to this person in my life once, and they thought what I did was low class. I’ll never forget that feeling. Of them dismissing something I’d worked my entire life to build.”

  There was a long pause while Josie and I stared at each other, and fuck those eyes were going to be my undoing. I could feel it. Taste it in the air.

  “I think we should take a shot,” I said slowly, turning to grab two shot glasses from behind me. “What do you think?”

  “We seem to be on the same page about a lot of things,” she said.

  My hands tightened on the bottle as I poured it, suddenly nervous to complete a task I’d done at least five thousand times in my life. When I handed her the glass, the tips of our fingers brushed together.

  “To Big Sur,” she said, knocking her glass against mine before taking her shot like a frat boy on spring break.

  “You know, some people savor whiskey,” I teased, taking a pointed sip.

  “I think you’ll discover that I’m not that kind of girl, Gabriel.”

  “What kind of girl are you?” I asked as firelight danced between us. That cool gaze assessed me once more, and I shivered beneath it.

  “The kind of girl that takes it all at once.”

  Chapter 8

  Josie

  Up close, Viking Man Bun—Gabriel—was all warmth. Warmth and ease: easy grins, constant laughter, and a total comfort in his skin. He belonged in Big Sur, he belonged with these people: it all but radiated from his skin.

  The whiskey was still sliding down my throat when Gabe’s eyes landed back on mine.

  “Tell me more about what you do. About what you love.”

  I opened my mouth to say something snarky. But then closed it. Thought for a moment. This was the strangest conversation-before-a-one-night-stand I’d ever had. Typically, these moments were one-dimensional for me. Where do you work? Do you have siblings? How about pets?

  Gabe was different.

  “Everything,” I finally said honestly. “The color, the texture, the constant excitement. There’s nothing like the rush of doing makeup for a runw
ay show in Milan—the speed, the adrenaline, the sense of working together to create art on the human body.”

  “And you’ve always done this?” he asked.

  “Always,” I replied, finger stroking my shot glass. “I remember the day I graduated from high school so clearly: my gown, how hot the stage was, sitting with my friends and wondering what in the ever-loving-fuck I was going to do next. They were going off to college to study something general like business or psychology.” I bit my lip. “I knew it wasn’t for me. Not at all. So I worked during the day at the Clinique makeup counter at the mall in downtown Los Angeles. And at night, I took cosmetology classes.”

  I shrugged, laughing a little. “Obviously there are long days. Hard-to-please clients who I want to stab in the face with an eyebrow pencil. Depending on the set, the job can be absolutely thrilling—or incredibly tedious. But really, even dream jobs have a fair amount of bullshit, don’t you think?”

  “Of course,” Gabe nodded. “I love being a bartender with every fiber of my being. And some days, I want to punch every customer in their goddamn stupid face.”

  “See?” I grinned. “You get it.”

  “I get it,” he admitted. “And I wouldn’t change it for all the money in the world.”

  “All the magnificent things outweigh the bad. I had a…” I paused for a second, took a sip of beer. “I had kind of a shit couple of years recently and found that makeup was very meditative. Whatever terrible things were awaiting me after the job—loneliness, sadness, anxiety—in the moment, all I needed to do was carefully apply mascara to every single eyelash on a woman’s face. Do you know what I mean?”

  Gabe’s eyes searched mine for a moment, but he didn’t press. “For me? Hand-drying glasses.”

  “Really?”

  “Absolutely,” he said, lips quirking up. They looked full and soft beneath his beard. “Towards the end of the night, when I’m starting to get tired and customers are fading fast, the simple act of drying a glass with a towel is oddly calming.”

  “Yes,” I said, laying my hand on his arm before I could stop myself. I felt a burst of electricity when our skin touched, but I quickly removed it. “That’s it exactly.” I noticed a few people were starting to leave the patio, but I felt glued to this spot. This moment. “Tell me more about Big Sur.”

  Gabe sighed, leaned back against the low wall and turned to me with a good-natured smile. “I’ve lived here my entire life. Born and raised. The Shaw family were some of the original homesteaders here. In fact, The Bar used to be an old school for the children of lumber workers at the turn of the century. Living in Big Sur was even harder then. It was even more isolated, even more removed from society. Your relationship to the wilderness was one of partnership.” He stroked his thumb across his lip, thinking. “That pioneering spirit is alive and well here, just mixed in with a bunch of artists and farmers and poets and people who live off the land. Some kids still ride donkeys to school, down from the mountain.”

  “I thought donkeys only existed on television,” I smirked. “I’m a city girl. The only way I’ve ever gotten to school was on a crowded bus stuck in smoggy traffic.”

  “I think you’re the antithesis of Big Sur, Josie,” Gabe said, eyes trailing up and down my body. I looked down at my ripped dress, my vibrant tattoos.

  “You’re probably right,” I laughed. “And you’re the antithesis of Los Angeles.”

  He winked at me, and my heart tripped over itself. “I think that’s awfully true.”

  I leaned a little closer to his body heat, still not touching but almost. Almost.

  “You’re so passionate,” I said.

  Gabe arched an eyebrow at me. “Not a lot of people want to listen to me talk about lumber workers from the early 1900s. It’s not exactly…” He trailed off, looking down.

  “Not exactly what?” I nudged his leg.

  “Romantic,” he finally said, eyes on my mouth.

  That word cut right through me.

  “Well that’s where you’re wrong, Gabriel,” I said, reaching past him to grab the Jameson. “I could talk about lumber workers for days.”

  He laughed, and the moment lightened. I topped off his shot glass and my own.

  “I could do that for you,” he said, reaching for the bottle. “It’s technically my job.”

  “Puedo verter esto por mi cuenta,” I shrugged. “I’m an independent woman. I can pour this on my own.”

  I knocked my glass against his but sipped it instead. Savoring.

  There was the hint of a grin on Gabe’s face before he took his shot like a champ. He coughed a little.

  “Amateur.”

  “Please,” Gabe said, taking the bottle back from me. Another brush of fingers. “I grew up in a fucking bar.”

  I laughed at that, head thrown back, and when our eyes met again, his were bright with amusement.

  “Enough of this getting-to-know-you,” I said, waving my hand through the air. “Let’s get down to brass tacks. The good stuff.” I leaned in, giving him a suggestive glance. The amusement darkened, and for the first time, I saw real lust.

  The warning sign was back, but I shoved it aside, even though the last time I’d ignored an instinct, Clarke had happened. But the lust in Gabe’s expression was so ardent... ardent and hungry… at odds with the friendly, easy-going Viking sitting in front of me.

  He had his lust under control. Leashed.

  And the sudden thought of Gabe Shaw unleashed… out of control and savage with need, was enough to steal the breath right from my lungs.

  Holy shit.

  “Josie?” He asked, his rough palm landing on my bare knee. “Were you going to ask me something?”

  My words faltered. “How do you… um, how do you take your coffee?”

  Chapter 9

  Gabe

  I could have sworn Josie was going to kiss me.

  No, not kiss me. Josie was the kind of woman who’d knock our drinks to the floor, step over the glittering shards of glass, and straddle me in front of everyone at this party.

  But then she’d pulled back. “How do you… um, how do you take your coffee?”

  “Coffee is my life,” I said slowly. “Might as well put it directly into my vein.”

  She grinned at that, relaxing.

  “Same.” She narrowed her eyes at me, tossing her hair. She had piercings up the entire right side of her earlobe, tiny pieces of metal that twinkled like starlight. “But how you take it is important.”

  I paused, considering her. “Cream and sugar.”

  Josie reached forward, topping off my glass. “Take that shot.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you have terrible taste in coffee,” she said, laughing and knocking hers back. I did too, almost choking on it again, which made me laugh more.

  “And how do you take your coffee?”

  “Black, like you’re supposed to.”

  “Says who?” I asked.

  “Everyone.”

  I shook my head in disbelief. “Before you leave Big Sur, I’m making you a cup of coffee with cream and sugar. And you’re going to love it.”

  “Fuck, no,” she drawled, teasing tone back in her voice. “And I’m leaving soon.”

  That reminder slammed into me harder than I was expecting. “When, exactly?”

  “I go back to Los Angeles the day after tomorrow. Two more nights, then you’ll never see me again.”

  She seemed to warm to this thought, and I wondered about the kind of relationships she’d had. “You miss the city that much? It’s only been a couple of days, right?” I asked.

  “But I’ve lived there my entire life. Born and raised, same as you. All of this,” she said, waving her hand at the dark forest surrounding us, “is totally new to me. And kind of scary.”

  “Scary?” I asked. “No way. There’s nothing scary about this place.”

  “But it’s so secluded. Where are the people? The 24-hour diners and rowdy nightclubs and street-ligh
ts? There’s an endless… energy that thrums through Los Angeles.”

  “There’s energy here; it’s just different. You don’t feel it?” I asked.

  She tilted her head, thinking. “I do feel it. A little.”

  “What does it feel like?”

  Josie thought for a second, fingers tapping on her lip. There was a small bumblebee inked onto her middle finger and a moon and sun on her index and ring finger. “Big Sur feels… reckless.”

  “Reckless?” I asked.

  “Like… wild. Out of control.”

  I nodded, starting to understand. “Absolutely. It’s not contained or polite. You either accept Big Sur for what it is or…”

  “Or what?”

  I smiled. “You get the fuck out.”

  Josie laughed at that. “Sounds like some neighborhoods in L.A.”

  We were suddenly interrupted by Kevin, who cleared his throat loudly until we looked his way.

  “Hey, Kev,” I sighed, already knowing what this would be about.

  “Oh, hey Gabe, I didn’t see you there,” he lied.

  Josie flashed me a bemused expression.

  “You heading home?” I purposefully didn’t introduce the two of them—not that it would change anything at all.

  “Yep, yep,” Kevin said, shifting back and forth on his feet. “Yep.” He gawked openly at Josie, widening his eyes at me.

  “Well… I’m stopping by the post office tomorrow to send out some packages. I’ll see you then?” I turned my attention back to Josie, indicating it was time for him to leave. Another awkward thirty seconds stretched out before he shuffled away.

  “Let me guess,” Josie said. “Kevin is a scorned lover?”

  I laughed so loudly every remaining person on the patio glared at me. But I didn’t care. “God, I wish I could say yes. But no. He runs the post office and is a true foot soldier for the Big Sur Channel.”