Start Me Up

by Kenner, J.

  “Baby,” he said softly, his heart squeezing tight in defense against the words he had to say. Because even though she didn’t realize it, she’d just told him that there was no way for them to be together. Not ever. “I do. I get it.”

  “Well?”

  “Don’t you see, Shelby? That’s the life you’d have. We can’t be together behind concrete walls. If you’re with me the walls are glass. I can shield you some, but not completely. Because even if I don’t talk about our sex life, I’ll still be talking about vibrators and hard-ons, and your mother will be mortified and your clients will raise their eyebrows. It’s the one constant of what I do, and there’s no way around it. And we both know I can’t quit. It’s what I am. It’s who I am.”

  “I know.” He heard the small sob and it nearly broke his heart.

  “It can’t work, Shelby. And you’re the one who just told us why.”

  * * *

  For days, Shelby battled her thoughts, trying to decide what to do. And trying to figure out who she was, and what she wanted.

  All she knew for certain was that she wanted Nolan. What she didn’t know was what she was willing to give up. Or, for that matter, how to convince him.

  The answer to the first question came to her on Wednesday after work when Frank called her into his office and told her that a local radio station, KIKX, was looking to hire a consulting accountant for a long-term project.

  “It’s just the right kind of client and the right type of work to get you squarely on partnership track.”

  It was, too. That job would probably seal her fate, and she’d be a partner within the next two years.

  She turned it down. Because the only thing she could think about was the no-dating policy between Brandywine employees and the employees of clients. And the thought of not being with Nolan for that long was impossible to bear.

  Which told her what she was willing to give up.

  Now she just had to figure out how to get him back. And when she realized that it was Wednesday evening and the night of the Mr. April contest, the pieces fell into place.

  Shelby knew exactly what to do.

  She just hoped it would work.

  * * *

  By the time Shelby reached the bar, the contest was already underway, and she saw Nolan standing shirtless on stage as the final guy walked to the microphone, flexed his muscles, and told the audience to vote for him.

  As he walked back to stand in the line with the other men, Beverly Martin, a local film actress who was the contest’s emcee, started for the mike, presumably to wrap up the contest and tell the audience to cast their votes.

  “Wait,” Shelby called, sprinting for the stairs that led up to the stage.

  Beverly took a step back, clearly confused, as Shelby bounded onto the stage and grabbed the mike.

  “It’s okay!” A voice shouted from the back of the room, and Shelby said a silent thank you that Brooke had gotten her text message begging her to please ask Jenna to let Shelby have this moment in the spotlight.

  Now that she was here, though, staring at hundreds of faces, she thought she just might die of mortification.

  Swallowing, she turned to look behind her, needing to see Nolan. He stood shirtless with the other guys, his eyes wide, and his weight shifted forward, as if he was ready to leap to her rescue.

  And that alone gave her the courage to go on.

  “Um, hi. So, right. I realize this is a little over the top, but I just wanted to tell you why you should vote for Nolan Wood.”

  Behind her, all the guys started to mumble, and someone from the audience shouted, “Anything for a rating, Wood! Awesome stunt!”

  “No, it’s not a stunt. I mean, I guess it is. But it’s not his stunt. It’s mine. And it’s not for ratings.” She looked over her shoulder at Nolan, then bit her lip before continuing. “I’ve got a much bigger prize in mind.

  “So, right, moving on. Why vote for him? Well, his abs are awesome and he’s a really good kisser.”

  “Jesus, Shelby,” Nolan murmured, which only made her laugh nervously and continue. “But all these guys look pretty awesome. So it has to be about more than that. And the thing is, Nolan’s got this great way of looking at life. He embraces passion and silliness. And he sees sex—oh, God—here I go, talking about sex in front of all you people—but he sees it in all its incarnations. A covenant, a promise, an escapade. Fun. Silly. Reverent.”

  She drew in a breath and plowed on, afraid that if she paused, they’d kick her off the stage. “He’s a guy who serves the community in so many ways. And he’s a guy who really lives in it. A guy who truly made himself. A man who’s so comfortable in his own skin he’s willing to put all of himself out in front of the world. And that’s something I really admire.

  “The thing is, I’m not like that. I don’t have that openness, and that scared me, and I screwed up. But that was my bad. Not his. Because Nolan is the best man I know, and I’m telling you this so that you’ll vote for him. But hands off, girls, because he’s mine. And when he talks about his Paradox on the radio, just so you know, that’s me, and I loved every minute I had with him.”

  She wiped away a tear. “Hopefully I’ll have more, but I’m so afraid that I lost him. And I really hope I didn’t. Because I’m head over heels in love with him.”

  She stood for a second, and the room was totally and completely silent. Then she managed a tiny smile and said, “Ah, um, I should go,” and started toward the stairs.

  She didn’t make it. Someone had her arm, and when she looked back, she saw that it was Nolan.

  She only had time to gasp before he pulled her close, then bent her body back in a full-on Hollywood pose. He kissed her then, long and deep and wonderful, and when he put her back on her feet, her whole body was shaking.

  “I love you,” he said, and she burst into tears.

  “I said it first,” she managed, gulping a little.

  “Yeah, you did.” He pushed the hair off her face. “Let’s get out of here.”

  “They haven’t announced the winner yet.”

  He looked out at the audience, then to the other men. Then he looked at her face and his eyes locked on hers. “Trust me,” he said. “I just won the only thing I want.”

  Epilogue

  Tyree Johnson leaned against the oak bar and watched as Nolan and Shelby headed for the door. He wondered if he should tell them to stay a bit, since in about three minutes, Beverly would announce that Nolan had won the title of Mr. April.

  But he decided not to. There’d be plenty of celebrating without the boy around, and from the look on Nolan’s face, wild horses couldn’t keep him inside the bar.

  And about damn time, Tyree thought. There wasn’t much around The Fix he didn’t notice, and he’d seen the two of them flirting back in April. He’d known then and there that they’d end up together. He just hadn’t expected it would take months for the two of them to figure it out for themselves.

  With a sigh, he started to make the circle, shaking hands and chatting up the customers. It would be a damn shame if he couldn’t manage to keep The Fix open, because from the looks of it, his little bar was turning into one hell of a matchmaker’s paradise.

  He paused for a moment when Brent called his name, and he turned back to see his friend and partner signal for Tyree to reboot the security cameras. He flashed a thumbs-up and was about to head to the office to deal with that errand when he saw a familiar young woman.

  She was tall, probably five foot eight, with skin as dark as Tyree’s and a wide, easy smile that reminded him of Eva’s. He’d seen her at least once before in the bar—two, maybe three days ago—and it had been that resemblance that had caught his eye. He’d seen that smile from across the bar, and it had felt like he’d taken shrapnel in the gut.

  Tonight, he was more prepared, and he took a closer look at her face, realizing as he did that it wasn’t just the smile that reminded him of his first love, but her huge wide-eyes and sculpted cheekbo
nes as well.

  Christ, he was a glutton for punishment. He should have just turned away the minute he saw her walk through that door. He had no idea who she was, but a storm of bittersweet memories had swept in through the door with her, twisting up his insides and making him ache with the pain of long ago losses.

  Once in his office, he rebooted the security system, then sat at his desk. He knew he should either be out on the floor or taking care of the shit-ton of paperwork that came with running a bar. Instead, he reached down and opened the bottom drawer of his desk, then pulled out the battered cigar box.

  He opened it, pulled out a stack of photographs, then reverently thumbed through it. Him and Teiko, his late wife. His son, Elijah, at birth. Then himself at nine years old, standing tall and trying to hold it together at his mother’s funeral.

  Tyree drew a shaky breath, then ran his thumb under his eyes before continuing down memory lane. There was a photo of him and Charlie Walker, Reece’s dad. And one of him with Reece’s uncle, Vincent, just days before he’d been mortally wounded by enemy fire in Afghanistan, then died in Tyree’s arms.

  Another deep breath, and Tyree continued, finally finding the photograph he’d been looking for. Over twenty years old now, the colors had faded, so that Eva’s dress looked pink rather than red, and the sky more gray than blue. But the love in her eyes was still there, and the face was still hers.

  His heart twisted as he recalled their weekend together in San Diego before he’d been shipped out. They’d known each other only two short weeks, but he’d been madly in love with her.

  He’d thought she’d wait, but by the time he returned, she was gone, and though he’d tried to track her down, he’d had no luck. Then he met Teiko, had fallen so damn hard, and, well, life went on. A wonderful, perfect life.

  Or, at least, it had been until tragedy hit.

  God, he missed his wife.

  He put the picture back in the cigar box, wishing he hadn’t opened those doors. Eva. Teiko. Both women he’d loved.

  Both women he’d lost.

  There was a sharp knock on his doorframe, and he looked up to see a ghost.

  He blinked.

  No, not a ghost. That wasn’t Eva. Of course it wasn’t. But once again he was struck stupid by the resemblance.

  “Mr. Johnson?” Her voice was lyrical yet strong, and achingly familiar. “They said I could come back. I—you are Tyree Johnson, right?”

  “That’s me.”

  She drew in a breath, as if his words were a relief.

  “And you lived in San Diego?”

  A chill raced up his spine, and he thought of his grandmother, and the way she’d always say that a ghost had walked over his grave.

  “I did. But that was a long time ago. So what can I do for you now, Miss…”

  “Anderson,” she said. “Elena Anderson.”

  Elena. Tyree frowned. That was his mother’s name. And when the young woman in front of him flashed a nervous smile, it wasn’t Eva he saw this time, but his mother.

  “Who are you?” he asked, even though in his gut he already knew the answer.

  “My mother is Eva Anderson. And I think that you’re my father.”

  Keep reading for Chapter One of Get It On, book 5 in the Man of the Month series!

  Get It On: Chapter One

  Tyree Johnson smacked the monitor of his piece-of-shit computer and glowered at the electronic squiggles that danced across the screen. He stood up so that his large body loomed over the machine. Then he narrowed his eyes as he aimed a stern finger at the uncooperative candidate for the trash bin. “Last warning. You think I can’t have a shiny new computer here within the hour? Just watch me.”

  He heard a snicker and looked up to face the two women who stood in the doorway of his small, cluttered office in the back of his bar, The Fix on Sixth.

  “You laugh, but I was a Marine. I know how to handle slackers. There’s still life in this hunk of junk. It’s just being obstinate.”

  “Are you sure you’re not just being cheap?” Jenna Montgomery asked, her green eyes sparkling with mischief. She wore her shoulder-length red hair in a ponytail, making the smattering of freckles over her fair skin seem even more prominent.

  Seeing her, Tyree reminded himself that The Fix wasn’t solely his anymore; he’d recently taken on three partners. And a good thing, too. Only a few months ago, his blood pressure had been spiking daily from the constant worry about losing his beloved bar due to a balloon note that he didn’t have the cash to pay off.

  Then Jenna Montgomery, Reece Walker, and Brent Sinclair had stepped forward and not only helped him pay off the note, but were now working side-by-side with Tyree to make sure that The Fix was solidly in the black come the end of the year. That was, in fact, the condition Tyree had set when he agreed to take on his three new partners; if The Fix wasn’t turning a profit by the end of the year, they would put it up for sale and split the proceeds. Because no way was Tyree throwing good money after bad.

  Hopefully, it wouldn’t come to that. He loved this place with its thick limestone walls and long gleaming bar too damn much.

  He’d bought the corner property on Austin’s popular Sixth Street six years ago after digging himself out of a morass of depression and pain. The Fix wasn’t just a job—it was his life. Hell, it was his resurrection. A place he’d worked toward. A business he loved. A dream that had revived him after tragedy had cut him off at the knees.

  And not just his dream; it had been a dream he’d shared with his wife, God rest her soul. And it was damned ironic that even after years of scrimping and saving, he’d only been able to afford the place after Teiko’s death—and the payout on her life insurance.

  He’d traded one love for another, but not a day went by when he wouldn’t eagerly burn The Fix to the ground if it would gain him even one more day with the woman whose death had left a hole in his heart.

  But that was impossible, so he was doing the next best thing; he was working his ass off to improve The Fix, draw in more customers, and sell more food and drink. Anything and everything to keep the bar’s doors open and him standing stalwart over the place that represented a dream she’d once shared.

  And if that meant limping along with a crappy computer, then that’s what he was going to do.

  With a wide grin, he caught Jenna’s eye and then glanced down at the monitor, where the spreadsheet he’d been going over earlier now filled the screen, all bright and innocent as if it had never been a bug up his ass.

  “See there? All good.”

  “Uh-huh.” Jenna exchanged an amused glance with Megan Clark as both women stepped all the way into the office.

  The second woman tucked a long strand of dark hair behind one ear, then pushed a pair of black cat’s eye glasses up her nose. Both gestures seemed like nervous habits, which seemed out of character for the woman he’d recently hired as the bar’s Girl Friday, gofer, dogsbody, assistant, or whatever the hell you wanted to call it. But before he could find a casual way to ask her what was wrong, Megan shrugged, and said, “Austin allergies. I don’t usually wear glasses, but my contacts are driving me crazy.”

  He nodded, realizing that she’d misunderstood his questioning glance. Before he could clarify, though, Jenna jumped in.

  “Thanks for doing this now,” she said, dropping into one of the guest chairs as Megan continued to stand, leaning against the rough limestone wall. “I know meeting before the bar opens is more convenient, but I had a doctor’s appointment this morning.”

  “Everything okay?” He fought a worried frown as he settled down behind the desk, noting that her cheeks seemed a little hollow and thinking that she’d shed a few pounds. She looked healthy enough on the whole—hell, her skin was practically rosy—but Jenna was a little thing, and if she lost too much weight…

  “What? Oh. Sure.” A flush of color crept up her cheeks. “Just a little, you know, nauseous. I’m sure it’ll pass.”

  “Hmmm.” He studied he
r, his mind whirring. “Don’t let Reece catch it.”

  Her cheeks burned even redder at the mention of Reece Walker’s name. Reece and Jenna had recently become engaged. And now, as Tyree remembered the nausea that had laid Teiko flat when she’d been pregnant with their son, he couldn’t help but wonder if there was more than wedding bells in Reece and Jenna’s future. About seven pounds or eight pounds more, actually.

  Jenna cleared her throat and dug a notebook out of her bag. “We have a long list of things we could go over, but since it’s working hours, Megan and I thought we’d only hit the top ones today.”

  She gestured toward Megan, who nodded, then shook her head. “I’m sorry. We need to talk about the Man of the Month calendar and the cookbook, but I just have to say something first.”

  She shot Jenna an apologetic look as Jenna rolled her eyes. “Jenna told me that I don’t need to worry, but I wanted to say again how much I appreciate you giving me a job. It’s not as if you have much call for a makeup artist in a bar, and it’s really helping me out. I’ve only had a few makeup jobs since I moved to Austin, and that’s my own fault, since I pretty much came on a whim. And money’s been tight.”

  “Megan, come on,” Jenna said. “You know it’s fine.”

  Megan kept her attention on Tyree. “I know you were working on the books just now. And I know that The Fix is doing everything to up revenue. I don’t want to be a drain. I don’t feel right taking this job if it’s going to be a problem for the bottom line.”

  Tyree nodded slowly as he settled in behind the desk. “Fair enough. You’ve been officially working here for how long? Four days?” At her nod, he continued. “And in that time you’ve worked as a hostess, helped behind the bar, worked with Jenna on this calendar issue I’m about to hear about, made a Costco run for paper products, did a stint of prep work in the kitchen, and spent over an hour on the phone with the HVAC technician. Hell, without you, we might have had to close up. No AC in Austin during the summer? That’s too many sweaty bodies in my book.”