Butt Ending: A Big Stick Novel 2 (Standalone)

by R. C. Stephens

  “Good afternoon.” She smiles widely.

  I smile, then turn around to take in the place. It looks small-town, homey, not too bad. Her gaze falls on Chance, and she frowns. “You look like a lovely couple but we don’t allow dogs.”

  I see Sloane open her mouth but I interrupt, “Is there any other hotel around here?”

  She grins. “There sure is. Two miles down the road. A great big hotel.”

  Sloane turns to me and whispers, “Oli, I think we are at the far end of main street. Like, far away from the university. I kind of don’t have the strength to walk two miles right now, and I’m effing starving.”

  I nod and tell her to give me a minute. I return my attention to the lady, cracking a smile with teeth like I do for some of my endorsement ads. “Ma’am, I’m a hockey player. I was on my way to Canada when I blew a tire. I can make it worth your while if you can provide us two rooms. One for me, and one for my friend and her lovely dog.”

  The lady gives me an ear-to-ear grin. Her gaze lands on Sloane and follows lower to Chance. She purses her lips and tilts her head from side to side, as if she’s having an inner debate.

  I take the time to blink at her innocently with a little pout on my lips.

  “What team do you play for? My husband is a big Red Wings Fan.”

  I want to lie and tell her Red Wings, but I don’t have it in me. “Chicago Blackhawks.”

  She nods, spreads her lips from cheek to cheek, and says, “Okay, but we only have one room left. The honeymoon suite. We usually rent it out to honeymooners because it’s super romantic, but we can make an exception for a premium,” she says, her tone saccharine.

  “Right. Great. Thank you.” I smile, reaching for my wallet in my back pocket when I feel Sloane grab my arm. I turn to look at her and am surprised to see she looks completely freaked out.

  “What are you doing?” she snaps.

  I furrow my brows. “Giving the woman my credit card to secure us a room,” I reply, stating the obvious. “I don’t know about you, but I’m tired, hungry, and need a shower.”

  Her eyes turn wide. “They only have one room.” Her tone is filled with alarm.

  “Yeah so?” I shrug. “I don’t bite.” I let out a heavy breath. She looks tense. I need to ease her worry. “Look, it’s their only room. It’s for one night. You can take the bed if it makes you feel better,” I relent. Sheesh. I’ve known this girl a decade. She used to sleep over at mine and Flynn’s place back in New York all the time.

  She nods. “Fine.”

  I return my attention to the front-desk lady. “That’ll be six hundred,” she says, as if it isn’t completely ludicrous to charge that amount in a place like this. I cock my brow because she has some nerve, but I hold my tongue. We have Chance with us too. Sloane huffs from behind me. I appreciate the fact that she doesn’t call the lady out because she is clearly taking advantage of our situation. I wouldn’t be surprised if she had more than one room available, but I don’t say anything about that either because I’m actually looking forward to sharing a room with Sloane Carmichael.

  “There you go,” the lady says, passing us our room key. “You’re on the third floor.” She points to the stairs, and I sigh because I have to carry all our shit up three flights of stairs now and I’m starved.

  “What is your problem?” I ask Sloane, who is huffing to herself with each step she takes.

  “Nothing,” she growls.

  I don’t understand her. I know it’s a little conceited of me, but most women would give their left hand to spend a night with me in a hotel room. I leave it be because she isn’t most woman, and that makes me want her more.

  I slide the room card in the door and it beeps. I fling the door open and my eyes roam over the room. It looks like a nightmare of pink floral prints, from the wallpaper to the sham on the bed. I actually laugh when I notice the bed is shaped like a heart. That can’t be comfortable. I’m a big guy; I need my space. My eyes roam over the rest of the space searching for a sofa since I told Sloane she could have the bed. There isn’t one. Only a desk, dresser, and television. Fucking great.

  “Fuck me pink,” Sloane blurts out, and claps a hand over her mouth. “This place looks like someone vomited nasty flowers all over it. I swear, even my nana’s place doesn’t look like this.” She rolls her eyes. I’m still thinking of her statement: fuck me pink? I kind of like the idea—us fucking so hard I make her milky skin blush.

  “Oli,” she snaps. She points to her head. “My eyes are up here.”

  “Funny,” I laugh. “Sorry, I’m a little stunned by the look of this place and you can’t blame me. You used the words ‘fuck me pink.’ I stopped to contemplate what exactly that meant.”

  Oops. I hadn’t realized I’d fixated on her chest when I had that dirty thought.

  I don’t know if she’s the type of person to blush a lot or if it’s me who makes her blush.

  I drop our bags by the bed.

  “I’m starving. Would you mind if we went to grab a bite to eat first?” she asks, her green eyes looking a little desperate.

  I superman my way, flying a few good feet in the air and land hard on the bed. “Come on, we have the honeymoon suite. Don’t you want to try out the bed first, honey?” My tone is sarcastic even though I wouldn’t mind driving in to her tight little body.

  She laughs. “Food, Oli. Now!”

  I huff and lift myself off the bed. Fuck, this girl feels like she’s made for me. She gets cranky when hungry too. “You’re demanding when you’re hungry,” I state, and grab my jacket and my room key.

  “You think?” She crosses her arms over her chest.

  “Let’s go, Shorty.” I wrap my arm around her shoulder and guide her out of the room.

  We ask the lady at the front desk where we can get some food. She says that a couple of the pubs are open about a mile or so away. Sloane pouts about having to walk so far.

  “I’ll call an Uber,” I say.

  “That may take a while on a holiday evening.” The front desk lady replies.

  “Right.” I nod and offer Sloane my arm. She takes it. I hold onto Chance’s leash with my other hand, since Sloane seems pretty worn out and he’s pulled her around enough for one day.

  After walking for about twenty minutes, we finally see a place with lights on.

  “You think they’ll allow dogs inside?” she asks, looking up to me.

  Fuck. I hadn’t thought what we would do with the dog.

  “I swear it would have been easier if he was a kid. It isn’t easy traveling with a dog,” I sigh. What was my sister thinking when she suggested we take Chance on a road trip?

  “Let me walk in and see. Maybe I can find a manager or something.” She walks into the bar, and my eyes drop to her ass—the way it sways sexily when she walks. I’m not used to keeping my hands to myself especially when I see something I like, and in Sloane’s case, she’s more than a pretty face. I will myself to keep my hands to myself and my dick in my pants since I don’t need my sister killing me when I arrive to Canada.

  I look down to Chance who eyes her as she walks away.

  “I know, bud. She’s fucking hot and untouchable.”

  I could swear the dog nods in agreement.

  Seven

  Sloane

  The manager turns out to be the owner and a really nice guy. He says that he expects the place to fill up tonight since he’s the only one open, which means he can’t have a big dog like Chance running around all night. However, he does offer to give Chance a good meal in his back office where he keeps his own dog Charlie who happens to be a female chocolate lab. The idea sounds marvelous because I need food and a break from puppy parenting.

  I head back out to Oli. These past few hours have been insane. I swear I couldn’t stop smelling his enticing cologne when we were in the tow truck. My stomach somersaults from just his scent. Then to find out we have to share a room? I almost lost it. A part of me wants to beg him to free me of my virgin
ity even though I know that if I waited this long the moment should be special and not just some fast romp. Besides that, it could make things weird with Flynn when we’re all together.

  “Took you long enough.” He rubs his washboard abs.

  “Sorry. The owner is this really nice guy,” I begin.

  Oli mutters, “I bet.”

  “He said he’d keep Chance in his back office. He has his chocolate lab back there, a female. Real pretty green eyes. Chance can hang with her,” I explain.

  “You’re kidding me.” He gives me an incredulous look.

  “Nope, Chance has a date with a hottie, and we get to eat.”

  “Good. Let’s go.” He nods and gives Chance a little tug. I follow them inside.

  There are some customers scattered at random tables, but the place is pretty empty. The owner walks up to us right away, and I take the leash from Oli and follow the owner through a back hallway that’s a little narrow. I hope he isn’t a murderer and that I’ve just fallen into his trap. He opens a dark wooden door to an office. Charlie, the chocolate lab he told me about, rushes up to him wagging her tail. He was right; her green eyes are brilliant. Chance runs right up to her and smells her ass. Ah! A dog’s life. It must smell like ass.

  “Thanks so much for doing this.” I smile to the owner.

  “Please, call me Skip.” He extends his hand. “And you are?”

  It takes me a second to answer because Skip is super cute with a dirty blond buzz-cut and blue eyes. “Sloane,” I reply with a smile and a return handshake. As handsome as Skip is, he doesn’t get my pulse racing the way being next to Oli does. Besides, I’m starving. I can’t think of anything but food right now.

  “Very nice to meet you, Sloane,” he says, then looks down to both dogs.

  “Well, I better get back to my friend.” I point my thumb to the doorway. “We’re both kind of starving. We were on a road trip and our car broke down,” I explain, hoping Skip will cut the conversation short.

  “Shit, that’s gotta suck. I’ll tell the chef to put a rush on your orders.” He grins widely.

  “Thanks, Skip.” I smile and pat Chance on the head before I leave. I swear, I feel like a parent. It’s so weird because I can barely take care of plants.

  I make my way back to the main restaurant and spot Oli sitting at a table, gazing at a menu.

  “Took you long enough. All good?” He cocks a brow.

  “All good. Chance is settled in and sniffing Charlie’s ass.” I laugh.

  Oli laughs too, his green eyes have a swirl of golden warmth as he gazes at me. It causes my belly to flutter.

  Oli orders a filet mignon with mashed potatoes, and I get the barbeque chicken with a garden salad. We both eat like we haven’t eaten in days. After dinner, the waiter brings a dessert menu. Oli passes, saying he’s heading into playoffs and doesn’t want to completely fuck with his diet. I order the apple cobbler with a scoop of vanilla ice cream.

  “Food was good.” Oli nods. “I think we need to drink now.”

  “As in, you want some coffee?” I ask.

  The waiter arrives with my cobbler. Just the smell of the seasoned warm apples has my mouth watering.

  “Not coffee. Alcohol. We need to take the edge off from this day.” He lifts a brow with an amused stare.

  I take a bite into my cobbler. “Oh lord, oh my. Mmm. This is sooo good,” I moan as I salivate over the delicious dessert.

  “Jesus, Shorty. What is it with you and food?” he asks, shifting in his seat. “I swear it’s like you get off on it,” he says, oh Oli, if only you knew what I get off on . . .

  “You have to try this,” I say, scooping up some warm cobbler mixed with the cool ice cream. I lift the spoon toward him, and he leans forward and eats it. Just the idea of him eating off my spoon gets me hot and bothered.

  “Fuck. That’s good.” The green hue in his eyes darkens.

  “Right?” I agree, taking another bite, only this one tastes even better since his saliva touched my spoon.

  The waiter comes by and asks if we would like anything else. Oli looks to me expectantly. “We might as well hang and drink here. Nothing to do back in the room.” He sounds a little defeated, like maybe he wanted something to go back to the room for.

  The thought of sex causes me to squirm in my seat. Oli orders himself a double whiskey on the rocks, and after a quick glance at the drinks menu, I order a long island iced tea.

  For the next hour or so, we fall into easy conversation while I sip my third spiked iced tea, and he nurses what seems to be his fourth whiskey. I haven’t even bothered checking my phone at all, but a quick glance outside tells me it’s dark. The music volume has increased to the point where it’s hard to speak, and the place has really filled up and now there are no free tables. When did that happen? I was so engrossed in conversation with Oli I didn’t notice.

  My eyes widen as I remember Chance.

  “What is it?” Oli asks, his own eyes round by my reaction.

  “We forgot about Chance.” I slap a hand to my mouth and stand abruptly. Blood rushes to my brain because I feel more than tipsy. I’m such a bad parent. I’ve forgotten all about my temporarily adopted fur-baby.

  “Whoa! Easy there.” Oli stands up and steadies me. “I’ll come with you.” He wraps his hand around my waist and guides me to the bar. I don’t see Skip, but I see a female bartender. I wave her down and ask if I can check on Chance. Apparently, Skip updated her on his new babysitting job, so she gives me a brief update on how Chance and Charlie are best buds. Even their names together make them a cute couple.

  “Skip loves dogs. Not surprised he’s watching yours back there.” She smiles knowingly. "He's got a lot of paperwork to do, so just enjoy yourself.” She waves us off.

  Instead of heading back to our seats, we take a seat on two vacant stools at the bar. It’s a rustic bar with a long wooden counter. College students are drinking the night away, laughing, some of them dancing, and everyone having a good time. There is a mix of every kind of music imaginable playing. As I take in the scene, Oli leans forward and orders us a round of tequila shots.

  I quirk up a brow. “Is that a good idea? We have to drive for hours tomorrow. A hangover on a long drive will suck.”

  “Alcohol doesn’t affect me the next day, and honestly, do you have something better to do, Shorty? It’s Good Friday,” he replies, and the minute he says it my stomach sinks. Shit! He immediately gauges my shift in mood. “What is it?”

  “Good Friday. My father’s a pastor. Not only did I not plan on going back home for the holidays, but I didn’t even call him to check in. I’m the world’s worst daughter.” I clap a hand to my forehead and sink down on the bar stool.

  Oli drapes an arm around my shoulder. His closeness sends waves of electricity through my body. “Call him now.”

  I purse my lips. “I’m more than tipsy. I can’t call my father, the pastor, on one of the most important holidays of the year when I sound drunk. He’ll know. It’s disrespectful.”

  “Call him in the morning and explain the situation. I’m sure he’ll understand.” Oli grins and there’s something playful and warm in his stare, like he’s moved on from the conversation and is thinking something else. I wish I knew what, because having his face dangling this close to mine makes me want to lean over and kiss him, or better yet, have him claim my lips like he did earlier.

  The waitress interrupts our intimate stare-down when she places two shots of tequila in front of us with limes and a salt shaker.

  “You ready?” Oli smirks, picking up the salt he sprinkles my wrist then his.

  “Yeah,” I reply a little breathless. I’m ready to go through the routine only instead of licking the salt off my own wrist Oli licks the salt off mine. His warm lips on the sensitive skin of my inner wrist causes warmth to flood my body. He then offers me his wrist and his green eyes sparkle mischievously. He downs his shot and I follow suit. When it comes to sucking the lime he places the lime in f
ront of my mouth to suck and I hold my lime up for him to suck. It’s the most sensuous shot I’ve ever had. My hormones skyrocketing, and I have to clench my legs together.

  As the alcohol relaxes my body further we fall back into easy conversation, Oli telling me stories about Flynn and Myles growing up. They really are his world, and his green-golden eyes twinkle when he speaks of them. The bartender stops by and asks if we want another shot, and Oli nods. I’m a little too buzzed to care, and definitely too high on him to say no. We do another shot, following the same routine of licking each other’s wrists. After the last shot, it feels like the temperature in the bar has skyrocketed. I pull off the sweater I’ve had on all day. Underneath, I’m wearing a black tank top. It isn’t fancy, by any means, but this place is pretty laid-back. Oli’s gaze drinks me in from head to toe. His Adam’s apple bobs. As tipsy as I am, I swear I see lust in the depths of his honey eyes. He bites his lip, as if he’s trying to suppress his next comment, when an old song I used to love begins to play throughout the bar.

  “Don’t break my heart,” I sing aloud. I wonder if it’s a sign. Me singing to him not to break my heart, because I could so easily fall deeply, madly in love with him. Off to our side, some college girls have climbed up on the bar, singing their brains out to the Billy Ray Cyrus song and adding a little hip sway to their show. I don’t know what comes over me because I’m past college age, even though I never really did party back then. I do something completely out of my element, and take a step to climb up the stool. When I nearly lose my balance, Oli catches me in his arms, and I fall effortlessly into his lap.

  “Whatcha doing, Shorty?” He smiles devilishly, his eyes trained on my mouth. My heart leaps in my chest. I want him to kiss me, but it can’t happen. He doesn’t want a relationship and I need one. And that’s not the only problem. I have to gain some closure where Parker’s concerned, but I don’t know how.

  I pull off him and make my way back up the stool and onto the bar. He blows out a breath, as if I frustrate him. I get on the bar and sing my achy, breaky heart out while Oli watches, his eyes smiling, his lips curved up and his body moving to the beat. The girls begin to add some tricky footwork to the dance, and I move right alongside them in my black tights and simple little tank. I feel on top of the world, singing my heart out on the bar, but also to the guy who I’ve secretly crushed on for a decade.