Charming Fiona

by Jessica Prince

  That was why I was currently standing outside his bar. I was the one who’d broken us, so I needed to be the one to take the first steps in healing our relationship.

  Pushing the door of The Black Sheep open, I moved into the warm, bustling bar and out of the cold. I loved Deacon’s bar. I’d been there as a friend of the family the day it opened, and a few times in passing after that, but with how strained our friendship had become after Grayson and I started dating, I hadn’t felt welcome enough to show up regularly.

  Things had shifted last year after I was part of a charity auction put on by Sophia, Daphne, and Lola for their radio show. I’d finally gotten my friend back after years of him keeping a distance, and I’d become a steady regular at The Black Sheep during that time.

  Unfortunately it didn’t last long, what with Deacon declaring his feelings for me and me pushing him away because I was scared. I’d been blindsided at the time, having only just gotten him back. I handled the situation poorly, and the result was losing him all over again.

  This time I couldn’t make the same mistakes.

  I’d missed that bar almost as much as I’d missed him during our time apart. He’d taken what was once a hole in the wall and turned it into a thriving hot spot. It was one of the places to see and be seen in Seattle. Hence the reason it was nearly standing room only on a Thursday night.

  I pushed my way through the crowd toward the massive U-shaped bar at the back, knowing that was where he’d be. If he wasn’t in the back office doing paperwork, he was slinging drinks for thirsty customers. He loved being behind the bar. He thrived there—it was obvious to me from all the times I’d sat my ass on one of those stools and watched him in his zone.

  The line of waiting patrons was three deep as I slowly advanced forward. It wasn’t until I managed to find a break in the crowd to the far left that I caught sight of him. He and another guy worked in tandem to fill orders. His hands were a blur of motion as he made multiple cocktails at once and collected money from outstretched hands.

  Resting my elbows on the bar top, I settled in and enjoyed the show of Deacon at work. I was totally content to bide my time until he made his way in my general direction, but it didn’t take long to get his attention. As if sensing my presence, Deacon’s head came up and turned. His eyes landed on me instantly, and the smirk on his lips sent a tremor through me.

  “Hey!” I called loud enough for him to hear me over all the noise.

  “Hey! What are you doing here?”

  I leaned in closer so he could hear me better. “Just stopping by.” I scanned the people around me and noticed the crowd had grown even thicker. “Jeez, it’s a madhouse in here tonight.”

  Deacon lifted his arm to push his over-long hair back, causing his muscled bicep to strain the fabric of his shirt. “Yeah, tell me about it. And we had a waitress call in sick at the last minute, so we’re short staffed. It’s been a bitch of a night so far.”

  I stood from my hunched-over position and made my way behind the bar. “So put me to work,” I demanded.

  His chin jerked back in surprise. “What?”

  I scanned the area and quickly found the aprons. Grabbing one, I tied it around my waist while looking back at Deacon. “Put me to work. You’re short staffed, it’s chaos, and I can help. So let me.”

  The sight of his warm smile did crazy things to my lady bits. “Fee, I’m not making you wait tables.”

  Slapping my hands on my hips, I scowled hard. “Why not? You know I have experience.” And that was true. Despite my family being loaded, my folks had been pretty hardcore when it came to teaching me responsibility. They paid for my tuition and living expenses, but if I wanted money to go out or buy new clothes, I had to get a job. I didn’t mind. I actually liked working for what I wanted, so I took jobs waitressing all throughout college.

  “I know you do, sweetheart, but you aren’t here to work for me. You’re here to relax and have a drink, not serve them to other people. Besides”—he did a full body scan of me that made my skin burn—“you’re in heels. You can’t wait tables in heels, babe.”

  Ignoring the warm, gooey feeling in my belly I got from him calling me sweetheart and babe, I pushed forward. “Deac, I basically grew up in heels. I could run a marathon in these babies,” I said, lifting one of my Alexander McQueen–clad feet. Okay, so that wasn’t totally true. Yes, the shoes pinched toes a bit, but I’d manage. The studded booties were absolutely to die for, and cost a serious mint, but this opportunity was serendipitous. It gave me the chance to show Deacon I cared and wanted to be there for him. I wasn’t going to let a stupid pair of shoes hinder my ability to help a friend in his time of need.

  With a rich chuckle that shot warmth through my chest, he threw his hands up in surrender. “Okay, fine. You want to help, you can help. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

  I gave him a salute and a sarcastic “You got it boss. Now point me to my section.”

  He handed me a tray and guided me to the section of tables I’d be working for the next several hours. Then I was off.

  “One Jack and Coke. One seven and seven. And two cosmos.” I finished calling off the orders I’d scribbled on my note pad and looked up at Deacon as he started on my drinks.

  “You ready to admit defeat yet?” he asked with a smug grin.

  “Pfft, please,” I scoffed. “This is a cakewalk.”

  It wasn’t. It really freaking wasn’t. I’d been at it for four hours and I wanted to die. No, first I wanted to hunt down the asshole who designed my shoes and plant one up his ass—then I wanted to die. But I’d be damned if I let Deacon see any of that. I was determined to be the best damn friend that existed in the history of ever.

  His lips quirked with a suppressed grin. “You sure about that? ’Cause you started limping pretty bad about an hour ago.”

  I glared at him across the bar top. “Just fill my damn order.”

  “Ma’am, yes, ma’am,” he said with a laugh and a salute. I settled the drinks on my tray and carefully teetered toward my last table. It was late and only a few stragglers remained. I set the glasses down, smiled a friendly smile at the two couples who sat at the four-top, pocketed my tip, and headed back to the bar.

  “Last call!” Deacon shouted just as my ass hit the empty barstool in front of him.

  “Oh thank God,” I mumbled before I could catch myself.

  Deacon burst into laughter, and I got so caught up in watching his already handsome face get even more handsome that I forgot all about my poor aching feet. Humor dripped thick from his voice as he asked, “Still think this is a cakewalk?”

  “Shut up,” I grumbled.

  He moved around behind the bar, pouring vodka into a glass over ice and squirting something into it with the well gun. He finished off with a squeeze of lime, then shoved another wedge onto the rim and slid it in my direction. “Vodka tonic. Drink and take a load off. Sherry can close out your last table before she clocks out,” he said, talking about the other waitress who’d worked the floor tonight. She was a sweet girl waitressing her way through college, who seemed to be in a perpetually happy mood in spite of spending the entire night running her ass off, fetching drinks. It probably helped that she was wearing waitressing-friendly footwear.

  “Thanks,” I muttered across the rim of the glass before slugging some back. The cool, refreshing liquid slid down my throat, then settled into a soothing pool of warmth in my belly.

  I’d finished my drink by the time Sherry made it to the bar, having finished up with the last customer who’d just headed out the door.

  “You’re a lifesaver, Fiona. I probably would’ve passed out halfway through my shift if it wasn’t for you.”

  I smiled up at the bubbly blonde. “Happy to help. Oh, and here you go.” I pulled the wad of cash that had been my tips for the night out of my pocket and extended it her way. “This should be yours.”

  “Oh no! I can’t take that. You worked your butt off. You earned those tips, babe.
”

  I pushed the bills into her hand and closed her fingers around them. “I just did it to help out a friend.”

  By the way she bit her lip and stared at the cash with hesitant yet hopeful eyes, I knew she needed it a lot more than I did. I could appreciate how important tips were when working your way through school.

  “Seriously, babe. I’m good. I don’t need it.”

  “You sure?”

  “Absolutely,” I answered with a resolute nod.

  She let out a little squeal and jerked me into a hug. “You’re totally the best, Fee! You feel like doing this again, make sure Deacon puts you on with me. I loved working with you.”

  I couldn’t help but beam at the compliment. “You got it.”

  Sherry handed everything to Deacon so he could close her out, then took off shortly after with an exuberant wave as the door closed behind her, leaving Deacon and I totally alone for the first time in over a year. Thanksgiving hadn’t counted since we had the buffer of Evie between us.

  “So,” I started, suddenly feeling all kinds of awkward. “I should probably head out and let you finish up for the night.”

  I pushed up from the stool just as Deacon spoke. “Nah, stay. Keep me company.”

  I wanted to do exactly that. I bit my cheek to prevent my over-excitement from shining through as I asked, “You sure? I don’t want to get in your way.”

  Those deep chocolaty eyes of his hit me, and he winked. “I’m sure. After I’m done, maybe we can shoot some pool. Give you a chance to win back some of that money you lost to me growing up.”

  I shot daggers from my eyes and declared, “Oh, you’re so on. And you only ever beat me because you’re a cheat. I could totally kick your ass at pool now.”

  The whites of his perfectly straight teeth flashed as he smiled. “We’ll just have to see, won’t we?”

  Oh yeah, we totally will.

  Chapter Eight

  Fiona

  I watched with a smile as the yellow ball fell into the corner pocket with a satisfying clunk.

  Deacon let out an impressed whistle as I looked up at him with a cocky grin. “Wow. So you have gotten better.”

  It wasn’t that so much as sheer luck, but I wasn’t about to admit that to him. I lined up my next shot and missed by a mile.

  “Or not,” he stated with a deep chuckle. He took his turn, sinking one striped ball before speaking again as he lined up his next shot. “So, how’s the world of fashion?”

  I pulled in a breath as I leaned against the side of the pool table, sipping at the second vodka tonic Deacon had poured me. “It’s… good.”

  He looked up after pocketing his second shot, lifting a skeptical brow. “Well don’t sound too excited about it,” he teased playfully.

  Shame trickled down my spine. The very same shame I felt every time I thought about my career, and how I should’ve been more thankful for what I had.

  “No, it’s great,” I lied. “Really. It’s great.”

  Resting the butt of the pool cue on the ground, he studied me closely, like I was a fascinating specimen under a microscope. “I know things have been rough between us the past….”

  “Several years?” I finished for him.

  “Yeah.” He grinned. “Several years. But babe, you were never able to lie to me. That hasn’t changed.”

  My lips puckered as I expelled a huge puff of air. I dragged a finger through the condensation on the drink glass I’d rested on the table ledge. “I have no business complaining,” I finally admitted. “I have a great job that most women would kill for, a great pension, and excellent benefits, and I get to work closely with my dad. I mean, what right do I have to be unhappy?”

  The cue let out a muffled clang as he dropped it onto the green felt tabletop. “You have every right if it doesn’t make you happy. Fuck all that other shit. Just because it’s someone else’s dream job doesn’t mean it has to be yours.”

  I rested my pool cue beside his and sucked back the remaining dregs of my drink. “I should be happy there. I know I should. It’s just….”

  “Just what?” he asked when I took too long to complete my thought.

  “Just not what I thought I’d be doing,” I answered with a shrug. “Don’t get me wrong, I enjoy what I do. I appreciate all the chances my job gave me, but I guess I just always figured that I’d have something similar to what my parents have when I got older. My mom started working at Prentice Fashion after she married my dad. And not because she wanted to work in the fashion industry, but because she wanted to be close to him as much as possible. Dad wanted that too.” I gave Deacon a small, slightly embarrassed smile as I admitted, “Maybe it sounds naïve, but I wanted that for myself, you know? I wanted to marry a guy I loved so much that I’d be working alongside him in whatever he did simply because I’d miss him too much when he was gone.”

  His expression grew soft as he murmured, “You always were a romantic.”

  “Yeah, I guess so. I just never really cared about building a career. I always dreamed of building a family.”

  The atmosphere had grown as heavy as the conversation. I needed to do something to change that, so I joked, “But don’t tell Lola, Soph, or Daphne I said any of that. They’d strip me of my girl card and kick me out of the club.”

  When he didn’t laugh, I tried something else, grasping at straws to move the conversation in a different direction.

  “I kind of envy you, you know? You paved your own way, started this bar. I know it was expected for you to join Bandwidth with Grayson.”

  “That was never going to happen,” he said in a growly, intense voice.

  “Because it wasn’t what you wanted?” I inquired, cocking my head to the side, giving him my full attention.

  He looked from me to the table and picked up his pool cue. I followed suit when it became obvious that he was about to take another shot. “Something like that,” he muttered as he sank another ball, officially taking the lead.

  There was no missing the hostility in his words, but I couldn’t understand it. Sure, I’d witnessed tension between him and his dad growing up, and he and Grayson had a competitive streak that never made any sense to me, but what I always saw most was a loving, supportive family unit.

  I’d been a bit jealous of Deacon when I was a kid because he had a brother. As an only child, I’d always wished for a sibling, that built-in best friend I’d have all my life. I never got why those two were constantly trying to one-up each other.

  “Well, no matter what, I know your folks are proud of you.”

  Deacon let out a noise between a scoff and a snort before sucking back a swig of beer from the bottle he’d brought over to the table. “I wouldn’t be so sure of that.”

  I lost interest in the game completely, too disturbed by the sudden frosty change in Deacon’s demeanor. “What are you talking about? Of course they are. Deac, this place is amazing. Do you even know the statistics for new restaurants or bars closing within the first two years? I researched it when you opened The Black Sheep. I’ll admit, I was a little worried for you at first, but when I saw this place? I instantly fell in love with what you created. You have no idea how amazing it is that you not only succeeded with this place but thrived. You’re crazy if you think they aren’t proud. They are. I know I am.”

  I’d been so lost in my tangent that I hadn’t registered the massive shift in the atmosphere, at least not right away. Now that I was no longer talking, I found it difficult to breathe, the air so thick with whatever emotion was rolling off Deacon in waves.

  His voice grew low and raspy. “You researched statistics?”

  “Well… yeah. I know you and I weren’t exactly close at the time, but all I ever wanted was for you to be happy, and The Black Sheep made you happy.”

  “You worried about me?” he asked, even lower and raspier.

  “Of course I did, Deacon. Just because we weren’t in each other’s lives for a long time didn’t mean I didn’t still care ab
out you. I missed you like crazy. I never stopped caring about you.”

  He closed his eyes, as if in pain. “Christ, sweetheart. You really are proud of me,” he grunted before looking at me once more. I had no idea what was going on or why things felt like they were suddenly shifting. All I knew was that I meant every single word I’d said.

  “Are you kidding?” I whispered. “I love this place. When you shut me out last year, I only barely missed The Black Sheep as much as I missed you. I’m over the freaking moon for you that you get to live your dream.”

  His pool cue clattered against the table as he tossed it down, sending the balls scattering along the felt as he rounded the pool table in my direction. My heart stuttered and my breathing escalated at the look in his eyes, like he was a caged animal just set free.

  “Deacon, what—”

  My cue crashed to the ground where he threw it. His fingers tangled in my hair and, using his hold on my head, he tipped it to the side for better access before his lips slammed against mine in a demanding, all-consuming kiss.

  I gasped in surprise and he used the sudden parting of my lips to his advantage, thrusting his tongue into my mouth and tangling it with my own. I was instantly lost to the decadence of the kiss, to the taste of Deacon. It was so much better than I remembered our last and only kiss. He tasted like hops and mint. He was all man, and I melted into his hold, needing his support to stay upright.

  A muffled moan crawled up my throat when his teeth clamped down on my bottom lip. My arms twisted around his neck to hold on for dear life as my tongue quickly got in the game, meeting his with every stroke.

  I whimpered greedily with loss when his mouth broke from mine, but the noise quickly shifted into one of desire as Deacon’s lips trailed along my jaw and down my neck. Never in my life had my skin been so sensitive, so responsive to a man’s touch. I never wanted it to end. I wanted to drown in him.