by Wright, Elle
“After dessert?” I whispered.
“Breakfast, too.” Juke nipped my chin, before pulling me onto his lap for a kiss.
My heart pounded in my ears as he worked his magic with his talented lips, winding me up until I couldn’t feel anything but him. He brushed his lips across my collarbone up to my ear.
“We need to stop,” he murmured.
I leaned back. “Are you sure?”
He smirked. “Not really.”
Groaning, I slid off of his lap and took a few deep breaths. The braids in my hair prevented me from pulling it out, but I mimicked the action anyway. “You’re killing me.”
He stood, grabbing the hem of my shirt and tugging me back to him. “Believe me, I want this. Not in the middle of the bar, though.”
“Fine.” I pouted. “By the way, I’m not sex-crazed or anything. You’re just hot.”
Juke barked out a laugh. “You’re funny.”
I rolled my eyes. “I guess.” Stepping on the tips of my toes, I kissed him. “I better go.”
He picked up my coat. “Okay.” Stepping behind me, he held it open until I slid my arms in the sleeves. When I turned around to face him, he zipped my coat up and put my hat on my head.
“Thanks.” I grinned up at him. “You’re such a gentleman.”
He scratched his ear. “Sometimes.” He winked.
I slipped a hand in his and he walked me to my car. Outside, he opened my door for me, waiting until I climbed in before closing it. Once I turned on the ignition, I rolled the window down. “I’ll text you when I get there.”
Leaning in, he placed a slow, lingering kiss to my lips. “Call me.”
I gripped his collar, holding him in place. “You know the town will talk. I’m sure someone just saw you kiss me.”
“Tomorrow, everyone will think we eloped because you were pregnant with my baby.”
I giggled. “Or Laura hit you in the head with her shoe because she found out we were having an illicit affair behind her back.”
He cracked up. “Right.” He kissed me again. “I don’t care, though.” Stepping away from the car, he waved. “Drive safe.”
As I drove away, I thought about last night, about the wish I’d made out loud and the silent ones I’d been too scared to voice. For the first time, I thought all of them might be within reach. And I couldn’t be happier.
Chapter Six
Snow in the Crack
JUKE
“A gentleman would at least take a woman to dinner before he fucks her.”
Growing up with a granny that had no filter had prepared me to handle anything. That particular piece of advice hadn’t been asked for or received well. What fifteen-year-old kid wanted his grandmother to talk about fucking or anything related to his dick? But that didn’t stop Julianne Lee Bush from saying anything she wanted to say—at any moment.
The lesson stuck with me, though. Which was why I didn’t take anyone to bed lightly. Sure, I’d had my fair share of pussy, but for the most part, I didn’t enjoy sleeping around. The older I got, the more I realized I wanted what Bryson had with Jordan, what Parker had with Kennedi, what Brooklyn had with Carter. I wanted to come home to someone at the end of the night. I looked forward to foot massages, middle-of-the-night sex… babies.
Is Ronnie that person for me? Sometimes I wondered if she was too good to be true, if she would morph into someone I couldn’t stand—like Laura had. But the part of me that had fallen hard for Ronnie knew she was everything I thought she was.
In fact, the only doubt I had now was… Italian or Steakhouse? It had been a week since I’d asked her out on a date. Officially. While she was in Indianapolis, we’d talked often. We’d even eaten dinner together on a Zoom chat.
One night, she’d called me in tears because of some family thing. I spent hours trying to make her laugh. Eventually, we watched a movie together on Netflix. She’d fallen asleep, though. And I’d listened to her soft snores until I did, too.
Early this morning, she’d texted me to let me know she was on her way home. I’d responded with an invitation to dinner. Whether we ended up in her bed tonight or mine remained to be seen, but I would be lyin’ if I said I didn’t want to be with her. My hands itched to explore her body in ways that I’d dreamed about. But I’d let her set the pace. I was down for whatever she wanted. Because my granny had taught me gentlemanly manners.
If only the weather would hold up.
The bell above the door rang, and I looked up to see Mr. Mays had shuffled in, covered in snow. “Hey, Old Man,” I called.
“Juke! How the hell are ya?” he asked, shaking his hat off. “It’s cold out there.”
Carl Mays had owned CM Market for years, until the local Walmart put him out of business. His wife, Mildred, and my granny were best friends. And they’d died within months of each other. We’d supported each other through that time, and I continued to be there for him whenever he needed me.
I poured him his usual. Grapefruit juice on ice. No gin. “What are you doing out today?”
At eighty-years-old, Mr. Mays was still on the go, driving his pick-up truck through town, walking his dog in the park every single day. “Looks like we’re going to get a snow storm,” he mused, taking a sip of his drink. “Six to eight inches. I came down here to get a few things, in case I’m snowed in for a few days.”
Frowning, I picked up my phone and checked the forecast. Sure enough, what had started out as scattered flurries had now been upgraded to a damn-near blizzard. Shit.
I leaned my elbows against the bar. “Hopefully, it passes by.”
“You know how it is, son. We live in Michigan.”
Chuckling, I nodded at a couple as they walked out of the bar. “Have a good evening,” I told them. My waitress was on lunch, so I hurried to their table to clean it off.
I set the couple’s used dishes in a bin and wiped the table off. On my way back to the bar, I asked Mr. Mays, “Need me to help you with anything? You still have Sheriff Walker’s grandson taking care of your home maintenance?”
“I’m fine,” he grumbled. “You need to worry about yourself.”
I blinked. “Huh? Something I should know?”
Mr. Mays eyed me curiously. “You heard me.”
I lifted my shoulders. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, Old Man.”
“You know people talk. I just heard something, that’s all.”
I sighed. Since New Year’s, I’d been hearing all kinds of rumors about me, about me and Laura, about me and Ronnie, about Ronnie and Laura. “What did you hear?”
He shrugged. “That you got the Wells girl pregnant. Laura found out and stole all your shit before she left town.”
Of course, that was what he’d heard. I laughed. “Yeah, no. That’s not what happened.”
“You and the Wells gal… is that true?”
“Maybe,” I admitted.
Mr. Mays grinned. “Boy, I might be old but I can still whoop your ass.”
Laughing, I said, “I like her. We’re seeing what happens.”
“Well, I’ll be damned. You finally got your head out of your ass and asked her out, huh? I knew you were sweet on her.”
Curious, I asked, “How did you know?”
“Because I see the way you look at her. Like I looked at Mil. Take it from me, if you find someone that will hold all of your attention, don’t let go.”
Nothing he’d said was untrue. It only served as a confirmation for me. “Thanks for the advice.”
“Anytime, son.” Mr. Mays stood. “Let me get out of here.”
I walked him to the door. “Be careful out there. Text me when you get home.”
“Will do. Aren’t you proud of me? I’m getting good at this technology thing.”
I smiled, remembering the day I’d tried to teach him about texting. That hours-long lesson was frustrating as hell. But it was worth it, just to get that quality time.
“That’s good,” I told him. “Maybe
next time I could teach you how to order your groceries and have them delivered.”
He waved me off. “I’m not doing that shit. I need to get out of the house every now and then. Going grocery shopping counts as exercise according to my granddaughter.”
“True.”
“See you soon.” He stepped down onto the sidewalk. “Bye, now.”
I watched him walk to his car and waited until he drove off before I closed the door. I peered up at the sky. One thing was sure… I needed a contingency plan for dinner. I placed a few calls and made a quick run to the store.
I’d just made it back to the bar when my phone buzzed.
Ronnie: I need help.
I paused, wondering if she’d made it back home. The roads were probably slick heading into town. I replied: Are you okay?
A few minutes later, another text came through: I’m stuck. Can you come?
I texted that I was on my way and asked her to send me her location. Once I let my staff know that I was out for the rest of the day, I left.
Several minutes later, I pulled next to Ronnie’s car. It had taken twice as long to get to her, due to the icy driving conditions. But I spotted her right away. She was about a mile away from her neighborhood. Judging by the angle of her car, she’d slid off the road, most likely due to the sheet of ice under the falling snow.
I veered off the road and parked in front of her. More than likely, I’d have to pull her car out of the little ditch she was in.
She jumped out of the car. “You’re here! Thank God.”
It took half an hour for me to get her car out of the ditch. Then, I followed her home. I helped her pull her luggage out of the car. The snow was coming down fast. Big, fat flakes covered the ground, ensuring any plans I had this evening would be canceled.
One thing about living in Wellspring? The people here didn’t play about the snow. Downtown restaurants closed, schools dismissed early, and residents were content to stay indoors.
My phone buzzed. I read the new text message and was relieved to see that Mr. Mays had made it home. Dropping it back in my coat pocket, I grinned at Ronnie who was slowly inching her way toward me.
“You wore the wrong shoes,” I told her, looking down at her boots. They were for fashion, not for ice.
Ronnie rubbed her gloved hands together. “Looks like it’s going to get worse.”
“Yeah,” I grumbled, unable to keep the irritation out of my voice.
“No dinner, huh?”
I shook my head. “Looks that way.” I took off my glove and brushed a snowflake from her cheek.
“Thanks for coming to get me.” She smirked. “I thought I was doing something taking the side roads. I thought it would be quicker, less traffic. I can drive in snow, but damn… this shit is not for me.”
“Do me a favor.” I picked up the suitcases. “Next time you get the urge to take a shortcut in a blizzard, don’t.” I stalked off to the door. I was right in front of the stairs when I felt a blast of wet, icy, snow against my neck. Dropping the suitcases, I whirled around.
With narrowed eyes on me and another snowball in hand, Ronnie said, “How about this? Next time you try to tell me what to do, remember this moment, and don’t.”
I ducked right before a ball of snow whizzed passed by my head and splattered on the side of the house. But I wasn’t quick enough for the second one, which hit me right on my forehead.
“Oh, you’re going to get it now.” I picked up a mound of snow, forming a snowball quickly.
She flung another one at me, barely missing me. “I’m not scared.” Then, she took off, running around the house into the backyard.”
I raced to catch up with her, throwing snow as I ran and dodging flying snow from her. Finally, I reached her, wrapping my arms around her waist and picking her up. She laughed, her head falling back as I twirled her around. But I’d forgotten one thing… wet snow was slippery. And before I could correct myself, I tumbled over, falling straight on my back.
Ouch. I winced as pain shot through my lower back. But she was still laughing, probably because she’d landed on me and not on the cold ground.
She looked at me, her eyes dancing with amusement. “Are you okay?”
“I’m…good.”
Ronnie rolled off of me onto her back. We stayed like that for a little while, just watching the snow fall on us.
“I love the snow,” she confessed. “Especially fresh snow.” I heard her shift and turned to find her staring at me. “When I was a kid, I made a snowman every year. And I loved making snow angels.” Smiling, she opened her mouth. “And it tastes so good.” She inhaled. “It smells good, too.”
Frowning, I said, “Does snow have a smell?”
“Of course, it does. If you really pay attention.”
I took a deep breath. It was subtle, but it did have a soft scent to it. Or maybe it’s her.
“My granny loved the snow, too.”
A familiar pang of sadness squeezed my heart. There wasn’t a day that passed that I didn’t think of her. The strongest woman I’d ever known. I don’t think I’d ever seen her shed a tear, not even when my mother—her only child—died of cancer before the age of thirty. Granny had simply planned the funeral, filed for legal guardianship, and went to work the next day.
Years later, I realized she’d drowned all of her sorrows in alcohol. A gin and tonic here, a martini there, a glass of wine with dinner. The first drink I’d ever made was a Tom Collins—Seagrams Gin, maple syrup, lemon juice, and soda water. It was her favorite and I was happy to oblige her because I didn’t know any better.
In my early twenties, I’d come home from college with a busted knee and a desire to open my own bar. The journey hadn’t been easy, but she’d cheered me on and made me promise never to give up. I made her promise to stop drinking if I ever made my dream a reality.
The day Brook’s Pub opened, we celebrated. The next morning, she went to her first AA meeting and eventually became one of Wellspring’s top AA sponsors. For the rest of her life, she’d spent her time helping others put the liquor down. Kind of ironic I’d built a career serving drinks to paying customers. But she’d always told me that not everyone carried the liquor cross, and it was important to let people make their own choices. She was the reason I stayed away from the hard stuff and never let my customers drink themselves into a stupor. I considered it my personal mission. For her.
“I wish I could have met her,” she said softly. “From what you’ve told me, she was a phenomenal woman.”
“She was.”
“She raised you. And you’re a good guy.”
“She pushed me. So hard. I wouldn’t be where I am without her.”
Too bad Granny wasn’t here to bask in my success with me. Before she died, though, she’d begged me to open my heart to someone special, someone who wouldn’t use me for what I could give them, someone who’d love me unconditionally. As I stared into Ronnie’s eyes, feelings I’d never felt before took over and I knew that person was her.
“She would’ve liked you,” I continued. I like you. I more than liked her.
Ronnie squeezed my hand. A few minutes later, she asked, “Cold yet?”
“Been cold.” Moving closer, I nuzzled my nose against her neck. “But you’re right. I like the smell of snow…on you.”
She giggled, wrapping her arms around my shoulders. “I think I missed you.”
I squeezed her waist until she dissolved into laughter again. “You think?” Meeting her gaze, I whispered, “I know I missed you.”
Brushing my cheeks with her thumbs, she kissed me. It was cold as hell, wet, and dark, but I’d never felt so warm, so alive. So open to any and everything with her.
Chapter Seven
Hop, Skip, and Go Naked
VERONICA
Playing in the snow with Juke was my favorite part of the week. After my trip to Indianapolis, I’d needed the reprieve. And standing there, wrapped in the warm cocoon of his embrace, rocking
back and forth to the music in our hearts, I felt safe.
I peered up at him. “Thanks for this.”
He rubbed my shoulders. “I think I should be the one thanking you,” he said, his voice almost a whisper.
Tonight, he’d shared more of his granny with me, which made me happy. I loved learning about his struggles and his triumphs. Because they’d made him who he was. A strong, capable, dependable, loyal, sexy man. My man.
It had taken forever for us to get out of the snow and make our way into the house. But he’d immediately turned on my fireplace, pulled my trusty blanket off of my chair and wrapped it around me, to warm me up. But the heat of the fireplace, the warmth of the blanket had nothing on him. His ability to calm me and arouse me started a flame in my gut that spread out to every part of me.
He searched my eyes and ran a finger down the side of my face. “How are you?”
“Better now.”
“Did you get to talk to your mother?”
I sighed. “Not really. I kind of just left it alone, ya know?“
My nightmare trip was one for the record books. Between question after question about husband prospects, my spiritual walk, and my teaching career, I couldn’t catch a break. The straw that had broken the camel’s back was the massive argument I had with my mother and her husband. Over my ex-fiancé of all people. Apparently, his marriage was over and he’d been inquiring about me. My mother thought I was being absolutely unreasonable for not taking his calls.
Hell no was my answer when she’d approached me with an invitation to dinner—for a double date. I’d never cussed at my mother, not even in her presence. The words had slipped out as if I had no control over my tongue. Needless to say, that had opened an entire floodgate of accusatory statements, tears, and threats of leaving and never coming back. All of those things coming from me.
“I wanted to fix it,” I explained. “I just couldn’t get over how she’d let her husband treat me.”
