by L. B. Dunbar
“Cain,” Sofie admonishes, catching up to her husband and daughter. “Mr. Fox, nice to see you again.” She offers her hand to Dolores as if she hasn’t seen me here before with another woman. “I’m Sofie. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“Dolores Chance, and I have no idea why I’m here.” Her dark eyes fix on me, and Cain chuckles.
“No scenes,” Cain mutters.
“Ah, coming from the pot, I don’t think the kettle will listen,” Sofie teases, brushing back her daughter’s hair. “Let’s let them eat in peace.”
“Enjoy your meal,” she says to Dolores, then tugs at her husband’s bicep to lead him away.
“That was interesting,” Dolores says as soon as they walk away. She picks up her wine and takes a hardy drink. Her eyes focus on me over the rim of her glass.
“I’ve been here before.”
“I’ve gathered,” she interrupts. My eyes catch hers, and she goes silent. It’s going to take a lot to explain everything.
“I was in love once, or so I thought. Kathryn Cole was her name. Kate. I brought her here, ready to propose. Got down on my knee and everything. Then she told me no. In front of the crowded restaurant, she said no. The First Wives Club had a heyday, encouraging her to step away. Then later, one came to hit on me. It was a total shitshow.”
“Oh my God,” Dolores says, reaching across the table for my hand. I don’t return her squeeze.
“That wasn’t the worst part. As if I hadn’t been humiliated enough, I went after her a week later. I went to her home, which I’d never been to. One year of dating. How had I never been to her place? I didn’t question it like I should have.” I swallow. “She was married. With children.”
“My God, Garrett, that’s awful.”
I lift my glass and drain my wine.
“We’d met in an airport. It was like something out of a movie. A delay. A one-night stand. Only she was my meeting the following morning. My next investment. We’d meet on the road. Coordinate our schedules. I even brought her home to meet my family.”
A shaky hand comes to my forehead.
“My sisters didn’t like her, and my mother sensed something was off, but I didn’t listen to any of them.” I swallow again and look up at Dolores. “When she refused me, I thought it was karma for leaving my high school sweetheart who thought we’d get married and we didn’t. Someone had done to me what I’d done to another. Only it was so much worse.”
My eyes stay on Dolores. “A husband. And two kids. I hated myself. And I eventually hated her.”
I look away and find Sofie watching our table. She stands behind a bar, and I wave my hand. We need another bottle of wine.
“I don’t love him,” Dolores says, and my head snaps back to her. “It sounds horrid to call us sex partners. Fuck buddies. We aren’t even friends. Ten years I’ve given to him because…honestly…there’s been no one else. I live in a small town where I work sixty-plus hours a week and take care of my mother and grandmother. I didn’t have time or energy for anything else. And while he was a rebound from James, he just sort of stuck.”
Her elbow slams on the table, and her fingers brush over her lips. “I sound pathetic, don’t I?”
“Actually, no.” I get it. Being too busy to commit, too busy to invest in more with someone else, someone better. I didn’t try after Kate. I played the field over and over and over again. My hand reaches for hers and brings it to my lips. “I’m sorry you fell into a rut.”
“I’m sorry she duped you.”
“I’m sorry you’re here with him,” Cain interjects beside us while he unscrews the cork from another bottle of the fall red.
“Oh, go away.” Dolores smirks, and we both look at her. Cain lets out a deep chuckle.
“I like her. She can stay.” He turns back to me. “You, I’m watching. We aren’t selling.” He leaves us alone, and Dolores has more questions. I can read it in her eyes.
“Just start talking, Tin Man,” she teases.
“Well, Dorothy…I’ve explained to you how I’m an investor, like Shark Tank. I buy and sell products I believe will make me a profit. It’s all about market demands and the economy. Items come and go. I want something stable.” I lower my voice and meet her eyes. “I want something for me. Long term.”
Her eyes widen, and she leans forward, crossing her arms on the table. “So you want this winery?”
“Not anymore.” I won’t add how the bad memories make this a place I’d rather burn than invest in. “But I did at one time. Now, I think I’d like to find an existing property or available land. I want to build something from the ground up.”
“Didn’t you already do that with Fox Investors?”
“I did. But it’s always been volatile. I want something permanent. For me.” I take a deep breath, offering her even more of myself. “It’s about my granddad. He worked at the mill near River City, making products to be bought and sold, but he didn’t reap any benefit from what he produced. He always wanted land. He wanted a place of his own to produce his own items to be bought and sold, like a farm. He gave up his dream for us. His daughter and her family. When he invested in me, I promised myself that one day, I’d give him what he wanted most.”
“A place of his own,” she says quietly. “I understand.” From what she told me of her grandmother, I believe she does.
“Will you move?” she questions, and this is the reason I brought her here. This is one of the questions I’ve been asking myself. I want her perspective. She’s going to ask me the right things and hopefully make suggestions, and thankfully, we spend the next hour and our entire meal discussing possibilities and plans.
“You’ll need something like this. A restaurant and maybe a resort. Make it an experience for people.”
She’s right. I don’t want mistreated wives and clandestine affairs, but people who want a getaway…maybe romance.
I’m definitely becoming a sap.
“Tomorrow, I booked us a private tour of the vineyard and the winery. I’d like you to join me. I want your ideas.”
“Mine?” she shrieks a little too loudly, drawing the attention of a few First Wives.
“Yes. You have a business mind, and I’d like your opinion.”
Dolores stares at me, her hand on her throat, and I’m distracted by the way her fingers stroke her neck. She wore the black dress I gave her for dancing. The color sets off the sapphire effect of her eyes and accentuates the silver-gray streaks in her hair. Bright red lipstick highlights her lips. She’s a bottle of wine herself, and I want a sip.
A chuckle from my left causes Dolores to release me from our locked eyes. We do this. Just look into each other’s eyes. Hers still look sad sometimes, and I want to dive in and pull her to the surface. Lately, they’ve become more playful, almost mischievous, and I like how she looks at me. She’s thinking. Decoding. I only hope she can’t decipher too much. She’ll notice that as much as I fight it, I’m falling for her. Falling hard.
“I think one of the First Wives is looking to be your first,” Dolores says, leaning in as if to conspire with me.
“I’m not really into sloppy seconds,” I whisper in return. Dolores sits back. Her hand stills at her throat.
“What am I?” Her voice is rough as her eyes blink.
“You’re definitely a first for me.”
17
First place
[Dolores]
Garrett signs the bill, and we leave. We could have danced. I would have loved to dance with him again, but the First Wives looked hungry, and Garrett is a delicious dessert. With his hand on my lower back, he guides me out of the restaurant without one glance at any of them.
We pass Cain Callahan one more time. “Smart man,” he mutters without looking up at us. Garrett chuckles beside me and flips his middle finger. I don’t think he should tempt fate. Cain looks like one seriously rough guy, but I’ve seen worse. Devil’s Edge in Georgia contains some scary characters in their MC.
We contin
ue down the hall, remaining quiet since Garrett made his statement.
You’re definitely a first for me.
He’s a first for me as well. I’ve never known men with not only so much wealth but who are also so considerate. He’s like a dreamy candy bar. Crisp and decadent on the outside, but nuggety good on the inside. I don’t know how to respond when he compliments me. It’s like I’m tongue-tied or distrusting, which isn’t really true. I trust Garrett more than I trust most people. Maybe because I know he has nothing to lose in me. I’ll go home, and he’ll carry on. I trust him to do such a thing.
As for me, I’ve been thinking more and more about how I need to make a decision. I need to set a date and figure out what’s next. All this talk of restaurants and wineries has me reconsidering my diner. I suppose I could get a loan and begin renovations to rejuvenate the place. A pick-me-up to the diner might be just what the restaurant needs. It’s certainly been what I needed as a human being. After a month in California, I’m starting to feel like a new person—a new me—a better me.
Garrett opens the hotel door for us, and I walk in first. As I near the bed, I slip out of my shoes—the red slippers Garrett bought me. I turn to make a comment about our sleeping arrangements when Garrett tackles me to the mattress.
I land on my back with his arm over my waist as he lies on his side. We laugh as we bounce but then settle into silence. My head rolls to look at him, drinking him in like the delicious wine we drank throughout the evening. I’m tipsy and warm but not drunk. I’m inebriated on him, instead, and the honesty of what he told me. The excitement of his future investment. The way he looks at me.
“Let me hold you tonight,” he says, his voice low and rough. A bit shaky. He’s referring to my breakdown the day before Thanksgiving. I’ve been too embarrassed to mention it, and he’s been gracious enough not to speak of it either.
“I thought you didn’t do cuddling,” I tease, remembering him telling me such at one point.
“I like holding you.” His raw honesty makes me want to kiss him. All we’ve done for days is kiss, and I’m so worked up by his mouth. He’s left me steaming and aching for three nights in a row, and the second he leaves the condo, I’ve been at myself for relief. I imagine his hands on my breasts and his fingers over my clit. I think of his tongue in either place.
The thought immediately makes me wet.
“I’ll change first,” I say, and Garrett releases me. I sit up, feeling shaky and shy. He’s held me before, so tonight should be no different. But it will be. Sexual anticipation fills the air. I wish I had something nicer than the scoop neck nightgown I found at Target. I hadn’t considered a sleeping partner in the evenings when I bought it. I chuckle at the thought and then assess myself in the bathroom mirror.
The silver hair makes me look older, yet I feel years younger. My eyes glisten from both alcohol and contentment. Garrett Fox makes me…happy. My hands roam over the cotton material. My fingers curl and cup my breasts, pressing them upward. Not as perky as they used to be, but they’re still round and lush, and pebbled as I squeeze. I don’t know how I’ll sleep next to Garrett.
I like holding you.
I like him holding me.
When I return to the room, Garrett has his suit jacket removed and dress shirt missing. His pants hang on his hips as he’s loosened his belt. His abs are sculpted at his waist, and the hint of hair leading downward teases me.
My eyes leap up to his. He’s been equally taking me in, roaming down my short nightshirt which drifts off one shoulder. My peaked nipples on display. One hand smooths down my hip. I’m nervous when he looks at me like this.
“I’ll be right out,” he mutters, passing me for the bathroom. I slip into bed. The sheets are luxurious against my skin, which prickles and tingles. Knowing Garrett was waiting for me, I didn’t touch myself in the bathroom, not to mention I feared any murmur I made would hint at what I was doing. Now, I’m suffering under the weight of the duvet and the silkiness of the sheet against my legs, oversensitive to the slightest touch on my skin.
Garrett steps back into the main room and flips off the light. I hear the rustle of his pants as he removes them, and then he crawls into bed behind me. I hold my breath, waiting for him to touch me. His hand slips over my waist, and he nuzzles his nose into the nape of my neck.
This is not going to be enough. Not tonight.
“Can I ask you something?” We’ve started wiggling against one another. His bent knee straightens so his foot slides down my calf between my legs. My backside lightly rubs over his stiffening erection.
“Sure.” My voice squeaks.
“When you were in my bed…alone…what were you thinking about? What did you imagine me doing to you?”
Oh, God. His knee bends, separating my legs and drawing close to my center. His fingers spread across my abdomen, and his nose swirls at my neck. I take the risk and cover his hand with mine. Guiding his palm to my outer thigh, I slowly lead him upward, bunching up the material of my nightgown as we move with collective hands.
Garrett groans.
When he meets my bare hip, his hand curls over the bone and squeezes. My leg adjusts, and his upper thigh connects with my center. I arch my back, forcing the faintest rub against his leg and pressure against the firm length at my backside. I squirm. I can’t help myself. My body has its own intentions.
“More,” Garrett murmurs into the juncture of my neck and shoulder. I continue to drag his palm under the nightgown, over my belly, and up to a breast. Collectively, we cover one, and I force his hand to squeeze. Garrett rolls his hips, so his firm length presses into me.
I moan.
“Dolores,” he whispers. I don’t respond as I force his hand to cover the whole achy globe. I squeeze, and Garrett takes over. “Like this?”
His palm cups me, massaging and tugging, forcing my nipple to nub to the point of pain. He tweaks it between his forefinger and thumb, and a pleasurable jolt shoots directly down the center of my belly. My spine curves and my backside rubs against the solid ridge nudging at my crack.
He is so much better than what I had in my imagination.
“What else did I do?”
His mouth, I think, but then he interrupts my thought with, “Show me.” Following his command, I cover his hand once again and drag it down my abs and into my underwear. Over the mound. Between my thighs.
“Sweet Jesus,” he mutters as I guide a finger to slide through my slippery folds. Garrett’s thigh lifts, forcing my leg to shift over his hip. He’s opening me to his exploration, and once again, he takes over. His fingers stroke, and then they delve. One enters me, and the thrill sends another jolt up my center. It triggers my hips to rock back, searching for more friction against his erection.
“Garrett,” I whisper, my voice hoarse and wanton.
“What else did I do, sweetheart?” Does he honestly want me to tell him? His mouth comes to mind again, but when I take too long to answer, he stops.
I swallow back a protesting groan. Denying myself will not happen. I need this too much.
“You make me come,” I say, surprised at the rasp to my voice. Garrett’s fingers return to their exploration, diving deeper as he adds a second one. I’ve lost my mind and body. My hips take over, undulating with the pace he’s set, pressing against his dick at my ass.
I want it. I want this. I want him.
Then I crack. I erupt over his fingers, my knees coming together to hold his leg between mine. His thigh lifts, keeping his hand in place, his fingers buried inside me as I ride out an orgasm which brings stars. My heart races, and I squeeze one of my breasts.
“Was that it?” he whispers, encouraging me to tell him more.
I shake my head. This is enough, I think, but it isn’t.
“Tell me,” he demands as my leg relaxes over his, and his fingers fall free. A trickle of my release floods my thighs.
“Your mouth,” I whine. Garrett wastes no time rolling me to my back. He pushes my nig
htgown up to my breasts, and I lift my arms. He slips the material over my head and peers down at my almost naked body.
“Stunning,” he mutters as a hand reaches for a swollen globe. He massages one while the other is met with his mouth, hot and wet. He licks and laves, sucking the entire weight into the cavern of his cheeks. His teeth nip at the peaked nub. I whimper at the sharp bite but fall back as he moves to my other breast. This is what I imagined. This is what I hoped it would be like.
His open palm skates down my stomach as he continues suckling my breast, but when his fingers connect with the waistband of my underwear, he draws his mouth back. His head lifts so he can look at me.
“What else?” he questions in command. He wants more.
“Your mouth. Lower.” A slow smile curls his lip, and he places open-mouthed kisses down my belly until he reaches my underwear. Removing the material by slipping it down my thighs until I kick it free, he massages up my legs until a finger spreads me once again.
“So wet,” he says, staring down at me.
“For you,” I add, and he dives again. His head separates my thighs as his mouth sucks my clit. I bow off the bed, but he holds my hips down. I thrash on the pillow as his tongue spreads me and then begins a rapid pulsing motion, entering me with a force I’ve not experienced before. His tongue is thick. This I know from kissing him, but he’s literally making out with my lower lips, sucking and savoring, tugging and torturing until I break again.
My hands cover his head, holding him in place as another orgasm rips through me. My head comes off the pillow, and I whimper his name on repeat.
Eventually, he curls up on his knees, bracing my thighs over his. The lower half of my body rests on him. Taking his dick in hand, he drags himself through my soaked folds, coating his tip.
“Please tell me there’s more.”
I hadn’t truly gotten this far in my fantasy. Once the images of him licking me brought me to release, I didn’t dare to envision more while I stole the moments in his bed.
Garrett grips my hips, and with a quick roll, he flips us so I’m over him, straddling the hard length under my center.
