Chapter 18
Brett had wanted to drive together to my place, but we ended up taking both vehicles. No sense in wasting additional time to retrieve a car. I wanted as much bedroom time as possible.
A wicked smile grew.
I stepped out of the car and into an embrace.
“Do you forgive me?” Brett asked, nibbling a trail along my jaw. “One hundred percent forgive me?”
“You’re ninety-nine percent forgiven.”
His hands slid down my sides and landed perfectly on my behind. The warmth of him soaked through my jeans.
“Only ninety-nine?” he asked, pressing me to the car as he spread kisses down the length of my neck.
“You were docked a percentage for not calling to say you arrived home safely.” My answer turned into a moan. “Let’s get inside.”
“Will you let me earn that point back?” he asked.
“You can try,” I answered.
As we stumbled up the stairs, stripping clothes off as we went, I suddenly remembered the shade issue.
“What’s wrong?” he asked when I stopped at the bedroom door.
“I need better shades.”
“I’ll buy you some tomorrow,” he said, tossing the door open and pulling me inside.
“That’s not what I mean,” I said, sliding from his hold. I snatched a blanket and tossed it over the curtain rod. It bunched funny and I had to wrestle with it to get it to spread over the entire window.
After a final tug, I turned around to find Brett lounging on the bed, watching me with an amused expression. My greedy eyes raked over him.
“You could have helped,” I lightly scolded, slipping in next to him.
“And miss watching you wiggle naked?”
My nose wrinkled. “I didn’t wiggle.”
“I definitely saw wiggling,” he said, rolling on top of me. “And I enjoyed every second of it.”
I smiled at his teasing. His eyes deepened as he leaned down to capture my lips with his. “Mars,” he groaned moments later, “I don’t think I can go slow. I’ve never ached so much in my life. I haven’t been with any other woman since you. I only wanted you. You and no one else. Let me have you now,” he said. “Please.”
My hand trailed down his chest and torso, his muscles bunching and clenching as my fingers descended.
“Please,” he nearly begged.
My fingers curled around his length, leading him in.
The pure look of relief that lit his face when he slid the rest of the way in was enough to keep me content, but then he started moving and I remembered one of the many reasons why I had missed him so much.
He was perfectly made for me.
Within moments, I was caught in wave after wave of tumbling over the edge only to reach the top again and tumble back down. I couldn’t catch my breath and I couldn’t think of anything remotely coherent, except that he was made for me.
When he breathed the word “mine,” I was rendered completely incoherent.
Mine.
God, what a word.
* * *
The next morning I woke to find Brett’s arm wrapped around my waist so tightly I couldn’t budge. It wasn’t a bad predicament to be in, but I suspected my limbs were losing vital blood supply.
“Brett,” I said, tapping his arm.
Nothing.
I tapped firmly.
Nothing.
I shook his arm.
Geesh, the man was a rock.
“Brett,” I said again, this time squirming to loosen his hold.
His hold loosened slightly as his tongue traced the slope of my neck and shoulder. “Morning, sweet thing,” he rasped. “Did I earn my percentage back last night? Or do I still need to work for it?”
He earned it and more, but I couldn’t let him off the hook that easily, could I? It would be poorly done of me for sure if I didn’t make him work just a little harder.
And he was already hard.
“I think,” I said, letting my body mold to his, “that you still have half of a percentage to work off.”
“Difficult to please, aren’t you?” he murmured into my neck before flipping me over and covering me completely.
“You did promise to earn it back,” I said. “It’s not my fault it’s taking so long.”
“Mmm, wonderfully long.”
“I should let you rest,” I said as his mouth burned a heated line straight to my breast. His tongue circled and flicked before he sucked long and deep.
I moaned, biting my lip as my fingers gripped his shoulders.
“You were saying something about rest,” he reminded as his mouth descended lower.
“You must have imagined it,” I answered as my body restlessly awaited him . . . or rather his very talented and adventurous tongue.
His tongue was made especially for me as well.
Mine.
And then I felt his warm, tickling breath and, dear God, his tongue, right where I so desperately wanted it to be.
Mine. Mine. Mine.
* * *
The remaining part of the morning was spent running around town for competition supplies. So far, I had five competitors and three judges. I was crossing my fingers for a few more competitors, but I’d be happy with five if it drew in customers.
Brett had left to check on T. He said they had some business to discuss, but I could tell he felt guilty for pummeling T. I’m sure they’ll just grunt while performing some manly fist bump, setting everything back to normal.
Brett made me promise to see him later and then kissed me until we were almost back in bed. A phone call interrupted, saving us from having to take yet another shower.
And then I realized something: I had completely forgotten about Evan in Brett’s presence. Not that anything would change if I had remembered him. But what kind of person immediately forgets a six-year crush and friend?
A schmuck, that’s who.
A schmuck who’s fallen hard.
I could only hope that Brett had a quarter of the same feelings for me as I had for him.
Were we moving too fast?
* * *
By mid-afternoon, I had a stroke of brilliance that lead me to the cooking school Jack and Andrea had graduated. After a short announcement about the cooking competition, I had eight more competitors added to the list.
Feeling better about the competition, I headed to the bar to begin staging. As I pulled into the lot, creepy-crawlies crept through. There was a vehicle parked that belonged to a person I knew had the power to shut the bar down.
I parked my car and hurried to the door, only to have it open. Mac, Bob, Jack, Hank, and the health inspector filed out of the door. Before the inspector left, he tacked a sign on the door and handed papers to Hank.
“He shut us down?” I asked, already knowing the answer. Of course he shut the bar down. It was a hazard. But it also grew on a person . . . like happy mushroom fungus. “For how long?”
“Until we fix the entire list of violations,” Hank said, handing over the papers.
“Oh, my . . . there must be a hundred violations on this list,” I squawked. Some of these were major repairs. “Was there a complaint?” I asked. “Why are we being shut down now? You should have been closed years ago.”
Hank shot a peeved look. “I don’t know why. But I know it was a setup. Someone wanted to shut me down.”
“How do you know that?” Mac asked.
“You saw him,” Hank said. “He was marking things down before he even got started.”
“He did look like he was a little zealous with his pen,” Bob agreed.
“It just felt wrong,” Hank said. “Like a sentence before a trial.”
Oh, no! I scanned through the papers until I found what I was looking for.
Fred Hampton.
“Mars, are you okay?” Jack asked. “You’re turning a violent red.”
“I feel violent,” I seethed.
“What did you read?” Hank asked, retrieving the papers from my shaking hands.
“Fred Hampton was the inspector,” I stated.
“So?”
“He’s one of Jocelyn’s bed mates,” I gritted. “I’ve never met him before, but she told me all about the time a restaurant owner had refused her advances and she had him shut down.”
“Damn,” Jack mumbled.
“I would have slept with her to keep her appeased,” Mac said.
Bob nodded. “She’s crazy, but they’re the ones you want in bed.”
I looked to Jack. “I don’t suppose you’d want to pimp yourself out.”
Jack sent a squelching look.
“This is the end of Road Hog,” Hank said. “I don’t have the money to fix this.”
Mac and Bob gaped.
Jack studied Hank with a worried expression.
“No,” I stated.
“No?” Hank flicked the paper. “I can’t fix this, Mars. This has been a long time coming. I was just hoping for a little more time.”
“No. I will not let Jocelyn win. We’re going to have our cooking competition tomorrow. And then we’re going to save this dive,” I stated to the men who looked at me as if my spark plugs had misfired. “Give me a month. I’ll have this place repaired and ready for inspection.”
“How will you do that without money?” Hank asked. “This will cost a fortune.”
“We’re not allowed to open, even for the competition,” Jack said.
“We don’t have to open,” I said. “The competition will change to grilling, and we still have our liquor license. As long as we’re on property, we can still sell liquor.”
“Are you sure about that?” Hank asked warily.
I didn’t know for sure, but if there was a loophole, I was going to find it.
I gave each of the boys their assignments and took off.
Jocelyn was not going to win.
* * *
The remainder of the day was spent in a mad scramble to adjust the competition, buy additional supplies, rent a large tent, and inform the competitors about the change. I also called the squad ladies for all hands on deck. They snapped up their assignments. At six o’clock, I was able to finally go home and search the Internet for loopholes.
Damn Jocelyn, I brewed at my kitchen table, stabbing the keyboard with angry fingers.
“Sweet thing?” Brett called, stepping into the kitchen. “I stopped by the Hog. When did it get shut down?”
“Today!” I stabbed more keys.
“I see that you’re angry,” he said.
“Of course I’m angry,” I retorted.
“Everyone knows that place is a hole in the wall,” Brett said. “It was only a matter of time.”
“I know that. We all know that,” I said. “Jocelyn has had it out for me ever since you left. She had us shut down.”
“Are you sure?” he asked.
I briefly filled him in on her cracks at sabotage and then her history with Hampton. Brett nodded as he listened. “So that’s why Emmy is now working for me.”
“Working for you?” I asked. “Did you unsilence yourself?”
“I didn’t want to silence myself in the first place. I just thought it was better that way for you,” he said, wrapping his arms around me from behind. “But now I get you and I get to work with T.”
“What exactly do you and T do?” I asked.
I could feel his shrug. “A little of everything.”
“That’s what T said. It makes me a little worried,” I said.
“How so?”
“Whether you like to find trouble or it finds you, you both are magnets for it.”
“That’s not so bad, is it? I met you because of it.”
“Just promise me you won’t do anything that could kill you.”
“Sweet thing, I could get killed by driving down the block.”
“You know what I mean.”
“I think I do,” he said, lowering his head to tease my earlobe with his teeth. “Everything we do is by the book. We don’t step outside of the law. T and I have no interest in jail, especially since he got out not that long ago.”
“What’s his story?” I asked. “What did he do to land him in jail?”
“Ask him yourself,” he said.
“He’ll tell me?”
“Probably not, but you have a way of being demanding. He wouldn’t be able to withstand for long.”
“I think I should feel insulted.”
“Absolutely not. I like that you have a mind of your own and you don’t hide it. And I especially like it when you demand other things,” he said, pulling my chair out from the table, turning me to face him.
“Like what?” I asked innocently.
“Tell me what you want me to do, sweet thing.” His lips brushed across mine. “How can I please you?”
My brow rose. “Get undressed.”
He stepped back and lifted his shirt over his head, giving me a closeup view of his abs. I couldn’t resist leaning forward to place a kiss.
“Shall I keep going?” he asked, running his fingers through my hair as I kissed his stomach one more time.
“Yes.”
He did.
Damn, I could get used to this.