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I stare at her lips, making us both wait one more second to let the anticipation build. She licks them, getting ready for the kiss she knows is coming.
“Don’t you want to know what that guy was asking?”
I shake my head. “Don’t care. Just want to kiss you and feel you kissing me back. I want to grab your ass and lift you up so you straddle me. I want your arms and legs wrapped around me so tight it’s like you’re trying to climb inside my body, and then I want to get inside yours, fuck you all night and have you tell me you love me every time you come.”
“Oh.” All the wind is gone from her sails, and she sags into my arms, letting me put her where I want her. I bend down and make good on my words, meeting her lips with mine tenderly and letting our passion ignite into the inferno it always becomes. I grip her ass, and she hops up, her bare legs wrapping around my waist and her arms going over my shoulders.
“Yes,” I grunt, grinding against her.
There’s a loud knock on the other side of the door, and she freezes, eyes going wide. “Oh!” she says quietly. She unlocks her legs and slides down my body until her tennis shoes hit the floor.
“No hanky-panky in my office, young lady. And where’d you put the Jack again?” Hank calls through the wood.
Willow shakes her head and whispers, “He knows where the whiskey is, but I’m pretty sure that means he wants me to come do the cocktails so he can sit down at the taps. That’s what I want too. Nearly had to tie him to the chair to keep him there in the first place, so I’d better go.”
She steps away, and I stop her by grabbing her wrist. “That the only thing you want?”
Her blushing cheeks are adorable. “No, I want . . . what you said too, but after we go home, ’kay?”
“Promise?” I demand teasingly.
She smiles and repeats after me, “Promise.”
I reward her with another kiss, but the throat clearing on the other side of the door says we still have an audience.
When Willow opens the door, Hank is leaning on the opposite wall, arms crossed over his chest.
“Sorry, Unc. I’m on it!” She hurries past him and back out to the floor.
When she’s out of earshot, Hank’s blue eyes narrow sharply. “Hurt her and I’ll end you, Tannen.”
He’s protecting Willow, something I deeply understand and respect. “No need. If I hurt her, what you do to me won’t be nearly as bad as what I do to myself.”
“Hmmph,” he grunts, which translates to ‘we’ll see about that’, and I remember that Hank was in the military for a short while. I wonder what he did and what secret skills he might be hiding. He’s damn good with a baseball bat, I’ve witnessed that firsthand, but for all I know, he’s a crack shot and has ninja knife skills. And even if he doesn’t, I’m a damn big target, which makes me pretty hard to miss.
We walk down the hall together, me slowing my pace to match his.
“Polo shirt guy was asking questions about you. Thought you should know,” Hank says with zero expression on his face as we re-enter the main room. I could almost pretend that I imagined it, but I know he actually said that. Unfazed, he walks behind the bar and plops himself back on his perch.
The info is an olive branch from him, a sign of respect after I passed whatever test that was by not cowering in response to his threat of violence.
I huff a small laugh. Violence, I know. Violence, I understand.
I sit back down with my family, who congratulate me on a great show.
“What’s the title of that new one you did?” Allyson asks. “Brutal’s been humming it nonstop, so I know you’ve been working on it recently.”
“He has?” I’m surprised. Brutal listens to me write all my songs because I find pockets of time here and there to work, usually in the fields when we’re taking breaks. And melodies get in my head and I hum them on repeat until they make sense for a song. I hadn’t realized that Brutal was picking up the melodies too. He’s scary observant, so I knew he was aware of my process, but singing them when I’m not around is a sign that the tune is catchy. And that he cares. Allyson nods, and I tell her, “It’s called Bridge Over my Broken Heart.”
“It’s a great one. My favorite of the night for sure.”
“Thanks.”
I don’t tell her, and sure as shit haven’t told Brutal, that they’re the inspiration for that song. A love that was meant to be but got so epically screwed up. Fate intervened, and in the end, they got their happily ever after the way it should’ve been.
