Page 72 of Sundown Somewhere

Or was that me?

“Yes, and I know you can do it. We did it for Margeaux, pretending that she and Gus weren’t really a couple while he was acting head of her department last fall. This is no different—just a regular ol’ Thursday night at Pour Decisions.”

“This is very different. And we both know it. Gus and Margeaux aren’t Hux and Dolly.”

I can’t help but roll my eyes at the way she says that last sentence, all gossipy and half whispered. As if she isn’t sure which is the bigger scandal this town has seen—Hux and I or Gus and Margeaux. She’s on a roll today. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think she was auditioning for a spot as my great-aunt’s right hand on the rumor mill. Sighing, I shake my head, cutting off the water.

“Just no comments about us being a couple, okay?” I request.

“Fiiiine,” she acquiesces. “But don’t think I won’t be secretly shipping Duxley from the other end of the picnic table tomorrow night.”

“Duxley?”

“Yeah, it’s your celebrity couple name. Like Bennifer, but for Dolly and Huxley—Duxley. I liked it better than Holly.”

I bite down on my lip, trying not to laugh. Because I know she’s serious. And I love her for it. The fact that she—as well as our other friends—didn’t blink when I told them about Hux and me means the world. Even if they come up with things like “Duxley.”

“I think that’s enough of Pierce’s gin,” I tell her. As the marketing and sales rep for Southern Brothers Brewing, Rose is in charge of getting their products, including Milo and Brandt’s beers and All Snowed Gin, her stockbroker fiancé’s side gig, into stores, restaurants, and bars. Meaning she has plenty of access to the stock. Not that she takes advantage. “Or did you get into Brandt’s secret moonshine stash? Either way, go home. You’re drunk.”

“Neither, but…”

Rose’s words fade into the background, my attention hijacked by the sound of the front door closing. My pulse jumps, my mind rushing to remember if I locked it after the last person left earlier. I did. I know I did.

My last lunch customers were a couple I didn’t recognize, who told me they were passing through while visiting some old friends in the area. While we do get those who are passing through, often because they are on some detour from the highway or flat-out got lost, it’s not a common occurrence. Especially not on a weekday. So I made sure to double-check the locks as I flipped the closed sign and lowered the window shades.

“Gotta run,” I tell my girlfriend, not bothering with any more of an explanation.

Tapping my earbud to end the call, I remove it from my ear, then cautiously poke my head around to peer through the kitchen’s pass-through window to see out into the dining area. My heart is still galloping, slamming against my rib cage as my eyes land on my intruder, if we can call him that since he used his key, but my muscles relax, relieved that it’s only him.

“Don’t worry, I locked it,” Hux tells me with a halfhearted smirk tugging at one corner of his mouth and a succinct nod.

I wasn’t worried about that. Never am. Hux treats this place like it’s his own. I am more than a little worried about that look on his face though. Something is wrong.

Hux crosses the dining room in no time flat—faster than I can make it out of the kitchen—greeting me at the edge of the counter. There’s no time for words, his hands on my ass lifting me in the air and into him faster than I think to even say his name.

Capturing my mouth in his, Hux kisses me like his life depends on it. Like he needs my kiss more than oxygen. Fingers dig into me through the fabric of my jeans, while his strong lips let me know that he’s in charge. That this is him showing me how much he cares. I whimper, grasping onto his shirt, trying to return his efforts. To let him know that this is a two-way street.

Until he ups the ante. Finding his tongue with mine, he holds on tighter, moving his hips against my core. Or maybe he moves me against him. I have no idea how he does it—all I know is that it sends lightning through my veins and makes the entire world fall away. Nothing else matters. Nothing else exists. And never—ever—has anyone been more cherished. Each new kiss from him makes sure that I know that, and it makes me want to spend the rest of my life kissing this man.

My man.

“Sorry,” he says gruffly, pulling back only enough to rest his forehead against mine. He doesn’t let go, still holding on to me like a small child holds a giant stuffed animal they won at the fair, readjusting so that I don’t fall.

“You never have to be sorry for kissing me like that.” I giggle, trying to be coy.

“That’s how you always deserve to be kissed, Doll.” He presses his lips gently to mine, a chaster version of before, but no less heartfelt. “Fucked on the other hand…”

He thrusts up again, a full-on Hux smirk coming out, and I groan, both from the comment and from the contact with my core. Kissing me again, he loosens his grip, and I slide down his body, a little more amped up and ready to go than I should be for someone who is still at work.

But something I have learned about Hux since we started down this road is that’s his specialty. Making me feel cherished and adored one second, and then hot to trot the next.

Huxley Hayes, y’all…gentleman in the streets, ruiner of bed sheets…

Wrapping my arms around him, I rest my head against his chest, listening to his heartbeat for a moment before squeezing. Tough, strong, and steady, that thump…thump…thump is music to my ears, but it doesn’t change that I can tell something is bothering him.

“Wanna tell me about it?” I ask, keeping my head against his chest.

He chuckles, the rumble of laughter making his chest vibrate and my heart skip a beat.