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“Yo, boss!”
The deep gravelly voice thunders between us like a cymbal crash. The spell is broken, yet I can’t seem to move from my position between his legs. I’m dizzy from the intrusion of his lips.
“What?” Dane barks back. I may not be the only one ruffled by the interruption.
“Closing time, you dingbat.”
A giggle bursts free in total disregard for the situation. Dane glances over at me with a smirk.
“Does that entertain you?”
“I found the insult amusing.”
“Duke has no respect for my position.”
“I’m old enough to be your father, young man!” Duke hollers back.
Dane’s palm cups my cheek, his touch tender as if he knows exactly what this means to me. “Do you mind hanging around while I close up?”
I shake my head. An older man pops out from the kitchen area. The gray hair pulled into a sleek ponytail and shaggy beard are not what I expected to belong to the deep voice.
“I have it covered,” Dane announces to the man who, indeed, could be his father’s age.
Upon seeing me, Duke shares a look with Dane. “You sure?”
“Yep.” Even I hear the period at the end of Dane’s clipped sentence. And I hope my interpretation—that he wants to spend more time kissing me—is correct because I’m more than open for a round two. Maybe this is exactly what I need if time won’t make this easier. To jump the first hurdle. To kiss another man like a check mark off the list of things I need to do in order to move past my husband’s death.
With a two-finger salute, Duke tucks a key in the exterior lock and moves out the door, leaving us completely alone.
“I didn’t realize we were the only ones left.” A short laugh conceals my heaving breaths. Even their few minutes of conversation weren’t enough to ease the breathlessness in my lungs.
“Caiti.”
“Hmm?”
His eyes are serious. The muscle at the joint of his jaw pulses. “I want to kiss you again, but I’d rather not do it in this bar.”
My heart sinks for half a second before resuming double time as his meaning resonates. “What are you saying?”
“My apartment is upstairs.” Before I can decide, he holds up his hands, palms out. “I’m not going to make a move any further than you’re comfortable with. I promised your sister I’d get you home safe, and I intend to do just that.”
“Well, in that case…” I toss my black hair over my shoulder and lift my purse from the bar. “I guess you should pour another drink and show me the way.”
“Preference?” Dane’s fingertips skate along my lower back as he passes by to access the bottles.
The monumental weight of what I’m doing sits squarely on my chest, but I don’t care. I brush the rampant thoughts aside with a mental flick. For one night, I don’t want to lie alone with my head on my pillow, begging God to ease my pain. I don’t want to feel so lonely. I don’t want the images to fill my head with regret. For one night…
I look at the man currently waiting for my answer to his question and shove aside the welling pain and guilt and shame. “A vodka soda is fine.”
