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Pieces of crushed candy corn Marcus put around the rim of the glass get stuck to her top lip, and I can’t stop the choked grunt that comes out of me when I watch her tongue dart out and lick it off.
“No.”
My reply just makes her laugh and shake her head at me. I really don’t have a favorite Halloween memory to share. Prescott Lumber took up every minute of everyone’s life, and no one was ever home to take me around to get candy on Halloween when I was growing up. Not that they were actually working. That thought is laughable. My dad would only show up to work when there was a board meeting to make it look like he was involved, and my brother grew up to do the same. My parents and my older brother were usually out spending Pops’s money, going to parties, traveling the world, and just generally being selfish assholes. I’ve always spent the holiday alone, just like every other holiday. Which makes me hate them all equally. Halloween is only at the top of my list right now because of Pops. But this woman is suddenly making me want to change my mind, put on a costume, and go frolicking through the fucking streets with her.
“Fine, I’ll tell you mine. When I was little, my dad would hang these plastic jack-o-lanterns that had a light bulb inside them on the outside of every single one of the windows on our house. I loved going to bed just so I could lie there staring at the orange glow in my window until I fell asleep, listening to the muffled sounds of the creepy haunted house noises my dad would play from a speaker on the front lawn. My dad wasthe bestdecorator in town, and our yard won best Halloween display ten years in a row,” she tells me proudly. “I always make sure I have a pumpkin light hanging outside my bedroom window every year, so I can remember how good and normal our life was back then.”
The strand of pumpkin lights hanging around the window of the bar highlights Sidney’s face with an orange glow, just like it probably did when she was a little girl falling asleep in her bed. The need to make sure she’s always as happy as she is right now, reminiscing about the past, hits me like a two-by-four to the chest.
“So, you own Wicked Pub and Grub now,” Sidney muses, still watching everyone celebrating outside.
“Looks that way.” I sigh when all the people jump up and down and scream even louder when the biggest lighted pumpkin I’ve ever seen gets to the top of a tall pole in the middle of the square. “Why in the fuck is everyone dancing around a pumpkin like a bunch of idiots?”
“And you clearly have a disdain for all things Halloween,” she adds with another laugh. “This should be fun for you.”
I don’t tell her my only purpose in coming here is to get rid of the place, and I wouldn’t know how to have fun if it smacked me in the face. All I want to do right now is sit down at one of the tables with an obnoxious Halloween centerpiece in the middle of it and have her tell me all her favorite memories… find out why her life isn’t good or normal anymore, and fix it for her.
“Oh my God, this night just keeps getting worse,” Sidney suddenly mutters as she looks over to the door when it opens, her cheeks turning pink with an embarrassed blush as she quickly takes another drink of her martini. “I will never get those things clean enough….”
Glancing back over my shoulder, my muscles tense and a prickle runs up my spine when I see a man walk into the bar, happily twirling a pair of purple satin panties around one finger.
“What the hell are you doing?” The man’s feet immediately stutter to a stop next to me when I snatch the tiny scrap of satin away from him. “Get those out of your disgusting hand.”
Giving them right to Sidney before I’m tempted to run my fingers over the material, picturing them on her body while I do it, the man gives an awkward laugh and an apology before turning right around and disappearing back out the door.
“I think you just made Bill shit his pants. That could be a problem.” A look of complete awe and appreciation takes over Sidney’s face when she slowly takes the purple panties from my hand and slides them into a pocket of her jean shorts, like I just slayed a dragon to save her life in a fairy tale. I’m not used to being someone’s hero; I’m used to disappointing everyone.
My heart pounds in my chest, and I feel like I just drank ten pots of coffee. I feel awake for the first time in months. It makes me want to do as many things as I can for this woman so she’ll keep looking at me like this—keep making mefeellike this.
“Is Bill important to you?” Not that I care, but the thought of creating any more problems for this woman doesn’t sit right with me. Even if just the thought of that guy anywhere near her underwear again makes me want to drag him back in here and shove my fist in his face.
“Well, he’s the only mechanic in town. And my fifteen-year-old Honda Civic is quite the drama queen.”
“You have a problem with your car, you callme.” The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them.
What in the actual fuck are you doing, Ford? You are not staying in this town.
Sidney gives me that look again, with her soft smile and awestruck eyes, and my throat is so damn tight I can barely swallow, let alone take back what I just said.
“My sister was right; you’re hot. We can have sex if you want. I guarantee it will cheer you up.”
“Jesus Christ,” I whisper in shock.
Sidney tosses back the rest of her martini and sets the empty glass on the closest table before she takes a step closer to me.
“I’m your boss,” I remind her, even though my brain is screaming,Not for long! Yes, yes, fucking hell yes!
“So?” Sidney shrugs, taking another step closer to me until the toes of her orange Converse are touching the ones of my boots, and the pumpkin-and-spice smell of her skin overwhelms me again.
Fuck, what I wouldn’t give to lean down and taste those candy-corn lips… lick that sugary vodka right off of them until she’s moaning my name….
Flashes of the shit storm I’m dealing with back home crash into my brain with the force of a freight train, and I immediately take a step back from her.
“I don’t do relationships,” I try again, which just makes her smile up at me through those long, thick eyelashes, like she doesn’t believe me. Like she knows that up until three months ago, I was fully prepared to make the biggest relationship commitment there is.
“Did you not hear the part about the Tanner rules?” She scoffs. “Neither do I.”
“Well, I’m not doing whateverthisis,” I mutter, making myself believe the words I speak, since all I seem to want to do right now is ask about these Tanner rules and figure out how to break every last one of them.
