Illicit Ink: A Single Dad, Second Chance Romance, page 11
But I’m fucking terrified to do that, too. What if she decides all of a sudden she wants something to do with Aara? I’ve left that door open, but damn—I don’t know if I can handle that. Not after being the only parent in her life for the last five years.
And that’s me being selfish.
“Son of a bitch,” I mutter to myself as I pull up a blank text message and type out words I never thought I’d say. Then, I hit send, firing off my Hail Mary to a number I’m not even entirely sure still works.
Ana, we need to talk. It’s about your parents. -Z
I added my first initial just in case she’s forgotten. Which, knowing her, is not entirely unlikely.
“Zander?” Candi peeks into the room.
“Yeah?”
“Someone is here to see you.”
“Who?”
The grim set of her mouth tells me it’s not someone I care to see. Fucking perfect. I push off the couch and move out into the parlor, my gaze landing on a tall piece of human fucking waste that clearly knows nothing of self-preservation.
“What the fuck do you want, Jesse?”
Rose’s ex stands a bit straighter as I come to stand behind the counter. In theory, keeping this between us means that there’s an extra half-second for me to think through my actions before I jump over and kick his fucking teeth in.
“I want to talk to you,” he replies.
“About?”
He looks at Candi. “Can we have a minute?”
“No,” I snap. “She belongs here. You fucking don’t.” I cross my arms. “So get talking before I throw your ass out. Everett isn’t here to save you this time.”
His gaze shifts from me to Candi, then back to me. “I want to apologize.”
Of all the things I thought he would say, an apology was not even ranked in the top ten. “Excuse me?”
“I fucked up with Rose. Big time. And I’m working on making amends there. You were the one I pissed off the most that morning in Rose’s old apartment, so I wanted to apologize to you, too. I was drunk and acted like a dick.”
“Before or after you tried to force your way into her apartment?”
“Both.” He runs a hand through his hair. “Listen, I’ve already met with Rose. We’re working through some things, but I needed to apologize to you, too. We weren’t friends, but we’ve hung out in the past, and if things move forward again, I want to know that we can be cool, too.”
Every muscle in my body goes rigid. “What the fuck do you mean if things move forward again?”
“Rose and I had coffee. I told her that I was going to do everything I could to make things right and prove to her I can be who she deserves.”
I must visibly look as furious as I feel because Candi’s hand goes to my arm. Like she’s worried her hand is the pin and I’m a fucking grenade. “You will never deserve her,” I growl.
“Tell me about it.” Jesse lets out a nervous laugh, clearly unaware of the amount of danger he’s currently fucking in. “Anyway. I just wanted to apologize and see if I could get some ink. I want to get a rose over my heart. Something to show—”
“I will never ink you,” I tell him. “Because if I do, it will be to permanently mark you with the words ‘cheating fucking scumbag’ so any woman you manage to trick into taking your pathetic cock again will know what a dirtbag you are.”
Jesse’s gaze hardens. “Listen, I apologized. You—”
“If you want to keep breathing, I suggest you get out of our shop.” Candi steps around the counter, putting herself between me and Jesse. “Now. Clearly, Zander doesn’t care for what you put Rose through, and frankly, neither do I.”
He looks from her to me. “Fucking forget it.” He turns and leaves the office.
The moment he’s gone, I plant both palms on the counter while Candi locks the door and flips the closed sign.
“What are you doing?”
“Canceling your appointments for the day. I’ll also pick Aara up from school, and we will be painting our nails today.” Since Candi is practically a surrogate older sister to Aara, I know my daughter will love it.
“And what the fuck am I supposed to do?”
“Not my fucking problem. Rub one off in the shower? Go pick a fight? Or, I don’t know, go talk to Rose. Seriously, Zander. Stop being a fucking idiot.”
My muscles are on fire, my body slick with sweat. I bounce on the balls of my bare feet as I slam my fist into the bag hanging in my garage. Each swing meets its fucking mark, but I feel more pent up now than I did when I left the shop three hours ago.
I’d started to go to Rose.
But what’s the fucking point? Eventually, she’ll get out of my system, and I can get back to life the way it was before I made that horrible fucking mistake and tasted what was never on the menu to begin with.
“Hey, asshole.”
I glance back as Everett strolls in. He’s wearing work boots, jeans, and a dusty t-shirt, which means he’s just coming from a job. “What the hell do you want?”
“You’re a peach today.”
“I’m pissed the fuck off.”
“So I can see. I stopped by the shop, but Candi was on her way out to get Aara from school. Said they’re painting nails tonight while you get your head on straight.” He crosses his arms as I grab a bottle of water from the fridge and turn back toward him. “Why is your head not on straight?”
“Jesse showed up at the shop and pissed me off.”
Everett crosses his arms. “Seriously? What the hell did he want?”
“To tell me he was sorry for acting like a dick and to make sure that, when things move forward again with him and Rose, we can all be amicable.”
“When things move forward? Last I heard, she told him it was never happening.”
“According to him, they’re having coffee dates and planning a future.” I down the water and toss the bottle into my recycling basin. “Not that I fucking care.” I whirl and slam my foot into the bag. It swings, chain creaking.
“Not that you care. Right. Listen, I get that you guys had this whirlwind, one-weekend thing, but it seems to me that you need to at least clear the air. I told you that what happens between you and Rose affects Nova, and you’re going to piss me off if you act like a dickhead and make things awkward.”
“Why the hell would you only be mad at me?”
“Because you’re the one who is making things fucking awkward. You haven’t brought Aara to any of Nova’s derby practices, and Rose hasn’t come either. Which tells me that things didn’t end all that well for either of you.”
I grind my teeth together, pissed at myself.
And frankly, I’m pissed at Rose, too. I’ve kept Aara away so she didn’t have to miss her best friend’s shit, and she’s not even going?
“Fine. I’ll talk to her.”
“Good. Keep it in your pants when you do.” Everett turns on his boot. “See you at poker tonight?”
“You want me to fix shit with Rose or take your money? I can’t fucking do both.”
Everett grins. “Well, my wallet will be lighter with your absence.” He blows a kiss at me. “We’ll miss you, little brother.”
“Asshole.” But I feel a hell of a lot more resolved than I have in the last two weeks.
Chapter 18
Rose
Closing the restaurant on Monday has been my greatest idea ever. The new hours are amazing for my mental health as I’ve been able to spend an entire day alone in the place that I built while I order what I need for the next week.
Plus, doing it today means I don’t have to do it late on Sundays like I used to.
Financially, it’s been great, too. People are calling ahead to reserve tables for Tuesday and throughout the rest of the week. We’ve never been so busy. I sit cross-legged on top of the bar, pouring over the spreadsheet on my laptop.
We’re well into the black now. So much so that I might be able to give a great bonus this Christmas if things keep looking like they are now. Shit, if I’d have known this would be the result, I would have closed down one day a week ages ago.
After downing the rest of the single glass of wine I allowed myself tonight, I switch to water. I’m just taking a drink when someone knocks on my door. Given that the closed sign is up, I don’t bother answering it. You’d be surprised to know just how many diners will completely ignore a closed sign and still try to get in.
They knock again.
Thinking it might be one of my employees who left something here, I cross over and pull back the blinds, only to have the air knocked from my lungs. Zander stands on the other side, wearing a backward baseball cap, dark, distressed jeans, and a black tank top.
My pulse begins to hammer in my ears even as nerves swirl in my stomach like an unwanted smoothie of apprehension and delight.
What the hell is he doing here?
I swallow hard and unlock the door then pull it open. His gaze drops down my body like he’s drinking me in before leveling back on my face. Never, in my entire life, have I met a man who can make me feel so exposed even when I’m wearing clothes. “Hey, what’s up?”
He shoves both hands into his pockets. “I need to talk to you.”
“I feel like we said all that needed to be said,” I reply, still blocking the door. Somehow, I feel as though, if I let him in, it’s inviting him to share more than a few moments of quiet in my restaurant. It feels like I’d be inviting him back into my life. My bed. And I’m just not sure I can do that.
“You might have been able to say your piece, but I didn’t get a word in.”
“Really? So I’m imagining you ripping me a new one over coloring with your daughter?”
He looks to the left then back to the right. “Can I please just come in?”
“And if I say no?”
“Five minutes, Rose. Please. That’s all I’m asking for.”
I groan and move out of the way. Zander’s presence fills me with more emotion than I care to experience, so as soon as he’s in, I close the door, flip the lock, and cross the room to the bar top so I can help myself to more wine.
Except, then I remember that I have to drive home. Ugh. Water just isn’t going to hit the same. Still, I re-fill my glass anyway.
“You have no shoes on.”
“I’m closed,” I remind him. “It’s inventory and books day.” I take a drink of water then cross my arms, trying to look like I’m not completely off-kilter with him being here. “So, what did you want to talk about?” I glance up at him, shocked to see such a twisted look on his face. Fear creeps into my mind. “Is everything okay? Aara—”
“Is fine,” he snaps.
“I was only asking because of the look on your face and because I do happen to care for your daughter. So sorry if that pisses you off.”
“Are you getting back together with Jesse?” he demands.
“Excuse me?”
“It’s a pretty straightforward question.”
“Which is none of your business.” I turn around and lean back against my bar.
“That’s a yes, then?” He groans and removes his cap to run a hand through his hair. “Are you fucking serious, Rose? He’s an asshole!”
“Seems I have a type,” I reply sweetly.
He moves so fast I barely have time to prepare before he’s planting both inked hands on the mahogany bar top, caging me in between two muscled arms. I inhale deeply, not even caring if it makes me look pathetic. He smells so damn good. “Do not compare me to that fuckstick.”
Leaning in, I meet his eyes, determined not to look like weak prey beneath his carnal gaze. “Then don’t act like you have any right to ask me anything about my dating life. Or, in this case, complete lack thereof.”
Zander’s jaw clenches, and his gaze drops to my mouth for a brief moment before he pulls away. “He certainly seems to think you two are going to—what were the words he used—move things forward again.”
I stiffen. “When the hell did you talk to Jesse?”
“When he showed up at my shop to apologize and make sure things could be amicable between us so that, when you two did get back together, it wouldn’t be awkward.”
Anger boils in my veins, and I clench my hands into fists. “I swear. You fucking men.” I glare up at Zander, noting that his expression is smoother than it had been. “I am not getting back together with Jesse. Something I made very fucking clear to him when I met him for coffee a couple of weeks ago.” I slam my palm into Zander’s chest to knock him back a few steps. “Not that it is any of your business.”
He grabs my wrist and rips me toward him. My breasts slam into his chest as he holds me to him. “It is my business.”
“And why is that? Because you’re an overbearing alphahole who can’t move on?”
The corners of his mouth twitch. “Alphahole?”
“Something I read.” Then I internally kick myself for inadvertently lightening the mood.
“Then, yes, it’s exactly because of that. I cannot get you out of my mind. I told you that I didn’t do relationships. That I wanted no strings, but I was wrong. I need more.”
His words knock my legs out from underneath me, and if it weren’t for his hand on my wrist, I might have fallen. “Excuse me?”
“I want more. I want to date.”
I gape up at him, unsure whether I should be excited or irritated that he put me through this shit just so he could decide when he wanted to date. “Then go find someone who’s interested.”
“Are you saying you’re not?” he questions.
No. “Yes.”
Zander moves in, backing me against the bar top. “Are you telling me that your pulse isn’t racing right now?” he presses his thumb against my wrist. “Because I can feel it.”
“You have me cornered in my empty restaurant.”
“So you’re afraid?” I can see on his face that he’s not buying it. Not even for a second. But it’s all I’ve got.
“No, I—” I close my eyes then open them again. “You said no strings, Zander. You flipped out when I was coloring with Aara at your mother’s house. You are the one who made me feel completely and totally used.”
“You were used,” he replies unashamedly. “Just as you used me. We agreed to a quick fuck. Agreed that both of us needed a release we weren’t getting from anyone else. Right?”
“Yes.”
“Then how are you going to throw that back in my face? If anything, I’m the one who should feel used. After all, you bailed on dinner Sunday then went incommunicado for the past three weeks.”
“The phone works both ways, asshole.”
“Yeah,” he replies. “I suppose it does.”
“You could have called. Texted.”
“And you could have shown up to Nova’s derby matches.”
I shove him back. “I hated not being able to go! But you’re everywhere!”
“If it was nothing, then why would it have been so bad to see me again?”
“Because—” I trail off. The asshole knows exactly what he’s doing and apparently doesn’t give two shits if he plays dirty.
A fact he makes known when he leans in and scrapes his short beard against my jaw. “You’re in my blood, Rose,” he whispers, “and I want to see where this goes.”
“I don’t.” I shove him back. “I just got out of a relationship with someone who ripped the rug out from underneath me. I’m not looking to get into one with another man who has even more power than that.” I try to move past him, but Zander’s too quick. He grabs the back of my neck and rips me around toward him, slamming his mouth to mine.
I groan against him, trying to get away and trying to get closer at the same time. I want nothing and everything. His tongue snakes into my mouth, and lust hammers in my blood. I’m instantly wet, my body more than ready for what only he seems to be able to give me.
Zander lifts me onto a table and steps up between my legs, his mouth never leaving mine. He reaches between us and slides his fingers over the lace of my underwear beneath the skirt I’m wearing. “So fucking wet,” he says. “You sure you want nothing?”
“Shut the fuck up.” I rip him back toward me, wrapping both legs around him and tugging him in closer. His hard length rubs against my core, the friction a budding pleasure that consumes me.
I reach between us and undo the button of his pants then shove them down. He spreads my thighs, ripping my panties clean off and driving into me before I have the chance to take another breath.
Zander fills me so completely.
So deliciously that, the moment he slams back into my body, my orgasm rips through me. I cry out, gripping his biceps and holding on as he doesn’t break his rhythm. Zander fucks me like it’s the first and the last time he ever will.
His hands grip my wrists, and he pins them above my head, leaning over me as he does. Something cracks, an ear-splitting sound, but before I can worry, Zander’s rolling us and slamming to the ground with me straddling him.
The table crumbles to the floor.
I ride him, his hands on my thighs.
Pleasure shatters me again, and this time, it takes him, too. His hands tighten on me and he bites down on his bottom lip, groaning as his release fills me. Dick throbbing deep inside of me, I continue riding him—slower now—until we’ve both finished.
Then, I roll off of him and collapse onto the floor.
“You broke my table,” I say, breathless.
“I’ll buy you another one,” he growls. Seconds tick by in silence before Zander sits up. It's then I see the splinter of wood sticking out from his shoulder.
“Shit! Zander!” I jump up, noting the blood dripping from the wound.
“What?”
“You’re bleeding!”
“I am?” He tries to look, but he can’t see. When he tries to roll his shoulder, though, he winces. “Shit, I am.”
“Get up.” I tug my skirt back down then grip his hand and help him to his feet. “Let me get the first-aid kit.” I rush around into my office, leaving Zander near the bar, my legs still shaking from the force of my orgasm, combining with the adrenaline from the fact that Zander was just skewered on a piece of one of my tables.
