Page 8 of XOXO

There I thought my whole curse of having no date on V-Day would be solved, but nope. Once again, I would be alone on Valentine’s Day, and didn’t that fucking suck?

I bent down to get the bright yellow paper, and my eyes almost fell right out of my head. A health inspection citation for improper disposal of trash? What the heck? There was a Post-It attached with a time and a winky face. Looked like the health inspector was coming by once again in the morning.

Fanfuckingtastic.

Chapter Four

Sonny

I spent the days following my erotic interlude with Delani in a real shitty mood. I tried to talk to her the following morning, but she was busy with the city health inspector, so I offered a wave and smile and asked if she was free later in the day.

She blew me off with a vacant smile and a terse ‘don’t call me, I’ll call you’ reply. I pretended it didn’t bother me, but fuck, it was like being elbowed right in the gut. Afterwards, I tried to focus on work, but halfway through my usual duties, I was pacing the floors.

“Bro, you need to chill,” Bear, one of my best friend’s and weekend bartender, said and pointed to a vacant stool.

His real name was David Antonetti. We met when I was working for a famous hotel chain, updating the bars in a series of their hotels on the west coast.

Bear was actually a multi-millionaire, having invested his trust fund before he finished school. He’d always let me in on the deals, and I had quite the nest egg myself. The man simply had a nose for making money. But rich or not, David enjoyed the work, and the customers loved him. Especially the ladies.

He was ridiculously good looking, all smiles and charm oozing out of his pores. Not that I usually had a problem with that kind of thing, except for Delani. Man, I fucked that up.

I’d been waiting to catch her alone, but every time I stopped by her shop, Delani was too busy to see me. Her loyal employees, especially Bonnie, wouldn’t let me anywhere near the back. They ran interference better than some professional football players, and I knew a couple of them.

Hell, there were dozens of professional athletes living in a twenty-mile radius of The Whiskey Bar, part of why I’d chose this location. I growled and ran a hand over my face. Fuck. Bear was right. I needed to chill.

But I’d been spending almost every night dreaming about Delani’s sexy little body writhing against mine and wondering how long she was going to make me eat crow for my fuck up.

“Caterer bailed,” Bear said, and my head shot up.

“What? When?”

“Nunzio says he can’t do it, something about an unexpected trip. I don’t know what the big deal is, we can just get a restaurant—”

“No. This tasting is too important. It needs a special touch,” I growled, anger coursing through my blood.

Fuck that fucking prima donna chef, Nunzio. He thought he was the east coast’s answer to Gordon fucking Ramsey, and the asshole wasn’t half as talented as he pretended to be. Nevertheless, I fucking needed him for the tasting.

It wasn’t about money. I had that aplenty. The Blair Group had connections money couldn’t buy. The world of whiskey was a cruel and exclusive club, and I wanted in. Badly.

There was only one thing I wanted more and fuck me for jumping the gun and ruining my shot.

Yes, I realized now I was wrong to ask Delani to close her store. Arrogant. Bully. Whatever. I was stupid and selfish and so fucking wrong.

Besides, I didn’t know why I was so worked up about the fragrance that sometimes came from her store to mine. I mean, I loved the smell of her shop. Craved it, even.

No, that wasn’t true. I craved her. The scent of chocolate, so decadent and rich, was just one part of her charms. It permeated her skin. Making the sexy siren taste better than fudge. My cock twitched behind my jeans, and I closed my eyes, attempting to will the thing away.

I’d been walking around with a semi boner ever since I’d had a taste of the gorgeous woman. My hand was no fucking substitute and my dick deflated if I even thought about fucking anyone else. I just wanted her. Only her.

“I’m gonna go for a think,” I growled at Bear.

He nodded, but his attention was on a group of soccer moms who’d come in to schedule a birthday party for one of their husbands. There were four private rooms at the back of the bar, each one big enough for twelve to sixteen people.

Once I realized there was a market for private, smaller get-togethers, I started advertising The Whiskey Bar as the place to host whatever it was you were celebrating. Birthdays. Anniversaries. Promotions. Retirements. You name it.

The door to the alley slammed behind me and I put both hands behind my head and exhaled. The smell of chocolate was so strong, it told me what I already knew. It was late afternoon. The store was closed, and Delani was inside, making those delectable goodies she shipped all over the globe.

I noticed the same red Subaru I’d seen the health inspector get out of earlier that day, still parked in front of Delani’s shop. Didn’t the man leave yet? I frowned and walked closer to the side door.

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