Page 13 of The Bourbon Bride

“I was planning to go back after my run. Are you okay?” He bends down and plants his hands on the passenger door to lean into the low car, coming so close to me, given the car’s small size, that I can smell his divine scent mingling with the sweat from his run.

I blink to make sure the frustrated tears are gone and swipe under my eyes at any running mascara. “Just peachy.”

“What’s wrong?” he asks, his voice taking on a dark tone that has my eyes snapping up to meet his. “Did someone hurt you?”

I shake my head until my wind-tangled hair whips over my shoulders. “No, nothing as simple as that.”

“Then why the tears? A girl like you shouldn’t be crying on a beautiful evening like this.”

“It’s nothing you can help with,” I say rather than begging for his help.

I know this is a problem I have to deal with instead of pushing it off on someone else. I’m no damsel in need of saving, but why does it feel like I can pour my heart out to him?

“Do I need to pull you out of this car, throw you over my shoulder, and march you inside to get you to tell me what’s going on?” His smooth voice grows gravely, and I feel that weird pull in my belly that zips straight to my lady bits. He makes me feel things I’ve never felt before with just his voice alone. I shiver involuntarily at the thought.

“Wouldn’t that be considered going caveman on me? This is the post-Me, Tooera; you can’t just throw a woman over your shoulder and march her anywhere,“ I joke, which is easier than admitting how messed up my world just became or facing my confusing feelings where he is involved.

“Honey, if caveman gets you to tell me what’s got you crying and lets me fix it, I’ll do it. Besides, there’s a lot I can and will do, even if you think Ijust can’t.”

six

Hayes

I’vebeenthinkingaboutPaige all day.

The innocence of her, the softness, the quick humor she uses to mask who she really is, and most of all, the way she embraced me. It wasn’t just a hug. That girl clung to me like I was a lifeline and it made me feel ten feet tall instead of six-two.

Feeling her warm body against mine and her breath against my chest nearly undid my restraint. I wanted to bend her over the Chesterfield and fuck her raw. Instead, I did the honorable thing, for maybe the first time in my life, and sent her back to the party. Then I took an icy shower and jerked off thinking about her red lips on my cock until I was the one feeling raw.

I’m not what she needs in her life. This is an absolute truth that I know, logically.

She should be exploring who she is as an adult post-college, making strides in her career, and dating boys her own age. She doesn’t need a cynical and ruthless old bastard like me lusting after her youthfulfreshness.

I was running from my demons and fantasies of what I could do with someone as impressionable and perfect as her when the blue Cobra parked across from the club caught my eye. You don’t see them much, especially not in the winter when their lack of a roof means they are always open to the elements. I slowed down to appreciate the automotive beauty designed by Carroll Shelby in the sixties and caught the raven-haired woman rubbing at her eyes. I knew it was her before she even turned her head when I called her name.

Now her car is parked under The Abyss and I’ve got her in the elevator heading straight to the third-floor apartment. The elevator opens to my flat and I cross to the only door she hasn’t been through. I hesitate for a fraction of a second before I unlock it and hold the door open for her. Letting her into my private apartment feels wrong because it would be too easy to get comfortable with her in the intimate space.

Having her in my office was one thing, but my apartment? It was safer having her in an area meant for business deals than one with more surfaces to imagine fucking her on.

I want to stay the honorable person who sends her away, not the lecherous old man who wants her naked.

“So this is where you live, huh?” she asks, looking around warily.

I watch her fingers flex like she wants to touch everything as she walks into the open flat. The kitchen is separated from the living space by a large island, a sofa and flatscreen TV define the small living room, and a massive bed takes up the wall in the far section of the space. It’s about five hundred square feet, so by no means is it cramped, but it’s not the five thousand square foot Buckhead mansion I’m used to in Atlanta.

“My turn for questions.”

I place my hands on her hips and lift her, nearly smiling at the squeak of surprise she lets out. I sit her on the granite island where I can stand in front of her at eye level.

“Who did this to you?”

Her eyes snap and her surprise at being lifted is erased by the fury that springs up. “Like I said, it’s nothing you can help with.”

“There is very little I’m incapable of doing,” I threaten. “Now spill before I resort to creative interrogation techniques to get the answers I want.”

I swear her lips pinch into the hint of a grin and if that doesn’t make me want to devour her, I don’t know what would.

“I’m not a patient man, Paige,” I warn, instead of stealing the grin off her face with a searing kiss.

---